#my dad told me the other day that you can cook meat even if its still frozen and i felt like SUCH a fool learning that for the first time

[phamminji]

best friend's favour — bonus! day at hanni's place (pt.1)

yn heard hanni's evil laughter coming down from the staircase as she put the key back into its usual place.

"fuck you pham hanni." yn cursed, making sure she was loud enough for the shorter to hear.

"hey... that's not a nice thing to say to your fake girlfriend, kim yn." as hanni pretended to grab at her chest, as if she was hurt from the said girl's words.

"whatever hanni pham." yn rolled her eyes at her dramatic best friend, setting her shoes aside before walking into the home that she was now familiar with and plopping down onto the sofa, as hanni followed suit.

"fuck you too kim yn. i told you to not call me that. it just reminds me of kang haerin." hanni grumbled and muttered something about how whenever haerin says that, it gets on her nerves.

"what even did haerin do anyway? anyway, where's the foood?" yn urged, her stomach grumbling to remind her that her tank was empty of fuel.

"is that really the first thing you think about the moment you arrive here?" hanni snickered, "can't you wait for like another ten minutes, maybe?"

"well first thing, technically, it wasn't the first thing i thought about when i arrived. and secondly, i am famished. i'm literally starving to the point that i could eat a horse."

"did your mom not feed you or something..." hanni peeked over the couch, stretching her neck to see better, "my mom's at the back of the kitchen, she's cooking right now."

"i thought you were going to cook?"

hanni's eyes widened in bewilderment, mouth gaping open and close like a fish, "since when did i say i was going to cook? i'm a hundred percent sure i didn't say i was going to be the one doing the cooking."

yn chuckled and shook her head, "it's okay hanni pham..." as the taller girl heard the latter click her tongue, "in the future... i can be the one cooking for us."

"hello? what is that supposed to mean?" as hanni stood up from the couch, her hands rested against her sides, as if she was offended by yn's words, "are you trying to tell me that i cannot-"

"yes, you can't cook for shit."

hanni pointed her finger at her accuser, before giving her a tight slap on the arm, "FUCK YOU."

"pham hanni. your language." as hanni's mom's voice echoed from the kitchen.

"but MOM!" yn covered her mouth with one hand, stifling with laughter as she tried to catch hanni's hand with the other, who was definitely not trying to give her another blow on her arm.

"YN STARTED IT FIRST!"

"don't give me that crap. yn dear, do you want some grilled meat as well?" hanni's mom questioned as the shorter mumbled a "so unfair" under her breath.

"yes please!" yn thanked hanni's mother before playfully elbowing her best friend, a pleased look on her face as if she was bragging about her best friend's mom.

"you know my mom likes you more than me." hanni grumbled.

"can't really blame her, can i?" as yn shrugged her shoulders.

"damn you." hanni murmured, giving yn's shoulder a shove.

"pham hanni. i can still hear you."

"NOT EVEN DAMN, MOM?"

"no, pham hanni. yn dear, could you come and help me to wash this up?"

"sure, mama!" yn giggled, waddling her way to the kitchen.

hanni couldn't help but to scoff at her best friend's antics, as she followed the taller girl, not too far behind.

"and you." as hanni's mom pointed to the said girl, "can you help me flip the meat so that i can take a picture of you two and send it to dad."

"why would you send a picture of us to dad...? that is weird..." hanni probed, afraid that yn might be uncomfortable with the situation.

"you know how much your dad likes yn too, right?"

"of course!" yn chimes in, with a goofy smile directed to hanni.

never mind then... i guess she's okay with it...

it was with no doubt that hanni was glad that her parents loved her best friend just like their own daughter. however, with the damn bloody smug on yn's face that she wanted to wipe off so badly, she couldn't help but to fight back the urge to throw the tongs at yn.

"i swear... sometimes, i question who is your daughter."

thank you for the 300!

masterlist / next

to put it shortly, hanni owes yn a favour. a BIG favour. and yn is in desperate need of finding a girlfriend (preferably) to finally get her family off her back. so yn approaches her best friend to get that favour settled.

@seeju @sserajeans @rosiehrs @chaersly @lizseos @sserafimez @sullyoonsmore @misumiausworld @73vyn @falling-intoo-deep @archerheejin @captivq @yumtooki @heartsforteruhashi @txtbrainrot @oshyci @daniellemyluv @yawnnzy @ksnu @dream-chasers-things @haerinstolemyhrt @vaeeeel @silantryoo

tag list !

[mothusband]

no one ever taught me how to cook and i was pretty much just forced to figure out how i was gonna feed myself one day, so learning has been slow and as a result sometimes i learn something new about cooking that most people probably learned as kids that blows my mind. like... you can add herbs to your spaghetti sauce? and it makes it taste so much better?? i made spaghetti as an easy meal this evening and felt like a professional chef just adding some fucking basil to the sauce. how have i managed to keep myself alive for the past 6 years.

[honeydew-mel0n]

Plz oh great author. I would just like... some dadV content. Just like. V and a child reader. Plz.

This probably isnt what you expected but, here's V being an adopted dad for a 5 year old reader in the ruins of Redgrave. It's not good, but its work. Ig

V x Child! Reader

Dad!V in the rubble of Redgrave.

You hide under the remnants of your bed. The ripped mattress and splintered frame providing little shelter from the horrors that lie beyond your eyelids. You weren't asleep, but still subscribed to the belief that the monsters couldn't get you if they thought you were asleep.

The sound of footsteps approaching lit a flame of hope in your heart, only for it to crash down the moment you heard the monsters come again.

It was so loud, crashing, screaming... were they fighting? If it was battle it ended quickly. And whatever entered your room won. You let out a soft whimper, curling into yourself. The foot steps approach the mess you called a bed. The sound of the mattress being pulled slightly made you burst into tears.

"Well, what do we have here?"

You open your tear filled eyes to see an adult, his black hair and dark clothes. "Mommy left me again- Are the monsters gone!?" His face was almost devoid of emotion. "Yes." "Are you sure?" At first. A smile smile splits his face as he offers you a tattoted hand. "Positive, little one."

_

We've seen before that he could care less about children at first glance, but the mentioning your mother leaving you caused him to instantly attach to you.

Alone, afraid, but this time, no way to protect yourself.

Deep down something inside of him told him that he needs to protect you. To take the job that your obviously useless mother could not handle.

You latch onto him quickly as well, your new protector. You think he's so cool, with his weird clothes, tattoos, and the funny things he says.

The second night he had you, you fell asleep pressed up against him as read a loud.

_

"When we see not thro the eye. Which was born in a night to perish in a night. When the soul slept in beams of light..."

He stops, green eyes boring down at your sleeping form. Your little hand wrapped over the edge of the corset under his coat. A small smile splits his face. Dispite all you had gone through, you still held peace. You would smile up at him after minutes of tucking your head into his side to hide your eyes from the gore that went on in front of you.

Your resilience is unyielding, and he cant help but admire that. It can make him forget that you are just a child. But now, layed out against his heart, he can see your vulnerability more then ever. You were so talkative, so kind, so soft, so... so... human. So very human. Just as he is now.

_

After some time with him, you'll be able to recite whole poems. And god he's never been more proud.

Technically, he's homeless, so finding somewhere safe for you to sleep is his first priority.

You never sleep alone. Never. Either he or one of his familiars is with you.

Scratch that, you are never alone.

He wasnt surprised by Shadow's fondness of you, but was by Griffon's.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah pip squeak, just don't pull on my feathers anymore."

V is easily annoyed, especially by people who talk too much. Unless it's you.

He can sit and listen to you chatter on in excessive detail about the random things you know.

Maybe that's why you and Griffon can get along. It's a constant back and forth of random facts and jokes that go right over your head.

You just like that he talks to you, he likes that he can make any joke and you won't get upset or offended.

V however, hates that he does this.

Seeing as how V tries his best to shield you from the world. You've already suffered so much.

He takes on the task of "dad" rather quickly.

_

You close your eyes tight as he pours the water from his cupped hands over your hair. V hums softly as he scrubs the filth from your skin. It was rather uncomfortable, taking a bath in a fountain, but it wasn't as uncomfortable as caked on dirt and splatters of demon blood. "We're almost done, I promise."

As soon as he found you to be clean enough he takes off his long leather jacket, dispite it just getting dry, he pulls you out and wraps it around you. He lays out your now dry and somewhat clean clothes and let's you try to dress yourself. Shadow letting you lean on her as you tug your clothes back on.

The warmth from fire used to cook the demon meat is enough to make you feel sleepy, if the exhausting day wasnt enough. You leaned against V's side, curling into him. His arm coming around you, assuring you that you're safe.

_

He accepts that he's pretty much your father very quickly.

But it hurts him. He knows what he has to do, and when that happens, what will happen to you? Who could he possibly trust to care for you?

He takes you everywhere, and doesn't let anything touch you.

It's truly Infuriating to him that he doesn't have the strength to carry you. Of course you ride on shadow, but when they handle demons you are left to mercy of the world.

The two of you being attached at the hip leads to a lot of confusion.

Mostly from Nero

"Why the hell do you have a kid???"

When he finally gets to settle down in Nico's van, you get to lay down for a nap.

And he leaves again, he leaves you to sleep. It was safe and he knew you would be fine there, and you definitely needed to sleep.

Nico, surprisingly, didnt mind you.

The entire time he was so nervous. It's been weeks, and this is the first time you haven't been with him.

When V eventually returns, he finds you chatting Nero's ear off. He didn't seem to mind though, he sat quietly with a smile as you talked.

It hit him then.

You could be safe without him.

_

He watched you fiddle with the metal fingers on Nero's devil breaker as you spoke. The young man making the fingers move, to your delight. Your eyes glowed and you looked up at Nero, he nods to what you're saying with a wide smile.

All of the worries in V's head melt away, but are soon replaced with a feeling of melancholy. You would be fine, you would be safe. Without him. He steps in, your head snaps to him, joy spreading on your features as soon at you realize. You run up to him, hugging his leg tightly.

It wasnt long until he has to leave again, and he knew it was the last time he would see you. And somehow, you knew something was wrong. Your small hands rest on his cheeks, sadness written on your entire being. He pulls you close, whispering to you softly. "I will see you again my little one. I will see you again."

Tiny arms hold tight around his neck, warm, wet tears slip down and fall onto his skin. "Are you sure?" "Positive, little one." You hold on tight to him, even after he lets go. Theres a soft whisper, bairly audible. "I love you, daddy." Then, you let go.

Getting to wave him off while holding onto Nico's leg.

_

He knew he wouldnt see you again, either he dies, or becomes one again. The likelihood of seeing you again with both of those options is little to none.

But he feels peace, you'd be safe. You are safe.

He gets weaker and weaker.

He's been close to it before, but this must be what dieing feels like.

Before reuniting with his other half, he still tries to make sure that you will be okay.

His crumbling body is leaning on Nero, hobbling to the end of his life.

"The child... If you survive, take care of them."

[alice-angel12x]

💔Bunny!Shouto x Bunny!Reader

Beastar/hybrid/ Fantasy AU

[In this story everyone is a hybrid with animal instincts, and major height difference depending on the animals like in beastars. And magic exists. And sorry if Shouto seems out of character for you.]

"Shouto where are you?!" Y/n called for her friend.

Sadly Shouto's mind was elsewhere, for he had fallen in love with the wolf princess Momo. Every day he would sit at the edge of cottonwood village and gaze upon The princess from afar.

"Shouto, there you are," Y/n said with a smile.

But that quickly turned into a sad frown as she saw Shouto eyeing the crescent castle. Kingdom of the wolves. Know most would wonder, why is there a rabbit village a hop skip, and a jump away from a wolf kingdom. Well, every time the village tries to move away rogue wolves would attack. Yet once they got close to the castle they would quickly run away. The king of the wolves claimed that as long as they stayed within the boundaries of the kingdom, they would protect them. Y/n never bought that. She noticed that once every year one rabbit from the village would disappear. Many believed it was from the rogue wolves, sneaking in and past the guards. So Y/n was worried about her friend falling in love with a wolf, a rabbit falling in love with a wolf.

"Oh Hi, Y/n," was all he said not even turning to look at her.

"How are you feeling, you know since spring is coming up?" Y/n asked him slowly.

"I'm fine," was all he said. "How about you,"

"I'm good still looking for my prince charming you know," Y/n said wistfully.

"You so childish," Shouto said as he finally turned to her.

"I'm 16 what's so childish about that?" Y/n asked as she turned to head back to the village.

Cottonwood Village is a quaint little town of Rabbits. In the middle of the village was a large cottage where the leader/mayor lived with his family, Shouto's family. The leader was endeavor Shouto's father, he was a part of the group of rabbits that believed the wolves were hiding something.

"Does your father know about your umm, dream girl?" Y/n asked.

"My father already has enough control of my life, I'm not about to let him control my love life," Shouto said coldly.

"You shouldn't get too close to the castle, it's dangerous," Y/n said in a worried tone.

"I know your thoughts on Wolves Y/n. But the wolves have shown use that they have other alternative foods. Like soy and bean-made meat," Shouto explained.

