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chemicalmagecraft · 3 years

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A Black Wind Howls Chapter 4: Winter Solstice Part One

Previously on Avatar...

"You can run but you can't hide, airbenders!" the leader of the firebenders shouted.

"I'm sorry," Dorji said quietly, seemingly to thin air. "This is all my fault."

Dorji grunted lazily and touched the thumb of her open hand to her chest and then her chin."

I also managed to find a scroll on healing with waterbending. It's not anything you can use in a fight but, well... Let's just say I speak from experience when I say that healers are the kind of thing that are always great to have around. I'll try to find practical waterbending scrolls to get to you."

"And finally, I added in a few scrolls on Earth Kingdom Sign Language," Tsering said. "While it's not my place to tell you why, Dorji sometimes prefers talking in it so it'd be for the best if at least one of you learned enough of it to hold a conversation."

"I... Sometimes I have... problems processing sounds. It's not too bad anymore, I hope anyway, but please be patient if I need you to repeat things," Dorji muttered. "I would also prefer if you faced me while speaking to me, for similar reasons. I can read lips, in case I'm having trouble with hearing."

Dorji turned to Sokka. "Perhaps you would like to learn chi blocking? You seemed pleased with the concept of disrupting firebending. And it can do more than just disable bending for a few seconds."

oOoOo

"Bending is connection to an element," Dorji said, her hands on Appa's reins. She was sitting backwards, though, so she could talk to the others more comfortably, and only occasionally looked behind her at where Appa was going. She held her hand out to a passing cloud, causing a miniature funnel cloud to form from it. "When you move air, when you lift water, you become one with it. To a truly masterful bender, their element is an extension of their very body."

"What does this have to do with us wearing blindfolds?" Aang asked from Appa's saddle. He and Katara were both sitting down on opposite sides of the saddle, wearing blindfolds. Sokka was sitting in the back, studying Dorji's chi blocking scroll.

"The reason the Air Nomads used to shave their heads was to give them more connection to air, was it not, Aang?" Dorji asked. When he nodded, she continued, "By shaving their heads, the Air Nomads made themselves more sensitive to the air currents around them, if only a bit. My grandmother trained me in a more... advanced version of this. Thanks to her I learned to feel the very air around me in a wide range, as another sense. Think of the blindfold like... a weight, I suppose. By restricting one of the senses you use the most, you will unconsciously draw on other senses. And once you begin to feel the elements more, your control over them will only increase."

"That makes about as much sense as bending always does," Sokka snarked. He looked at the diagram on his scroll, then carefully pressed his thumb into a spot on his other arm. "Tingly," he muttered.

"Is this really going to work?" Aang asked.

"I learned your little trick, didn't I?" Dorji stated. With the same deadpan expression as always, Dorji showed off the spinning stone trick that Aang entertained the people of Kyoshi with. "At least try to learn mine, please. Though I suppose the blindfolds work better when you're being forced to move around or something else that you would otherwise rely on sight for, which isn't something you can safely do on a flying bison..."

"You didn't do it right, though," Aang noted.

Dorji winced. Despite the blindfolds, Katara and Sokka glared at Aang.

"Sorry, sorry," Aang raised his hands apologetically. "I meant that it doesn't have the same affect if you don't have the expression right." He frowned. "How did I know that, actually?"

"I can have that affect on people," Dorji said. "Or perhaps you're beginning to learn. Regardless, let me try that again."

As if the mental exertion required to even think about purposefully adopting such a whimsical expression was too much for Dorji's brain to handle, her eyes rolled up into the back of her head and she went limp. The only thing that prevented her from sliding and falling off of Appa was the fact that she somehow managed to drop the reins in such a way that her foot got caught in them and she ended up dangling off the side of Appa's head.

"DORJI!" Sokka screamed in horror.

"Oh come on, it's not that bad, Sokka," Aang said, oblivious to what just happened due to his blindfold. Katara just scowled at him.

oOoOo

Dorji groaned as she woke up. "I hate the spirit world..." She rubbed her eyes and looked around. She was sitting in Appa's saddle, and it appeared that they had landed in a forest that had been burnt down. Work of the Fire Nation, she judged from the komodo rhino tracks. She tossed herself off of Appa's saddle, slowly falling to the ground.

"Ah!" But when she touched down, she cried out in pain despite how lightly she landed. She dropped to the ground and clutched her knee.

Dorji's awake!" Katara shouted. She and the others rushed over to her. "Are you okay?" Katara asked.

"I probably just twisted it when I fell..." she muttered, pulling some bandages out of one of the pouches on her belt and taking off her shoe.

"Here, let me," Katara offered. She took the bandage and started wrapping up Dorji's foot for her.

Dorji blushed and fidgeted.

"Sorry, am I putting it on too tight?" Katara asked.

Dorji's blush deepened. She pressed her fingers together nervously. "Mmh. N-no, sorry. I'm just a l-little... ticklish, I guess..."

Katara finished bandaging her foot. "There, is that better?"

Dorji gingerly tested the range of her ankle's motion, then nodded. "Thank you." She pulled the two halves of her staff from her belt, then used them to push off the ground. She balanced on her good leg, then put her staff together and started leaning on it. "It doesn't feel too bad. Hopefully it'll be better in a few days if I keep my weight off of it."

"So what happened back there?" Sokka asked.

She sighed. "I'm... afraid I lost track of the days when I was in that prison. Is the winter solstice approaching?"

Katara nodded. "It's in a few days, but what does that have to do with you passing out?"

Aang gasped. "Did you... pass over to the spirit world?"

She nodded. "That... happens to me sometimes, at times when the two worlds draw closer."

"How is that even possible?" Sokka asked.

"Airbenders, for whatever reason, have souls more easily separated from their bodies. So those among us who are more receptive to the spirit world can actually cross over without meaning to, especially when near areas with strong spiritual ties." She nodded at Aang. "You were warned about this, right?"

Aang nodded back. "Yeah, when we were really young the monks took us aside before one of our holy days and warned us about how we could cross over on accident if the circumstances were right." He thought of something. "Actually, I think they might have asked us to be extra cautious because of me. Sorry, did I accidentally make you cross over? I am supposed to be the bridge between worlds..."

Dorji rubbed her chin. "No... You might have exacerbated it slightly, but I knew that might happen when I decided to travel with the Avatar. The real reason, I think, is that there's something near here that is very connected to the spirit world." She closed her eyes for a few seconds, as if concentrating on something else. "It looks like... a statue to a bear spirit. Maybe the guardian of this forest?"

The other three looked over at a bear statue, which was on the other side of Appa from where Dorji was standing. "Amazing," Katara said. "How'd you do that?"

"As much as I don't act like it, I'm very spiritually receptive. I was born that way," Dorji explained. "Grandmother told me a theory she had, once, that because most of the airbenders died, when my father and myself were born we were given a high degree of spiritual power by the universe in an attempt to restore balance."

Sokka raised his eyebrow.

"I... probably didn't explain that very well, did I?" She leaned against Appa. "In all honesty, I don't get it. But... I don't have any other explanation for it. Because of my strong spiritual receptivity, my ability to sense the air around me also allows me to sense... other things. Spiritual presence among them."

"That makes sense, I guess," Aang said.

Sokka frowned. "I still don't get this whole spirit world thing, but that's good to know, I guess."

"That bison... could you be the Avatar?" an old man asked as he walked through the ruined forest to the group. He smiled when he saw Aang's tattoos. "Please help my village, Avatar."

"Um, I'll try my best, whatever you need," Aang said. "Just take us there."

"I don't suppose you know anything about medicine?" Dorji asked.

"How bad is it?" the man asked, seeing how Dorji was leaning on a staff and not using her bad leg.

"Just a sprain, hopefully," Dorji told him. "Would like for someone who actually paid attention in their first aid lessons to take a look, though."

Everyone stared at her. "Flopsie wanted cuddles," she explained with a shrug.

"As in the King of Omashu's pet Flopsie?" Katara asked.

"He likes it when you scratch him behind the ears," Dorji smiled slightly. "Now, perhaps we should get on Appa? That way he can examine my ankle on the way to his village."

oOoOo

"Its name is Hei Bai," the village chief said after the old man brought them to his house. "It started attacking the village every night recently, I'm sure you saw the houses it destroyed, and it has been spiriting people away, too. The winter solstice, when the boundaries between this world and the spirit world begin to weaken, is drawing near, and we would prefer not to find out what sort of havoc Hei Bai could wreak on that day of all days."

Dorji, who was given the comfiest chair in the house and a footrest to prop up her injured leg, cleared her throat. "A spirit's powers don't grow on the solstice, thankfully. It only takes less effort to cross between the worlds, and powers that involve a connection to the spirit world are easier to use. It might even be that this spirit can only cross over the way it does thanks to the solstice approaching, and the amount of power it'll 'gain' on the day of is negligible at best. Or, I suppose, worst."

The chief nodded in thanks. "That is reassuring to hear, thank you. Regardless, I think that we would all rest much easier if there wasn't a monstrous spirit that wants to attack us. Avatar Aang, please help us and pacify the spirit besieging our village."

Aang bit his lip. "I'll... I'll try."

"Thank you, Avatar."

Katara put her hand on Aang's shoulder. "Let's talk," she said gently, then brought him over to the part of the room where Sokka and Dorji were still sitting. "Are you okay? You seem a little nervous."

"I'm not too sure, but... I have to try." Aang looked at Dorji. "Actually, what else do you know about spirits?"

She shook her head. "Not much. My father apparently used to explore the spirit world frequently, but I have a few... issues with it, so I didn't pay much attention to what he told me about it, except for a few things."

"I'm beginning to notice a pattern with you," Sokka noted.

Dorji blushed a little. "I swear I'm normally more competent than that, but in my defense I don't like the spirit world."

Sokka stroked his chin, like he was stroking an imaginary goatee or beard. "And what about your first aid lessons, young lady?" he asked in a weird, authoritative, father figurely voice.

"You can't stare into Flopsie's soulful eyes and tell him no," Dorji defended. "But Flopsie's soulful eyes are irrelevant to our current situation. What I do know is that most spirits will not attack humans without first being provoked... though sometimes the provocation is something that one would not expect a normal person to react so strongly to."

"That's extremely helpful," Sokka snarked.

Katara elbowed him.

"I apologize that I can't offer much more advice," Dorji said. "It's probably something recent, though. If the spirit looks like a bear you might want to start with the forest."

"That... thank you," Aang said. He smiled and hugged her. "I'm feeling much better about this than I did earlier."

She nodded. "I'm sure you'll do fine. Now, you may want to start preparing yourself."

"The girl is right," the village leader said. "The sun is starting to set. Hei Bai will be here soon."

Aang nodded and retrieved his staff. "I'm ready." He walked out the door, a serious look on his face.

"Yyyeah, we're all gonna die..." Sokka said.

Katara hit him. "Don't say that!"

Dorji nodded. "I have the utmost faith in him. And not just because I, as the disabled girl with the sprained ankle, would be the most screwed should Hei Bai attack us, even with my father's staff." She tapped the staff, which was currently leaning on her chair

"In any case, it won't do us any good to worry about it," Katara said. She coated her hands in water from a pitcher that she was given. "And speaking of your ankle, I read that one scroll on healing your grandmother gave us. I'm not sure how successful I'll be, but I still wanna try it."

"It can't hurt," Dorji agreed.

Katara placed her hands on Dorji's foot, which she had left bare other than the bandage after the old man took a look at it. Dorji's cheeks and ears turned pink as Katara closed her eyes and started rubbing her foot. "Does it feel any better?" Katara asked.

"I-it does, b-but only because of the c-cool water, I think," Dorji answered. She smiled slightly, and her blush turned very red. "A-and, a-a really p-p-pretty girl g-giving me a f-foot rub also m-makes me feel a l-lot better."

Katara started laughing so hard that she dropped her water. "Sorry," she said as she retrieved more water, "but that sounds like the sort of thing Sokka would say to some girl." Dorji's face was burning now, though Katara hadn't noticed because she was concentrating on trying to heal Dorji.

Sokka raised his eyebrow at Dorji. "Yeah," he said with a smug grin, "that does sound like the sort of thing I'd say. With someone other than Katara, obviously." Dorji shrank down in her seat and timidly tried to hide her face. Sokka, with an even more smug expression, pointed to the left with two fingers and then made a fist with his thumb pointing up, the signs for 'h' and 'a.' Dorji looked like she very much wanted to use her grandmother's invisibility technique.

"Dorji, are you sure you're okay? You're starting to shake a bit," Katara asked.

"Y-yeah," Dorji squeaked. "M'fine."

"I have no idea what you three are doing, but Hei Bai just showed up in case you want to watch your friend," the village chief said.

"Katara, help Dorji stand," Sokka ordered as he got up.

"Th-that's not really..." Dorji started to say, then trailed off when Katara grabbed her hand. Katara smiled at Dorji as she helped her up. Dorji leaned on her, still blushing heavily, and summoned her staff to her free hand with airbending. "Th-thanks..."

"That is not a bear," Sokka said about the monstrous spirit Aang was trying to talk to.

"I hope Aang knows what he's doing," Katara said.

Dorji stared at the spirit as it smashed down a house with a roar... or perhaps a scream. "He's crying," she muttered.

"What was that, Dorji?" Katara asked her.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Aang looks fine to me," Sokka said.

Dorji shook her head. "Not Aang, Hei Bai."

"That monster is not crying," the village leader said. "It's creepy."

"I think he looks kinda cute, rampaging aside," Dorji shrugged. "He's fluffy and I wanna pet him."

The chief raised his eyebrow at her, then looked at the four-armed monster attacking the village. He stepped away from Dorji.

Aang shouted at Hei Bai to gain his attention, causing Hei Bai to turn around long enough to hit him, sending him flying, before turning back to smashing a building. "That's it, I'm helping him," Sokka said, then ran for the door.

"Sokka, wait!" Katara shouted.

"You can't fight it!" the village chief shouted as Sokka ran out the door.

"I'm going out there too," Dorji said. She defenestrated herself, and once she was clear of the window she unfurled her staff. The revealed glider wings were as black as the rest of the staff. An air current had already formed when she opened her staff, catching Dorji and causing her to shoot off in the direction of the rampaging spirit. She was just a little too late to stop the spirit from grabbing Sokka, who'd thrown his boomerang at him to get him to stop, and running back to the trees.

"Sokka!" Aang shouted, and unfurled his own glider. He joined Dorji in chasing the spirit through the trees, until they reached the part of the forest that had been burned away. Dorji grabbed hold of one of Hei Bai's arms, using her glider to try to slow him down. Aang got close enough to reach out to Sokka, but as soon as Sokka grabbed Aang's hand the spirit shimmered and disappeared, taking Sokka with it. Aang and Dorji remained, but they both fell despite their gliders and were knocked unconscious.

oOoOo

"Ow, my head," Aang said as he woke up. He rubbed his head as he sat up and looked around. While it was still nighttime, it looked like a few hours had passed after they'd been knocked unconscious. "Sokka?" he shouted. "Are you there?" He sighed. "I failed, didn't I?"

He heard a sob. Aang turned around to see Dorji, cowering by the foot of the bear statue. She was curled up in a ball, trembling and covering her head with her arms.

Aang knelt down in front of her. "Are you okay, Dorji?" He asked. She didn't respond at all. "Hey, is your ank-" He gently touched her shoulder.

She shrieked and jerked back. She looked at him, startled and with eyes red and puffy from crying. "A-Aang, y-you're up." She gave a shaky sigh of relief. "Y-you wouldn't w-wake up, a-and I was s-scared..." She sniffled.

"I'm sorry, I guess." Aang looked around. "Do you know where Sokka and the spirit went?" he asked, not looking directly at Dorji.

"U-um... c-could you p-please look at m-me?" Dorji asked.

"Hm?" Aang looked at her. "What's wrong?"

Dorji hugged her knees nervously. "I-I..." She bit her lip. "I... c-can't hear y-you..."

Aang tilted his head, confused. "You... can't?"

"I... I can't hear in the s-spirit world..."

"That... sounds arbitrary," Aang said, then looked around again. "But we're not in the spirit world, are we?"

Dorji's grip on her knees tightened. "It's... more complicated than that. A-and we are. T-this is a sort of... borderland, that only appears at times like the solstice. It's... a thin layer that forms over the material world. I-it's what makes it so easy to cross over to the spirit world. We can see the material world, b-but only those attuned to the spirit world will be able to see us."

"So... how does that translate to you not being able to hear? Or is that too personal of a question to ask, sorry?"

"Well... it is a personal question... but I suppose I should tell the truth..."

"Oh, don't feel the need to tell me if you don't feel like it," Aang said, shaking his head.

Dorji frowned at him. "...It's hard to read your lips if you do that."

"Sorry!"

"It's... fine..." Dorji took a deep breath. "The reason I can't hear in the spirit world... is because I was born deaf."

"You were what?" Aang asked.

"P-please let me explain," Dorji said. "I hear through my ability to sense air, and when a bender crosses over to the spirit world in spirit alone, which is what we did, we lose all bending ability..."

"Including air sense," Aang finished. "Though how does air sense translate to hearing, if you don't mind me asking?"

Dorji nodded slightly. "It's a valid question. The sound you hear is basically just... vibrations in air, so I was taught to read those vibrations." She sighed. "It's... not perfect, though. I have trouble detecting tone of voice sometimes, and if I'm too distracted..." She bit her lip. "I... That's how I got found out..."

Aang put his hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"

She took a deep breath. "I... was practicing. Alone. In a clearing. I shouldn't have, but I wanted to surprise Father by learning a technique he had showed me. I let myself become distracted, and while I was practicing it seemed that a Fire Nation soldier snuck behind me." She sobbed. "I-i escaped, b-but the soldier called reinforcements and they chased me. I... I led them right to my father."

"That's not your fault," Aang assured her. She didn't react because her eyes were closed, so Aang squeezed her shoulder. "Hey, that wasn't your fault," he said when she looked at him.

She shook her head. "Father is so much stronger and faster than me. Some call him the most powerful bender in the Earth Kingdom, if not the world. Had he not had to protect me, Father could have slipped away invisibly, or killed them all. But I was there, so he had to slow himself do-"

Aang hugged her. She sobbed and buried her face in Aang's chest. Aang let her cry, neither of them trying to speak, and rubbed her back in an attempt to soothe her. Her sobs abated eventually. Aang gently pushed her off of him and squeezed her shoulders lightly. "I think... Maybe, we did make mistakes. I ran away from the Air Temple, and more recently I said some horrible and uncalled for things to you. And you might have been surprised by some Fire Nation people. But... we're both kids. Sometimes we'll make mistakes. We should apologize for them, and try not to make the same mistake again, but beating ourselves up over it won't change anything. Tsering didn't blame either of us, and while I don't know your father I do know that if he's anything like Tsering he wouldn't blame you for what happened." Aang got up and held a hand out to Dorji, smiling. "So let's not blame ourselves either, okay?"

Dorji sniffed. It felt as if a weight lifted off her chest as she processed Aang's words. "I think... I think I needed to see that." She took Aang's hand and let him pull her up, leaning on him due to her bad ankle. "Thank you."

"And for what it's worth, I'm still really sorry for the 'you're not a real airbender' thing..."

Dorji nodded, but still frowned a little. "Let's just... not talk about that again, please. Now, what are we going to do."

"If you want, you can try to go back to our world. I'll try to look for Sokka until morning, if that's how it works here."