"It's easy to say that when it's not someone you care about goes missing," Y/n muttered bitterly, but Shouto sadly heard her.

"Y/n, it was the rogues that got your brother. And the Kingdom felt with them remember," Shouto sighed in annoyance.

"Shouto are you sure you love this wolf girl or is this just one of your I just wanna piss off my dad things?" Y/n asked bitterly.

"If You don't like it then you could always find someone else to hang out with, Y/n!" Shouto said as his left side lit up in flames.

Y/n quickly ran off, startled by Shouto's flame magic. Shouto sighed in frustration as he realized he used his father's Flames. After that Shouto avoided Y/n like the plague, and it didn't help that his father eventually found out Shouto was in love with a wolf. Endeavor did not like that, so he started setting updates for Shouto to try to take his mind off Momo.

Y/n tried to apologize and rekindle with him, but he would only give her the cold shoulder.

Y/n could see the sorrow and anger Shouto was in, so she barrier her feelings for him and braved the dark forest. She heard rumors that a powerful owl named All For One could perform miracles, even change species. She eventually found him a creepy old owl.

"E-excuse me, sir," Y/n stuttered as the owl turned his head 180° to look at her.

"I wanted to know if you had the power to change a person's species?"

"Yes indeed child, and what species would you like to be, but it will cost you," All for One chuckled.

"How much would it cost?" She asked.

"Half of your soul. Your life Will be cut in half. You'll live to about 25 for you," he answered as he towered over Y/n.

"I would like to pay for someone. If a red and white male rabbit comes and asks to change him, please take my soul," Y/n said in confidence.

"You young people always ready to throw your life away," he muttered as ripped out half of Y/n's soul.

And with that, she quickly ran back to the village, with Half of her soul in toe. She managed to track down Shouto and told him about All for One but left out the part of selling half of her soul.

Shouto did not waste time to find the owl and demand him to turn him into a wolf.

____________ [4 years later]

It has been 4 years since I changed into a wolf. When I changed, I found myself waking up in a large bed. I was found by Princess Momo herself. She helped was so sweet and kind, and was more than happy to explain wolf society. When I told her I was raised by Herbavoir animals. I was an Omega, while She was an Alpha.

Yet I enjoyed the times we spent together, I had never felt so free. She would help my heats or anything that confused me. It took a while to get used to eating soy meat, but I didn't mind all that much. All for One said he could change me and give me Wolf-like instincts, but he couldn't remove my Rabbit instincts. So it took a long time to suppress those instincts.

°° Today Momo had important meetings, so I was left to my own devices. So I decided to take a stroll through the forest. As I wandered through the forest I could hear humming coming from a nearby river. I peaked out from behind the tree, too see a rabbit bathing in the river. I recognized that rabbit, with her lovely H/c hair and beautiful snow-white rabbit ears and Tail.

"Y/n?" I called out to her.

Y/n quickly turned around to face me as she covered her chest with her arms. As my eyes took in all of her details I could feel the rest of the world fading away. It was just me and Y/n. In my new wolf body, Y/n looked so small compared to me now.

She matured a lot over these past 4 years. For some reason I couldn't see her as the childish dreamer 4 years ago, I couldn't figure out why.

"Umm hello Shouto, your taller," Y/n said as she started backing away.

"I-it's good to see you again Y/n," stuttered as I felt the heat rush to my face.

She smiled sweetly at me as she grabbed her robes as he made her way over to you. Seeing her standing In front of me was odd. I remember when I was still a rabbit I was just a few inches taller than her. But now she just barely reached my mid waist.

We sat under a tree and talked for hours about what had happened to me. And she sat there and listened very closely. Her robes v neck was very revealing and I started to feel hot.

She seemed to notice as she got and started to walk with a slight sway in her hips. A dormant instinct awakens within me as the rabbit inside me begged to go after her.

"It seems you're a bit too excited to see me. If I remember correctly I was too childish for you~," She said with a smooth seductive voice.

I had to hold back the Rabbit instincts as I watched cross to the other side of the river.

"I'm afraid I have to leave now, spring is just around the corner after all~," She cooed as she disappeared behind the trees.

I felt hot in a certain place as I felt my tail wag uncontrollably on the ground. That wasn't the last time I went out to see Y/n. Anytime Momo was busy I would meet Y/n by the river and we would talk.

One day it was a particularly hot day as I made my way to Y/n's meet site. Today she was wearing a large floppy sun hat and a cute spring dress.

"So what us Momo like?" Y/n asked curiously.

"She's wonderful, she's kind, smart, and gentle," I said to her as I started to talk about my fiance.

"Hey Shouto are you okay, you seem sluggish today and in pain?" Y/n asked worriedly.

"Oh don't worry, I'm going into heat soon. So I'll be sore for a while, the downsides to being an Omega wolf," I explained.

"That sucks, is there any way I can help you?" Y/n asked as she hugged my neck. She smelled like a field of wildflowers, I couldn't help but return her hug.  ---

As The two old friends were talking they failed to notice two figures creeping behind them. Before Y/n could react, a large hand grabbed her by the ears and lifted her off the ground. She screamed and thrashed against her captors. Shouto quickly got up and tackled the man as he pulled Y/n into his arms and ran.

"It's the rogues, we need to head back to the castle," Shouto struggled to say as he ran.

But as he ran his body began to ache and became heavy. His vision started to blur and his steps became uncertain. Shouto tripped and tumbled down the hill with Y/n in toe. As he collapsed on the ground his eyes slowly closed as his body gave out.

"SHOUTO, PLEASE WAKE UP!!'' was the last thing he heard.

------

As my eyes opened up, I found myself in my room or my nest. suddenly Momo came in with her usual sweet smile.

" Good your fully awake, it's good to see you took well to the stew," she smiled as she picked up the empty bowl next to me.

"W-what happened to me," Shouto asked as he tried to sit up.

" You're in your heat, but it is taking a larger toll on you because your body lacks certain nutrients that soy meat can't provide. So our hunters found a rabbit near you and gave her to our chiefs and made you rabbit stew," Momo explained.

Shouto felt his whole world shatter as his stomach noted and squeezed.

"Oh, my maid is coming with more stew. Today's rabbit such a delicious flavor," Momo said as she rubbed her finger in the empty bowl and licked off the stew on her finger.

Shouto began to tremble as the truth sank into him. His stomach lurched in disgust as he sat up and leaned onto a nearby wall. Soon a maid came in with a fresh bowl of ... Rabbit... Soup. Shouto tried to back away only for his back to meet another wall. The maid scooped a spoon full of Stew with a generous amount of cooked meat chunks.

"Open your mouth," the maid said using her Alpha order.

Shouto's omega body slowly opened its mouth, despite Shouto's wishes. As the maid feeds him a spoonful of rabbit stew. The maid ordered him to chew and swallow, and he did. Heavy tears ran down Shouto's face as his body betrayed him. It felt like an eternity to finish the entire bowl of Stew.

____

Soon as the maid left Shouto pushed himself onto his feet and made his way down to the kitchen.

'It couldn't be Y/n right? She must have run away to safety,' he thought to himself.

As he entered he saw the chief with a cloth sack ready to be thrown out. Shouto quickly offered to take it out for them as a thank you for the meal. And the chief happily gave the sac to Shouto.

Once he was out he ran deep into the forest and opened the bag to see a fresh skeleton of a small rabbit. But inside he pulled out a familiar sun hat and spring dress. His stomach lurched and forced up the stew into a nearby bush.

"I... I ate her!! I ate Y/n', His mind screamed in shame, disgust, and sorrow as he began to sob.

Flashes of Y/n's beautiful smile and lively eyes appeared in his mind.

He held up Y/n's dress, it looked so small. The perfect size for a Pup maybe, but he knew this dress was the size for a fully grown rabbit, a young woman. He held the dress close to his chest like he was Hugging Y/n again.

Shouto with his head low he snuck back to his nest. Laying down he slowly pushed away most of the fabric Momo scented as he held Y/n's dress close to him. He could still smell the field of wildflowers on her dress.

"I can still smell you Y/n," He whimpered to himself.

[godofsexdrugsandrocknroll]

On A Tropical Island

Jaune: Great. Just great. Now I’m lost and all my friends are missing too! I’m too angry to be depressed!

Neo: *Head pops out of the sand, spitting it everywhere*

Jaune: Oh, even better. Now I have company. This can’t possibly get any worse! *Ignores Neo glaring*

-----------------

Jaune: Stop following me! You’re a bad girl!

Neo: *Cocks eyebrow*

Jaune: *Blushes* Not what I meant! I mean you’re evil! And all you’ve done to help so far is poke me with a stick! *Is poked with a stick* Dammit, stop that!

Neo: *Pokes him in the butt instead*

Jaune: OW! That’s not what I meant you menace!

Neo: *Preens at being called a menace*

Jaune: And stop trying to be cute, too!

----------------- 

Neo: *Tapping bare foot*

Jaune: Okay, so maybe my sense of direction isn’t the best. *gets The Look* Alright alright already, jeez. We’re back where we started, your shoes, your jacket and my armor are now forever lost to the wilds and it’s not my fault!

Neo: *Stares*

Jaune: *Shifts guiltily* Okay maybe it is, but if I had a map *Neo crosses her arms, reigniting The Look™ * we’d still probably be lost since the rest of team RNJR banned me from the map after reading it backwards and upside down.

Neo: *Nods firmly, taking the lead*

Jaune: For the fourth time.

Neo: *Turns, gapes in shock, shakes her head and grabs him by the hand*

Jaune: *Offended* Hey, I’m not a child! I won’t get lost!

Neo: *Looks at him through her eyelashes*

Jaune: *Sighs* Okay, fine. But only because getting lost in a weird jungle is way worse than getting lost in the grocery store at 14.

Neo: *Stops, removes belt, ties end around his wrist and grabs the other end*

Jaune: *Starts whining*

----------------- 

Jaune: Dear diary *ignores Neo’s pointing and silent laughter* today is day 17 on the worst island to ever exist. Butthole and I -- OW, SHIT-FUCK-SHIT! I really hate that you sharpened your stick into a spear! Fine, Neo and I finally have a a good system in place for food. We’ve got our firepit, Neo turned my armor we found into a pan, one pot and a skillet, my impeccable home economics have saved our asses and we’ve got a spit for roasting things over the fire!

Neo: *Munches happily on roast rabbit*

Jaune: It’s really working out! Neo’s great at the spotting and tracking, I get to use the spear to hunt and there’s plenty of these really stupid semi-intelligent rabbits that seem to have a language of their own that are really good when you cook ‘em just right. *Pauses* I think they might have stolen my shirt though, I haven’t seen that thing in like four days.

Neo: *Mentally reminds herself to burn the eye candy’s shirt before he finds it*

-----------------

Day 28

Jaune: Ow, stop kicking me! I said I was sorry!

Neo: *Jumps on Jaune, bites his ear*

Jaune: AAAGGHH!!! Dammit Neo, how many times do I have to tell you not to bite me! It’s not my fault that seagull stole your hat! In case you hadn’t noticed, it stole Pyrrha’s sash too!

Neo: *Jumps off him, gestures emphatically*

Jaune: I know, you angry little troll! *Instead of attacking him again, Neo just stares at him sadly* I-I... *sighs* I know. I know. I really wanna kill that thing too. It’s...it’s all I had left of her too. All you had left of Torchwick. But we’re stuck here. We can’t find my friends and this island is huge.

Neo: *Nods unhappily*

Neo: *Jabs him with her stick spear*

Jaune: Yeah, we can kill any seagulls we see. *Neo blinks, considers trying to get her point across but nods*

-----------------

Day 49

Jaune: How do you set everything on fire! I told you we needed just enough to warm ourselves!

Neo: *Lunges at Jaune, leaves fire to burn*

Jaune: *Is strangled*

-----------------

Day 54

Neo: *Admires Jaune’s ass in jorts*

Jaune: I still don’t understand why you had to ruin my jeans. Tossing the boots into that bottomless pit, I get. My feet thank you. Uh, except when I keep stepping on sharp rocks and twigs. But really?

Neo: *Points at him, hand fans herself and panics, shaking her head rapidly*

Jaune: *Oblivious, insulted* Yeah, yeah, I’m sweaty! Fine, fuck having pant legs! I wanna get scratched and bitten by those weird little blue people again!

Neo: *Blinks, shakes her head in exasperation and relief*

-----------------

Day 59

Jaune: I can’t believe you committed genocide because those blue people stole your top! Neo, they just wanted a tent!

Neo: *Glares murderously at Jaune, covering her frilly pink and white bra with her hand and arm*

Jaune: *Gulps* I-I-I-I know! It’s upsetting, but murder isn’t always the answer!

Neo: *Uses free hand and makes bunny ears*

Jaune: Hey, those rabbits might be really stupid but they’re super mean spirited! One tried to drop a rock on my head and don’t you dare say it’d be an improvement!