"There is morning here." Dorji bit her lip, then squeezed Aang's hand a little. "I think... I think I'll stay with you. For now. I don't know how how much help I'll be, but I want to try. And it might be better for both of us to have someone else."

Aang nodded. "Thanks." Then he squeezed Dorji's hand. "How about we hold hands, and when I need to talk to you I can squeeze your hand or something to get your attention?"

"That sounds good, thank you."

He smiled at her. "Great. Now, let's try to find Sokka."

The walked around the ruined forest in silence, looking for anything out of place. Eventually, Aang heard something. He quickly turned to face Dorji and squeezed her hand. "I think I hear... wings flapping?" he said when she looked at him. He wasn't quite sure that was what it was, but it was his best guess.

"I'll take your word for it." She looked up, then her eyes widened and she pointed at a figure approaching from above. It was a red, serpentine creature that flew towards them on great red wings. "Could that be it?" she asked, surprisingly calm. She glanced back at him for his response.

"Is that a dragon!?" Aang asked. The dragon landed in front of them.

"It looks like Avatar Roku's dragon. Could it be here for you?" Dorji speculated.

The dragon nodded, then leaned forward. Aang flinched back, but calmed when the dragon touched his whiskers to his head.

"Oh. Thank you," he told the dragon. He turned back to Dorji. "He wants to show me something. Is it okay if I leave with him?"

Dorji nodded, then bit her lip. "Go, but I think... if you're going I want to leave the spirit world."

Aang squeezed her hand. "That's fine. There's nothing wrong with leaving somewhere that makes you uncomfortable."

"Thanks," she nodded, then closed her eyes. She breathed in, then out. Her body glowed and turned transparent, then she shot back off to where they'd entered the spirit world. The sleeping form of Dorji's body in the material world stirred when her spirit body entered her. Dorji got up, leaning on her staff again, then nodded to Aang and the dragon. As Aang got on the dragon, Dorji twirled her staff. The motion generated more wind than should've been possible, allowing Dorji to shoot herself up into the air, then unfurl her staff. The wind shot her back to the village.

oOoOo

Dorji landed in the center of the town.

"Dorji, you're back!" Katara shouted, then ran over to hug her.

Dorji squeaked.

"Oh, I was so worried about you!" Katara exclaimed, letting her go. "What happened? Where are the others?"

"A-ah..." Dorji fidgeted a little. "Sokka... is probably in the spirit world. I know Aang is in the spirit world, we entered there on accident. He was contacted by a... representative, of sorts, of Avatar Roku, so hopefully he'll know how to best resolve the situation when he returns."

Katara raised an eyebrow. "A representative of..."

"Avatar Roku, the Avatar before Aang. I've heard that the Avatar before the current one acts as a spiritual advisor for the current one, so he's in good hands. All that's left for us to do is wait."

"That's good to hear," the village chief, who had walked over to them, said. "Is there anything we can do while we wait for the Avatar to come back?"

Dorji slumped into Katara's chest. "Food, please," she muttered, still keeping eye contact with the village chief. "Going to the spirit world can be draining. I need food, Aang will need food, and when he gets the others back they'll need food. And I have an idea that might help, but I'll need to regain some energy before I try it." And then she closed her eyes and started snoring.

Katara picked her up. "I'll take her somewhere more comfortable. Can you get some food for her?"

The chief nodded. "I'll get right on that."

oOoOo

The sun was beginning to set, though it was hard to tell under the cover of the clouds that blanketed the sky, but Aang was still nowhere to be found. Katara was waiting for him outside the village chief's house, but she was starting to look worried. "Where are you, Aang?"

"He's approaching," a soft voice said from behind her.

Katara jumped, then turned to see Dorji standing behind her. She wasn't leaning on her staff anymore, as her ankle had healed up a bit. "Oh, Dorji, you scared me."

Dorji bowed her head slightly. "Right, sorry."

"It's okay. What did you want to tell me?"

"I... sensed... Aang's spirit moving towards his body. Very fast, too. He should be back in our world by now." She tilted her head slightly, as if "listening" to something, then pointed at the sky behind Katara.

Katara turned around and looked at something in the distance where Dorji was pointing. "Aang!" she shouted.

The small figure flying in the distance grew to reveal that it was Aang, and Aang landed in front of Katara and Dorji. "Sorry, am I late?" he asked.

"I think you'd know if you were late," Dorji said flatly.

"You're back, Aang!" Katara hugged him. "Do you think you know what to do about the spirit now."

Aang gave her a determined expression. "I'm not entirely sure, but I'll try my best."

Hei Bai seemed to fade into existence right behind him.

"As soon as Hei Bai appears I'm going to..." Aang felt something breathing down his neck. "It's behind me, isn't it?"

Dorji and Katara nodded.

Aang turned around and stared at Hei Bai, determined. "You're angry because the Fire Nation destroyed your forest, aren't you?" he said.

The spirit growled at him.

Aang pulled out an acorn. "I was so angry when I saw it, too. But my friends showed me that, even if it looks bad now, there's still hope for it to regrow in the future."

Hei Bai's expression softened.

"Actually," Dorji butted in, "I heard that forest fires can cause the soil to become even more nutritious, because the nutrients from dead trees get turned into ash and then mixed with the soil, or something. Obviously it's still better for the forest not to get set on fire, but with some rain to let the ash absorb into the soil..." As if on cue, a raindrop fell on the spirit's nose. More started falling, a light drizzle at first but slowly getting heavier. "The forest might regrow healthier than ever."

Hei Bai seemed to be processing that, his expression softening further as the rain soaked it. He shimmered and morphed into a panda, then picked the acorn Aang had offered him up with his mouth. Dorji stepped forward, holding her hand up in front if his face.

Interestingly enough, Dorji didn't seem to be getting wet at all despite the pouring rain coming down all around her.

The bear spirit pressed his forehead into Dorji's hand, accepting her invitation. Dorji hugged him, then started scratching him behind his ears. He made happy bear noises in response. Aang slowly placed his hand on Hei Bai's neck, then started rubbing it when he didn't object to it.

"That's nice and all, I suppose," Katara said as her friends cuddled with the spirit that had attacked them and took her brother away yesterday, "but could you please give back the villagers you spirited away? And my brother?"

Aang stopped petting Hei Bai, but Dorji, whose face was buried in his neck, didn't seem to notice what Katara had said. "Sorry," he said.

Hei Bai made a noise that sounded like it might also have been an apology, then slipped through Dorji's grasp, heading to the forest. As he walked, ethereal bamboo started to sprout from the ground. Aang and Katara walked after him.

"Huh?" Dorji said when Hei Bai passed through her arms, then noticed Aang and Katara following Hei Bai. She trotted after them, walking in between the two.

"How'd you know it'd rain just then?" Katara asked her. As with before, Dorji didn't seem to hear her.

Aang grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Dorji turned to him. "Sorry, did you say something? I have trouble hearing things when it's raining."

"I didn't, but..." Aang pointed at Katara.

"Sorry, I should've gotten your attention first," Katara apologized when Dorji looked at her. "I asked how you knew it'd rain, it seemed like you already knew it was about to rain when you said what you said."

"Those rain clouds have been gathering since I woke up," Dorji pointed out.

Aang frowned. "I know you probably meant that you just guessed it might rain soon, but to be honest it kinda sounded like you were implying you caused the rain."

Dorji didn't seem to notice what Aang said, and instead ran forward as Hei Bai started to disappear into a thicket of bamboo of his own making. As people started to emerge from the thicket, she ran through some bending form that both Aang and Katara thought looked a little familiar, but couldn't quite place. As she did, the effect that caused the rain to avoid her expanded, a swirling field of air that looked something like a lazy, hemispherical funnel cloud protecting the people who were coming back from the spirit world from the elements.

"Wow, how are you doing that?" Aang asked her.

"Airbending," she muttered. "Perhaps we should check on them?"

Some of the villagers, led by their chief, ran into the air shield, small gaps forming in it whenever they were about to touch it. It seemed like Dorji had somehow talked with them about it beforehand, as they didn't pay it much mind aside from a small amount of wonder at the barrier made from of wind and clouds. They came with towels and hot meals (though unfortunately they were a little wet...) for the people who just came back from the spirit world.

"Sokka!" Katara exclaimed when she saw her brother stumbling from the bamboo. She ran up to him and hugged him. "I was so worried about you! How are you doing?"

Sokka danced weirdly. "Thanks, but... I really have to pee!" He wiggled out of the hug and ran out of the cloud barrier. He went so fast that Dorji didn't have the time to fully open a hole in it.

"There are no bathrooms in the spirit world," Dorji noted dully.

oOoOo

Sokka left the bathroom, sighing in relief.

"I'm glad you're okay," Dorji said. She was leaning on the wall near the door, holding a bowl of curry. She offered the curry to Sokka. "Courtesy of the village chief." Sokka reached to grab it, but then Dorji pulled it back. "Actually, did you not wash your hands?"

Sokka growled at her, then went back into the bathroom. A few seconds and sounds of water later, Sokka came back out, still growling, and snatched the bowl from Dorji.

"Seriously, though, are you okay?" Dorji asked him as he downed the soup. "While there were... circumstances that made my first time in the spirit world more terrifying than if could've been, chief among them being the fact that I was five, the spirit world is a confusing place to just randomly be dropped against your will in regardless of circumstances."

Sokka shrugged. "It was pretty freaky, but to be honest that's just been my life since we met Aang."

"Still, if you do need to talk about it I'll be there for you," Dorji said. "And... thanks, for not being weird about it when you noticed..."

Sokka nodded. "Yeah, don't worry about it. Though I do feel like I should remind you that, as Katara's older brother, I will have to tease you about having a crush on her."

"I was worried about that..." she muttered. "Now, I think Aang's about to do something rash, so let's go catch up with him."

Sokka gulped some of his curry. "Yeah, let's go."

oOoOo

"What was Aang just about to do?" Sokka asked Katara. Aang and Katara were standing in front of Appa, who looked like he was being readied to fly.

"I was-" Aang started to say, but was cut off by Katara.

"He was about to leave without us," she said. "Something about Avatar Roku."

"I have to go to an island in the Fire Nation by tomorrow," Aang explained. "I didn't want..."

Dorji jumped onto Appa. "Nope," she said, reclining in the back of his saddle. The rain started avoiding Appa, though without quite as much of the vision-obscuring cloud barrier around him.

"Yeah, we're not letting you go without us," Sokka said, then started trying to climb Appa. "We're going to the Fire Nation together."

Aang sighed. "Thanks, guys."

#fanfiction #avatar the last airbender fanfiction #Avatar The Last Airbender #A Black Wind Howls #ABWH CH4

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azozzoni · 5 years

Text

It’s like as soon as I have something else to work on, all I want to do is write fic... So okay, who am I to fight my impulses?

***

The smell of food wafted through the air as Filippo pushed open the front door to the apartment and he paused as he set down his camera bag. Eleonora’s cooking certainly didn’t smell like that on a regular basis. The chances of it being his mom were also slim, and he headed for the kitchen, poking his head curiously around the corner.

A smile spread over Filippo’s face as he caught sight of Elia, his back to the door, stirring something on the stove.

“What are you doing?” Filippo asked, stepping inside and watching Elia whip around, spoon clattering on the stovetop, as though Filippo surprised him.

“Fuck, Filo, make a sound next time,” Elia said, letting out a breath, but he didn’t seem upset, dipping his finger in something on the stove and holding it out. “Here, taste this.”

Amused but not surprised, Filippo stepped forward obediently, licking the white sauce off of Elia’s finger. He caught Elia’s wrist, holding him steady, meeting Elia’s smirk.

“Delicious,” he said, yanking Elia forward and kissing away the smirk on Elia’s face, humming contently when Elia wrapped his arms around his neck and melted into him. Nudging Elia away, he smiled at the way Elia followed his mouth instead. “But you didn’t answer my question.

“I’m making dinner,” Elia replied, biting his lip, eyes on Filippo’s.

“And how did you get in here exactly?” Filippo asked, glancing over Elia’s shoulder at the pasta boiling on the stove. He didn’t remember Elia saying he was coming over or he might have cut his photoshoot short. The prospect of Elia cooking dinner was too good to pass up—Elia was an infinitely better cook than anyone in Filippo’s immediate family, and there was always dessert.

“Eleonora let me in,” Elia said, seemingly reluctant to let Filippo go as Filippo moved over to the counter to inspect what Elia was doing, as if he knew anything about it.

“Where’s she?” he asked, not bothering to glance around. If she was around, she would probably choose to appear at the most inopportune moment.

Elia leaned back against the counter, eyes traveling down Filippo, as if they hadn’t seen each other last night. Not that Filippo minded. He bit back his smile as he purposefully ignored Elia’s wandering gaze.

“Think she said she was going out with Edoardo or something,” Elia replied, unconcerned, crossing his ankles, watching Filippo turn from the stove.

“And you just thought you’d come by and make dinner unannounced?” he asked. Elia wasn’t typically the spontaneously romantic one in their relationship—Filippo was pretty sure that anything romantic Elia did was thoroughly vetted by Nico and Marti first, which he appreciated.

Elia tilted his head to the side, looking pretty pleased with himself as Filippo boxed him in against the cabinets. Filippo knew Elia liked this, playing this game.

“If you’re not hungry, I can just go,” Elia said, failing at hiding his smile, as though he knew what Filippo’s answer would be. And maybe he did. Maybe after so many months, Elia knew exactly what Filippo would say to that.

Shaking his head, Filippo moved his hands to splay over Elia’s hips, watching the way Elia swallowed, mouth falling open slightly as his eyes flicked to Filippo’s.

“We have only one rule in this house, and it’s that you finish what you start.”

“Guess I’m in the right place then,” Elia said, licking his lips a little too seductively.

Filippo still wasn’t sure how this had happened, this thing with Elia, but he was glad it had. He was glad it had led to Elia practically breaking in, or at least somehow convincing Eleonora to leave him alone in their apartment so that he could look at Filippo like that, a little smug, a little wanting as Filippo shifted into him, their hips pressing together. He felt Elia’s exhale against his chin.

“You know what I like most about this kitchen?” he asked, and Elia hummed softly, tugging at the hem of Filippo’s silk over-shirt.

“How cozy it is?” Elia smirked, rolling his hips into Filippo, and it took all the self-control Filippo had not to get his hand in between them, get Elia’s jeans undone and his dick in his hand, just like he knew Elia wanted. He had a bit more restraint than that.

“That the counters are the perfect height,” he said instead, watching the way Elia’s eyebrow quirked down.

“For what?”

“For this,” Filippo said, hooking his hands under Elia’s thighs and lifting. Elia jerked slightly, grabbing Filippo’s shoulders as Filippo slid him onto the counter, stepping between his legs instead.

Elia’s surprise only lasted a second as he leaned into Filippo, slightly taller than him now, arms around Filippo’s neck, forehead pressed together.

“Have you done this a lot in here?” Elia asked, but Filippo knew he didn’t care about the answer. Elia was about the least jealous person he’d ever met. He hadn’t even cared when Filippo had met up with Dario to help with the donations, knowing they’d dated.

“Once or twice,” Filippo admitted, sliding his palms up Elia’s thighs, smiling when Elia wrapped his legs around his back.

“So it’s tried and tested,” Elia said, sounding satisfied, and Filippo had to close his eyes against Elia’s hot breath ghosting over his neck.

It was all very domestic, he thought, at least, the cooking was. Maybe not the way his fingers made their way under Elia’s shirt or the way Elia’s lips slid down the line of his throat, slow and tortuously hot against his skin.

A hissing noise interrupted the moment, and Elia’s head snapped up, cursing at the pasta boiling over.

“Ow, ow, ow, hot,” Elia said as he grabbed the lid with his bare fingers, tossing it onto the counter. “Fuck.”

“Come here,” Filippo said easily, pulling Elia’s hand towards him, blowing on the red pads of his fingertips while Elia watched. He didn’t miss how dark Elia’s eyes went when Filippo brought the fingers to his mouth, licking each carefully.

“Filo,” Elia said, voice low, a strain of desperation Filippo didn’t usually hear, breath short as Filippo sucked a finger into his mouth.

They’d tried a lot of things since they’d gotten together, and somehow, it never failed to surprise Filippo what turned Elia on, what made his pupils go wide, his mouth go dry, made him clutch at Filippo and say his name like a prayer.

“Fuck,” Elia breathed, dragging his wet fingers along Filippo’s bottom lip before he kissed him, full of desire and lust and just fucking need that Filippo loved. He loved that Elia wanted him like this, needed him like this.

Elia’s tongue in his mouth was slick and hot, Elia’s hands gripping at the back of Filippo’s neck as if afraid he might decide to leave. Filippo had no intention of leaving, not with Elia groaning into his mouth, body hot to the touch as Filippo slid his hands up Elia’s chest. He never had any intention of stopping Elia when he was like this, sliding forward on the counter so his hips could press into Filippo’s stomach, a slow roll against him.

“The bechamel,” Elia muttered in between kisses, and Filippo had no idea what he was saying, gripping Elia’s waist instead, fingernails digging into his skin. Elia didn’t stop the kisses, pulling at Filippo’s lip ring, barely breaking away to say again, “Filo, the sauce.”

“Hmm?” Filippo asked, distracted by the press of Elia’s hips against him, Elia’s arousal obvious through his jeans.

“Take it off the heat or it’s gonna burn,” Elia murmured in between licking into Filippo’s mouth, wet and slick against Filippo’s tongue.

Dragging his wits back together, Filippo pulled away from Elia long enough to yank the pan off the burner and turn it off.

“Have I ever told you how glad I am that you chose culinary school over Uni?” he asked, returning to the soft heat of Elia’s mouth, rising on his toes to regain the height he’d lost by Elia’s position on the countertop. He felt Elia’s smile more than he saw it, heard Elia’s contented sigh.

“Once or twice,” Elia said, echoing Filippo’s words from earlier, and Filippo laughed, sliding his hand down Elia’s stomach to the waistband of his jeans. He knew Elia was watching from the way he went quiet, the angle of his head as Filippo thumbed open the button, dragged down the zipper.

Filippo was sure this was what Elia had wanted when he’d decided to show up and cook dinner tonight. Elia never had a problem asking for it, telling Filippo exactly what he wanted, but there were times when Filippo got the feeling he just wanted Filippo to know. Like maybe it had been a hard day at classes but Elia didn’t want to say it, didn’t think it was important enough to bring up, so he showed up like this. Filippo hadn’t quite figured that out yet.

But he wasn’t going to turn Elia down, not when Elia exhaled, shaky, in his ear, as Filippo got his hand under his boxers, wrapped around Elia’s hot prick.

“Oh god!”

A voice behind him made Filippo startle, twisting to find Eleonora in the doorway, her hand covering Edoardo’s eyes, as if he needed to be shielded from the sight of Filippo and Elia.

“This is not why I let you have the kitchen,” Eleonora said as Edoardo shoved her hand down, rolling his eyes.

Careful, tugging his hand from Elia’s jeans, hearing Elia’s tiny huff of disappointment, Filippo hung his head.

“What are you doing here, Ele?” he asked, glancing up at Elia, noting the flush on his cheeks that probably wasn’t entirely from the fact that Filippo had been about to jerk him off.

“I can’t find my phone. I think it fell out of my pocket and into the couch.”