Neo: *Startled, laughs*

Jaune: *Sheepish, laughs too*

Neo: *Continues laughing, eventually noticing Jaune has stopped and is red in the face, wide eyed*

Neo: *Notices she moved her arm and Jaune is staring at her chest*

Jaune: *Notices Neo’s glare and red face* W-wait, hold on a minute now, I didn’t mean to--

Neo: *Glomps, bites his nipple*

Jaune: *Girlish screams that can be heard for miles*

-----------------

Day 72

Jaune: No, put the berries down. You can’t just keep eating fruit all the time, you’re already very small and need to keep yourself healthy if you don’t wanna lie rotting as a corpse on this island forever.

Neo: *Grabs a huge handful of berries, shoves them in her mouth smugly*

Jaune: Dammit Neo, stop being so bratty! I’m only trying to help! *Grabs Rabbit jerky* Now do your body good, open your mouth and eat my meat!

Neo: *Gags, chokes, spits mushy berries out and kicks Jaune in the solar plexus for the phrasing*

Jaune: *Wheezing* I swear I didn’t mean to OH X-RAY AND VAV, SAVE ME!

Nearby Seagull: *Hearing the abyssal, shrieking screams of the Tall One, flies off in terror and decides to move the family nest*

Neo: *Biting, kicking, punching and pinching*

-----------------

Day 88

Jaune: I can hardly shave Neo, if you don’t remember my sword’s a jagged piece of sharp metal these days!

Neo: *Shows off shaved armpits, shows off shaved legs having long since created shorts from her capris and shows him a wooden knife*

Jaune: I should be concerned that you’ve created another stabby, but somehow -- GASP! *Actually gasps, clutches his beard* No! You wouldn’t!

Neo: *Grins*

Jaune: Please don’t, beloved friend of mine.

Neo: *Touched*

Jaune: What? We are. I mean sure you bite and attack me way more than most normal people do but you did save me from that rabbit mercenary group that tried to use a swinging log to splatter my brains against a tree. You might’ve been a bad guy once, but it’s nearly been three months and you’ve more than proven yourself. And I can’t really not call you a friend when I feel guilty about how I treated you.

Neo: *Smiles, undoes her bra*

Jaune: Wait, WHAT!? *Neo jumps on him and smiling happily, gives his cheek a kiss and starts shaving* WAIT NEO NO, THAT’S NOT FAIR YOU CAN’T USE BOOBIES AS A WEAPON LIKE THA- *Neo shakes her body side to side* -GGRRRGGG! That is so cruel. You’re the worst friend ever. I’m glad you have to sit on my ribs and not my lap because that would be even worse.

Neo: *Continues shaving*

----------------- 

Day 146

Jaune: *Using his semblance* See, what’d I tell you? They get smarter! No way are those little demons gonna fall for the same trap twice.

Neo: *Lets Jaune heal the bloody bite marks from a rabbit, squirms*

Jaune: Stop it, you’re fine. *Kisses healed hand* Booboo be gone!

Neo: *Blushes brightly, stares wide eyed*

----------------- 

Day 179

Neo: *Spinkicks boulder about to crush Jaune*

Jaune: Thanks Neo! *To a small, derpy looking anthropomorphic rabbit* Your wretched plan is foiled you vile creature from the deepest pits of hell! Now do me a favor and get stabbed!

Neo: *Spins away, clutching her beating heart as the sound of a vicious goring occurs*

Jaune: Another day, another dead rabbit! Oh look, there’s more! *Offers the Spear of Ultimate Stick to Neo* You wanna eviscerate the next couple?

Neo: *Wonders what this feeling is*

----------------- 

Day 187

Jaune: *Gaping stupidly at Neo’s perfectly lit fire* W-wha? How!? Two months ago you lit my hair on fire *brushing hand through short, unstyled blondeness* but n-now...

Neo: *Smugly roasting bird meat*

Jaune: *Scoops Neo into a hug, spins the wide eyed mute* I understand how Dad felt when I finally learned to tie my shoes in the 6th grade now! I’m so proud, Neo! OW!

Neo: *Spits Jaune’s shoulder blood out, turns away blushing*

Jaune: Still proud. *Notices Neo blushing, deliberately not looking at him* Uh-oh. *Quietly, to himself* Oh no. I recognize this feeling. Ohhh shit. Okay, what the hell Jaune!? You see her boobs and you feel awkward about your boner for three days, but she looks all cute and embarrassed and that’s what does me in!? What kind of bullshit is this!?

Neo: *Oblivious, cupping her cheeks and cutely twisting back and forth*

-----------------

Day 219

Jaune: AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Neo: *Silently screaming at the top of her lungs*

Jaune: OH MY GOD NEO WHY THE FUCK IS HE SO BIG!? *Looks fearfully back at a 12 foot tall, musclebound, derpy looking anthroporphic rabbit sprinting at them with rage in its unthinking eyes*

Neo: *Frantically mimes stabbing*

Jaune: NEO, WHAT THE FUCK, I THINK HE’S TOO SWOLE FOR HUSHABYE!!!

Neo: *Heart flutters at Jaune’s name for their spear*

Giant Rabbit: ▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅!

Jaune: *Ears ringing*

Neo: *Points at Jaune’s crotch, mimes stabbing*

Jaune: *Pales* THAT’S PROBABLY THE MOST EVIL THOUGHT YOU’VE EVER HAD IN YOUR LIFE! *Neo pouts, mimes it again* I’M JUST SAYING, NOT JUDGING, LET’S DO IT! *Uses semblance*

Neo: *Commits murder most foul*

Jaune: *Whips out the wooden knife* I’M SO SORRY FOR THIS, YOU OVERGROWN FREAK OF NATURE! *Jumps on the screaming body of the mutated rabbit, starts stabbing*

~~5 Minutes Later~~

Jaune: *Covered in blood, wipes forehead* Phew. Killing something this big really takes it out of you.

Neo: *Covered in blood, staring at Jaune wide eyed*

Jaune: Kind of a shame he looks basically human. Save for his stupid head, I guess, because I kinda don’t wanna eat anything that’ll make me feel too cannibally. *Puts hand on chin, blood drips* But I kinda think this is like the Final Boss of those rabbits. Maybe chop his head off and put on a pike like you did with that poor little blue guy that seemed to be the other blue people’s chief? *Nods resolutely* Yeah, gotta establish dominance and fear in those godless little fucks. *Looks at Neo* What do you think, NeeeMMMMPPPHHH!!!

Neo: *Glomps Jaune, shoves her tongue into his mouth*

-----------------

Day 237

Neo: Gakgh gakgh gakgh!

----------------- 

Day 243

Jaune: Oh god, yeah, fuck yeah, you like that don’t you? *Grabs Neo’s hair*

Neo: *Likes that very much*

-----------------

Day 249

Jaune: *Waggles knife* So, uh, aim for the kidneys?

Neo: *Nods emphatically*

Jaune: Huh. I guess I’ll test it out on Cinder. Thanks honey. *Kisses cheek*

Neo: *Swoons*

-----------------

Day 251

Jaune: *Naked, washing grumpy Neo’s hair* I really mean it! I am so sorry. Just, well, uh...okay, you give amazing head and I wasn’t expecting you to go for the balls. Or, uh, the other thing, but well, um *sighs* look, the taint thing was just really unexpected and I’m really sorry I came in your hair! *Blushes*

Neo: *Can’t help but be proud, leans into his hands*

-----------------

Day  268

Jaune: Is there no end to your flexibility!? *Chokes on air* Nope. Guess not.

Neo: *Doing the splits smugly*

-----------------

Day 274

Jaune: And that is why, despite what people say, Immortal Konflict is superior to Road Combatant!

Neo: *Nods seriously*

Jaune: Wanna play when we get back to Remnant, maybe after we kill Salem in her sleep or something?

Neo: *Nods excitedly*

Jaune: You’re the best! *Kisses temple* Ow, why are you hitting me, I thought you liked kisses!?

Neo: *Liking forehead and temple kisses but not wanting to admit it*

-----------------

Day 296

Jaune: *Cumming inside*

Neo: *Toes curl, signing ‘I Love You’ over and over again*

Jaune: *Panting* God I love you too, Neo.

Neo: *Gapes, signs*

Jaune: *Panting decreases* Uh, yeah? My Dad has permanent hearing damage from his Huntsman days. Some chick had a mortar-giant cudgel-battering ram weapon and you can guess about how well that went.

Neo: *Signs more*

Jaune: I-- *realizes* ohhhh. I get it. Uh, I didn’t even think about it. You never signed so I figured you never learned. Ow, my ass!

Neo: *Stops pinching his ass, signs again but slower*

Jaune: *Blushes brightly* Um, yeah. I did. Is that-- *Neo flips him onto his back, kissing him and rocking her hips*

-----------------

Day 338

Jaune: *Contently holding Neo* This really was the last thing I expected to happen. *Neo nods as she leans into him* I...I don’t think I can ever really not miss Pyrrha, or despise Cinder from the bottom of my soul.

Neo: *Signs rapidly that she feels the same way, that she misses Roman*

Jaune: Yeah. I know. *Clears throat* But I think it’s okay. I mean I didn’t expect this to happen, but I’m glad it did. *Snuggling occurs* We’re gonna get out of here. We’re putting Cinder in the dirt. Then we’re gonna do the same to Salem. Then buy a house.

Neo: *Signs*

Jaune: I’ve kinda been a country boy my whole life. It’s up to you *is headbutted* OW! *Neo rubs the back of her aching head, signs, Jaune rubs his chin* Then it’s decided.

*Enjoying each others presence*

----------------- 

Day 362

Weiss: Actually, the amount of slashes in the trees could just mean some new terrible creature of ridiculous origin could have made this area of the forest its stomping grounds.

Blake: *Flatly* As long it’s not the flying piranhas with steel teeth that drip acid, I’m fine.

Ruby: *Shudders* Please don’t remind me! I’m suppressing, Blake! Do you want to ruin fish sticks and mustard for me!?

Blake: *Grimaces* Yes.

Yang: *Ignores the bickering* Not gonna lie Weiss, after that giant crocodile with the crown and the cape and the penguin with the hammer, something a little more normal and horrific sounds just like home. *Adjusts cheetah print bikini, shifts hips under her grass skirt*

Weiss: *Eyebrow twitches* Right. Home. Which you clearly miss. *Eyes Yang’s flawless tan*

Yang: Huh? Well, yeah! Not to devalue the disaster we have waiting for us when we get back but I’m dying for a cheeseburger and a *in singsong* Strawberry Sunrise!

Ruby: *Cutting off Weiss and ignoring a fuming Blake* It could be Jaune though!

Weiss: Yes, possibly, but you have to consider the fact-- *Steps around tree, goes silent at the sounds*

Neo: *In a mating press clutching her feet, biting her lip and then silently moaning*

Jaune: *Going so hard he’s clapping Neo’s cheeks*

Weiss: --that maybe those living, spiny fruits got us again and we’re all on a very bad trip. *Can’t look away but wants to*

Ruby: *Blushes furiously*

Blake: *Covers nose, turns away*

Yang: I really wanna be there for our boy but *ignores Jaune’s cursing, Neo’s nodding and Jaune pushing in deep and creampieing the silently screaming mute* a really big part of me wants to punch him in his stupid face. Really!? Her!?

Blake: *Muffled* You sure you’re not just salty that it’s Neo?

Jaune: *Awkwardly, wide eyed but happy* Oh. Guys. Hey! Hi! *Weiss screeches as Jaune stands, Neo breathes heavily but grins smugly*

Yang: Nope. Not at all. *Clenching fist*

-----------------

Day 363

Yang: Okay. I’m cool with whole... *gestures at Neo and Jaune holding hands*  thing, because honestly I’d have to be a condescending and arrogant bitch to look down on you because of that, but really?

Ruby: Yang has a point, little blue people and psychotic but also really stupid rabbits and their super-duper-strong Daddy Rabbit? And you killed them alllll oh wow. *Staring at something that Jaune pulled from a bag* That’s a weird looking skull. *Whispering* Why does he have a skull!? Oh no, Neo really did corrupt him and not just with that!

Yang: *Gapes, recovers slowly, sarcastically* She is such a good influence on you Jaune.

Jaune: *Grinning* I know, right? I mean imagine if Neo wasn’t here with me! I probably would’ve survived but I would’ve been so depressed that I’d probably be coming back eyeless and with a ton of PTSD! And maybe a quirky catchphrase!

Yang: Because that’s important. *Rolls eyes* Besides, you couldn’t pull off a catchphrase to save your life.

Jaune: *Face goes slack, contorts stupidly in a scream* BWAAAAH!

Team RWBY: *Jerks*

Neo: *Bites Jaune’s pinky*

Jaune: OW-OW-OW! Take a joke, Neo!

Yang: No, yeah, pretty much on the shrimp’s side.

Weiss: I have no idea what that was but never do it again.

Blake: *Forgives Jaune and Neo for their crusade against the rabbits*

Ruby: *Giggling at the derp face Jaune made*

Jaune: Fine, fine, you win. *Pouting* Using their war cry would have been so insulting to their memory though.

Neo: *Smiling, kisses Jaune’s cheek, signs that he’s a big baby*

Weiss: Getting back to the point though, we didn’t think Jaune would be in nearly as good shape as he’s in now. In that regard I feel we owe Neopolitan a good deal of gratitude.