“Well, the couch is in there,” Filippo said, nodding at the living room, and he heard Eleonora’s scoff, as if she wasn’t the one who’d just interrupted what was going to be a very good time.

“Sorry, man,” Edoardo said as Eleonora finally left the doorway, and Filippo waved him away, lifting his chin to Elia once they were both gone.

Elia chewed on his bottom lip for a second before nudging at Filippo’s nose. “Maybe we should eat dinner.”

Reluctant, Filippo let Elia slide off the counter, closing his jeans and pulling the pasta off the burner.

“Only if there’s something amazing for dessert,” Filippo said, placing his hands on Elia’s shoulders and pressing a kiss to his neck. He heard Elia’s laugh.

“There will be,” Elia promised, and Filippo hummed, content enough for now.

“We’re leaving!” Eleonora called from the front door. “Please don’t forget the wipe everything down before we—Hey! Edo!”

“Bye, guys!” Edoardo said before the door shut behind them.

Filippo sighed, wrapping his arms around Elia’s waist, and breathing in deeply and willing down the heat in his lower body. “So what are we having?”

Elia glanced back at him, easy, and Filippo really didn’t care what it was. He never really did as long as Elia was the one making it.

“Something amazing,” Elia replied, leaning into the kiss Filippo pressed to his cheek.

“Isn’t it always?” Filippo asked, but he let go of Elia to help get out the plates, smiling as he watched Elia assemble the dish. Maybe it was disgustingly domestic, like an old married couple, but Filippo thought he could definitely get used to this as Elia met his eyes for a brief second, not bothering to hide his smile as he looked back to the dish. Yeah, he could definitely get used to this.

#skamit #skam italia #skamit fic #elippo #my fic

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boymeetsweevil · 6 years

Text

For Science 4/7

Grouping: Reader x Nerd!Jungkook

Word Count: 9.6k (im sorry its so long!!)

Warnings/Themes: definitely probably nsfw but purposefully not that many again. drunk jungkook being angry and then clingy, idiot kook, making out? ANGST?? Hoseok being the slimiest being on the face of the earth,

Summary: Jungkook asks you to let him watch you get off. For science.

A/N: I would like to thank @b-angst-tan for beta reading this series as it is so far. I also would like to tag @m-icdrop , @jiminslye & @ephemeral-mindset to let you know that i finally got my shit together and posted lmao. hopefully i didnt leave anyone out who wanted to be tagged. if i did im very sorry and if you want to be tagged for subsequent posts, just DM me and let me know :)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5, part 6, part 7

You wonder if maybe you should have chosen something more weather appropriate as the chill of the still early air nips at your stockinged ankles. It was a hard choice: The fleece-lined sweatpants with the dried tide pod stuck at the hip or something cute and feminine so you could play catch-up with whatever nice thing Yoori was wearing. The sight of Yoori in a slightly similar outfit of an elegant pea coat and demure pleated skirt convinces you that you made the right decision. But while your anxiety about picking the right clothes wanes, a sudden wave of exhaustion hits you. Normally you would be able to rest on a Saturday after 90 minutes of contorting yourself into endurance-testing positions, but today you had no time to untangle mentally—only physically—as you rushed through a shower to give yourself enough time to run to your apartment to grab a change of clothes.

Yoori looks up from her phone and sees you approaching her where she stands by a Starbuck’s storefront. A large grin splits her face, revealing a pair of adorable dimples on each cheek. You’re not expecting her to shove her phone into her coat pocket so she can run over to you and crush you in her arms.

“Hi, how are you!”

“Oh, uh, I’m good. How are you settling in?” Her grasp is fairly constricting , but you try not to appear shaken as you spit her hair out your mouth.

“I’m doing fine. I leased my apartment while I was away so, I’m still at the hotel until that contract ends. But that’s only for a few more weeks. After that I’ll move back in and really be at home. You smell lovely by the way. What scent is that?”

“Thanks,” you blink, “It’s just soap.”

“Mm, what kind of soap?”

“The dollar store kind.” She nods with a smile. “Um, where are we going?”

“Just to this little place up on Main Street. It’s called La Lune, have you heard of it?”

“Of course I have. They’re notorious for only ever being un-booked twice a year! And even then it’s just because they’re taking breaks so the owner can fly to her house in Paris.”

Yoori plays with the sleeve of her coat. “I suppose it does have a bit of a reputation. I must have just gotten lucky with their date book.”

“Don’t you need an appointment to get in?”

“Yes,” Yoori trails off.

“Will we be able to even get in? I-I didn’t call ahead to make a reservation since you said you’d take care of the plans for today.”

“They said they have an extra spot open for us today since they’re training a new technician.”

You don’t push because you know what they say about looking gift horses in the mouth. But you can’t help but wonder how you could have gotten so lucky on your first attempt to get seen at the nail shop. Any suspicion you have about Yoori’s methods of getting onto the appointment book evaporates when you step foot into the shop.

From looking at the pictures of the interior that you could find on Google images, you know that the design is based off of a bunch of spas that the owner herself went to during her many travels to Europe. All the décor is a novel twist of organic meets minimal with polished woods and metals and clean, sloping lines all existing harmoniously. You sit down in a plush chair in the waiting area while Yoori chats enthusiastically with the woman sitting behind the front desk. She does a little spin for her as they most likely talk about how much prettier she looks since the last time she came to the shop.

After confirming the appointment, Yoori makes her way over and sits next to you. She leans over the arm of her chair to peer over your shoulder at the vials of designer nail polish in your hands.

“Do you know what color you’re going to get?”

“Not yet. I usually just do black since it doesn’t clash and it doesn’t make my fingers look as stumpy”

“What are you talking about? Your hands are precious.” She reaches over to bring one up to inspect. “You have such a nice natural nailbed color. A nude would be perfect.”

“You don’t have to flatter me, I know what my hands are like. We can’t all have perfect OPI model hands, Yoori.”

She grins at your indirect compliment. “You think they’re perfect?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. Some things are just objective facts.” She’s quiet for a bit, a small expression on her face as she looks at you carefully.

“I think this shade would look good on you”, she picks out a specific soft shade that highlights that mimics that pink tone of your nails. “Plus, its suitable for the winter and spring. So, you could wear it for a while.”

“It’s really pretty. Thanks.”

“I could buy it for you. If you like.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t ask you to do that, you’re already doing so much for me today as is. I—“

“Too late.” She swipes the bottle out of your hand and gets up to go pay.

The guilt is too much for you to sit back and let it happen, so you launch yourself out of the chair and rush past her to the front desk, debit card out and ready.

“I’d like the buy the shade that Yoori has in her hand, please. Thank you.”

Her eyes are wide, but she doesn’t argue, and lets you buy the shade. You give her a pat on the arm and accept the tiny satin drawstring gift bag and try not to think about the chunk of money that just left your account.

You can only assume the rest of the nail appointment is nice but you can’t know for sure. You do know that you must have enjoyed yourself because you promptly fall asleep two minutes into the hot rock hand massage that comes with every booking. Yoori snapped a quick picture of your lax dreaming face and woke you up when the technician asked her what shape you wanted your nails. Leaving the salon finds you refreshed and with a beautiful manicure.

“Feeling hungry yet,” Yoori asks after she catches you staring wistfully at a random pedestrian with a bagel. “There’s still time for it to be brunch at the place I was talking about.”

“Yeah. It’s just too bad my nails are all nice now,” you joke. “Saturday mornings are for ribs at my house.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. They don’t have ribs on their brunch menu, I don’t think. Do you want ribs? I can check and see if there are any barbecue places that are open for lunch.” She fumbles for her phone and types frantically like she didn’t just get a hundred-dollar manicure.

“Yoori, Yoori, hold on! I was just kidding. There’s no way in hell I’m messing these nails up. I’m almost considering just drinking water for lunch so I don’t have to use my hands.”

“Wow, you…really got me.” She lets out a breath of relief before side-eyeing you. “Are you sure you don’t want ribs?”

“Positive.”

“Good,” she chuckles.

The two of you make small talk about what brought each of you to engineering as you take walking directions from Yoori’s phone. The walk ends at a pretty looking place with a yet another French sounding name. It’s filled to the brim with fresh flowers, giving the air a sweet scent that has your mouth watering even more. You take a chance and allow Yoori to order for you, trying not to be suspicious of the strange cheese dish she orders as an appetizer.

“—And that’s how we met Tae. We didn’t meet Hoseok until about a month later when he spilled his drink on me in line for the comic book signing at the campus bookshop that one year.”

“I think I remember that day, actually,” Yoori blinks up as if sifting through the memory in mid-air.

“Oh! Did you go? I feel like I would have noticed another girl there. I think I could count all of us there on one hand.”

“No, I wasn’t there. I’m not a comic book person actually. I just remember seeing all the people coming back in cosplay. There was actually this one really beautiful green elf costume I saw on my way to class. There were lights woven into the fabric and everything—I almost took a photo.”

Your cheeks heat up and you duck your head to take a sip of your extremely expensive blood orange mimosa. “That was actually me.”

“Was it really? Did you make it yourself?”

“No—well, yeah, I did the bulk. But Jungkook helped me a lot and Tae helped me find the materials.”

“And Hoseok?”

“Hoseok scratched his ass and watched.”

“Wow, I can’t believe that was you. It’s like destiny. We must have been meant to meet,” she lays a hand next to yours. You can’t help but notice how well the color of her pastel nails goes with your nude.

“Yeah, I suppose so. But enough about me, I feel like I’ve just been blabbering on and on about my friends.”

“No, I love hearing about them. I always envy people with lots of stories to tell about their friends. I feel like I have to ask,” she trails off, a shy smile splitting her face. “What’s it like being the only girl in that friend group?”

“It’s…only mildly frustrating,” you say with a laugh as your food arrives. It smells wonderful and given the amount of truffle shavings, you’re glad you chose to come here on a day that you weren’t paying.

“How so?”

“I mean, you know how guys are and you know how STEM guys are. Add to that the fact that they aren’t getting laid and you have a very interesting strain of emotional constipation.” Yoori nods along understandingly. “And let’s not forget all the stupid questions they ask me since they can’t ask any other woman.”

“That sounds like it might be frustrating.” You chuckle at her diplomatic tone.

“I mean it is, but they’re nicer than most guys and they mean well.”

The sly smile appears again and she leans forward to create a bubble of privacy.

“Nothing more than platonic has ever happened between you and one of them?”

Thankfully, a waiter rushes by and bumps the table a little and you can use that as an excuse for suddenly choking on your food. You certainly weren’t expecting her to inquire about your sex life so early into the conversation, and the irony of the situation isn’t lost on you. Of course, the apple of Jungkook’s eye would ask you about which of your guy friends you’ve ever screwed around with.

You blot at your face with a cloth napkin. Luckily for you, the way you look when you’ve narrowly avoided asphyxiation and when you’re concealing guilt is very similar. “Oh my god, please. I’m trying to enjoy this food, not regurgitate it. But to answer your question, no. They’re not my type. They’re too…” you make some abstract gesture in the air with your fork and Yoori nods.

“What about Jungkook, then? Surely, he’s decent otherwise I’m sure you would have warned me by now.”

“No, he’s nice. He’s a little out of it sometimes, but that’s always been his thing, you know? But he’s really kind and warm and funny in his own way. Plus, he’s in love with you so I don’t think you have to worry about him doing the man-child thing too much.”

Yoori blushes and shifts in her seat, looking a little uncomfortable. “Yes, I figured as much.”

“Can I ask what took so long for you two to finally meet up? I just—I know he’s been contacting you for a while now.”

“It’s complicated,” she sighs.

“I can keep up.”

“You could say I’ve just always been very wary of the men in our department. They’re not your average guys, but they’re still men. They still want the same things from you. And,” she looks away from you to continue. “I wasn’t sure if Jungkook was that way as well. So, I kept my distance. This must seem pretty suspect to you. Especially since it happened after he got put on the department website. I’ve heard what some people have been saying.”

Your hands fly out to console her. “Oh my god, of course not. That makes total sense. You’re not obligated to entertain everyone who expresses interest in you. I get it.”

“Oh, gosh, I feel so bad.” She hangs her head in her hands and you watch helplessly as her hair nearly falls into her water glass. When you inquire why, she shakes her head with guilt. “Jungkook never outright expressed an interest in dating until a few weeks ago. All the times before that, he’d been a perfect gentleman via text. But it was the way he would stare at me in public with those…those moonpie eyes!”

“He does look like that sometimes. Especially with those glasses.” She points at you like you’ve hit the nail on the head.

After doing a cursory look around the restaurant to make sure no one around will be able to hear her confession, she elaborates. “It was just so obvious how he felt and I was so used to guys feigning wanting to be platonic friends only to corner me in the parking lot after what was supposed to be a friendly dinner out. I-I couldn’t trust him. But then I heard that you were friends with him and I decided I would give it a chance.”

“Why would you trust him just because of me?”

“I have my reasons. And I just figured if you were willing to be friends with him, he might not be so bad. Plus, my mom has been pestering me about getting married and I wanted to get her off my back.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re giving him a chance. It means the world to him and he can finally stop pining silently. When is your first date,” you ask neutrally. Although you know that as soon as you get a date, you’ll have to terminate your weekends with Jungkook.

“Oh well we haven’t really discussed anything like that. I think he might ask about it soon, though. I’ll keep you posted.” The little eye roll and laugh she lets out breaks the heavy mood and you try to steer the conversation in a lighter direction.

“Tell me about your friends, Yoori.”

“Me? Well, I probably don’t have as much to say as you do. Most of my friends have long since finished the program and I’ve been so busy with my dissertation that I just don’t have as much time as I used to for hanging out and stuff like that.”

“I thought you were friends with Sunyoung. The bio double major? Jungkook said you were pretty close.”

“Well, he’s right. At first, we were. She’s been really busy ever since she got engaged, so,” she trails off.

“To that Jaehyun guy, right? But, wait,” you drop your fork as the details fall into place. “Weren’t you guys all friends? And didn’t they get married like half a year ago?” Your heart breaks when you realize Yoori may have been alone for at least 6 months while working.

“I could tell I was making things difficult by third wheeling, so Sunyoung suggested I give them some space.”

You were pretty certain you saw Sunyoung and Jaehyun hanging out with a few of the other women in the engineering building on the regular when you went to print things for class using the department printer. Even with her indirect language, it’s pretty clear what happened between Yoori and her friend and you don’t push. Though you do feel bad for the animosity you felt towards her when she first introduced herself.

“Well, I’m glad we met. It’s nice to finally have a new girlfriend,” you say. She looks up at you with slightly dim eyes but perks up when you lace your fingers together briefly.

The smile she gives you is brilliant and infectious. “Me too. So much,” she says quietly.

When brunch ends, Yoori suggests continuing your stroll so you can walk off the post-food sleepiness. The weather is a bit brisk and there are unanswered texts from Jungkook on your phone, but you don’t say no and keep the notifications unread. Something about the fact that you’re in the shopping district with a pretty manicure and your pretty friend makes you feel good. Good in a way that you haven’t felt in a really long time.

You link arms and window shop for hours, though it doesn’t feel like it. She pulls you into store after store because she saw something that she thought would look ‘splendid’ on you. Somehow you manage to look past her imploring eyes and put the designer garments back on the rack, but not until after she’s made you try them on and spin around in them so she can sing your praises. While you browse each shop, you make comments about the other shoppers or the items that make her dissolve into giggles or make her cheeks flare up with a warm blush and a gaping, incredulous smile. By the time you finally part ways, you almost don’t want to get into the cab she’s called for you, but your feet are aching and the sun is starting to set. She blows you a theatrical air kiss and makes a surprisingly dorky ‘call me’ gesture with her hand that has you covering your face so she can’t see how hard you’re smiling. When you step out to face Jungkook’s building, the mood of the day’s outing lingers on you like a perfume. Or maybe it’s a halo. Either way, Jungkook notices something about you is slightly different when you finally arrive at his doorstep.

“Hey,” you greet him without looking and instead focus on getting your feet out of the little heeled booties you’d been wearing for so long.

“You changed?” His voice is muffled from where he lays with his cheek smushed into the sofa. The xbox controller in his hand dangles as he takes in your appearance. “When did you do that?”

“I went back to my house after yoga. I couldn’t go meet her in a rank t-shirt and the sweats that I slept in.”

When he doesn’t say anything, you turn to see why he’s so silent. One look at the handful of empty beer bottles sitting neatly by the floor by his feet lets you know what the deal is.

“You been drinking, Jeon?” Jungkook when he’s drunk is quite the handful, but the owlish way he blinks at everything when there’s liquor in his system is almost funny enough to make the rest of his drunk antics worth it.

“Yep,” he hiccups. He tries to shoot finger guns at you but almost ends up flipping you the bird.

It draws a string of giggles out of you. He squints and takes in your frizz free hair, your glowy skin, your nice blouse and skirt, the easy way you walk over to the couch to sit by him. His stare is tangible.

“What?”

“You’re really pretty,” he rasps and his hand reaches out without his permission to trace the swell of your cheek.

His comment takes you by surprise and you can only laugh awkwardly and lean out of his reach, unsure of what to do with such a blatant compliment.

“Wow, I spend one afternoon with Yoori and you’re calling me pretty? She must have rubbed off on me real good.” You take the controller out of his hands to un-pause the game of Zelda he was playing.

“S’not cause of her. ‘S cause you’re not hiding,” he mumbles before picking up the other controller that was laying off to the side. His comment doesn’t reach your ears which he’s secretly glad for. “You want a beer?”

“Sure.”

He reaches over the arm of the couch to fish out one of the leftover full bottles and hands it to you. He doesn’t say anything while he watches you chug half of it, meanwhile nudging the inside of his cheek with his tongue. A classic sulking Jungkook pose.

“Oh my god, what? Are you mad I got to spend the day with her and you didn’t?”

He blinks, surprised, when he realizes that he’s actually not mad about that. Rather he’s mad you spent so little of the precious Saturday with him, though it wasn’t clear at first. To think that he’s jealous of Yoori is funny enough to break him of his brief pouting session.

“Yeah,” he fibs, “but it’s fine.” He scoots clumsily nearer next to you. “You’re here now and there’s still the rest of the weekend.”

“That’s true. But I don’t want to play Zelda. Let’s do Mario Kart?”

“Loser each round has to take a shot and winner picks the next course?” He’s already stumbling his way back to the kitchen to pull the tequila bottle someone left in his fridge a while back and a pair of plastic shot glasses.

“Is there any other way?”

It takes three rounds, the first two of which are Rainbow Road, but you quickly catch up to him in terms of tipsiness level. Your whole body feels like its vibrating, and the tequila makes it seem like your blood is carbonated. Like you could float away at any moment. By a streak of luck and then redirecting to Bowser’s castle, you manage to get in the winning position. You’re on a roll and get cocky enough to start gloating, egging Jungkook’s underlying competitive nature on.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath as you cross the finish line 9 seconds before him. His stomach feels sloshy after four shots and the bottles of beer he downed earlier. You slam down his, now full, shot glass in front of him, spilling some of the clear liquid onto the table.

“That’s like, what, your fourth one? No, wait, it’s your fifth one. My bad.” You stick out your tongue as you perch next to him, pressing yourself to his back and reveling in the way he grimaces at the shot. “If I had known you would make the game so easy, I would have stayed out with Yoori.”