Blake: And like it or not Yang, having her not just be an enemy of Salem but actually on our side?

Yang: Yeah, well--

Ruby: Plus he’s happy! And I think he kind of needs it. *Sadly* We all do. A-and if Neo is what makes him happy, then I think I’m happy too.

Jaune: *Touched* Rubes...

Ruby: It hurts, Jaune. But I can’t imagine...well, I can’t imagine if it were me. So it’ll take time but the best thing I can do here is be happy for you and get us outta here! *Pumps fist*

Neo: *Signs rapidly*

Jaune: *Grins* And make Cinder and Salem unalive! And in the days leading to that, make them wish they were already dead!

Ruby: *Uncomfortable at the bloodlust* Umm...

Yang: Ah fuck it, you speak my language like that and I can’t stay mad at you! Let’s do it! *Slaps Blake’s ass*

Blake: *Yelps, blushes and glares at Yang* Is this really the time for that!?

Weiss: *Rubbing the bridge of her nose with her eyes squeezed shut* Ah, the onset of a pounding headache. Truly the gang is back together again.

----------------- 

Day 365

Jaune: Kinda conveniant that exactly one year after falling into the mythical island of who knows where we find ourselves back in the real world, isn’t it?

Neo: *Hand on her hip, staring at him*

Yang: I’m with the midget. *Grass skirt swishes* Are you really about to complain we’re free of that hellhole?

Weiss: They have a point. After everything we fought there you’d think you would be more appreciative.

Jaune: I am. It just seemmmmpph! *Is kissed by Neo*

Neo: *Happily shuts Jaune up*

Ruby: Alright, let’s do this!

*Action pose except Yang’s tan, in a cheetah fur bikini and a grass skirt, Jaune has a handful of Neo’s ass and Neo is grabbing Jaune by the hair, clearly using tongue and Hushabye is aimed in a slightly red faced Blake’s direction*

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I got the chance to see the RWBY finale today and rather than be depressed and think about Penny, I decided I’d go ahead and write a Silent Knight fic instead. It’s all over the place but really, that’s to be expected since I went in with no plan. I know people are already bitching over on Reddit about Jaune possibly getting attention, but like with most people who dislike a character I decided to pay them no mind whatsoever.

Because honestly, with Dragonslayer never happening I’d be perfectly fine with Jaune x Neo.

As for this entire thing, I had way more fun with it than I should have and I hope anyone reading it has just as much fun as I did writing it.

Oh. And yes, there were plenty of Rabbids and Smurfs harmed in the creation of this lengthy drabble.

[hrina]

In The Ring, Pt. IV - Uppercut

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 10.6k REQUESTED: yes! 

well lads................this is it 🥺🥺🥺 thank u guys so much for all the love you’ve given this series. i would’ve never expected to receive such a positive response, but u guys rly went above and beyond. i adore u all so much 

warning: parts of this fic will contain mentions of blood, violence, mild stalking, and sexual content. if any of that makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself and keep scrolling <3

as always, my masterlist and my inbox are both linked in my bio! i worked really hard on this last part! i wanted to make sure it was all perfect, so i hope everyone enjoys it. gentle reminder to reblog the fics you like! it’s a great way to show appreciation as well as give authors more exposure. ok that’s all hehe can’t wait to hear your thoughts! take care 💙💙💙

PART I: Jab

PART II: Cross

PART III: Hook

~*~

    March 20, 2021

Harry keeps his promise, and Artie brings your car back around to your place the next day. You sit up straight at the table when you hear the familiar honking of a horn sound from outside. Your feet suddenly seem to have a mind of their own, carrying you out of the kitchen quickly with your father’s confused inquiries ringing in your ears. You open the front door before Artie even has the chance to knock.

“Thanks, Jason,” you tell him, breathless.

He hands you your keys and accepts the quick hug that you bestow upon him. “No problem, little girl. Is everything alright?”

Harry didn’t tell him.

“Yeah,” you lie, nodding. “I just—I had a bit too much to drink last night, that’s all.” Your voice drops an octave. “Don’t tell my dad, okay?”

Artie presses two of his fingertips together and drags them over the seam of his mouth, metaphorically sealing his lips. You smile, your heartbeat returning to its regular pace beneath the confines of your ribs.

You step back, extending an arm and gesturing for him to enter.

“Are you hungry? We were in the middle of eating lunch.”

“Sure,” he says, kicking off his shoes and arranging them against the wall. “Thank you.”

He and your father talk about anything and everything during the meal—boxing, the economy, the basketball game that had aired late last night. You just sit there and eat your food, not wanting to attract any unnecessary attention.

They include you in the conversation for a bit—Artie asks how classes are going, and you tell him that you’re waiting for medical school acceptance (or rejection) letters to start rolling in. Other than that, they don’t bat an eye when you rinse your plate in the sink and politely excuse yourself from the table. You hide behind the fact that you have to work on an assignment that’s due in a week—the paper is worth a third of your grade and it’s crucial that you ace it.

But once you hobble back into your room, you’re crawling into bed and pulling the covers up over your head. You reach around blindly for your phone, snatching it up from where it’s charging on your nightstand. You unlock the device, scrolling through all of the grey messages that pop up right away—sent last night, one after the other, each of them unanswered, growing more and more desperate as the hours pass.

Can we please talk about this?

I’m sorry, please let me explain.

Are you ignoring me?

I know you’re seeing these. Please respond.

And then a final one, dejected and crestfallen, laced with palpable weakness even through the pixels of your screen.

Goodnight.

    April 6, 2021

Harry’s on a losing streak.

A five-match losing streak, to be precise.

He’s never been bested this many times in a row. Your father is baffled by it, unsure of why he’s been so distracted in the ring. It’s even more confusing, he thinks, considering the fact that he’s at the gym every single day, lifting weights, practicing his technique, throwing himself into the sport. But once the actual fights roll around, things change. You’re not there, and you’re his lucky charm, and because of that, he finds himself meeting the ground far more often than he’d like to admit.

Your father said that the end of the semester was approaching—as a consequence, you were buckling down with school. Harry supposes that the timing is right, so the pretext must be true. But his opponents don’t know that (nor would they care). Your absence doesn’t stop them from knocking him down with snarling faces and heavy fists. The crowds holler loudly, goading him to get back up, but Harry doesn’t. He refuses to give them the satisfaction of watching him get beaten to a bloody pulp.

He stopped trying to reach out to you a week after the night of the kiss. He composed several texts a day, but each message had been met with silence. He remembers staring down at his phone one time, watching as three grey dots wiggled on the screen for a minute or two before disappearing entirely.

That’s when he gave up. If you didn’t want to talk, fine.

It hurt like hell, though.

And it’s still hurting like hell, even a week and a half later.

You told your father about James. He had mentioned it in passing to Harry, having to end practice earlier than usual because he had to set a court date to deal with some bastard who wouldn’t leave you alone. And that’s comforting, Harry thinks, because at least he knows that you’ll be safe, now.

He just wishes that he could’ve been the one to bring you that bit of solace.

That’s why, when your father invites him over for dinner one night after a particularly strenuous evening of training, he jumps at the opportunity. You’re making lasagna, your father says, having taken a break from studying for exams. Harry agrees to come over, because it’s been a while since he’s had a real, curated, love-infused, home-cooked meal.

And because you’ll be there, too, obviously. But he refrains from letting that incentive slip loose.

His heart is racing nervously when he parks his truck in front of your house. Memories flood his brain, reminding him of what had happened the last time he’d been here—the glint of your necklace under his fingers, the alluring twinkle in your eyes. The softness of your lips against his, the sensation of your nails carding through his hair—

Your father taps on the window of the driver’s seat.

“H?” he says, muffled through the glass. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” Harry chokes out, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out of the vehicle. “Yeah, sorry.”

He follows your father up the porch steps, waiting anxiously as the other man unlocks the front door. It swings open; they both step inside. Harry’s eyes widen when your father calls out, “Gioia? I’m home!”

“Hi!” comes your reply.

He freezes when the sound reaches his ears, because he hasn’t heard your voice—much less seen you—in over two weeks. He shuts the door discreetly, removing his shoes and trailing after your father as he pads down the hall. The closer he draws to the kitchen, the more he can smell it—meat, spices, cheese. His stomach rumbles in anticipation.

“Hope you made enough for three,” your father says, entering the room.

Harry lingers behind you, leaning against the wide threshold with his arms crossed protectively over his chest. He’s still a bit sweaty, but he hopes that the lasagna in the oven will mask the musky scent of the perspiration gleaming on his skin.

“Three?” you ask. You’re standing at the sink, your back to them. “Hi, Jason.”

A beat of silence passes, and then—

“Er, not exactly,” Harry grunts.

You stiffen immediately before spinning around. He doesn’t miss the quiet little gasp that leaves your mouth.

Your gaze locks with his, lips parted in surprise, and he can’t help but wonder if coming here was the smartest or the most foolish decision he’s ever made.

~*~

He and your father set the table.

After a few minutes, three plates and three collections of cutlery are laid out over a pristine white cloth. Harry eases into his chair as you carry over a hot tray of lasagna, your hands sheathed in a pair of red oven mittens. You put the pasta down in front of your father, who is sat at the head of the table. He inhales deeply, a small smile forming on his face.

“Smells amazing, sweetheart,” he tells you, nodding in approval. “Even better than your mother’s.”

“That’s a lie,” you tease, chuckling quietly and removing the crimson gloves from your fingers. You cut a large piece from the platter and deposit it onto his dish. “There you go.”

“Thank you,” he says.

He waits patiently as you separate another chunk of pasta for Harry, setting it down on his plate without a word.

“Thank you,” Harry tells you, his voice hoarse.

“You’re welcome,” you say. The response is short, painfully clipped—it makes him wince.

As soon as everyone has food in front of them, you sit down in your chair, reaching for the fork and the knife resting a few inches away from your dish. Before you can dig in, however, you pause, lifting your chin and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Shit,” you murmur. “Forgot the drinks.”

“There’s juice in the fridge, I think,” your father says through a mouthful of pasta.

“No.” You wave his suggestion away. “How about some wine? I’ll grab a bottle from the cellar.”

“Alright.” He nods, but then speaks again as you stand. “Wait—I think the treadmill in the basement is blocking the door. Harry—,” Harry’s head snaps up, nostrils flaring at the mention of his name, “—would you mind going with her? She won’t be able to move it by herself.”

“Uh,” he says stupidly. “Yeah, sure.”

He quickly excuses himself from the table, glancing over at you to register your reaction. Your expression is stony, betraying nothing. You swallow heavily, looking away and marching quickly out of the kitchen. He follows you without another word, hot on your heels.

The basement is dimly-lit, stocked with a few shelves of non-perishable foods and household supplies. Harry remains silent as you make your way over to the far wall, approaching the dark grey treadmill pressed against the door of the cellar. You place both hands on the side of the machine, giving it a firm push and grunting when it budges only an inch.

“You going to help me, or what?” you ask, casting an expectant glance at Harry from over your arm.

He blinks. “Right.”

Together, the two of you manage to ease the treadmill a few feet to the left. It’s enough space for you to open the door of the wine cellar and slip inside. Darkness envelopes your bodies, dissolving only when a small click! echoes through the still air. A moment later, the alcove is illuminated in a dull glow, compliments of the scrawny yellow bulb hanging from the ceiling.

You release the thin string attached to the light, turning around and gasping when you find Harry perched directly behind you. Your chests brush together—the contact sends sparks whizzing down his spine. You spin back around quickly, clearing your throat and scanning all of the different bottles balanced on the shelves.

“Thanks for your help,” you say dryly. “You can go back upstairs, now.”

“I’m good,” Harry mutters.

He clasps his hands behind his back as you trail your index finger along dozens of cream-coloured labels. Your hair is gathered in a low ponytail; a few shorter, wispier strands peek out from behind your ears. You’re not wearing makeup, today—and why would you, Harry thinks, when you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen?

“So,” he starts, itching to break the silence, “your dad told me that you’re filing a restraining order against James.”

“Yeah,” you reply curtly. He waits for you to continue, but you say nothing else.

“Feel better now that you’ve come clean?” he questions. Immediately, he knows that it’s the wrong thing to ask. But it’s out there, now, and he can’t exactly take it back.

A hollow laugh tumbles off of your tongue. Behind you, Harry notices the way you shake your head in disdain.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say under your breath.

“What was that?” He cocks an eyebrow challengingly, frowning at your tone.

“I said that you’re ridiculous,” you gripe, whipping around and fixing him with a fiery glare. “Need me to repeat it again?”

“If that means you’ll finally be speaking to me, then yeah, go for it,” he snaps, folding his arms over his chest.

“I—,” you break off, surprised by the bite in his rebuttal. Harry clenches his jaw when you turn back around. Your hand quivers as you reach for a random bottle of red wine. “I’m not doing this with you right now.”

“When, then?” he demands, taking a step closer. His front skims along your shoulder blades, and when you face him once more, your eyes widen in shock at the close proximity of your bodies. The little room suddenly feels much smaller, walls looming forward and closing you in. Your chest swells as you suck in a deep breath.