You’re so busy teasing him about his slow gaming reflexes that you don’t notice the way his smile twitches after he downs the drink. He moves uncharacteristically fast and all you can do is sit there as he tosses the tiny plastic cup to side and then turns to lunge at you. Your back hits the couch cushion with a soft thud and your breath leaves you in a whoosh. If it had just been him caging you into the couch because he was fed up with your taunting, it would be fine. But the moment his fingertips dig into your sides, you lose it and start thrashing.

Jungkook knows better than anyone else that you’re a wild tickling victim, all flailing knees and elbows. Truly a danger to anyone who dares to tickle you. But he’s still smart despite being five tequila shots and a few beers in and uses his bulk against you to keep your movement to a minimum. Perhaps it’s a little cruel to take it out on you, but he still can’t get over the selfish simmering of regret at not suggesting you ditch Yoori in favor of letting him spend the day wrapped up in you. He missed you, is what it really boils down to.

“No,” you cackle underneath him, “No, please! Jungkook this isn’t fair. Please!”

He merely flashes you his teeth in a mean grin and continues until your eyes are shimmering with unshed tears and you’ve stopped squirming so you can keep your bladder in check.

“Jungkook, please,” you beg softly in surrender, toes curling.

Maybe it’s the angle. Maybe it’s the pleading voice you’re using, maybe it’s the sparkly quality of your eyes, or the fact that you smell like lavender. The color, not the flower, he notes. Whatever it is, his eyes fall closed automatically and he leans in to slot his mouth over yours. It’s a slow kiss and even though his tongue swipes across the seam of your lips, it has a chaste feeling still. You wriggle your arms out from under his weight and push him off you slowly. Thoughts of Yoori float around in the back of your mind and you can’t turn them away without feeling awful.

“We can’t get into anything today,” you snap and smooth out your skirt. “I got my period while I was out.” You wince when the lie comes out, but you don’t know if there’s any other way to put enough distance between you so you can keep your head straight.

He watches you look around until you spot your overnight bag at the end of the room. “Are you leaving?” His tone bleeds annoyance and takes on a sharp edge.

“Yeah,” you say like it’s obvious. Because it kind of is and the longer you stay, the weaker your resolve gets. “We can’t fool around if I’m on the rag.”

“Just because we can’t fool around, doesn’t mean I want you to leave.” He’s thinks for a second. “Do you want to leave?”

“Well, if we don’t fool around, I should probably go. Otherwise, why the hell am I here?”

His frustration flares up once more and you’re surprised that he’s as upset as he is. “Because I want you to be? And because maybe you want to be here too? Is that so weird? You said yourself this wasn’t anything to make a big deal of.”

“It’s not. But—”

“Then why the hell are you leaving?” He rakes both hands through his hair until he looks frazzled and barks out a sarcastic laugh. You’ve never seen him so angry with you before and strangely your first instinct is to get angrier.

“As opposed to sticking around? To do what?”

“I don’t know. Anything? We could play Mario Kart until our eyes bleed. You could let me practice kissing you and feeling you up all night. Or we could just be silent and drink until we both pass out. I really don’t care just…tell me what you want. Just stay if you want to stay.”

Your cheeks warm at his blunt words, but you put your bag down. He lets out a sigh of relief when you don’t charge out the front door, but he tenses up again when you head out the living room and only relaxes finally when he hears the shower start up. After nearly half an hour, you emerge looking squeaky clean and a little guilty in sweats. He’s not sure what the cause of the guilt is, but he tries not push. You shuffle over to stand in front of him, the sheepish curve of your shoulders making you look tiny.

You hesitate for a second before planting a knee on either side of his thighs and seating yourself in his lap. Your arms come to wrap around the breadth of his shoulders and you rest your cheek on top of his head.

“How was your day,” you mumble into the strands of his shiny chestnut hair.

He preens silently at the affection that he didn’t realize he’d been craving all day and his arms mirror yours. They come up to snake around your waist as he reclines a bit and shifts so he can relax into the couch without jostling you. Out of all of the things you’ve started physically doing with Jungkook, cuddling with him like this might be his favorite thing to do. There’s something incredibly satisfying about getting to bury himself in your scent and softness.

“Fine. Got my work done, skyped with RealiCorp. Met Tae for lunch. Tried to call you to see if you wanted to do dinner with us, but I guess you were busy. How was your time with Yoori?”

“It was,” you sigh, looking for the right word. “It was really fun. Honestly, its really nice to talk with another girl for a change. I’m glad we were able to.” He hums sympathetically and squeezes you a little tighter. “She’s really nice. You’ll be good together,” you admit.

He tenses a bit and changes the topic.

“I could fall asleep like this.” It’s the truth. The way your fingers run through his hair and the warmth of your breasts pillowing his head make him drowsy. Though he can’t focus on it as much as he’d like or else he’ll ruin the mood with an awkward boner.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, shifting so he can smile into your t-shirt.

“You’re so…” you can’t get the words out so instead you hastily smack a loud kiss onto his cheek.

It shocks both of you, but he doesn’t look put off. Instead, he merely adjusts his glasses, which you jostled with the force of your kiss. The gesture is so characteristically him that the floodgates open and you keep planting kisses on his face until he laughs and starts trying to catch your mouth with his own. He manages one or two cheeky kisses on your lips, but you swerve around enough to keep things PG. He huffs and keeps trying, one of his hands coming up to grab at your arm and keep you still. He leans forward, forcing you to lean back in his lap until you can’t anymore without risk of falling. When you clutch at his shoulders to maintain your balance, you’re right where he wants you.

Your eyes are squeezed shut as he brushes his nose against yours. It’s cute, he thinks. By now he knows in theory how you feel about period sex, but where’s the harm in kissing?

“Why are you being so shy? I just wanna kiss you,” he scoffs while attempting to nip at your bottom lip.

“Just kissing?” You open your eyes cautiously, lids at half-mast. He nods hurriedly, fingers drumming an impatient beat on the small of your back.

“O-Okay.” You barely get the word out before he’s swooping in with a low contented sound.

Making out just for the sake of making out reminds you of your time with your first boyfriend, the summer before college started. Only this is so much better because it’s Jungkook and because there’s no race to sex like there was when you were 18. Every press of lips is a deliberate choice and when you finally come up for air, somehow, you’re horizontal and are regretting the lie you told terribly.

He pulls away with a kiss-swollen pout and checks the time. When it’s an appropriate hour for bed and he suggests you both retire to the bedroom to watch TV before bed. You’re a little wary at first, but he’s a gentleman and doesn’t do anything untoward. He even lets you take control of his laptop and the HDMI cord while he writes continuously in his journal. You try to peer over at what he’s writing once you recognize it as his sex journal, but he pins you with such an offended look that you can only turn around feeling properly scolded without having actually been verbally addressed. You don’t think too much of the fact that he’s writing in it despite the fact that you haven’t done much in the amorous realm and he wrote on and off the entire day yesterday.

Even after you’ve watched three episodes of Elementary, he’s still writing. You unplug the computer and turn to look at him in his pretzel legged position. Every so often he’ll look over at you and then return to frantically writing in his journal. You try to engage him in an unspoken staring contest, but your eyelids drop closed and prevent you from winning. Only once it becomes clear that you’re trying to sleep does he wedge his journal underneath his half of the mattress and turn off the lights.

Passing through the weekend and into the next week doesn’t suddenly bring things back to normal. Instead it feels as though you’ve entered the twilight zone.

You and Yoori text on and off all of Sunday and into Monday to compare schedules and see when you can meet up for some quality girl time. This means that Yoori has started to come meet you outside your lecture halls when your classes end to walk to the library together and you arrive at your agreed meeting spots with her preferred coffee order. Your nails are holding up amazingly and you tell her so constantly while she smiles at how excited you are at something she often takes for granted.

Yoori suggested you have your your study sessions in the corner of the library coffee shop because the picture window shows all the light snow you’ve been getting and provides a nice form of visual ambiance to work to. Sometimes the guys attempt to crash the sessions. Often times you have to shoo them away by letting them take your ID card to stock up on hot chocolates with extra whip from the front counter. Your funds are depleting at an alarming rate, but it’s better to have the uninterrupted time with your first girl friend in a long time so you can get to know her better.

“So, are you going home during winter break,” you ask one day while typing away at the results section of a lab report. Yoori sits across from you in an oversized cashmere sweater you wish you could pull of half as well as she does. She’s been working silently for nearly an hour and you know she won’t take a break unless you distract her from the work.

At the sound of your voice, her head pops up instantly, her loose bun spilling out of its structure with the movement and cascading down her back. A freshman walking by the table nearly slams into a door trying to keep looking back at the same time. She closes her laptop, completely unaware of her effect on the people in the surrounding area.

“Yeah, I am. I haven’t in the past few years but my grandparents are coming from the countryside, so I should probably go this time.”

“Oh, that’s nice of you. I’m sure they’d all like to see you.”

“Are you going?”

“No,” you give a bittersweet smile as you play with the damp stirring stick next to your drink. “My family lives too far away for me to be able to go home and make the plane ride worth it. I’ll probably see them in the summer, though.”

“Won’t you be lonely? Do you want to come home with me?” Her brow furrows in sympathy and she reaches out to rub at your arm.

“No, that’s okay, I’ll be fine. It’s not my first rodeo, you know. Plus usually some, if not all, of the guys stick around since they live nearby but still want a break from their families during the day. But thank you though.”

“Okay, well there’s still time if you want to change your mind.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Are you almost done?”

“Almost. I’m waiting on my VASP energies to come in and then I can update my poster and I’ll be all set.”

“VASP? Since when do you do chemistry,” you get up to peer at her computer screen.

Yoori pats the open seat next to her and let her explain the very quick favor she’s doing with a professor she’s been in contact with since undergrad when she thought she would be pre-health.

“—So basically, now she’s just waiting to evaluate grain boundary energies to see if the electrolytes we’re using actually have the right structure to make a difference in hydrogen atom velocities. And I’m just here to help with some minor calculations.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

A small ping from your phone alerts you of an incoming text from ~JK~.

Is Yoori with you?

“Um, I think Jungkook is trying to reach you.”

“Oh! I keep my phone on silent during the day,” she explains and hurriedly switches on the volume before opening whatever texts he must have sent her before he texted you.

“Really?”

“I have yours set on urgent, though.”

You grin. “And why’s that?”

“Because! What if you send me another meme about neural networks? I can’t just let it rot away in my inbox.”

“No one appreciates my memes like you do.”

“Aren’t I great?”

“So great,” you admit with clenched eyes and fists for dramatic feeling.

“I wish I didn’t have to go. I’m enjoying you complimenting me.”

“Oh. Are you headed somewhere?”

“Unfortunately, yes. The energy files just arrived and I’m about to finish entering them. I think Jungkook wants to meet up to discuss things, so I’m just going to pack up now and meet him at the dining commons before the dinner rush kicks in. I’ll text you later.”

“Okay, sure.”

After Yoori packs up to leave, you consider texting Jungkook to ask what he plans on discussing with her, but it feels so clingy and invasive that you’re ashamed of yourself and force yourself to dive into work. The lab report is nearly done, but there are a few articles you could read to get further ahead in your classes. It takes a long while, and you work through the usual dinner time to do it, but you manage to finish thanks to having turned your phone off as soon as Yoori left.

When you turn it back on there are a few recent messages from Taehyung and Hoseok inquiring about late night munchies plans. You figure eating with them is better than eating soup alone in the middle of the nearby convenience store. And better than ignoring the messages in favor of going home early to have pity sleep for dinner. You text them back saying that you’ll meet them in 10 and pack your things up.

You arrive at the smoothie place feeling haggard and not ready to balance Taehyung’s energy and Hoseok’s chaotic existence. The bright side is that there is a medium chocolate shake sitting in the empty seat at the tiny high table they’ve managed to save. You greet them with a tired smile and immediately suck down the drink, reveling in the way the chocolate is already lifting your spirits a bit.

“You look like shit,” Hoseok greets you. Taehyung slaps his arm, but turns to you with concerned eyes.

“Are you sleeping?”

“Why are you guys acting like you don’t see me passed out throughout random parts of the day 80% of the time?”

“Because you don’t look like you do,” Hoseok quips. At your blank stare, he goes back to innocently sipping his guava juice. “Just looking out for you, buddy.”

“Yeah, well I slept all of this weekend, thank you very much. What about you guys? You get up to trouble at the Dairy Queen again? Is that why we’re here this time?”

Tae nods somberly. “Hobi put lit firecrackers in their dumpsters again. But this time he almost caused their elderly delivery guy to go into cardiac arrest.”

“Something is wrong with you.” Hoseok merely winks at you in response.

“The worst part is that I didn’t even have anything to do with it, but they still wouldn’t let me in, even when it was just me and Kook,” Taehyung whines.

Hoseok snorts. “Ok, that’s on you. You were my accomplice even though you technically didn’t touch the fireworks but people remember your face better than they do mine. Should have waited at least a week before trying to go back in there.”

“Wait, this was all in one weekend?”

“Yeah,” Tae reaches over and dips a fry into your cup. “The fireworks were Friday, after game night. And then we tried to go in on Saturday, but they wouldn’t let us in. We tried calling you and everything.”

“You’re mad at me now? It’s not like I could have helped you.”

“Yeah, you could have,” Hoseok corrects, gesturing to your general chest area. “You’ve got the tits for that sort of thing.”

“Why are we friends,” you ask him with a soulless smile.

“Because you won’t let me motorboat you.” His response is immediate and just as dry. It spooks you a little.

“Well, I’m gonna go. I would say it’s been fun, but it hasn’t.”

“Wait!” Taehyung scrambles out of his chair and helps you back into yours. “You can’t leave. Jungkook might be done soon and said he’ll try and meet up with us. It’ll be the first time we’ve all been out together in such a long time.”

“We literally saw her on Friday,” Hoseok groans and tosses his head back in what looks like a mini tantrum. You roll your eyes.

“That was at Kook’s house, that’s not ‘out’. It doesn’t count.” Taehyung turns to plead with you, eyes big and starry, with a comical pout on his face. “Please stay? For me? Ignore him. I do.”

“Hey!”

“Fine,” you sigh before shaking your empty cup. “But I need another one of these. And Hobi is buying.”

“Like hell I am.”

“Do I have to remind you that if it weren’t for you and your whipped cream fixation, I wouldn’t be in the red for dining dollars and I might be able to afford my own drinks from time to time? You owe me, Jung.” You try to poke his sternum menacingly, but he moves to snap his teeth at your finger and you quickly pull back with a shriek. He agrees, though its reluctantly at best.

While Hoseok waits in the line to order your refill, Taehyung scoots his chair closer to yours. Carefully, he attempts conversation.

“How are you holding up?”

“With what, work? It’s the same as always. Tedious.”

“No, I mean with…Did Kook not tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“That he planned to officially ask Yoori out tonight,” his voice is quiet and uncertain.

“Oh. No, he didn’t tell me. But, it’s not like its our right to know. He’s an adult. H-how did you find out, though?”

“He told me.”

“And me,” Hoseok says as he sets down the second milkshake in front of you.

“I see.”

You start drinking on autopilot, too busy thinking about why Jungkook wouldn’t tell you such big news despite your being his best friend. You figure maybe he found out about your big fat crush on him and decided he’d rather tiptoe around you than have to let you down gently. Or maybe he just didn’t care enough about you enough to tell you these things now that Yoori was in the picture. What’s good is that the latter thought doesn’t make any resentment towards Yoori rise in your stomach. Instead you just want to curl up in a ball and wonder you did in your past life to deserve such a horrendous love life. Or, you suppose, lack thereof.

“He just shared his location. I think he’s on the way,” Taehyung tentatively disrupts you from zoning out any further.

If you hurried, you could probably take the campus shuttle home and be on your way home before Jungkook arrives, but part of you wants to see how he’ll explain his decision to you. You decide to stay because you don’t want to be anything less than supportive of his new relationship though it’s kind of crushing you in the process.

“Tell him to hurry up, then. You know what happens when I drink cold things,” your voice is light and a little bouncier than is appropriate and you know Taehyung knows what’s going on in your head. But Hoseok doesn’t and you don’t want him to.

Jungkook arrives 10 minutes later with Yoori in tow. She looks sheepish until she sees you sitting at the table and her dimples make an appearance. She runs ahead of Jungkook to envelope you in a hug. You’re still working on the physical boundaries of your friendship given that you’re not a huge fan of suffocation. Still, you pat her arm and let her get her fill before pulling back and offering up half of your chair. She gratefully accepts it and links arms with you immediately after settling down. Everyone scoots closer to open up more space and Jungkook pulls up a seat as well.

“It’s good to see you both, again,” Yoori chirps politely. Hoseok melts at the sound of her voice and beams at her. It’s gross.

“We’re good. It’s nice to see you so often now.” Taehyung chances a look at you. The initial shock of watching you and Yoori become fast friends apparently still hasn’t worn off. You don’t blame him but he’s so obvious about it.

“It is, isn’t it? You guys are just so fun to be around.”

“We like hanging out with you too, Yoori.” Hoseok’s voice climbs almost half an octave trying to sound so abnormally accommodating. Everyone else tries to contain their laughter. “You know, you still haven’t come visit me at the dance studio. I’m starting to get hurt feelings.”

“W-well, it’s just that I’ve been so busy and I still haven’t figured out a gap in my schedule when I can properly come see you. I’m very sorry,” she squeezes your arm unconsciously as she bows her head a little to him in apology. Your pulse picks up sympathetically for her.

“Hobi, if she wanted to see you do sweaty body rolls in an empty room, don’t you think she would have done it already?” When his smile twitches at your comment you add a quick, “I’m only trying to be realistic. I’m looking out for you, buddy.”

Yoori hisses your name in your ear, but you can tell that she’s trying not to smile at your sharp wit from her tone of voice.

“Anyway,” Hoseok starts up again, “Yoori, don’t you and Jungkookie have some good news to tell us all?”

Yoori’s cheeks redden at the sudden shift in topic and she looks to Jungkook for help. His face is similarly pink with embarrassment, but he still clears his throat like he’s about to make a toast.

“It’s not a big deal. I just wanted to say that I can’t do game night this Friday since I’ll be having dinner with Yoori in town.”

“You’re all welcome to join us, if you like,” she quickly amends. Your eyes widen and you swoop in to help Jungkook save face. You know it probably took him a lot to muster the courage to ask her out in the first place and if you don’t do anything, you know Hoseok will gladly wriggle his way in and ruin the date.

“Oh, we couldn’t possibly intrude on your dinner. But, thank you, for the offer. Right Tae? Right, Hobi?” Hoseok sulks but wordlessly agrees to stay out of their date.

“Yeah,” Taehyung jumps in to help you. “We’ll just have the game night at my place. I want to play cards anyway, instead of console games this time around.”

Everyone nods until the awkward air dissipates and all that’s left is the background noise of the diner and the sound of people finishing their drinks. The cold from your shakes starts to seep into your bones and you decide to use this as your exit ticket.

“Hey, sorry to ruin the fun, but I’m freezing and I didn’t bring a real jacket, so I think I’m gonna head home. You guys have fun without me, though.”

“You can just wear my sweater,” Jungkook pipes up and begins to pull the thick, woolen pullover he was wearing over his head. But you hold your hand up to stop him as you get down from your stool and collect your trash.

“No, Kook, you’re fine. I’m just gonna use the cold as motivation to get to the bus quicker. Have a good night, everyone.”

“It’s colder out there. At least take his sweater,” Yoori calls out to you. “For me,” she adds when you look like you’re thinking about it.