“When are we finally going to fucking talk about this?” Harry presses, meeting your gaze. Desperation drips from every syllable of his query.

You purse your lips, exhaling raggedly.

“Soon.”

A feeble assent.

An insipid shake of your head.

You angle your torso to the side, easily slipping past him and out of the cellar.

“But not today.”

    April 10, 2021

Your nose is buried in a textbook when the message comes through.

Cell biology. So much information to remember, so many reactions to list, so many molecules to name. And weeks of studying, just for a two-hour-long final that’ll take place three days from now. If you weren’t so stressed out, the sheer nonsensicality of the situation would have made you laugh.

So when your phone chimes with the alert, you figure that it’s time for a break. A quick conversation with one of your friends, maybe. Something to take your mind off of the looming exam, even if it is just for a few minutes at a time. After that, you’ll get back to revising.

Sadly, nothing is ever that simple.

We need to talk. Come to the gym.

Your eyes widen when the words sink in. As you rub your clammy palms against the grey material of your sweatpants, another text pops up below the first.

Please.

You shouldn’t. You need to study. But even as you warn yourself against it, your brain is already coming up with a multitude of reasons to meet with him. It’s just one night. Your exam isn’t for another few days. You have time. You deserve to take a break.

Your keys jingle cheerfully as you toss them into your bag.

~*~

Harry is going to town when you walk into the gym.

You’re not quite sure how that poor punching bag has managed to stay balanced on its hook. Harry’s coming at it from every angle, pummeling the leather with hard, heavy fists. He’s wearing a black tank top today; deep armholes cut into the sides of the fabric and expose most of his torso. The dark tattoos on his skin glisten under a thin sheen of sweat; a small, stupid part of you expects the ink to run and smudge before you remember that the designs are permanent.

What’s even worse? Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande is playing on his phone. The soft, feathery croons of her voice mix with the low grunts that escape Harry’s throat—sounds that claw their way out of him with each blow delivered to the bag. Under normal circumstances, the juxtaposition would have made you snort.

Now though, it just reminds you of that night all those months ago, when you’d asked him to teach you how to box. This entire train wreck could have been avoided if you’d simply kept your mouth shut.

Harry still hasn’t noticed you. How could he, when you’re standing behind him?

You clear your throat. He freezes mid-strike.

His grassy eyes are wide when he turns around.

“Hi,” he says, surprised. “I—I didn’t think you would come.”

“I was halfway here when I realised that I didn’t text you back,” you reply, scratching awkwardly at the nape of your neck. “But, like…no handheld devices behind the wheel, and all that jazz.”

His lips twitch. “Yeah. Good.”

You cross your arms over your chest, scanning your surroundings. You don’t know why you do that—nothing in the gym has changed. You’re just trying to avoid Harry’s gaze, which is a lot easier said than done.

“You, um…you wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” He nods, walking over to the ring and pausing the music streaming from his phone.

He then reaches for two pairs of boxing gloves, nestling one in the crook of his elbow and tossing the other at you. The strap of your purse slides from your shoulder as you catch the leather in your arms. You peer down at the gloves, eyes narrowing in confusion before you train them back on him.

“I don’t get it,” you deadpan.

“Really?” Harry asks. He hoists himself onto the raised platform of the ring and slips through the gaps in the ropes. “Because you’ve been begging to go up against me since January. Are you seriously gonna back out now?”

“Go up against—” The rest of your sentence fizzles out. “I…I thought you wanted to have a conversation, not a competition.”

He shrugs, regarding you evenly as he pulls his gloves on and tightens the straps around his wrists. He then bumps his enclosed fists together, tilting his head to the side.

“Why can’t we do both?”

~*~

You look pretty, Harry thinks.

Standing on the far side of the ring, wearing a black tank top, grey sweatpants, and bright pink sneakers—yeah, you look pretty. You’ve cuffed your bottoms so that they’re rolled up to the spot just below your knees, and your hair has been pulled back into a low bun. There’s no emotion on your face as you stare him down, taking a few steps closer and assuming a fighting stance.

You’ve gotten better—he’ll be the first to admit it. But he’s going to beat you, and you both know it. It’s just a matter of when.

He decides that, for the time being, he’ll go easy on you. The two of you will talk things out, and afterward, he might let you win. Maybe. He’s still on the fence about that.

You both begin to move in a circle. After a long moment of silence, Harry says, “You go first.”

“No, you,” you grit out. He just shrugs.

Fine. Have it your way.

You block the straight, pointed jab that he throws, and pride swells up in his chest. It’s a simple punch to deflect, but nevertheless, it tells him that you’ve learned something over these past few months. And that means that he’s done a good job as your teacher.

As your friend…not so much.

Do friends kiss other friends the same way you’d kissed him in front of your house?

He really doesn’t know.

“Right, then,” Harry starts, nodding. “Let’s talk.”

“About what?” you ask. Your nose wrinkles in concentration as you direct a blow toward his stomach. He blocks it easily. “About how you kissed me back and then told me you didn’t have feelings for me?”

“I—,” he’s stunned, because okay, you’re coming right on out with it. “I’m sorry.”

He’s sorry for lying, but you don’t seem to realise that.

“I was so fucking embarrassed,” you say, lunging forward and throwing a cross at his nose. He bats your fist away like it’s nothing more than a pesky fly. “But I guess that I’m mad at myself, too. Here I am, starting to like you, meanwhile I barely know anything about you.”

“What do you want to know?” he asks, keeping his arms in front of his face.

(Deep down, beneath his stoic exterior, he can’t believe what he’s hearing. You had been ‘starting to like’ him? He’s scared, then, because that means he ruined everything that night in his truck. Do you still feel the same way?)

Harry blinks—shakes his head free of those thoughts and continues. “Ask me, and I’ll tell you.”

“Really,” you reply, though it isn’t exactly a question.

You drop your hands, taken aback by his offer. He’s not usually this open—you should seize the opportunity to probe while it’s still available. You will, he thinks. Over these past few months, he’s learned how you operate. You’re not predictable, by any means, but he knows that you can’t resist inquiring about his personal life when given the chance.

You want to know him. If he thinks about it for too long, his affections become exceedingly difficult to bear.

“Really,” he says.

He steps forward and curves his right arm in a powerful hook. You yelp jarringly when the rough leather of his glove makes contact with your left shoulder. He just shrugs, pulling back.

“Remember: don’t let your guard down.”

You clench your jaw and raise your fists once more.

“Fine, then,” you say, sidestepping another one of his jabs. “Where were you born?”

“Redditch, England,” he answers simply. “Moved to Holmes Chapel when I was a kid, though.”

You nod. The two of you continue to circle each other.

“Got any siblings?” you ask, charging him and attempting to deliver a series of punches to his torso. He deflects each of them with his forearms, never faltering.

“A sister,” he says, unbothered. “She lives back home.”

“And what about your parents?” you press, retreating and watching him with careful eyes.

He swallows roughly, shaking his head. “Dad left when I was seven. Mum died when I was fourteen.”

At that, you pause. You heed his earlier advice and keep your hands in front of your face, but it’s clear that his confession has caught you by surprise. Your gaze softens, and he watches as your lips curl down into a sympathetic frown.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him quietly, your shoulders slouching. “That’s terrible.”

He shrugs. “It’s in the past—can’t change it, now.”

He takes advantage of your pitying nature, springing toward you and aiming a punch for your hip. You barely manage to avoid the blow, jumping back at the last second. His glove scrapes swiftly against your side. The attack seems to snap you out of your emotions, because you scowl deeply and return to your original stance.

“What happened after that?” you ask, breathing erratically.

“They put me in foster care,” Harry says, shaking his head. “It was shit, though. I ran away after a couple of years. Went off on my own—that’s when I met your dad.”

“And he started training you?”

“And he started training me,” he confirms with a curt nod. “Couldn’t actually fight until I turned eighteen, but after that…I was taking up as many matches as I could.” He chuckles warmly at the memory. “Your dad said that he’d never seen anything like it. Told me I had to slow down.”

You smile a bit at his words. Your fondness quickly melts into shock, however, when Harry aims a hit for your face. You block the punch, retaliating quickly and throwing one of your own. Your fist makes contact with the barrier of his chest, and he stumbles backward, his eyes widening in disbelief. You got him.

Only once, but still.

You got him.

“Not bad,” he grunts, squaring his shoulders. “Maybe I should actually start trying, now.”

You grit your teeth, glowering at him. “God, you’re such a dick.”

He flashes you a contemptuous grin before lunging forward. You dodge two of his punches, but the third one catches you right in the stomach, making you double over and cough. Harry retreats, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“Done getting to know me?” he simpers.

You shake your head, straightening back up. “Not yet.”

You make a valiant effort, Harry thinks. Your dedication is commendable. But he’s had a decade of training, whereas you’ve only had a few months. Your technique—though improved—is still sloppy. And that’s what allows him to sidestep all of your strikes and react quickly, enough so that he’s got you pinned to the ground in just under two minutes.

You’re panting heavily; one of his forearms holds your crossed wrists down over your head. His other hand is planted on the floor just above your shoulder, the flat front of his boxing glove providing a stable surface to keep him balanced. His knees are next to your waist as he hovers over your stomach, giving you no room to worm out of his grip. You flail your legs in frustration, but he’s perched too high up on your body for the action to do any real damage.

“I win,” he says simply, arrogance dancing in his eyes. He leans down so that your noses are only inches apart. “Any more questions, baby?”

“Just one,” you bite, panting heavily.

He cocks an eyebrow, waiting for the inquiry to leave your lips. Once it does, however, it knocks every molecule of air from his lungs.

“Have you…,” you inhale deeply, “…ever been in love?”

The expression on your face tells him that you know exactly what you’re doing. Your chest heaves with exertion, and when his gaze flickers down to your breasts for only a fraction of a second, your eyes illumine with realisation.

“You want me,” you tell him, breathless. A thin, reflective layer of perspiration has gathered at your hairline. Your arms twitch from where they’re pinned beneath his. Despite the gloves still covering your hands, you grasp at his slippery skin, hoping that the contact will somehow make his already-weak resolve crack and crumble into nothing.

“No,” he says, his voice hard.

His green irises burn into your face. Who is he trying to convince?

“You’re lying,” you wheeze, shaking your head. “You want me.”

Your skin is hot. He can feel you radiating warmth like a fireplace. Heated, cozy, welcoming—it’s everything he loves about you, everything he’s been craving since he first became conscious of how badly he desired you. And, to top it all off, you’re looking at him like that—with eyes that could persuade him to jump from a skyscraper, if you so much as asked.

Just like that.

“Fuck,” Harry spits. He pulls back sharply and stamps his own eyes shut. His nose screws up in frustration. “Fuck.”

And then he’s kissing you.

The elated moan that slips from your lips has his cock twitching fitfully in his shorts. You arch your back to get closer to him, because with his hand still pinning you down, it’s not like you can throw your arms around his neck and bring him to you. The kiss is messy and frenzied and hot and carnal. Harry licks into your mouth, savouring the squeak that echoes in your throat.

You’re vocal—he’s going to fucking die.

When the two of you pull back, no words are exchanged. Harry stares down at you, taking note of how your pupils have dilated immensely. Your chest is still heaving, but this time, it’s for a completely different reason. He releases your wrists from where they’re pinned beneath his forearm, watching you carefully as he sits up.

He lifts his fist to his face and takes the strap of the glove between his teeth. The sharp riiip! that ensues may as well be a starter gunshot.

You both dive back into a sea of teeth and lips and tongue. Harry throws off his gloves easily. You struggle with yours, but he wastes no time, helping you discard them in a matter of seconds. With your hands finally free, you bury them in his hair, pulling at the soft, damp tendrils as he presses several hard kisses to your mouth.

“Fuck,” he mutters, slanting his body downward so that his crotch is level with yours. “You—you have no idea—”

The rest of his sentence fades into a groan when you suck harshly on his jaw. He shudders at the sensation.

Gradually, you bring your legs out from beneath his own, lifting your knees up to your chest and then wrapping your thighs around his waist. It’s an impressive feat, if he’s being honest. And it gives him more room to lean over you, to grind his cock against your centre through the layers of fabric separating your skin.

“Off—,” you choke, tugging at the bottom of his black shirt. “Get this off!”

He complies, sitting back up on his knees and ridding himself of the fabric. You take advantage of his instability, wrapping one hand around his bicep and giving it a hard shove. He topples to the side and you scramble up to straddle him, a small, smug smile ghosting across your face.

“What are you—?” he starts, but you place one finger against his lips, cutting him off.

You start to roll your hips gently into his—he groans, wishing more than anything that there were no clothes in the way. Goosebumps erupt on his arms when you lightly scrape your nails down his bare chest. You settle at the butterfly inked into his abdomen, tracing the insect’s wings with a wondrous look in your eyes. His palms sweep up your thighs.

“Why did you lie to me?” you murmur, keeping your gaze trained on his torso. “You feel the same, don’t you?”

He nods wordlessly.

“Why, then?” you press, frowning gently. “I—we could’ve avoided this whole thing if you’d just told me the truth.”

“Your dad,” Harry says weakly. “I can’t—you’re his—”

“My dad has no control over who I date or who I fuck,” you say. He’s stunned by the crudeness of your claim. “And if I want to fuck you right here, right now, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

“You—Christ,” he swallows heavily, squeezing his eyes shut. “You can’t just say shit like that.”

“Why not?” you smirk, grinding against him harshly and feeling the stiff outline of his cock in his shorts. “You seem to be enjoying it.”

“Fuck,” he grunts. You shriek when he flips the two of you over so that he’s back on top. His nose brushes against yours as he speaks.

“If we do this,” he warns, hot breath fanning out over your chin, “I won’t be gentle. In every single one of my fantasies, I’ve ruined you—made you drool, made you cry. You name it, I’ve done it. You sure you can handle that?”

“Yes,” you breathe, utterly enthralled. “I’m sure.”

Harry tucks a loose piece of your hair behind your ear, peering down at you tenderly.

“Look so pretty,” he coos, fingers skimming down the side of your throat. “Can’t wait to wreck your cute, little—” He sucks in a deep breath, weakened by the shamelessness of his own thoughts. “Gonna make sure your knees knock together once I’m through with you.”

And maybe it’s not smart to get you naked in the middle of the gym, where anyone walking by could easily peer inside and witness him fucking you into oblivion. But he can’t find it in himself to care—he’s been waiting for this moment for years, and damn him if he doesn’t seize it while you’re like this: open, inviting, presented to him like gourmet food on a silver platter.

And speaking of food…

“I’m gonna stretch you out,” Harry states. “You’ve got to cum first if you wanna take my cock, understand?”

You nod rapidly.

He shakes his head. “Need to hear you say it, baby. You want it, too, right?”

“I want it,” you confirm, breathless. “I want it, I understand.”

He smiles. His fingers ruck up the material of your tank top, and you lift your back from the ground to help him remove it. Your bra is next, pale pink with a simple bow resting between the cups. He swears when you unclip it quickly, letting the straps fall down your shoulders before tossing it away.

“Christ,” he says, blinking. “Can’t believe you’re real.”

He lays you back down onto the floor of the ring, ducking his head and enveloping one of your nipples in his mouth. You moan. The bud hardens between his teeth, sensitive to his touch. He sucks harshly before pulling off, littering kisses along the skin of your breasts. His head swims with lust, transforming him into someone nearly unrecognizable. You seem to like it, though, so how bad could it really be?

“Next time,” Harry murmurs into your flesh, “I’m gonna get a proper taste. Eat you out ’til you go blind. But for now—,” he dips his hand past the waistband of your sweatpants, “—my fingers will just have to do.”

You shimmy your bottoms down, kicking them off unceremoniously and spreading your legs. And fuck, he nearly loses it right there, because this is what he’s been picturing for months, if not years. Having you laid out in front of him, exposed and ready and willing. Your thighs stretched wide, miles of soft skin leading inward and morphing into sticky, wet folds. He closes his eyes for a brief moment and inhales deeply—the scent of your arousal floods his nose, rendering him utterly helpless. Something akin to a man unhinged.

He rubs you over your panties, first. They’re nothing special—simple black cotton covering your mound and your hipbones. But fuck him, he wasn’t expecting the ocean of excitement that seems to have pooled and soaked through the fabric. His fingertips are damp when he pulls them away.

“You’re drenched,” he groans, shaking his head in disbelief. He hooks one digit into the elastic of your underwear, looking up at you with inquisitive eyes. “Can I take these off?”

“Yes, please.”

He tears the material down your legs, and then you’re naked beneath him, save for the rose-gold pendant resting on your sternum. He sits back on his heels as you spread your thighs wider, chewing on the inside of your cheek. His index finger taps the skin just below your navel, tracing a path down to where you need him most. You whine when he bypasses your clit completely, dropping instead to gather some of your wetness before trailing back up. He smears your arousal over the nub—just to get a steady, slippery rhythm going—and then leans down, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Don’t wanna be too far,” he says sheepishly, sweetly kissing the tip of your nose. “Missed you.”

You seal your lips to his.

He makes you cum after a few minutes, slipping one finger into your channel, and then another. The entire time, his thumb stays perched on your clit, drawing expert circles and pulling wanton moans from your mouth. And when you cum—oh.

Oh.

You’re glorious, with lidded eyes and warm cheeks and teeth bared in pleasure. You ride out your high, spasming gently. Harry lays a firm hand on your stomach, feeling the muscles of your abdomen twitch beneath his palm. He continues to stimulate your clit, basking in the little aftershocks that zip up your spine and make your legs tremble.

If you were aroused before…good fucking God. He didn’t know it was possible for a woman to be this wet.

You kiss him as you come down from your orgasm, nipping softly at his bottom lip and sighing in relief. Both of his hands find your face—you seem unbothered by the fact that his fingers are coated in your juices, smearing messily against your cheek. He melts into you like he’s dying of thirst and you’re an oasis, lush and green and good. So, so good.

“Do you—,” he exhales raggedly, “—do you still want to?”

You nod, a soft smile forming on your face. It’s crazy, Harry thinks, how quickly you can oscillate between actual human sunshine and the devil personified. One minute, you’re asking him to fuck you, and the next, you’re giving him those eyes that make him feel as though every cell in his body has been liquefied.

“What were you saying about not being gentle?” you tease.

He chuckles quietly, shaking his head. You gasp when he hooks a finger into the chain around your neck. He takes your pretty pink pendant between two fingers, lifting it up and dragging the cool metal along the seam of your lips. You inhale sharply.

“I don’t have a condom,” he murmurs, sighing mournfully.

“I have an IUD,” you whisper, playing with the curls at the back of his head. “We’re good.”

He groans, dropping his face into the column of your throat. “You’re fuckin’ marvelous.”

You giggle.

He shudders when you begin to push his shorts down. You look up at him with raised brows when his cock slaps against his stomach, completely unrestrained.

“No underwear?”

“Always sticks to my balls when I get sweaty,” he whines, squeezing his eyes shut. “Need to let the boys breathe.”

A loud laugh flops out of your mouth. Harry snickers, too, trailing his nose up over your jawline so that he can catch your lips in a quick kiss. He moans as you wrap your fingers around his length, giving a few experimental pumps. Instinctively, his hips buck into your grip.

“You’re big,” you murmur. “Are you sure that it’s going to fit?”

“It’ll fit,” he promises.

He guides your legs up so that they’re wrapped around his waist, allowing him to slot himself closer to you. You gasp when his hand finds your cunt again, dipping two fingers inside before sweeping his palm over the length of your folds. He then smears your wetness along the shaft of his cock, makeshift lubrication to facilitate the first breach of your channel.

“You ready?” he says, positioning the tip of his dick at your entrance. “Deep breath for me, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You inhale, and he nudges his hips forward. You gasp as he slips into you, inch by thick inch, stretching you out in a way that you’ve never felt before. Harry reaches for your hands, tangling your fingers together and lifting them above your head. You arch your back with the new position, and he’s unsure of whether you’re trying to wiggle away or bring him in closer.

When the heels of your feet press against his ass, guiding him deeper, he assumes that it’s the latter.

“Fuck,” he stammers as your tight heat surrounds his cock. “How—how do you feel this good?”

A wheezing laugh punches its way out of your throat.

“Feel that,” Harry says hoarsely. “So fuckin’ hot and—and wet. Not gonna take any time at all, is it?”

“For me, or for you?” you taunt. He grumbles quietly, and you snicker.

After a brief moment of silence, you squeeze his knuckles reassuringly. “You can move.”

“Thank you,” he moans, capturing your mouth with his. Your breathing hitches as he pulls out before slowly sliding back in. When you sigh in response, he takes it as encouragement to pick up the pace.

Soon, he’s fucking into you quickly, your skin slapping together in a series of brutal thrusts. With each drive of his hips into yours, soft whimpers escape your lips, floating up into the hot air and melting like ice cream under the sun. Harry growls, sinking his teeth into the junction between your neck and your shoulder. The pain makes you writhe—in a good way.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined this,” he grunts, laving his tongue over the indents on your skin. Your necklaces clink together—silver and rose-gold tangled in a mess of thin, delicate chains. “My—my hand could never—”

“Neither could mine,” you tell him, breathless.

His spine stiffens at your words, brain overcome with the thought of you lying in bed, your fingers buried between your legs and low whines pouring from your mouth. He groans; his next thrust is hard, keen, unforgiving.

He keeps you close, your bodies never separating. Your skin is slick with sweat, chests gliding together. Adrenaline rushes through Harry’s veins—he drives ahead, plunging inside of you with each fierce snap of his hips. You can’t do anything but lie there and take it, take it, take it.

“I want you,” he gasps, warm air washing out onto your collarbones. His hands are clammy, still locked with yours; he wouldn’t have it any other way. “I want you, I want you, I—” He gulps. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“Harry,” you murmur, grazing your nose against his temple. “Harry, look at me.”

Reluctantly, he pulls his face away from your throat. Your eyes are soft when they land on his, forehead shining with sweat, lips swollen and raw. The bun holding most of your hair back has come loose (Harry is certain that it’s due to the way your bodies shift along the ground with every thrust.)

You swallow roughly and shake your head, staring past his features and searching for something deeper.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, nearly crushing his fingers in your grip. “I’m here.”

Your walls pulsate around him, and his rhythm falters. He swears softly, releasing one of your hands so that he can bring his thumb down to rub haphazard shapes against your clit. You moan, surprised.

“Cum for me,” he orders, nodding rapidly. “Cum for me, and then I’ll do the same. Where do you want it, hm? Tell me.”

“Inside,” you pant, your nose screwing up in pleasure. “Cum inside me.”

“Shit, you’re serious?” he asks, awestruck. His stomach twists hotly at your invitation. “Want me to claim your pretty cunt? Is that it?”

“God,” you say. You squirm beneath him, nodding frantically. “Please!”

“Fuck!” he cries, and when you clamp down on his cock, he’s gone.

The two of you ride out your highs together, quivering and grunting in unison. Harry wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close to his chest. You dig your nails into his back, clinging to him like a piece of wood drifting through the stormy sea. Colourful spots dance in his vision—he tries his best to blink them away. Your thighs tremble around his hips, caught in an endless cycle of vibrations.

“Holy shit,” you whimper, exhaling shakily. “That was…”

Harry braces himself over your face, keeping you shielded from everything outside of your little bubble.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

A low laugh falls from your lips, but it quickly morphs into a moan when he pulls out of you. He pauses for a moment, watching as white liquid trickles from your abused entrance. The erotic sight nearly has him ready to go again.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He scoops his release up with two fingers and plugs them back inside of you. “That’s hot.”

You gasp at the slight overstimulation, wrapping a hand around his wrist reflexively. He just shoots you a wicked grin, which has you giggling girlishly in response.

“I want a kiss,” you say, craning your neck.

Harry hums, crawling up your body to fulfill your request. You smile against his lips, tossing your arms over his shoulders. The two of you exchange soft pecks for the next few minutes, basking in the aftereffects of your orgasms. Warmth unfurls in Harry’s chest, potent and contagious. It spreads through his veins, dousing his senses in a golden glow.

“You’re fucking incredible,” he tells you, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. “And I like you. So much.”

“I like you, too,” you reply, tracing your fingertips over the muscles in his back. “But if you ever lie to me again—” Your expression grows serious. “—let’s just say that you won’t have to worry anymore about your boxers sticking to your balls, okay?”

It’s an earnest threat—he knows that you mean every word—but nevertheless, it makes him laugh. You giggle along with him; he rolls off of you, his spine meeting the floor of the ring, and you cuddle into his side. Your nails tap languidly against his sternum as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. The two of you lie there for a few long moments, enjoying the peaceful silence.

“They’re taking my case against James to trial,” you say at last.

Harry stiffens, lifting his head so that he can look down at you properly.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” he asks.

“Yeah.” You nod, refusing to meet his gaze. “But, um…my lawyer said that it might be a good idea to bring a witness to the stand. Just to seal the deal and stuff.”

You peek up at him shyly, and it clicks.

“Oh,” he says softly. “You want me?”

“Only if you’re comfortable with it,” you say hurriedly, resting your chin on his chest. “Please don’t think that I’m forcing you—”

“Hey, no,” he cuts you off, sweeping his fingers through your hair. The action soothes you, makes your eyelids flutter shut and your lips tremble with a nervous exhale. “’Course I’ll testify. I don’t want that piece of shit coming anywhere near you.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, pressing your mouth to his skin. You litter a few grateful kisses along his pectorals, and he smiles. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Don’t have to keep saying that,” Harry mumbles, chuckling tenderly. He takes your face between his hands, thumbs trailing idly over your temples. “I wanna keep you safe. Or—or make you feel safe, at least.”

Your eyes glisten.

“I do feel safe around you,” you say. Your lips twitch. “Except for when you’re trying to punch me in the gut.”

He snickers, shaking his head. “If you want to start tussling with me more often, you’re gonna have to get used to that.”

“Duly noted.” You smirk.