“Fine,” you huff as you take the sweater from Jungkook. You slide it on in front of everyone so they can have their worries assuaged. It’s still toasty from his leftover body heat and smells like his laundry detergent. He might not get it back for a while. “See? I’ll definitely be fine now.”

“Why don’t I go with you? I’ve still got a robotics assignment I have to work on. Plus, we can split cab fare instead of waiting for the bus.” Tae shrugs on his own coat and goes to stand by you.

“Okay.” You ignore his probing look until you finish waving to everyone and leave the restaurant.

Taehyung shoves his hands in his pockets as you request a ride home through an app on your phone. The silence is companionable, but the waves of pity and sympathy rolling off Taehyung are damn near palpable and you’re about to burst if you don’t address it.

“Just say what you’re thinking. I can practically hear it anyway.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m not 12. I’m not going to be devastated just because they’re going out on one date.”

“Yeah, but,” Taehyung hesitates for a bit, trying to cushion the blow, “You know it’s just a matter of time before they become official, right?”

“I know that too,” you wince when your voice cracks a little.

“If you ever need anything, you know we’re here for you.” You raise an incredulous eyebrow at the implication that Hosoek would do anything less than laugh in your face if you came to him looking for comfort. “Well, I am, at least.”

“I know, Tae. Thank you.” You let him wrap you in a one-armed hug, but don’t let him pull away so you can steal his warmth as you wait for your car to arrive.

Yoori’s apartment is nicer than anything you’ve ever seen. So much so that you have a hard time believing that you even live in the same town. It’s technically not your first time visiting her building and you’ve called many a late night cab from her plush lobby. You’ve even started to make small talk with her doorman since you’re there so often. But something was keeping you from coming up and visiting her actual apartment. All the times you’d hung out off campus had been at your place or at Jungkook’s place. There had been a lull in all that since Jungkook announced that they’d be going on a date only a few days prior.

After that fateful day, it was hard to act like there hadn’t been subtle changes in the way people were acting. Jungkook was suddenly super busy or always at the gym and couldn’t ever pick up your calls. And when he did return them it was only when you were dead asleep and couldn’t pick up your phone. For that, you were actually kind of grateful because you were certain that the next time you saw him on your own, he would try to break it to you that he couldn’t return your affections and that you could no longer be friends.

Taehyung and Hoseok, on the other hand, were still somewhat normal, but Hoseok was too excited about Yoori’s unofficial entry into the friend group and Taehyung kept soft-touching you like he could take up your pain through osmosis. Yoori was the only one who hadn’t suddenly turned weird and it was only because she wasn’t aware of the chaos floating around you all.

When she’d asked you to come shopping with her on the high street, you had a hunch that it was so she could get some new outfits for the many date nights with Jungkook ahead. You didn’t expect her to try and rope you into buying things as well, though you managed to get out it by truthfully explaining to her that Taehyung and Hoseok were still using your student ID like it was a credit card in someone else’s name and you had to be frugal as a result. But just when you thought you were in the clear as you approached her building, she invited you up to help her style the stuff she bought and stick around for dinner. To keep from having to explain yourself, you said yes.

But you instantly regretted it as you stood in the middle of her chicly decorated bedroom with picture windows and realized that despite the fact that you were extremely fond of Yoori, there was still a very small part of you that wished you had her life. It felt juvenile and reminded you that even after you stopped being a teenager you still had a ton of self-esteem issues left to address. The sooner you finished helping her with her outfits, the sooner you could maybe curl up on her couch and down the bottle of wine you bought while you were shopping earlier.

“I don’t think I like this one as much now that we’re not in the store anymore.” Yoori frowns at her reflection from inside the walk-in closet. The fact that she had a walk-in closet did not surprise you, but your mouth still dropped open when you the little seating area and the full-length panel of mirrors inside of it.

You finish picking out an alternative and then call out to her. “Come out and let me see it?”

She emerges in a short and slinky dress that would be perfect if it weren’t for the way it slouched at the neckline. It seemed intentional in the store with the way the salesman was pushing hard for her to buy it, but now it looked oddly frumpy.

“I think I see what you mean. Turn?” She obeys and turns gracefully, the skirt flaring out around her hips. “Why don’t you try these? They’d look amazing with that red blouse you wore when we went to the movies that one time.” You hand her some satiny trousers that she picked up on a whim but ended up really liking. If she paired them with red, Jungkook’s favorite color, he’d eat his heart out.

“You’re right, I think this is the one,” Yoori smiles widely at you and comes out with two pairs of shoes in her hand. Silently you point to the pair that would go better with the outfit, the ones with a subtle gold traces etched into the stiletto heel.

“If you want, you can wear your hair in a ponytail. Show off your neck, he’ll like it.”

“Really?” She laughs, slightly bashful. “Is he a neck guy?”

“For you? He’s a neck guy, hand guy, lips guy, ass guy. You name it.” As soon as Yoori hangs up her outfit for the date and puts it on her closet door, you flop face first into her bed, exhausted in so many ways.

“Why do you know so much about his, um, preferences? Is he vocal about that sort of thing?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” your voice is muffled by her bedspread.

“And are you not vocal about that sort of thing, then?”

Luckily she can’t see your face as you roll the question around in your head. You’re no prude and if it weren’t for the unfortunate series of events that is your life, you would love nothing more than to swap sex stories with Yoori as a form of bonding. But given that you can’t and you don’t really want to end up having to listen to her talk about sex with him when it comes, you decide one more white lie won’t hurt.

“I’m just a really private person, so I don’t really do that.”

“Good to know,” she chuckles and you miss the disappointed look on her face when she realizes she won’t be able to share with you. Although, it would make sense that you wouldn’t want to hear her talk about your childhood best friend like that. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Sleep.”

“Are you tired? How about we take a rain check and think about it again in a few hours? I’m gonna go come up with some slides for my coding class, but you’re welcome to nap in here and I’ll wake you up before it gets too late.”

“That…sounds great. Thanks, Yoori.”

“No problem.”

You wait until she closes her bedroom door and you’re certain you’re alone. When the sound of the soft music that she plays when she works drifts through the speakers in her living room, you crawl up to the head of the bed, get under the covers, and cry into the pillow. The sleep that follows is amazing though and you think it’s half because your body was running on fumes and half because Yoori has the best mattress you’ve ever slept on.

#bangtan bookclub #bttnetwork #networkbangtan #btswriters #bts scenarios #bangtan scenarios #bts fanfction #bangtan fanfic #bts imagines #bangtan imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine

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anerdinallherglory · 5 years

Text

Approaching Sun (20)

Author’s Note:Again, I apologize for not having this out until now. I have been absolutely swamped. I am hoping my time will free up a lot this summer. Thanks for your patience.

P.S. Happy Monday

Pairing: SasuSaku

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19

Next Chapter: 21

Chapter 20: No More.

Sasuke thought it was the sudden light of sunrise that was signaling the instincts within his body to wake. That is, until a growing warmth began to bloom over his face and a sweat beaded across his forehead.

The Uchiha sucked in a sharp breath and opened his eyes. An orb of orange flame hovered a couple of feet in front of his face and Sasuke had to blink several times before his eyes could adjust enough to recognize the stooped frame illuminated just behind it.

Sasuke jerked back away from the flame as he croaked hoarsely, "What the--" He coughed on his own words, his throat strangely dry.

"You're finally awake," Sakura's voice floated softly across the short space between them. Finally, the torch was withdrawn and Sasuke let out a small sigh of relief. The torch was quickly replaced with a pale hand that touched the sweaty plane of his brow. "I'm starting to think that you might be sick."

"I'm starting to think you're annoying andcrazy," he moaned, glancing around him. It took the Uchiha a second to recall where exactly he was. They were still in Kaguya's tower, up the stairs and in this pitch-black room. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed since he'd fallen asleep.

"You've been asleep for almost 24 hours!" Sakura whispered loudly, almost as if she was afraid to overwhelm his senses. Sasuke was grateful because he suddenly felt a little disoriented--perhaps he had exhausted himself more than he had thought.

When Sasuke thought about it, more time usually stretched between his uses of the Rinnegan. Yes, he had spent almost a week and a half in the village and had roamed aimlessly outside of the realms for a week before he had even decided to turn towards Konoha. So essentially, he had had almost 2 and a half weeks to recover most of his chakra just to blow it on coming here. Thankfully, by only teleporting to the core dimension, Sasuke had only used 1/4th of the reserves he normally spent. It was a complicated math problem: his dojustu needed enough chakra to get him to the core dimension and then enough to open any of the other connected realms (all of which used varying levels of chakra) and still more to do those same steps but in reverse--not to mention, that he needed chakra to save in case he encountered an enemy.

This was Sasuke's biggest problem while searching for Kaguya. He felt like so much of his time was wasted just on letting his body recover enough to jump between realms, and the Uchiha already felt like time was slipping between his fingers. Just how much longer did he have? This was why they needed to leave—to go to the Sand village so that Sasuke might conduct an experiment and test a theory of his.

Lost in thought, Sasuke's eyes had drifted closed again despite the glaring light of the flame in front of him. If he was this tired, he must have emptied himself more than he thought, probably not taking into account that he had to use extra by bringing Sakura with him here. Would he have enough to take them home?

Suddenly, a green glow replaced the flame's brightness and Sasuke jumped when the palm on his forehead pressed harder. Without meaning to, Sasuke leaned into the cool, green brilliance of Sakura's fingers. When Sasuke's head began to clear, he let himself absorb the chakra, his body greedily accepting it. But then, an image of his former red-haired teammate pushing her scarred skin between his teeth had Sasuke reaching up and pulling Sakura's hand down.

He wasn’t the person to do that sort of thing anymore. "That's enough," he croaked, throat still scratchy from little use.

"Don't be silly," she whispered again as her fingertips moved to his throat and began glowing again, healing this part of him too. "We need to get you out of this room."

Sasuke stared up at her. Her face was dirty, and he was suddenly aware of just how long 24 hours must have seemed like to her--and in this perpetual darkness. "You could've woken me up sooner."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Says the grump who growled at me just seconds ago for waking him."

In answer, Sasuke growled. Just for good measure—so the pink-haired kunoichi wouldn’t forget.

That bright sound of her giggle escaping her mouth had the thought of smirk coming to Sasuke's mind, but when the kunoichi reached out, grabbed his tunic and practically lifted him to his feet, Sasuke snarled again, all joking aside. That damn strength surprised him every time—not to mention that by doing such a thing, she made Sasuke feel a little feeble.

He hissed when his weight settled to his stiff ankles. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck to disguise the sound. Sakura giggled again, obviously taking much delight in his current predicament.

"Come on," she tugged on his elbow—purposefully avoiding his hand—and Sasuke began to walk forward, focused on the woman in front of him.

…………………………..

Little steps, she almost said to him after pulling him forward. But with her hand on his arm and their bodies so close in this dimness, Sakura didn’t let the words escape her mouth in case he might misread her meaning.

In truth, she was starving. It was the reason she had finally woken him. Now the way in which she woke him could have been different, but the medical side of her couldn’t help but make an experiment out of it though: seeing how his body would respond to the light after being submerged in night for a 24-hour period. It took her a long time to re-ignite that infuriating torch so that she might mimic the sun.

Sasuke didn’t know—hadn’t realized that he had been by himself for hours at a time during his deep sleep. Sakura had left him soon after he had gone under. Sakura had left that room with a sense of thrilling determination, eager and hopeful to finally prove her usefulness to the Uchiha. However, after marching aimlessly around for hours, Sakura found—well, not much. Okay… she found nothing.

She had searched for 3 hours inside this confusing maze of a tower looking for everything and anything that might be useful to them: structures, forms of writing or symbols, patterns of similarities or differences. There just wasn’t anything.

At best, Sakura was able to figure out and easily navigate this entire damn maze within that time. Each tunnel and every turn brought her back to that single room in which Sasuke remained sleeping. Each time she reentered, Sasuke would stir, years of ninja instincts alerting him to her coming and going.

"Sleep," she had whispered as she placed her glowing hand over his eyes and sent a soothing sensation down through her chakra, and he had fallen back into sleep. Sakura didfeel guilty for that—coaxing his body back into a sleep. She had only done it once, but Sasuke had stopped stirring after that. So Sakura had taken advantage of the situation and left the tower completely.

She was gone for four hours that time. Wherever the light was coming from, Sakura didn’t know, but it never darkened in this dimension—a sky always alight with a sun that never warmed or set. The medical ninja didn’t like it, but the tower's darkness made a lot more sense taking that fact into consideration. But why? Who, other than Kaguya had ever made use of it?

Sakura had been determined to find something out. It was with this conviction, that had the kunoichi marching through the rising and falling dunes for two hours after that, looking back and forth for a sign of anything--anything at all. But this dimension was like a red, rocky desert that never changed. There wasn’t another tower within that two-hour radius like she was hoping. She had even kicked through the dirt in search of any living thing, but there was nothing, so she stomped her foot into the red rock and turned on her heel back towards the tower.

When Sakura had arrived, Sasuke still slept silently and soundly in the dark, so she had curled up against the opposite wall and let her frustration pull her own body under. When she woke, Sakura sat up and was surprised to see that Sasuke still slept. It was then that she suspected her influence earlier had placed the Uchiha in a deep sleep—a sleep his body desperately needed. But she also wondered if he were sick, which was why his body was so eager for the rest. So she watched his even breathing for another hour or two, but then her empty stomach began to growl.

Now, as she led Sasuke through the maze, she desperately wished she were leading him to some big discovery, or some secret she had found. This was what she had wanted, and now felt disappointed because she was missing out on the chance to do so. Sakura supposed it made sense that if Sasuke hadn't found anything, she wouldn’t have had much of a chance either. Hehadbeen doing this for quite a while.

So she was going to pretend that none of it had happened. It was far less embarrassing to act as if she hadn't searched at all than to admit she hadand didn’t find anything. She sighed.

"I've never slept that long at one time," Sasuke admitted curiously to her, which was unlike himself. He never admitted to anything at all, let alone force it to sound somewhat sorry for it. Was he suspicious of her actions. There’s no way, she thought to herself.

Sakura forced out an innocent laugh. "It's a good thing to catch up on some much-needed rest. Take it as advice from your doctor."

The Uchiha scoffed but didn’t say anything else after that, even though Sakura could feel his scowling stare between her shoulder blades. She just kept marching.

When they finally made it to the cave, Sasuke turned back towards the tower's hidden door, firmly snuffed out the torch, and replaced it back in its hidden position behind the door's frame.

The sudden blackness around them afterwards was suffocating, but when she felt Sasuke's fingertips brush her elbow—in the same way that her own had reached for his over and over—Sakura let her smile break the seam of her own lips. It was short-lived, because Sakura froze when her eyes adjusted enough to make out Sasuke's Sharingan—which almost seemed to glow in the darkness—watching that smile. She knew the Uchiha had seen when he withdrew his fingers. She regretted the smile, then.

"Come on," he said emotionlessly, walking ahead of her in the gloom. This time, he didn’t grab her arm or help her stumble her way out as he had helped her when they had first come upon the cave yesterday.

There was no wind that hit them when they finally walked into the light, but rather a brightness that was dead and airless. It didn’t fill Sakura with the warmth that she had instinctively expected it to.

Sasuke finally spoke, announcing, “We need to make it back to the same spot in which we teleported.”

Sakura snapped her head in his direction, “What for?” That would mean they would have to trek for several more hours.

“It is much easier to connect a vast time-space if you teleport through a door that was previously opened before,” Sasuke explained, running his palm through his hair. “It’s almost like once there is a rip in space, it leaves a wound that can be reopened.”

He was speaking in a language that Sakura could easily understand, being a medical ninja. If the skin has been recently penetrated, it is easy to reopen. But once the skin scars, it becomes stronger than before.

“But then,” Sakura assessed, “if too much time has passed…”

“Exactly,” Sasuke confirmed her thinking. “The seal becomes almost permanent. It would take a vast amount of chakra to break back through it again.”

“Makes sense,” she replied, shuffling her feet in the dirt. “It’s a lot more complicated than I had imagined.”

Sasuke nodded, took a breath, and took the first step of their lengthy hike across the dunes.

Sakura observed his fixed posture and confident step, but the dark-haired ninja wasn’t fooling her. She knew he was trying to figure out how to get them home without completely draining himself of chakra. But there was something she hadn’t yet considered.

Catching up with him, she leaned forward and asked, “If we go back to the hotel, won’t we be walking back into an uncertain situation? I mean, those ninja could be waiting for us.”

“Perhaps,” Sasuke admitted. “Hopefully enough time has passed for them to have moved on, and they might not be expecting us to return there. But you are right. We need a plan.”

Suddenly, an idea began to form within Sakura’s mind. She halted in her tracks, a bit of dust rising around her, and said, “I have one.”

Stopping too, Sasuke raised an eyebrow at her. He was waiting for her to explain, which was a nostalgic feeling for Sakura. He was listening to her again, like he had when they were genin—taking her opinions into consideration and contemplating her viewpoints.

“What if I helped you,” she announced hopefully, “like I offered before.” If she used The Hundred’s Healing Mark, then they might have enough chakra where they didn’t have to make the journey.

“Absolutely not,” Sasuke deadpanned, instantly turning off his reception of her by rotating away again.

Sakura set her teeth in fury and frustration, but she didn’t move her body an inch. Her plan made the most sense! Sasuke was low in chakra while shehad been slowly storing a mass amount of it in the seal on her forehead. If she let Sasuke rely on his power alone, then they were forced to use their previous door because it took the least amount of chakra to access. By doing so, their location would undoubtedly put them at a disadvantage if their foes were still occupying that space around the hotel. And it would leave Sasuke vulnerable if his power was back at zero.

She didn’t really understand why Sasuke was saying no to this. He had slept for 24 hours just so they wouldn’t have to rely on her Strength of a Hundred Seal. Whether it was because he was being noble or something else, Sakura didn’t care. If she let him use up his chakra, how was she any better?

Sakura Haruno glared at Sasuke’s back. She was quite tired of seeing it—seeing him leading the way before her. As a kunoichi, Sakura thought she had proven herself—was going to walk shoulder-to-shoulder with Naruto and Sasuke from now on. But there he was, marking the path ahead.

No more. No more.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

There was a sudden wind that brushed the back of Sasuke’s neck and he felt a silent roar of chakra spread across the range of ground behind him. He turned, taken aback and clenched his teeth in surprised irritation at the teammate whose beaming grin glowed as brightly as the tangible chakra emanating from her body.

Those searing, bright green eyes were directed towards the sky as she flexed her hands—open, close—open, close. Sasuke followed her gaze when it fell to the black marks running from her palms, up her shoulders, and to the crisscross “x” on her brow. Then her eyes landed on him.

Sasuke had to admit that the kunoichi was honestly quite brilliant to look at like that: rejuvenated by and delighting in her own power—feeling it electrify and exhilarate her as it began coursing down the pathways. But his annoyance with her focused his mind and Sasuke glowered in response.

She was defying his wishes and purposely breaking the seal to force him into a decision. Sasuke didn’t quite appreciate that, but was he going to waste this opportunity? Yes, he was. He would prove to her once and for all that he was changing. That he was done using people.

She began to walk towards him, and Sasuke didn’t break their mutual stare, hers one of mighty determination and his an icy challenge. He’d be damned—damned if he used her power.