Harry sighs, letting his head fall back against the ground.

“Speaking of keeping you safe…,” he mutters, staring up at the ceiling. His fingers resume their previous ministrations, stroking languidly through your hair. “You should go pee, yeah? Heard it’s important for girls to do that after sex.”

You laugh, surprised by his words. “How—how do you know that?”

“Sister,” he reminds you. His cheeks dimple as he grins.

You nod, mouth curling into a fond smile. “Right.”

    April 26, 2021

The crowd is deafening, encasing him in a cloud of noise. He refuses to let it distract him, zeroing in on his opponent with the intensity of a thousand suns. An experimental jab comes his way, gauging the distance between them, but Harry sidesteps it easily. He retaliates with a right hook, catching the side of the man’s head. It’s not a powerful blow, but it succeeds in disorienting him for a few milliseconds.

He charges forward, then, sensing an opportunity and seizing it before it can fade away. In a flurry of fists (and the odd kick here and there), he backs his opponent up until the ropes around the ring are digging into the man’s waist. He’s ruthless, giving him no chance to react, delivering blow after blow until his rival can barely stand on his own two feet. At that point, he retreats, stepping back and letting his victory come to him.

He needs this win. He needs this win. He needs this—

His challenger falls into the trap, stumbling forward with double vision and throwing a sloppy hook. Harry bats his hand away effortlessly, lunging forward and curving his arm up. Pride flares in his chest when his fist makes contact with his opponent’s jaw, making the man’s head snap back on his neck. He drops to the floor in an unconscious, muscular heap.

The seconds pass by like molasses, but at last, the referee is climbing into the ring and lifting Harry’s hand high above his head. The crowd roars. He closes his eyes for a moment, basking in the praise. When they flutter open again, they’re trailing upward, searching for one particular face in a sea of strangers.

And there you are.

You’re beaming, clapping frantically and pausing every so often to cup your hands around your mouth and amplify your cheers. Harry smiles, tilting his chin upward and letting his head fall back in relief. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from you, even as the referee releases his wrist and crouches to rouse his opponent from the ground.

He hears someone call his name and turns to the side. He finds your father peeking at him through the ropes circling the ring, a wide grin on his face. He beckons him over, a water bottle clutched tightly in his outstretched hand. Harry complies, breathing out a heavy sigh.

Meanwhile, you’re pushing through the throng of people that have now started moving toward the exit. Going against the current is difficult—you murmur quick apologies as you nudge past countless shoulders and elbows—but finally, you emerge from the crowd, unscathed. You see Harry chatting with a few people approximately thirty feet away, but before you can take another step, a big, burly security guard blocks your path.

“No spectators beyond this point,” he tells you gruffly.

“But, I—,” your mouth opens and closes, though no words come out. Instinctively, you point over the guard’s shoulder, your finger pinned on a very sweaty, very shirtless Harry. “That’s my boyfriend.”

You only have a moment to feel shocked by your claim. Boyfriend?

It’s been weeks since that night at the gym, and yeah, you suppose that the two of you are a thing, now. You’re going out. You’re exclusive. Whatever the hell you want to call it.

But you’ve never referred to him as your boyfriend, and he’s never referred to you as his girlfriend. You haven’t talked about potentially putting a label on your relationship, despite the fact that you’re both clearly interested in seeing each other and no one else.

Is it time to have that conversation?

Harry jumps in surprise when he hears you call his name. He turns toward the sound and then grunts when you barrel into him a moment later, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. One of his hands reflexively falls to your bottom before quickly moving away. The feeling of his calloused palm on your ass sends a shiver down your spine.

You bury your face in his shoulder. He’s sweating all over, skin wet and muscles bulging from exertion. You know that you’ve caught him off-guard, because he whispers your name incredulously into your ear and presses a gentle kiss to your jaw. When he finally sets you down, you peer up at him with bright eyes and a large grin.

“That was incredible,” you gush, your hands falling to his biceps. “You obliterated him!”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. His cheeks are pink—you don’t think it’s because of the match.

In the periphery of your vision, you catch sight of your father. He’s standing there with raised brows and parted lips, and you suddenly remember that he hasn’t yet been made aware of your…situation. You gasp, stepping away from Harry quickly and draping your arms around your own torso. He seems to recognize your blunder as well, because his shoulders tense and his eyes nearly pop out of his head.

The two of you speak at the same time.

“Coach—”

“Dad—”

“I don’t want to know,” your father announces, holding up one hand and cutting you both off swiftly. His eyes bounce back and forth between you, features betraying no emotion whatsoever. Finally, his shoulders slump.

“I’m gonna call it a night, gioia,” he tells you. He then looks to the left, directing his next words at Harry. “Congratulations on your win, H. Have her home by midnight.”

“Dad, I’m a grown woman—,” you begin to scoff, but he gives you a pointed glare.

“Midnight,” he repeats.

You shrink away and nod.

~*~

Before leaving, Harry decides to take a quick shower in the men’s locker room. You sit on one of the benches, tapping your foot against the tiles as you watch him get undressed. It doesn’t take him long—he’s only wearing a pair of shorts, after all—but you savour every moment, your eyes raking over his muscular back as he bends down to pick his bottoms up off of the ground. He tosses the fabric into his drawstring bag before peering over his shoulder at you.

“Sure you don’t wanna join me?” he asks, a coy smirk playing on his lips when he catches you staring.

You look away quickly, picking at your nails and feigning indifference. “Where anyone could walk in? I’m good.”

He shrugs, snickering quietly. “Suit yourself.”

You ogle his plump ass as he walks away.

A moment later, one of the showers turns on. You can hear Harry humming softly as he steps under the spray. You sigh, leaning back against the wall and fishing your phone out from your pocket. For the next few minutes, you scroll distractedly through social media, bored out of your mind.

You grunt softly and set your phone down, tiptoeing over to the door of the locker room and fastening it shut. The lock above the handle slides into place with a low click!

“Fuck it,” you mutter.

You flick open the button of your jeans, shoving the material down your thighs. Eventually, you’re naked, goosebumps pebbling on your arms. You set your clothes back down onto the bench and grab a spare towel, fiddling with the necklace hanging from your throat. A thought occurs to you; you unclasp the chain, pulling it off and letting it pool in the palm of your hand.

Harry’s idle singing grows louder as you approach the row of showers. It’s not hard to find his cubicle—it’s the only one with the curtain drawn over the entrance. You pad toward it, hanging your towel next to his and calling out, “Harry?”

“Yeah?” His hums stop.

You grasp the fabric of the curtain, pulling it back and peering inside. Immediately, Harry’s gaze locks with yours. He’s completely bare, standing beneath the water with hooded eyes and shampoo foaming in his hair. You slip into the cubicle, not missing the way he gawks at your naked body.

“I changed my mind,” you murmur, peering up at him shyly.

He presses his lips together to fight back a smile. “Yeah. You sure did.”

“Shut up and let me rinse your hair.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Before you can bury your hands into the wet strands, however, you remember the jewellery clutched between your fingers.

“Actually—,” you say, hesitating. “I, um—I wanted to give this to you.”

You scoop the necklace up from your palm, holding it out nervously. Harry recognizes it immediately, and his eyes widen in surprise.

“What for?” he asks, not unkindly.

“It’s my lucky charm,” you tell him, shrugging your shoulders. “I just figured…maybe it’ll work for you, too.”

He kisses you, then, grabbing your face in his hands and crushing his lips to yours. You whimper into his mouth, finding his wrists and encasing them in a tight grip. The kiss is passionate, bruising, fiery—you’ve never felt so wanted.

Harry pulls back once the two of you run out of air. Even then, he keeps his forehead pressed snugly against yours, staying close. He’s breathing heavily, and you’re starting to sweat, the humidity of the stall seeping into every last pore on your body. Harry shakes his head, gazing into your eyes.

“You’re my lucky charm,” he says.

Your heartbeat stutters in your chest.

“But,” he continues, smiling softly, “I’ll take the necklace. It’ll be good to have for when you’re not there.”

You nod wordlessly, and he steps back. His hands find his throat, fumbling with the chain dangling over his collarbones. He reaches over his shoulders, unclasping his own necklace and presenting it to you.

“Here,” he says. “I’ll take yours, and you take mine.”

You nod again.

You turn around slowly, electricity thrumming through your body as Harry guides the silver chain around your neck. The shiny cross pendant rests against your sternum; the warmth of the metal seeps into your skin. When you face him again, Harry whistles lowly, his lips twitching.

“Looks good on you,” he says, nodding proudly. “My girl.”

“Is that what I am?” you ask, peeking up at him through your lashes. “Your girl?”

He pauses. He really does look ridiculous with the white, frothing shampoo slicked through his hair.

“Is that what you want to be?”

A moment of silence ensues.

“Yeah,” you finally say, biting your bottom lip. “It is.”

Harry smiles. He leans forward and kisses you again, softer this time. You nudge his shoulder with the hand that’s still holding your necklace, prompting him to spin around.

“Come on,” you murmur, delivering one last affectionate peck to his mouth. “Your turn.”

~*~

Harry pulls up to your house fifteen minutes before midnight. You unbuckle your seatbelt, modifying your position in the front seat so that you can look at him properly. Your hair is still slightly damp from your shared shower, and your skin is fresh and clean. You smell like him—like the body wash you had both used to scrub yourselves down in the small cubicle. A silver necklace—his necklace—peeks out from beneath the collar of your denim jacket.

The jewellery suits you. He doesn’t ever want you to take it off.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment until you eventually crack a smile.

“You look like you want to eat me,” you say, laughing.

“C’mere, then,” he chuckles, already leaning forward. “Lemme have a taste.”

“Gross.” You stick your tongue out playfully but obey him nonetheless, your lips meeting over the middle console of the vehicle. Harry cups your face in one hand, keeping you close. You sigh into his mouth, and he swallows the sound down—it’s the prettiest fucking thing he’s ever heard.

You carry on like that for the next few minutes, exchanging soft kisses that don’t go beyond him placing a calloused palm on your thigh. When you finally pull away, a breathless giggle bubbles up in your throat.

“Have I ever told you that you’re a great kisser?” you ask.

“Only a dozen times a day,” he replies, smirking gently.

You laugh, carding your fingers through his hair and tilting your head to the side as you stare at him. Your eyes are far away, getting lost in your own thoughts, it seems.

“What is it?” he whispers, even though there’s no one else in the car aside from you and him.

“I love you,” you murmur absentmindedly.

Harry freezes; your confession knocks the air from his lungs.

“What?” he says, his brows knitting together.

At last, you snap out of your trance. Your admission sinks in, and you recoil, shocked at your own boldness.

“I—,” you start, your eyes growing impossibly wide. “I just meant—we’ve known each other for years, now, but I feel like I really got to know you these past few months. These past few weeks, especially.”

You shrug, playing nervously with the silver cross hanging around your neck. Harry’s heart somersaults at the sight.

“I’m sorry if it’s bad timing,” you continue; you’re rambling, now. “And I understand that it might be weird considering the fact that we just put a label on this, but—,” you break off, taking a deep breath, “—I love you. I do.”

He reaches out, trailing his fingers over the faint curve of your jaw. You gasp softly when his thumb ghosts over your bottom lip.

“Did you just apologise for telling me that you love me?” he says. Crinkles appear at the corners of his eyes.

You squeeze your own eyes shut, cringing at his words and shaking your head.

“Don’t repeat it,” you plead. “I’m already embarrassed enough.”

“Oh, so loving me is embarrassing?” he asks, smirking slyly.

You frown, batting his hand away and shifting your body so that you’re no longer facing him. You place your elbow against the ledge of the passenger door, resting your chin on your fist and staring pointedly out the window.

“Hey,” Harry coos, though he can’t stop the inkling of laughter that seeps into his voice. “Don’t be like that.”

“I take it back,” you say flatly, refusing to turn around. “I hate you, actually.”

“Really,” he says, but it’s not a question. He unbuckles his own seatbelt so that he can lean over the middle console and nuzzle at your cheek.

“My girlfriend hates me?” he asks; he knows that he’s being insufferable, but he can’t help it. Messing with you is so much fun.

“Yes.” Your response is curt. “She does.”

“That’s not nice,” he says, curling his lips down into a dramatic pout. He presses a gentle kiss to the side of your neck—right against a particular spot that makes you melt every single time. He knows it, and so do you.

“That’s not nice at all,” Harry continues, littering sloppy pecks down the column of your throat. “This how you treat the man who loves you?”

You pause when his words register in your brain.

“Stop lying,” you mutter, keeping your gaze glued to the scenery outside your window.

“’M not lying,” he tells you, squeezing your thigh gently. “Said you’d cut my balls off if I did it again, remember?”

And despite your initial sense of humiliation, you laugh. Harry smiles, placing his free hand on your cheek and guiding you to look over at him. You submit to his wishes, gazing at him through pretty, wispy lashes. He tilts forward ever-so-slightly, nudging your noses together and fastening his lips to yours. When he pulls back after a moment, he pinches your chin between two fingers.

“I love you,” he says earnestly.

“I love you, too,” you whisper.