Coming to stand before him, in all her strength, Sasuke broke her gaze to focus on that glowing purple diamond in the center of that large temple of hers. Everything about it was so… so… “annoying.” It came out as a stuttering hiss.

She grinned wickedly at the word and reached out, taking his hand firmly in her own. Her grip was so firm that Sasuke couldn’t jerk away this time. He found himself glowering viciously, all amusement gone from his red and purple eyes.

“You are annoying,” she said softly, letting her chakra graze against his skin in silent offering. “Let me help you. Quit being so damn stubborn.”

Sasuke set his teeth again. He almost said no, without giving her any further explanation, but then Sakura spoke again, as if their linked hands were somehow transferring his thoughts to her. “Relying upon your friends is not the same as using them. Let us work together so that we can complement one another’s weaknesses with our strengths. Become each other’s balance.”

Sasuke stared at this woman who was offering him a partnership that depended on one another—like they had had in the past. It had existed between them before—that bond of friendship that seemed to connect the two of them not only in ability, but emotions as well. He had tried to sever that type of partnership with her before. If he did this, would he be letting her in? Would he be acknowledging that bond of comradery between them? What if he let her in and then she was taken away from him? What would that do to him, them, by working together now?

“Open the portal.”

Another minute of hesitation. His jaw loosened and Sasuke took a nervous breath as he replayed her words over and over.

Relying upon your friends is not the same as using them.

Let us work together.

Become each other’s balance.

“It’s okay,” she reassured him. “Open it.”

Sasuke’s tilted his head so that his hair fell away from the Rinnegan. His breathing turned shallow as he finally conceded and a black pinprick in the air around them began to expand. A sudden rush of energy flowed into his veins as black stripes began to spiral slowly up his arms. He looked at his teammate in amazement—at their joined hands now being wrapped together with bands of black chakra. It almost looked like they were being tied together.

When the markings reached his neck and crawled up his chin, Sasuke inhaled sharply, as if he were getting his first full gulp of fresh air since being in this damn place. His exhausted body welcomed the chakra, feasting on it as it had back in the tower. He flinched in self-repulsion, but Sakura breathed hard and directed more of her power into him. Where his body begged, her chakra was there to instantly feed it.

When the strips of charcoal reached his own forehead, Sasuke focused intently on the portal. It jumped in response to Sakura’s chakra, flaring and expanding large enough to finally walk through. He glanced back at her and noticed a sheen now coating her own forehead. That’s when Sasuke suddenly realized what she was doing.

The justu demanded chakra and she was acting as a direct current, bypassing Sasuke’s chakra entirely, not allowing any of his energy to be used, but hers only. She was sending it all—every bit of her own chakra to back the jutsu.

Now in a sudden panic, Sasuke breathed “Stop. That’s enough.”

Sakura’s green eyes became unfocussed and her heartbeat quickened rapidly. Her breathing came in sharp inhales and exhales.

Yelling now, he warned, “Sakura! I said stop!” She wouldn’t let go of his hand.

Sakura wasn’t listening to him. She was dedicating her entire focus to the jutsu. Sasuke did the only thing he could think to do. He wrapped his fingers up and around the wrist of her clasping hand and pulled them through the portal.

#sasusaku #approachingsun #ssfanfiction #sasusakufanfiction #sasukeshinden #sasuke and sakura #sakura hiden #Sakura Haruno #sakura uchiha #sasuke #sakura #Sasuke Uchiha #Naruto Shippuden #naruto #naruto fanfiction

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spootiliousrps · 5 years

Text

My first Drarry

Stranger: ((Post DH. Not est. 8th year.)) Sharing a common room with the other repeating students wasn't actually awful. He had his own private bedroom, at least. He was only there to satisfy his probation, which meant when he wasn't in class or in his room... that was his only real option. So two months in, he was actually used to reading and ignoring the other students milling about. It would drive him mad, just being alone in his room all the time. Some of the others were playing some sort of game. Weasley was made to wear his trousers as a shirt and vice versa. Granger had to recite the alphabet backwards. Draco rolled his eyes. Silly. He tunes them out. Then an apparently slightly tipsy Blaise is tugging at his ankle and he kicks him in the shoulder, about to tell him to piss right off, when he hears that apparently it was Potter's turn. And the prompt was 'The person to your left has to talk dirty to you' Blaise succeeds in yanking him off the couch and onto the floor with the rest of them. "Oi! You mother- What?" He looks around. Then to his right. Potter. "... Oh, come on. I'm not even playing." He sighs, hangs his head in one hand, kicks Blaise again when he keeps tugging at him, and looks at Harry. "... How long do I have to talk?" Blaise supplies, "Until he can't keep a straight face any more." And Draco sighs. "Fine. Get over here, I'm not going to shout pillow talk at you."

You: [reading]

Stranger: ((Thanks! Sorry about lack of separation I'm on mobile. Also I have another prompt, if you'd rather.))

You: [No worries!]

You: [I love this! LOL... bare with me its been some time since I've been in the fandom and honestly this is my first Drarry ^^; ]

Stranger: ((Nah dog no worries right back atcha. Heads up Draco is gonna speak some French later do you want ooc translations ou non? PS my French is Not Great so bear with me.))

You: Harry listened to the others rambling off, a small amused smile playing on his lips as his gaze followed each person in turn. It wasn't until Blaise turned it from harmless amusement to something dirty and embarrassing. To top it all off he had yanked Draco in to all this. His brows furrowed at the words but he wouldn't back down if the blonde didn't.

"Fine. But I doubt shouting is going to work." Harry huffed, glaring off in the opposite direction.

[No worries. I took a few years of French but I'm pretty shite at it so ooc trans would be very appreciated. ^.^]

Stranger: Draco rolls his eyes and leans forward to tug Potter closer to him, until their knees almost touched. "There we are. Now I don't have to shout." He paused. "Does it have to be in English?" He glances around. Blaise is /cackling/. He gets a few shrugs. "... Est-ce que quelqu’un parle français? Non?" He looks around the group. No one seems to know what he said, "Ta mère est une sale pute" he tries glancing around, then directly at Granger, "... et tu peux sucer ma jolie bite rose. No, nothing?" He eggs on, and she actually shrugs at him. "Why would I know French?" Draco scoffs. "Ah yes because you have abaolutely no arbitrary knowledge bumping about that brain of yours." He tolls his eyes, then he's looking around again, blank faces. "So... ne pas de problem? Bien." He looks back to Harry. "Ready?"

Stranger: ((Does anyone speak French? No? Your mother is a dirty whore (possibly bitch?) And you can suck my pretty pink cock. So... No problem? Good.))

Stranger: ((Testing to see if anyone would react to him throwing insults around was then going idea there. This way if you want anyone to say they know any specific word or something you can))

You: [Got it ^.^]

You: Harry tensed as he was yanked forward, heart beginning to race a bit. He didn't pull away as his own gaze followed Draco's to each individual. He waited until Draco spoke once more before mumbling a few words under his breath. It was a small incantation he had learned during the Triwizard Tournament to translate for one of the French speaking students. It would only last a short time but it would do the trick. The words where practically a whispered and he wasn't sure if anyone heard it but it was worth a shot.

[That is... if this is okay. If you don't want Harry knowing, thats fine too. :3]

Stranger: ((No omg that is fantastic. And hilarious Draco is bout to say some DIRTY shit lol))

You: [lmao!]

Stranger: He heard Harry speak, but didn't quite catch it. "... Alright." He rolls his eyes, and under the protection of the fact that Harry wouldn't understand him anyway, he licks his lips and leans in a bit, some of his weight on his hands, and he pitched his voice soft, "Tu veux m'enculer, Potter?" He asks, and even Harry's last name rolls off with an accent. "Tout ce que tu as à faire, c'est.. demander gentiment.." His lips twitch there, teasing, a bit wicked, "Tu sais... Je pourrais juste vous laisser." He throws in a lovely little look at him, through his lashes. The room is too quiet suddenly. And the way Potter is looking at him is... almost like.. He knows what he's just said.

Stranger: "D'you wanna fuck me, Potter? All you'd have to do, is.. ask nicely.. You know... I just might let you."))

Stranger: ((The word he used for fuck actually might translate more directly to bugger))

Stranger: ((In fact scratch that f word it would translate to bugger))

You: Harry's gaze was focused on the floor as Draco began to speak, there was something about the way the accent rolled off the other man's tongue in a way that made Harry want to shiver. Draco had always been attractive... and frustrating... but he had purposefully never considered him like that. But when the question left his lips, Harry's gaze shot up to meet his. Still, Harry was fairly good at schooling his features; keeping them from showing any real reaction. To everyone else, it was as if he was simply listening to the words he didn't understand. It was all in good fun after all... he couldn't believe any word of it... right?

You: [Kk]

Stranger: Harry actually managed to keep a straight face through all that, so Draco sighs. He probably didn't understand him after all. He wonders if he should just say something shocking in English to make him break, but there was supposed be a 3 minute timer anyway so it hardly mattered. "... Ton yeux vert es.. beau, vraiment. Je ne sais pas.." He shakes his head, just a little, a movement so subtle it was barely there, a subconscious little thing. "Je ne sais pas... Je ne puis me détourner.." he laughs, a breathy little chuckle. And somehow he was just. It all just came out, "Ils sont si verts.. t'es un sacré pagaille.. mais... t'es charmant. C'est terrible..."

Stranger: "Your eyes are gorgeous, honestly. I don't know... I don't know.. I just can't look away sometimes. They're just so green. You're such a damn mess... but... You're charming. It's awful."))

You: Harry's brows furrowed a bit more in confusion, though it no doubt seemed as if it was simply because he didn't understand and in a way he didn't. Draco's words didn't make any sense. He comprehended them but not there meaning... it just... couldn't be right. Still, his emerald gaze seemed to darken with intensity as if he were searching for something that could only be found in the mirrored blues. Other than the furrowed brow, however, he gave no other reaction to the words. [I feel like I'm leaving a lot of this to you and for that I am srry ^^; ]

Stranger: Three minutes was apparently more than Draco thought. Blaise behind him says something about Draco not getting anywhere and he rolls his eyes. "I'm just wearing the bloody clock down." He lies, and somehow looking at Harry's confused expression just. Hurt. It felt like he knew what Draco was saying but just, couldn't even comprehend it. And suddenly he felt disgusted with himself, it was an old feeling. For a split second, it shower on his face, and he looked down, then back up at Harry, "Sod it." He rolls his eyes, all snark and none of the flirtation or the hurt and shame that had been there before, he just leans in real close, back arched, and honestly dramatically, he moans out, "Oh, /Potter/" as he basically flops down, rolling as he went so he was almost, almost laying his head in his lap. He was careful not to actually touch him. "All I want is your big, fat, Saviour cock in me." Which at the very least gets a hearty laugh out of Blaise, and Pansy, and even Longbottom chokes on a chuckle. Weasley and Granger both just choke, "/Pleaase/ pump one of your /perfect/ loads in me," he writhes on the floor next to him, hands roaming over his own body dramatically, with a frankly /perfect/ pork star moan, "Oh, Merlin, I /need/ it Potter, save me, Chosen One, save me with your /massive cock/"

Stranger: ((pork star is officially my favourite typo of ALL time))

Stranger: ((Porn***))

You: I

You: am

You: fucking

You: dying

You: LMAO

Stranger: XDDD over just pork star or over Draco's display??

You: [Mostly the pork star but Draco's display is perf. *applauds*]

Stranger: ((Yeah no pork star is fucking typo gold))

You: [Agreed!]

You: Harry waited, practically hanging on for the next word. There was a brief moment of silence before the moan of Harry's name filled the room and he frowned, letting out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He watched Draco's ridiculous display, his frown only deepening before he gave his own eye roll. "You win." He stated flatly as he pushed to his feet, obviously done with it all. Draco's drastic change had gotten to him. He was confused and suddenly exhausted.

Stranger: "Oh, come on!" He laughs, watching him go. "That was /funny/." He says, grinning a bit hollowly up at him, upside down on the floor. His hair was longer, worn a bit loosely, he hadn't been bothering with doing much to it, so it was spread out under his head in a white-blonde, wavy halo. "Don't you think I'm pretty, Potter?Tu as écouté si attentivement à Mon français" he taunts, "Am I not good enough in the Queen's English, Potter?"

Stranger: ((You listened so carefully to my french"))

You: Harry gave a dismissive wave, as he turned to storm towards his room. He paused at the sound of the French once more, his annoyance only growing with the words.He turned on his heel with a glare, just inside the thresh hold towards his room. "C'est simplement parce que vous étiez plus intéressant en français." He shot back, only wanting to wait long enough to catch Draco's reaction before he would disappear down the hall.

You: [still with me?]

Stranger: It was, admittedly, a bit clunky. And formal. And it didn't sound conversational or casual. And his accent was... awful. Draco's mouth snapped shut, though. Because that was definitely French. And. Oh. Oh, fuck. There was the look of utter shame, again. Blaise is laughing, "look at Malfoy's /face/ oh, Merlin. You poncey bastard." And. Okay. That was about all he could take. He sits up, "You know what, Zabini? Go fuck yourself gently with the business end of a dragonhide mace, you smarmy cunt." And now it's Draco's turn to storm off. He bumps against Potter on his way to his room and mutters, "You're a right foul git, Potter." As he goes. There's a pause, throughout the room. Draco's door slams. Neville pipes up, "... He left his book..."

You: Harry didn't move to stop him, just shot him another glare as he pushed by. He should just leave it at that. He should have never used that stupid spell... It was better not know. Besides, his French was bad even to his ears; the spell had done just enough to get him by at least. His attention went from the door to Draco's room back to the common area at Neville's words and after a moment's hesitation he strode back to the boy and offered his hand out for the book silently.

Stranger: Neville looks a bit uncomfortable. But then he hands the book over. "I... didn't know you spoke much French, Harry." He says. Hermione looks surprised, too. Ron scoffs. "Bloody hell if he was saying anything like that in French I don't know how you kept such a straight face.." And cue Blaise, "What DID he say?"

You: Harry took the book, and flipped through the pages briefly, not making eye contact with anyone.. "I don't." He answered Neville, "And he didn't." He answered Ron before completely and obviously ignoring Blaise, before turning back towards his room, book in hand.

You: Draco obviously didn't expect anyone to understand his words which meant they were private. Harry might not quite understand what they all mean but he knew it wasn't for any of them to know at the moment.

Stranger: Draco was leaning out his window, cigarette hanging off his lip, a hand in his hair. He'd shut the door but- shocker. He wasn't allowed a lock. He'd already been barefoot and timeless, out there. (He recalls the first time Potter had seen Draco walk out of his room like that. He stared at Draco's feet for an uncomfortable amount of time. Until Draco had finally said 'what did you think I just had little pegs that expensive shoes attached to?" And he'd actually gotten something almost like a laugh) The memory makes him groan, now. Sucking a drag off his cigarette and thumping his head against the windowsill. He was already more undressed, now, having immediately shucked his trousers and pulled on a thick jumper. It was dark blue and had a cowl neck, wide sleeves, and he'd yet to bother with pulling anything on over his trunks.

Stranger: ((To remove confusion bc I've no idea where you're from precisely and am not actually sure how common the term is or who would even know this trunks are basically pants somewhere between boxer briefs and reg. Briefs. An American once asked why he had a swimsuit on when I used the term xD))

You: [XD lol I'm from Texas but I actually watch way to much British Television but I really do appreciate the clarification. I remember the first time I actually had to have someone clarify. It was pretty embarrassing lol]

Stranger: ((I live in the states now but spent some of my childhood in Manchester so everything is all screwy. Half the time I'm positive something is American slang and am dead wrong. I called fireworks bangers once and was greeted with so many chuckles.))

Stranger: ((Then i said "Oh you thought i meant sausages" and there were even MORE laughs))

You: Harry stepped into his room, book tucked under his arm, closing the door behind him. He gave a huff as he plopped onto the bed, stretching out a bit as he stared up at the ceiling still frustrated. Did Draco really think that about his eyes? Did it really matter? Surely it was just one of those passing thoughts that everyone had. Kind of like the way he could appreciate the way Draco's shirts squeezed his upper arms so well or his perfectly form fitting jeans... okay no. He gave another huff, kicking off his shoes. This was just stupid he just needed to forget about it.

He sat there for some time, trying to do just that, distracting himself the best he could with anything he could think of; like reciting the alphabet backwards like Hermoine had or listing every spell he knew by heart... but after a bit he finally threw in the towel and pushed to his feet, collecting the book he had tossed on his nightstand and heading across the hall. He'd just knock on the bloody door and demand to know what it was all about... Right... Easy...

Still he hesitated, lifting his hand only to pause... try again... same result. Finally he gave a curse under his breath and knocked.

You: [Lol I love it! Thats super cute. I actually started using the word trouser instead of pants a long time ago and everytime I had to write an order form for uniforms at work I'd get made fun of lol. All in good humor of course.]

Stranger: Awe lol s'cute. Brb I have to ice my arm))

You: [???]

Stranger: ((I broke my elbow))

You: [Oof. Srry to hear that.]

Stranger: ((Still healing lol))

Stranger: ((Well dislocated it. It happens. ))

Stranger: ((I have a joint thing in one arm. ))

You: [Sounds painful]

Stranger: ((Oh 10/10 worst pain of my life. ))

You: [<3]

Stranger: By the time Harry knocked Draco was starting his second cigarette, though it wasn't lighted yet. He rolls his eyes. It's probably Pansy, trying to worm her way back into his good graces. "What." He says flatly as he yanks the door open, still not wearing any trousers. And that was Potter. At his door. He drops his cigarette. "... um."

You: Harry had planned on exactly what he wanted to say but as Draco pulled open the door, all coherent thought left him; his gaze lowering to take in the other boy's state. His stare lingered briefly before he cleared his throat and glanced away. What was he doing? Oh the book! Right! He lifted the book high enough to almost use as a barrier between them, gaze still averted. He didn't say a word, still unable to.

Stranger: He bends, picks up his cigarette and snatches the book away from him, hastily, slamming the door in his face right after. He smacks himself in the face. Stupid. Fucking. Stupid. He pulls a pair of sweats on, they were knee length, sinched at the ends and lacing up the front. He swings the door open again. "Ta." He says, and then goes to swing the door shut again.

You: Harry did /not/ want to watch Draco bend to pick up the fallen fag, absolutely NOT. He didn't have long to think about it before the door was being slammed in his face. He blinked, staring at the polished wood dumbly before it opened again. He let the other boy close it in his face once more, jaw setting in annoyance. Fine. Obviously he was indeed over thinking it.

"You're welcome!" He called loudly, tone exposing his mood. "Prick." He grumbled more under his breath as he turned back across the hall.

Stranger: The door doesn't open but Draco's voice is clear enough, "Fuck you too Potter! You don't get to be pissy at me right now!" And there's a thump. He threw something at his door. You know. Like an adult.

You: That did it! "Oh?! And why is that?!" He snapped in return, from where he stood in his doorway. "Because you're having your own tantrum! I was just returning your book you knob!"

You: [I'm going to have to go soon. But I don't want this to end T.T could we continue elsewhere?]

Stranger has disconnected.

#drarry #omegle #rp #harry potter #draco malfoy

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ryansfabray · 5 years

Text

Guessing Game ft; Ryan & Isaac

Who: Ryan Fabray & Isaac Sylvester ( @isaacsylvester )

What: Scene Week 9

Classes: Switch 102, Sub 101, Sensory Play

Ryan purposefully scheduled her scene with Isaac later in the day. It was to ensure she got some time time in with her music before hand, knowing it would leave her more relaxed and more focused on him, not that it was difficult for him to capture her attention. She was dressed in a simple yet tight black spaghetti strap dress with her straight hair hanging around her face. Much like before, she greeted him with a smile at the door then lead him into the living room where she had him strip and kneel by coffee table. Four pieces of rope were tied to each of the four legs of the coffee table, ready for the scene she had in place for him. "You look good as always, pet. I want you to lay back on the coffee table so I can tie your wrists and ankles to the table. As you get into position, I would like to remind me of your safeword."

Isaac had asked the people he had previously done scenes with to help out with scene week. At some point he did want to be Domed by other Dom's here but for right now he was satisfied with the people he had previous experience with. "Thank you, Miss," he replies with a smile. If their first scene was anything to go by, Isaac was definitely going to enjoy today. "Yes, Miss," he accepts easily before he's getting onto the table to lay down, his legs and arms spread for her. "My safe-word is Older," he reminds her with a smile.

“Thank you, pet.” Ryan admired his body as it stretches back against the table, and she ran her fingers across his chest as she moved to stand in front of him. First she tied his ankles to the legs of the table, tugging on the knots after to make sure there was a little bit of moving room, but they were still secure. Ryan did the same to his wrists before standing back to admire the way he looked attached to her table like that. “I’m going to use a series of different things on your body to really test your sensitivity. I’m going to blindfold you and you are going to guess what I’m using. You’re working towards a reward of my mouth around your cock, I do love a pretty cock in my mouth, each time you guess right you’ll have earned two minutes, each time you guess wrong I take away one minute. Questions?”

Isaac was relaxed as Ryan tied him to the table he was currently laying on. He looks up at her and listens as she speaks, explaining what will happen in the scene. He can definitely do that, or at least try because he knows having one sense taken away can mess with your head a little bit. "Yes, Miss, that all sounds good to me," he replies. He hopes he gets more right than wrong.

“Perfect.” Ryan has already picked out some tools she’d be using on him as well as a candle and a bowl of ice that was waiting for her in the freezer. She retrieved the silk blindfold from the couch and leaned down so she could tie it around his face, covering his eyes. To get them started and to just give Isaac the opportunity to get used to her touch, she scratched her nails down his torso. All the way down until she wrapped her hand around his cock, stroking it until he was nice and hard. She knew it would be more fun with him hard.

As soon as the blindfold was covering his eyes they slipped shut. It was something he was comfortable with despite the fact it did not make a difference at all, he still couldn't see, he just felt a little more relaxed while it was happening. His stomach tensed when he felt the fingers at his torso and then she was stroking his cock. Little groans and whimpers fell from his lips as she did.

Ryan could visibly see the moment when Isaac relaxed into the blindfold and it was a beautiful sight. She loved the way his body tensed at her touch and the sounds that escaped his mouth as she stroked his hardening cock. She was tempted to lean down and take him into her mouth, to run her tongue along the underside of the beautiful flesh, but she refrained and removed her hand completely when he was nice and hard. Ryan decided to start with something easy, using her nails to scrape against his torso once more, leaving red lines in his skin. "What's that, sweet boy?"

Isaac missed the contact of the Domme’s hand as soon as it left his hard cock. He would have asked for it back if he didn’t know where this scene would be going. “Your nails, Miss,” he responds sensing that she is starting off a little easy for him considering he’s just has the exact same sensation on his torso from her.

"That's two minutes," she replied, knowing that he was going to get that one right. This was a fun little game and she was glad that she decided to go this route. She picked up the next item which was a butter knife and ran it along the top of his thighs. "And this?"

“Thank you, Miss.” He doesn’t know how well he’ll be able to hold up with how hard he is, because of course she had to get him hard first otherwise that would have been too easy. The second item feels a little cooler along his thigh and his leg twitches slightly because he’s a sucker for cold items on his skin. He has to focus then, though, because he got a little distracted by it. “A knife, or fork maybe,” he replies it could be either, could be the end of the fork because he doesn’t feel three prongs.

Ryan realized that she would think all these items were easy to guess, but that was only because she was the one yielding them. She tried to think of what it would feel like to be the one blindfolded and wondered what his current thought process was. "You should have stuck to your first guess, since you mentioned the correct item, even if it was followed by the wrong one, I'll award you one minute." She took the time to flick at his aching cock, not wanting to neglect it. The next item remained in the category of cutlery, but she went a more dangerous route, taking a pizza cutter and very carefully running it down the middle of his chest and stomach. "And this?"

"Thank you, Miss," Isaac responds. Guessing the correct item was a lot harder than he thought it would be, your mind plays tricks on you and you second guess yourself. He was glad Ryan let him have the minute and decided he would only just say one answer going forward. He groans at the slight contact to his cock. He frowns under the blindfold at the next item on his body. He can't decide what the thin object is, he only notes the carefulness of it and the fact this is also cool on his skin. "I honestly have no idea, Miss."

Ryan smirked at his reactions and while she wanted him to succeed, she also liked that this was going to be a challenge for him. “Pizza cutter,” she chimed, rolling it across his torso again. She decided to stay with the theme of things to find in the kitchen and picked up an ice cube from the bowl and ran it along the tip of his cock. “And this?”

Isaac would never have guessed it was a pizza cutter so he wasn’t overly bothered he didn’t get it even though he’d prefer more minutes rather than less. He hisses at the next object and he definitely knows what that is. “An ice cube, Miss,” he tells her without any hesitation at all. He knows that object all too well, loves the coldness on his hardened cock.

Ryan smiled, liking how the game had been going so far. Still it was getting old pretty fast and she decided to change it up. “Correct. That’s a total of 5 minutes. But why don’t we change it up a bit, hm? The rest of these are going to be pretty easy to guess, but a little more intense against your sensitive skin. So instead of guessing, your new task is to remain completely still while I use these items, understood?”

Now that was going to be harder for Isaac, he wasn’t exactly good at staying still, or keeping quiet, when it came to things like this. “Yes, Miss, understood,” he responds with a smile. He wasn’t sure how well he was going to do but he would definitely give it a go.

Ryan noticed the hesitation in Isaac's response, which only told her that the following task was going to be interesting to say the least. She lit the candle that was sitting on a saucer and moved to pick up the feather as the wax from the candle started to melt. She was very tempted to start the feather on his feet, but that would just be cruel, even for her. So instead, she started on his shins, but still kept the contact light and sporadic as she traveled up his legs, over his cock, and over his torso.

Isaac couldn’t see when Ryan would put the objects on him so he couldn’t even mentally prepare for it. It can as a shock to him which wasn’t a surprised and he has to physically stop himself from moving. It got harder to do as the item moved over his cock and he felt his thigh twitch slightly and his eyes squeezed shut under the blindfold. He sucked in a breath, holding still as best he could.

"Such a good boy," Ryan commented. The twitch on his thigh was noticed, but it wasn't enough to warrant a penalty. She continued to move the feather along his inner thighs and back down his legs again, enjoying the way his body clenched in an attempt to keep still. She moved on to the next and final item, realizing that she probably should have gathered more things to use on him. Though she was thoroughly convinced that this wasn't going to be the last opportunity for them to play like this. Ryan picked up the burning candle and tipped it just enough to let the red wax splash onto his stomach.

The sudden feel of hot on his stomach made his stomach tighten and a hiss fall from his lips. His toes clenched without permission at the impact. He hadn’t expected there to be a change and his body wasn’t ready for the change.

The hiss was beautiful as was the way his body tightened at the sensation. “Oh you like that, do you?” She prompted, letting small pockets of wax fall along his arms and legs. “I can tell you one thing, it’s certainly gorgeous on your skin.”

Now that Isaac knew what to expect, it was easier for him to force his body still as Ryan continued drizzling the wax on his skin.

Regardless of how he was able to still himself as she poured the wax on his arms and legs, she noticed the subtle but obvious movements he made when she dropped some on his nipples and cock. She could have lied and said that she was disappointed, but she liked the reaction. She liked it so much that she decided the sensory scene was over and he well earned his reward for following through on her orders. First her mouth around his cock and if he was lucky permission to cum on her face. All while still blindfolded and tied to the table.

#gleedsmscene9 #isaac #para: isaac #para: guessing game #( scene week 9 )

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peaky-yamyam · 7 years

Text

Neighbours: Part Five - Tommy Shelby

The Party

Part One | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six |

As we pull up I find the party already in full swing; jaunty music emanates from a band I can’t see, filling the air with catchy tunes as waves of people mill around the gardens. It’s neither of these that attracts my attention first though, but a full fairground set up and lit to high heavens; a merry-go-round, swings and swing boats, separated by various stands and stalls engulfs the entirety of the Shelby property that I can see from the drive.

Jones let’s out a low whistle as we come to a stop by the fountain and he takes a moment to fully appreciate the site before he jumps out and helps me to the cobbles.

“Miss, you alright?” he asks as I adjust my hat.

“Oh absolutely! Jones I feel like it’s my birthday!” I almost squeal, clapping both hands around the bottle of whiskey.

Jones laughs and climbs back into the car after wishing me a good night and a warning not to do anything he wouldn’t.

I’m still smiling to myself like a fool when Tommy approaches out of the crowd, suited up as usual, but lacking his hat and coat, and as he sides towards me - small smile to his eyes - I can’t stop my stomach from turning over a few times excitedly.

“Thought you weren’t coming,” he says, leaning in to place a polite kiss on my cheek. I grab the opportunity to run my hand up his arm, holding his position for a beat too long before pulling away.

“I got a little waylaid… this is for you by the way,” I say holding out the whiskey. “I know that it’s not your birthday but I couldn’t physically get myself out the house without a present, decorum won’t allow me. So think of it as a thank you for the past couple of day, and a bribe to keep that horse.”

I know I’m babbling, I can feel the words tumbling from my tongue but I can’t stop them. Thankfully, Tommy seems unfazed as he nods.

“Thank you, you drink whiskey?”

“If it’s offered.”

“Then I’m sure we’ll enjoy this at some point,” he says, placing his hand on the small of my back as he directs me through the crowd to a ‘shoot the duck’ stall where a group of people - who I assume are the Shelbys - are gathered round.

I manage to compose myself enough to tame the grin pulling at my cheeks, reminding myself that this is like any other social event and I should behave as such; confident stride, clear introduction and then suck them in with a bit of humour. A tried and tested technique I’ve perfected over the years.

Lucky that I am so practised as Tommy feels no need to warn me about the oncoming barrage of introductions I’m about to be subjected to.

“Everyone,” he calls, freezing their game immediately as they all turn to look at him. “This is my neighbour.” He doesn’t mention my name to them, instead he leans into me and points to each of them in turn. “My brothers, Arthur, Finn and John. Arthur’s wife, Linda, John’s wife, Esme. My Aunt Polly, her son, Michael and my sister, Ada.”

They all wave their hands feebly and I frantically run over their names a few times in my head, slotting faces next to them.

“It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you all,” I say.

“So what do we call you?” John asks without missing a beat, ankles crossed casually as he leans against the side of the stall. “‘Cause you’ve got a title and all that shit that us commoners should be using, haven’t you?” He smiles wide at his family but I don’t miss the dig.

“Yes, well suppose you should call me Lady Georgiana Crawford-Sorensen-” there’s a quick glance shared between all of them, a flash so quick they probably don’t even realise they’ve done it, but it says everything: she’s not one of us. “-or George, because that pisses my father off to no end.” I make sure to hold off the smile until they break first, but just like that, they’re on my side.

“Right, George. You shoot?” John asks, flipping one of the guns from the stall in my direction.

Tommy take the gun before I can even reach for it and leans low to my ear, “He’s drunk,” he whispers, “don’t feel the need to humour him.”

I smile and take the gun from Tommy’s hand, rolling it over as if the wood is like nothing I’ve ever seen before, as I walk towards the stall.

“How does it work?” I ask John, fumbling around with trigger which I know won’t fire.

He hooks an arm around my shoulder - a move I know is more for Tommy’s benefit than mine - and unlocks the safety.

“There,” he says, mouth so close to my ear that I can smell the mix of ale and whiskey as if it were sat in front of me.

“Thanks… So what do I do?” I call behind me, as the man on the stall readies the mechanics, an open question that Michael chooses to answer.

“Just shoot the ducks!” he calls back as the wooden cutouts begin to whiz around the track.

“If you need any help, just give me a wink,” John says, folding his forearms against the sill and crouching down so he’s got a better view of what I’m doing.

I hold his gaze for a moment before purposefully turning away without so much as a blink and ready the rifle at my shoulder. I take a deep breath to steady myself and once I know I can predict the rhythm, I begin to fire off shots. As soon as the first one hits, I hear the surprised gasp of the Shelby’s behind me, growing ever more excited as every duck snaps back.

As the last duck hits the deck I drop the rifle and hold it out to John.

“Of course I can fucking shoot!” I say with a smile.

“Fuck me, I’m impressed ma’ lady,” he jokes back, rolling his wrist as he dips into a bow.

I pull the fabric of my coat out and curtsy back.

“Why thank you, am I allowed to continue into the party now?”

“Yeah, go on then. Hopefully see you around soon George,” he replies playfully.

I make an effort to shake everyone’s hand, as Tommy waits to escort me further onto the grounds, each one returned with a smile.

“That was… unexpected,” he says once we’re out of earshot. “You don’t have to lower yourself to play nice with them for my sake.”

I stop in my tracks, tugging on Tommy’s arm gently so he turns back to me.

“I don’t do anything for anyone’s sake unless it’s something I too want to do.” Its an important point that I make with no trace of humour in my voice, which Tommy seems to take on board easily. “Besides they all seem lovely,” I add, slotting my hand in the crook of his arm as we begin to walk again.

“Just look out for John if you’re going to swan around looking like that, entertaining his jokes.”

He keeps his eyes focussed between his cigarette and line where the lights crash against the dark sky, as if every word is being carefully crafted. It’s a great comfort to me to know that he too feels as on the back foot as I do, so much of a comfort in fact that I find myself firmly shifting onto the front foot.

“Looking like what?” I ask, allowing my thumb to creep just a fraction up the inside of bicep.

Tommy’s eyes flick down to me, bright blue shining stark even against the barrage of lights surrounding us.

“It’s a nice outfit. I like the hat,” is all he says before his eyes flick back upwards and his cigarette is back in his mouth.

I smile to myself; I can’t describe the feeling, it’s not one I’ve ever felt before. I genuinely loved my late husband dearly, I did, but it was a love that grew from comfort and the fact that I had little other choice. There was never any excitement or nervousness, my stomach never flipped when I saw him nor my mind go completely blank despite the rush of things I wanted to say to him. I never found myself staring at him, hoping he’d look back only to have to look away when he did. I never analysed my words, dissecting them, wondering if he took any other meaning from them. No, with Alfred it was more that one day he walked from the room and I realised I would be broken if he never returned.

I notice I’ve become lost in my thoughts, and hurry to rectify the silence that’s stretched between myself and Tommy.

“How did you get all this set up in a day?”

“A lot of manpower,” he answers almost instantly, as if he too is desperate to quash the silence.

“So is that what you have your gangsters do now you’ve made it big? Set up children’s fairgrounds?” I ask, eyebrow quirked. He doesn’t answer and I’m sure if he were less composed his mouth would be opening and closing like a fish. “Yes Mr Shelby, I’ve done some research myself. Not quite the exciting, dangerous lifestyle the Peaky Blinders are made out to have, but I must say they have a real knack for this fairground construction.” I move a little bit closer to him, placing my other hand on his arm and I feel him straighten slightly. “I’ve got to say, you’re not what any of us expected when you moved in. ‘Gangster gypsy king from the slums of Birmingham’ they had you painted as. My father’s face was a fucking picture when he found out who you are, but we’ve never so much as heard a peep from you. In fact, all you’ve ever done is swoop in and save me from a malevolent horse. I’m starting to think all the stories I’ve heard are made up.”

It’s Tommy’s turn to stop now, pulling his arm back so I have to turn.

“They’re not made up. And this life is dangerous,” he says, words deliberate and serious and it’s then that I realise the error in my choice of words.

“I know. And I know those around you get dragged into danger as well.” I squeeze his arm and begin to walk again, a silent ‘but I don’t care’. And what worries me slightly is that I really don’t.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #neighbours

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antiiva · 7 years

Text

if that’s the only way

[read it on ao3]

***

He was full of life.

Iwaizumi has always known this, practically from the day he had met Oikawa. His hat had been slipping down and his armor was hanging from his lanky frame and his eyes-- his eyes held hope and promise and a certain fire that Iwaizumi had never seen. Oikawa had stopped dead in front of him, breathing heavy, arms caked in mud up to his elbows. “Are you a forest creature?!” he had asked, gasping comically. Iwaizumi had let out an indignant squawk.

“No!! No, I just have mud on me!! I am-- I am human. And I’m nine.”

Oikawa had gasped again. “I’m nine too!” He’d flung out a hand. “My name is Oikawa Tooru. I’m a mage.”

“What?” Iwaizumi’d scowled. “You don’t look like a mage.”

“Geh-- you’re mean!”

“You’re dumb!!”

(Of course, he hadn’t been sure what to do with that knowledge when he was nine. He barely knew what to do with it now, and seventeen, walking down a dirt pathway with Oikawa at his side.)

“This leaf looks like you, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa stops, holding up a brownish-green leaf with pointy edges. Iwaizumi frowns.

“Really? Why’s that?”

Oikawa shrugs, letting it flutter to the ground. He purposefully walks around it. “Spiky and a little small.”

Iwaizumi smacks his arm. “Then that toad over there is you.”

“That’s a clever retort.” Oikawa giggles and dodges Iwaizumi’s elbow. “Maybe you aren’t a leaf after all. Leaves are supposed to be…” He trails off.

“They’re supposed to be what?” Iwaizumi is relaxed once more, his sharp eyes scanning the treetops for birds or something more sinister. “Helpful?”

“Well, no,” Oikawa says, slowing his pace. “You’re more like a tree, I think.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “How delightful.”

Oikawa huffs. “No, I mean it! You’re reliable and strong, unlike those temporary leaves. You’ll be around for a long time.”

The knight reaches up and tousles Oikawa’s hair. “Come on, dummy, you know how quickly knights die. You’re learning magic, you’ll be able to increase your lifespan. Probably.”

“You know what I meant.” Oikawa’s eyes are on him again, unwavering and earnest, oddly serious. Iwaizumi falls silent. Leaves crunch under their boots, a toad ‘brragh’s at them to their right, and the moment is over.

Oikawa begins skipping up the incline, baby blue tunic bouncing. “Hurry up, Iwa-chan! I want food.”

“The nearest city is still a ways off.” Iwaizumi squints up at the sky, his pace quickening anyway-- who was he to say no to Oikawa? “I think we’ll get there around sundown.”

“I see fruit trees!”

“You dumbass, don’t go eating off of random trees!”

Oikawa’s teeth sink into a red-and-green apple. “Seems fine to me.”

Grumbling, Iwaizumi leans back against the tree, looking north. He could very vaguely point out their destination, miles off along a sparkling river. “It’s so… bright.”

Oikawa slithers down next to him, apple almost half gone. “Mmm. It’s huge, too.” Crunch. “I hope this college is good.”

Ah, yes. The reason for their excursion. Oikawa had been accepted into a rather prestigious college for higher learning, specifically for magic. Iwaizumi couldn’t go with him. “Yeah.”

They’re silent for a moment-- Oikawa stops his obnoxious munching. “Will you miss me?” he asks suddenly.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Iwaizumi picks at his slightly dirtied nails. “I have to go back home all by myself.”

Oikawa tilts his head, curious and childlike. Iwaizumi glances over and quickly finds himself unable to look away, captured by his rosy cheeks, his contemplative pout. “I’ll write to you often.”

Iwaizumi looks away. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Well, I’m going to.”

Crunch. “It will be odd without you,” Oikawa continues, his brows knitted together, in concentration or disappointment, Iwaizumi couldn’t tell. “I’ll have no one to test my spells out on.”

“And I’ll have no one to spar with,” Iwaizumi says, nodding slightly. It was interesting, really, their partnership; a seamless understanding that ran deep, deeper than either of them could comprehend. Oikawa’s fingers find Iwaizumi’s on the grass and Iwaizumi closes his eyes, relishing the feeling of skin touching skin, innocent and gentle. His fingers slip between Oikawa’s and it makes a funny feeling rise in his chest, spreading outwards along his skin and making goosebumps rise. He thinks it’s longing, of some kind, for something he has but can’t quite keep.

Oikawa’s head comes to rest against his shoulder. “I’m going to miss you,” he says, and Iwaizumi doesn’t have to ask why.

***

The city is getting close, too close, a reminder of what little time they have left. Other travelers become more common and Iwaizumi finds himself walking closer to Oikawa than usual, knowing that the taller boy draws comfort from it. Eventually they pause, take a beat along the river, let their feet hang into it as they lean back against the grass.

Iwaizumi unclasps his sword sheath and sets it aside, grimacing, using his hands as a pillow behind his head. “How long have we been walking?”

“Three days.” Oikawa is still sitting up. “We should have used horses.”

“I’ve liked the walking.” Iwaizumi yawns, closing his eyes. “It’s just us.”

He can feel Oikawa’s gaze on him, as searing as ever, as promising. Oikawa slowly leans down next to him and then there are fingers sliding through his hair, down his cheeks, brushing away the dirt on his neck. Iwaizumi shivers.

“I like that too.” Iwaizumi opens his eyes to see Oikawa right above him, expression odd, eyes wide. “I think it should stay that way.”

Iwaizumi tilts his head. “You’re going away. It can’t.”

Dismayed, Oikawa flops down onto his back. “I know. I know it can’t. Unless…”

He almost doesn’t want to know. “Unless what?” asks Iwaizumi, tone suspicious.

“We leave.” There's hesitation on Iwaizumi's part-- it's minuscule, but it's there, it's enough. Oikawa grins, huge and inviting.

"Run away with me, Iwa-chan."

Iwaizumi can’t speak for a moment, only watches Oikawa, the hopeful glimmer in his eyes. “Where would we go?”

“I don’t know.”

“What would we do?”

“I don’t care.”

Something brushes past Iwaizumi’s ankle in the water and he cringes, lifting his legs out. Oikawa still hasn’t looked away from him, like he was expecting an earnest answer. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” Oh, Lord, Oikawa is giving a look he can’t resist-- the one with passion in his eyes and an eager smile playing at his mouth. “The world is vast, Iwa-chan, and we have seen so little of it. Surely, somewhere, we could hold our own.”

Iwaizumi tilts his head. “Out by the ocean,” he murmurs, and Oikawa looks down-right giddy. “Tucked away in a forest.”

“Wherever.” Oikawa leans in, kissing his cheeks, forehead, nose. “Anywhere.”

He pulls back, and his head blocks out the sun, but they’re close enough that Iwaizumi can see him just fine. “Come away with me,” he says, voice a hushed whisper. “We can slip away in the night and leave all this behind.”

It’s tempting, oh, it’s tempting. It’s everything he’s ever wanted displayed on a silver platter. “We could start a shop,” Iwaizumi says quietly, indulging them both in a fantasy. “You could make-- what do you call those things?”

“Herbal remedies?”

“Yes. Those. I could help gather and train the boys and girls of the town to fight.”

Oikawa nods, once, twice, his face awash with glee. “You would be the best teacher, Iwa-chan, the whole town would respect you. We could travel… meet the elven people that live in the forests…”

Iwaizumi snorts. “They don’t exist,” he chastises, sitting up. Oikawa sticks out his tongue.

“Yes, they do. I’ve seen one. He had pink hair.”

Iwaizumi blinks slowly. “Pink,” he repeats, deadpan. Oikawa giggles.

“Yes, Iwa-chan, pink. He was tall, too. Taller than you, not like it’s difficult.”

“Oi.” Iwaizumi’s slap holds no aggression. “Just when you started to be charming.”

Oikawa’s jaw drops. “Take it back!” he whines, clinging onto Iwaizumi. “I am always charming.”

Iwaizumi tilts his head and kisses him, slow and soft and tender. “You are always charming,” he echoes flatly. Oikawa laughs, and Iwaizumi tackles him to the ground, and for a while-- or maybe just a moment-- everything is light.

***

The city is breathtaking. Huge white walls stretch up towards the sky and the streets are filled with people from all over, some with dark hair and light hair and no hair. Oikawa gets lost four times, Iwaizumi accidentally steps on a tomato that a vendor had dropped, they spend all their money on crystal balls Oikawa swore worked.

“We can communicate when we’re apart using these, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whispers, and Iwaizumi’s heart sinks. That’s right. “I just have to enchant yours…”

“I don’t think that’s how they work,” Iwaizumi nags, but slips the small crystalline ball into his satchel anyway.

Finding the school is easy, but walking inside isn’t, both physically and mentally. Iwaizumi can’t get past the magical barrier and Oikawa doesn’t want to. “I’ll write you every day,” the mage says, voice bubbly with emotion. Iwaizumi just shakes his head, pulling Oikawa close, letting the other boy sink into his embrace. ‘How long?’ he thinks. ‘When will be the next time I can touch him?’

Oikawa pulls away, and there are tears on his cheeks but determination in his eyes. “Promise me you’ll be here when I come back,” he says, voice stubborn.

“I will always be here,” Iwaizumi answers, easy and honest. “We have plans now, remember? We have to travel to the great cities and make herbal remedies and meet the elven forest people.”

Iwaizumi presses their foreheads together and kisses away Oikawa’s tears, quick and gentle. “I will wait,” he reassures, fingers twining with the brunet’s. “I promise.”

Slowly, reluctantly, Oikawa steps back. His lip is wobbling but Iwaizumi can tell that underneath his melancholy and longing there is hope, excitement, a craving for knowledge and power and new experiences. Iwaizumi’s heart squeezes as Oikawa turns, shoulders strong, jaw set. He vanishes behind the barrier and takes a piece of Iwaizumi with him, but the crystal ball warms under his touch as Iwaizumi cradles it in his hands and walks away.

#mine #my writing #haikyuu!#iwaoi #oiiwa #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #fhq #final haikyuu quest #haikyuu!!#kay i'm done now #hope everyone enjoys this lil drabble~~

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 7 years

Text

Everything - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Shawn Tsang, Dick Grayson, bits o Alfred and Bruce Summary: She wondered if the kid knew just how much his big brother talked about him. By the doubt in his eyes, she was guessing no. A/N: Based on Nightwing 18, obviously. Bruce already got his alone time with Damian, so don’t you worry he was A+ dad this time. Shawn sits with D-squared as they both fall asleep. But Damian wakes up before Dick does, so he and Shawn have a total gossip session about Dick while he sleeps. They both decide he’s a huge dweeb and they can’t believe they both love him so much.

He stopped at the end of his path and scrunched his nose, staring pointedly at Alfred. The other man didn’t seem fazed, only gave the same disappointed stare back, glancing purposefully down at Dick’s wrapped ankle.

Dick huffed.

It wasn’t fair.

“It’s because she’s pretty right?” Dick asked sarcastically. Alfred just rolled his eyes, and looked back at the medical supplies he was cleaning. “It’s because Shawn is the prettiest person in this house right now, that’s why you let her in there?”

“No, it’s because she was polite and she asked.” Alfred returned with just as much attitude. “She asked for a moment alone with Master Damian, and I gave it to her. If you or Master Bruce or even Master Jason had come to me and asked first, you would have been granted the same.”

Dick crossed his arms in a pout. “Yeah right.”

“She will be upset if she returns and finds you still on your feet.” Alfred sighed. “Please sit down and rest, Master Richard. Your ankle will heal much faster.”

“Amputate it, I don’t care.” Dick grumbled, returning to his pacing. He glanced back towards the closed curtain, where his rescued girlfriend and potentially-maybe-probably dying (again) brother were. He couldn’t even see their shadows, but he could hear their murmurs. Shawn’s gentle voice and Damian’s quiet, short responses. “I don’t need it.”

“Always for the dramatics, aren’t you, Master Richard?” Alfred asked dryly. From the computer nearby, Bruce gave a soft snort of laughter.

Damian was half asleep when he heard the curtain flutter. He jerked involuntarily, slowly lifting his head, ignoring the pain in his neck, and how helpless it and the morphine was making him.

And when the woman smiled softly at him, he frowned.

“Hello.” Shawn Tsang whispered anyway, closing the curtain behind her and taking a step towards his hospital bed.

“Shouldn’t you be with Grayson?” Damian mumbled, and he sounded sleepy. Much sleepier than he intended. It made him sound young, and he hated it.

“He’ll survive a couple minutes on his own.” She laughed.

“Hm. I’m not so sure.” Damian scoffed.

Shawn laughed again and came to the side of the bed, slowly leaning against the mattress. When Damian didn’t object, she sat there, staring down at him, looking…sad.

Pitiful.

And Damian hated that, too.

He slowly rolled his head the other direction, refusing to look at her, and finally, the smile on her face faded.

Without warning though, she reached out, brushing Damian’s hair back. “…Your doctor said you shouldn’t be moving so much.”

“He’s not my doctor, he’s my butler.” Damian snapped, though he didn’t try to remove her hand. “And I’ve gone through worse. I’ve been shot in the spine before. This is nothing compared to that.”

Her hand hesitated. “…Oh.”

She lapsed into silence, then. Damian kept his gaze away from her. Looked at all the equipment around him. The beeping machines, the tray where the tools were supposed to be. They were all gone, but the bloody bullet that was lodged in his neck sat there still. He didn’t want to look at it, though, and raised his eyes towards the rocks above him instead, and the bats flying around.

“…Thank you.”

Damian paused, and reluctantly looked back at Shawn.

“For what?”

That smile of hers came back, and Damian had to admit…okay, maybe it was kind of nice. Simultaneously, she resumed petting at his hair. “For saving me.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “It’s part of my job.”

“Maybe.” Shawn shrugged. “Thank you for saving Dick, too.”

Damian blinked, and began to try to shake his head. The pain roared, even through the drugs, but he kept trying anyway. Because-

“I never-” He stuttered. “I didn’t save him. He didn’t need saving, he was just-”

“Yes you did. He was so focused on saving me, he didn’t see anything else, not even you. He’s realized that now, after the fact. He told me you saved his ass more times than he could count, just on this mission alone.” Shawn explained. “And by my count, you’ve been saving him for years, too.”

“Yeah, sure.” Damian drawled, in an attempt to cover up his discomfort. He shifted away, trying to show through body language he was done talking. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m tired. I need to-”

“He talks about you, you know.” Shawn whispered. Damian froze, and looked back. Her face, despite holding that smile, was serious. Genuine. “All the time.”

And Damian…found himself slumping back into his pillow, staring intently at her. And after a moment, where Shawn silently pulled her hand back, he found his voice was a little too hopeful when he asked: “…What?”

“He’s told me about all your missions, and when you lived together, and when you died. All of that. Thought he didn’t mention you’d been shot in the spine before.” Her brow furrowed a little bit there, but she shook it off. “Honestly, there’s been days where he talks about literally nothing else but you.”

Damian just stared in shock.

“I asked him what he wanted for dinner once, and honest to god, he went on a rant for an hour about how you let him have the last of the milk one morning, and then when you got in trouble for eating cereal out of the box, you didn’t say a thing to incriminate him.” Shawn giggled. “It’s…annoying, at times.”

“Just tell him to shut up. Or hit him.” Damian deadpanned, though it was more of an automatic statement than a barb. He was still trying to understand what he was being told. “That’s what I do when I think he’s talking too much.”

“No, no, it’s…also nice sometimes too.” Shawn promised. “I like hearing about his family. About you.”

Damian just pursed his lips.

“He told me…” She started, then inhaled sharply, glancing towards the bloody bullet on the tray. “He told me, while you were in surgery, that this was payback for a few years ago. When he was shot in the neck by this Hurt guy, too.”

Damian remembered. How could he forget? That was one of his many failures. One of the many times he almost lost his older brother, when he didn’t protect him.

“And he told me…how scared you were, for him.” Shawn continued. “How you were willing to let Gotham burn down and get destroyed, all because you wanted to stay at his side when he was in pain.”

Damian didn’t have it in him at this moment to refute the statement, or even try.

“And he said it’s funny, because you have such a prickly exterior, and don’t let people close unless you trust them, but you’re one of the kindest people he’s ever met.” Shawn smiled, chuckled lightly, like she was remembering the exact moment Dick told her all this. “You’re kind and funny and sweet and everything everyone who doesn’t know you wishes you were. He said he knows you trust him more than a lot of people, and is…downright giddy that he gets to see that side of you. It’s like his own special secret, and he refuses to let that go.”

And speak of the devil, they could hear him now. Dick was down in the cave, demanding to come behind the curtain and getting stopped by Alfred and Bruce both.

“…He told me about when you died, and how hard it was for him.” Shawn’s voice hitched a little, and Damian was honestly surprised she was getting emotional about it. “Your death wrecked him. He said losing you was even worse than losing his parents. He said he started drinking, stopped taking care of himself. He said no one would’ve recognized him – but he almost never left his apartment, so no one ever saw him like that.”

“I…” Damian breathed, eyes wide and hurt. “I didn’t know that…”

Shawn smiled again, and it was sad. “I know.” She murmured. “He said that too.”

Damian glanced almost desperately towards the curtain.

“He wakes up sometimes, in the middle of the night, and asks. Or will just say it as a fact.” Shawn explained. “‘Shawn, do you think Damian knows how much I love him?’ ‘Shawn, he doesn’t know. I know he doesn’t. He’s going to die again and he has no idea.’ …You know, things like that.”

Damian was floored. He…he didn’t. He didn’t have any idea.

“Well.” Damian still tried to dismiss it, and disprove. Because there were no good things in his life, and he’d given up on Grayson. He’d decided. After this last mission he had decided once and for all. Grayson didn’t love him as much as he thought. That maybe he himself wasn’t worth as much as he thought if Grayson had finally given up on him like everyone else already had. And how dare this woman. How dare this Shawn Tsang give him hope that maybe he was wrong, that maybe he jumped to conclusions. That Dick wasn’t giving him up for her and a potential child. That he wasn’t being forgotten all over again by someone he cared about. That he mattered at all. “If how your rescue went was any indication-”

“He messed up. He knows he did.” Shawn cut off. “I told you, we talked during your surgery. He looked back on everything from the moment I called him about the pregnancy test to the moment everything was done and we were bringing you here. He realized what a jerk he was, and he’s been beating himself up ever since. That’s what he was doing, actually, upstairs. He was – and probably still is – afraid that he won’t get to tell you how sorry he is. That you’ll die before he can see you again. He was so caught up in his thoughts I was able to sneak away and get down here first.”

And despite it all, Damian couldn’t help but smirk at that. “Crafty.”

“Hey, you don’t spend a few years as a criminal and not learn a few things.” Shawn winked.

“…And that pregnancy test?” Damian asked. “What was the result?”

“One thing at a time, we decided.” Shawn said. “We talked about it, and decided that we’d wait until you were out of the woods before trying to figure all that out. I know it’ll freak you out, Damian, but surprise! You come first. It’s about time don’t you think?”

Damian felt the blush in his cheeks, and knew from Shawn’s widening grin she saw it too.

“…You know, he said something else, back in Pyg’s lair. When he first messed up his ankle and you ran off to stop the Dollotrons or whatever. He kept saying he thought he lost me, and that, in losing me, he thought he lost everything. But…honestly, I don’t think that’s true. Not for me.” She kept her smile. “You, though. I think he truly would lose everything if he lost you again.”

They heard another tantrum from Dick beyond the curtain, and Shawn glanced back.

“We probably only have a few more minutes at most.” She hummed, turning back to Damian, who was timidly glancing towards the curtain himself. “So, really. I just wanted to tell you, from the bottom of my heart.” She reached out and placed her hand over Damian’s. “Thank you for saving me. And saving him all these years too.”

Before Damian could even open his mouth to respond, the curtain burst open, revealing a frazzled, if not determined, Dick Grayson standing in its doorway.

Shawn leaned back as Dick hobbled across the space. And she knew that look on his face. Hell, she and Damian both knew that look on his face.

“Dick…” She warned. “Be careful. He’s weak and he’s tired, so he needs to-”

Dick ignored her as he practically flung himself onto Damian, wrapping his arms as tight around him as he could, hiding his face along the bandage wrapped around his neck.

Damian grunted, though not necessarily in pain. “Grayson…!”

“I’m sorry.” Dick whispered, and Damian looked over at Shawn. “I’m so sorry, Damian. This…this is my fault. I took you for granted, I ignored you, I dragged you into this mess and I got you hurt. This is my fault and I am so. Sorry.”

Damian tried to respond, but then suddenly Dick was moving again, and his groggy mind couldn’t keep up. Dick unwound himself from the embrace, only to place his hands on Damian’s face.

“Grayson…”

“I love you. Do you know I love you? Have I ever actually told you?” Dick asked, too quickly. “Because I do. I love you…more than anything. You’re my little brother and I’d do anything for you. I’d do anything not to lose you again. And I swear, this won’t happen again. I’ll never let another person lay a hand on you, I swear. I’ll never ignore you or snap at you or anything like that ever again.”

“Dick, honey…” Dick paused at the gentle hand on his arm, and glanced over at Shawn. “He’s still recovering, you know that. So let’s slow it down a little, okay? How about you let him sleep a little before you have an emotional breakdown basically on top of him.”

“…Right.” Dick looked back down at Damian. “Right, I…” He flashed a smile, leaned down and kissed Damian’s forehead. “Sorry, kiddo, I just. I was so worried. I was so scared for you. I know you hate my freak-outs, but I just…I’m sorry.”

“I know. And it’s okay, Grayson.” Damian tried to smile, but he knew the drugs were morphing it into something else. When Dick moved to pull back, Damian slowly reached up and clung to his wrists. “Do you mind…staying with me?”

Dick’s grin was so wide, Damian was afraid it might hurt him. “I’d like nothing more, Damian.”

Damian shifted slightly, to give Dick room on the bed. When he was up on the mattress, Dick carefully wound an arm around the back of his neck, pulling him gently into the safety of his chest. As Dick made himself comfortable, Damian glanced tiredly at Shawn.

“You too, please.”

It wasn’t a question. In fact, Shawn knew it was a barely-veiled demand. But she laughed anyway, as Dick kissed Damian’s hair, and she took the little boy’s hand once more.

“Sure thing, Robin.”

#Damian Wayne #shawn tsang #dick grayson

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