Your eyelids flutter shut as he slides his palm up your leg; he stops only once it’s resting in the crease between your hip and your thigh, dangerously close to your groin.

“We have—,” he cranes his neck, peering over at the digital clock on the truck’s dashboard, “—five minutes until you have to be inside. Think I can make you cum between now and then?”

You scoff, pushing him away and laughing at his crudeness.

“You’re insane,” you giggle, shooting him a faux-stern glare. “Behave.”

“Fine,” he grumbles, frowning childishly. You just grin, slipping your hand around his neck and pulling him in for a doting kiss. You press a series of rapid pecks along the seam of his mouth, nipping playfully at his bottom lip before retreating. Instinctively, he follows you, but you dig your fingers into his shoulder, stopping him before he can get too far.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, reaching for the handle on the door.

Harry watches with wide, awestruck eyes as you exit the car. You clutch your purse closer to your side, looking back at him expectantly and waiting for his response.

He clears his throat, blinking out of his reverie.

“Yeah,” he nods, nostrils flaring slightly. “Goodnight.”

He peels away from your house only once you disappear through the front door. Subconsciously, his hand finds the rose-gold chain hanging around his throat. He fiddles with the necklace, running his thumb over the smooth surface of your shiny pendant. There’s something unreal—almost dreamlike—about having it between his fingers. He’s spent so long watching you fumble and toy with it—watching it bring you comfort when you’re nervous, or bored, or afraid.

Now, it’s his.

And so are you.

Faint music plays from the truck’s stereo; Harry reaches forward, twisting a knob and turning the volume up to its full capacity. Ariana Grande’s familiar vocal riffs pour through the speakers.

He sings along at the top of his lungs, hollering triumphantly the entire ride home.

~*~

Extra: Knockout [READ IT NOW ON PATREON]

if you enjoyed this series, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

[official-weasley]

The Extraordinary Dragon (Part 1/6)

After about a century of me being gone and not writing a new story, I am back with a mini-series! 💙

I didn't have a good idea for a new OC so I decided to write a cute and fluffy story about Charlie training a dragon with a sad and mysterious past.

I would like to thank @am-i-space @madelineorionswan & @the-al-chemist for giving me ideas for the names of the dragons mentioned in the story. You are the best 💙 Since some of the dragons are mentioned in the later chapters I will make sure to include which dragons you named in the Masterlist for the story 💙

If you'd like to be tagged in every part the dragon with your name is mentioned please tell me and I will gladly do so 🤗

Warnings: Charlie being excited and obsessed with dragons.

Word count: 2,869

A dragon's roar awakened me. It might sound terrifying to some, but it is a pure melody for my ears. I have been working in the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary for almost 10 years now. Come to think of it tomorrow's the anniversary.

My co-workers constantly tease me, telling me that I'm a workaholic. I always disagree with them. I just love dragons and working with them. Am I a bit obsessed with the creatures? Maybe. But who wouldn't be so excited about having their dream job?

There is something so soothing working with a beast that can swallow you whole, yet if you have the right energy and you treat them right they can be more obedient than a Crup.

When I first got the job I worked with a team of researchers. Since I have never seen a dragon in real life before starting working, my boss Matthew wanted me to learn about their behavior and study them to be better prepared to do other things.

They all thought I will be bored out of my mind – because I applied for the care of dragons position and not researching – but I loved every second of it. All I had to do was wake up every morning and go to the assigned habitat and observe the dragon there and take notes. It's like reading a book about the creatures – something I did almost every day of my 7 years at Hogwarts – but you get to be around them every single day.

My mother thinks I am insane for wanting to be around such dangerous creatures and I had to promise her before I left for Romania that I will write home every day otherwise she is coming to get me at once. I guess she needs to know daily that I wasn't eaten by a dragon. The thing is that being hurt by a dragon is less likely than falling off a broom, so I don't know what she is so worried about.

The only one of my family members that knows about all my injuries and all my scars is my big brother Bill. He understands that I don't mind getting hurt and he doesn't get a heart attack every time I end up in the infirmary. It's nice to talk to someone about these things outside my workspace. Even though being a Curse Breaker isn't the safest job in the world, Bill's number of scars can't even compare to mine.

We do have protective gear and gloves but sometimes the dragon's fire and teeth are just too strong. We are lucky that we have wonderful healers that take care of us and we have remedies that heal burns within minutes so it's mostly just an annoyance.

The year after my training I worked only with Common Welsh Greens. The year after that I tamed two Antipodean Opaleyes and it was the best feeling to see them get excited and welcome me with a friendly roar every morning. Even though they were both adults it felt like dealing with two kids and it was so much fun. The latter are such sweethearts and I even taught one how to roll over. They are like dogs but bigger, way bigger.

After that, I tried to convince my boss to let me work with a more dangerous breed. It's not that I didn't like what I did but I like a challenge. I needed 2 months to convince him to let me work with 2 Chinese Fireballs and by the smirk on his face I knew I was in for a treat. They were brought to our reserve so they could breed but no matter how much others tried nobody succeeded at mating them.

When Matthew finally gave in – not seeing any harm in letting me try before they send them back – I remember I danced around my hut for a solid half an hour being so excited to work with them the next day.

I was surprised that nobody thought of the strategy I choose. It was true that they brought the dragons to us together but they didn't know each other and since nobody thought of trying to acquaint them first, I gave it a go.

After 3 days they were best mates and I gave them 4 more days to fully feel comfortable with each other before taking them to the mating habitat. I am more than proud to say that since then they have been parents 2 times. I did some great things since I started working in the Sanctuary but you never forget your first big achievement.

Due to Matthew being absolutely in awe of me succeeding after a week he allowed me to work with a bunch of Swedish Short-Snouts even though usually only a dragonologist with 5+ years of experience can work with them alone.

I was amused when I saw the faces of some of my older co-workers when they found out – thinking they were going to get the job. I love working with them even though they are the ones responsible for most of my scars. Just after the first day, one burned my entire forearm and everyone thought I was going to back off because of it but it only made me want to work with them more.

Now, after almost 10 years I have worked with every single breed of dragon except my favorite – the Hebridean Black. They are one of the most dangerous and stubborn kind and only a dragonologist with a lot of experience gets to work with them.

I got the glimpse of one when I was working with the research team but no matter how sneaky I tried to be, Matthew wouldn't let me get anywhere close to them. I even got a chance to work with a team that took care of a sick Norwegian Ridgeback even though they are considered to be the most dangerous.

A year ago I got a chance to be part of an exchange program at the Swedish Dragon Reserve and I worked with a Peruvian Vipertooth and a Ukrainian Ironbelly. My boss wasn't happy about the latter one as he reckoned I was too inexperienced to be around and try to tame the largest breed of dragons but as you can probably tell from what I told you so far, I was over the roof about it!

The Ironbelly might be the largest but they are among the least vicious ones – none of my co-workers would agree with me as most of them are terrified of them but I think they are adorable thinking since they are the biggest they are also the scariest. It's the same as with dogs – sometimes the smaller ones are more dangerous.

I got out of bed with a grin on my face. Even though I don't like to admit it I like reminiscing on my biggest achievements.

I made myself some breakfast – eggs and bacon as usual – while blasting music on my wireless. Nothing like singing while cooking and reading the letters my family sent me.

Mum and dad were going to visit George and Ron for the weekend. Bill and Fleur decided to repaint their living room. Ginny invited me to one of her games next week and Percy got another promotion.

I walked to the wall where I had a calendar hanging to mark the date of Ginny's game. It was the perfect event to meet with most of my family members and I love supporting her. I am proud of all my siblings' achievements but Ginny being the only girl among 6 boys made us all have a soft spot for her - even Percy, even though he would probably deny it if someone asked him about it.

Since I was working with three different dragons at the moment – Peruvian Vipertooth named Hel and two Romanian Longhorns Lasair and Rocker – I double-checked my schedule to see which one I am supposed to visit today. As I thought, it was Lasair. I know my schedule by heart but always check it twice– I don't want any dragon to be jealous thinking one is getting more attention from me.

My routine with the dragons was simple. First, they get their breakfast which is usually a piece of their favorite meat, except if it's our Common Welsh Green Crystal – she is the only dragon I have ever met that is a vegetarian and she mostly doesn't want to eat anything else than apples. It took us the longest time to figure out why she doesn't want to eat – vomiting out all the meat we gave her – until we moved her to an habitant with a pumpkin patch and them mysteriously disappearing overnight.

After the feeding, I like to play with them. That usually includes large balls or levitating rocks after which they can jump and run. Then it's my favorite part of the day – the flying lessons. We transport them to the part of the reserve that is built like a large stadium in the middle of the forest surrounded by mountains and it has 10 obstacles that the dragons have to learn to overcome so they are cleared for free-flying sessions.

After flying it's time for a brief pause to get the dragon back to its habitat and calm it down before giving it dinner and tucking it in.

Flying is the most fun thing we can do at our job. When Matthew told me that I am finally allowed to fly with them, I had to excuse myself and go to the bathroom because I felt like crying my eyes out. I wanted to fly on a dragon ever since I was a kid and even though I heard rumors about training them in that way, I always thought it was too good to be true.

The first time I flew on a dragon was with a dragonologist named Jim. He showed me how to properly prepare the dragon to be in the mood to have a person on its back and how to lift off and then safely land. Vulcan the Opaleye was just the loveliest when I trained with him to trust me to the point that he would allow me to fly. Even though my dream is to one day fly on a Hebridean Black, I wouldn't change my first flight for anything in the world.

Vulcan was more than obedient and so careful to make me feel comfortable and constantly made sure I was still on his back. He flew in a straight line and at an even pace making me feel so safe that I let go of his shiny scales and lifted my hands in the air. I wanted to shout from all the adrenaline and excitement that ran through me but I didn't want to startle the dragon.

It's safe to say that I didn't sleep at all that night. The second I laid in my bed I felt as if I was still in the air with Vulcan and I couldn't help but wish to do that every day.

"Good morning, Lasair. What do you want to eat this morning? Boar, deer, moose perhaps?"Lasair lifted her head sleepily at me. I teased her with the options, knowing full well that moose was her favorite. If she could speak she would ask me if I can't remember her favorite meal.

"Don't worry, you'll get what you want." I winked at her and put on my gloves before taking out my wand and levitating the big chunk of meat to her.

Lasair was one of the rare dragons that ate her food slowly, so I loved to sit down next to her and watched her chew. If Matthew saw me, he would probably murder me for sitting so close to a dragon but he doesn't know that Lasair and I have an agreement of her keeping me alive and I give her some extra meat for dinner in return.

"So, Lassy, I have some bad news." I cleared my throat as the dragon stopped chewing and tilted her head toward me. "We have to sharpen your claws today."

Lasair groaned and went back to her breakfast.

"I know, I know. Not your favorite thing to do. Trust me if it was up to me, we would rather do something more fun like play with your favorite tire or play fetch with your ball. But the boss said it was time."

Lasair didn't react to my words but laid on the ground once she finished her meal and wrapped her tail around me.

"You know that cuddling and being cute won't work on me." I chuckled. "Not this time, at least."

The dragon's nostrils started to smoke and I knew she was trying to negotiate.

"Between you and me," I whispered, "I'll throw in another piece of meat if you'll be a good girl like last time. How about some boar for dessert, huh?"

Lasair let out a gentle roar, giving me a sign that she agrees with my terms.

"That's my girl. I knew we'll find a common ground." I grinned at her and got up so we could start our day.

"Okay, Lassy. I will need you to step on this mat and do the burying motion. As if you were burying the bones of a deer." I explained when Lasair looked at the mat in confusion.

I mimicked the gesture and she copied it and walked to the mat with grace as if she was a princess.

"There you go! I am so proud of you, Lasair. You really want that extra piece of meat, huh?" I laughed to myself.

"So that is how you get all dragons to behave as if they're Crups?" I turned toward the voice and saw Matthew's amused face, observing my work with the Romanian Longhorn.

"You were never meant to find out," I said in a dramatic voice.

"Oh, it's fine." Matthew swung his hand. "You'll need all the skills."

"What do you mean?" I furrowed my brows at him as I stepped to Lasair to show her to step a bit forward so she could sharpen the claws on her back paws as well.

"Do you know what tomorrow is?" Matthew asked, observing my every move.

"No." I lied. I knew that tomorrow will be 10 years since I work in the reserve but I didn't want to boast about it.

"Come on, Charles. I know that you out of everyone here you’re the one who counts how long you are working here for." He smirked at me.

I couldn't believe it. He remembered that it's my 10th anniversary? I couldn't help but grin.

"What about it?" I tried acting casually.

"Well, the team was thinking about what to get you as a present..."

"Matt, you don't have to get me anything. You know I am just happy being surrounded by dragons." I smiled appreciatively.

"Well, how about you get surrounded by a new dragon?" He winked at me.

"What are you on about?" I narrowed my eyes at him. I was getting impatient, the excitement in me growing.

"We are getting a one-year-old Hebridean Black in a week from the MacFusty’s." Matthew started to explain. "And since you are so good at taming and being best mates with the three you’re taming now, I was thinking of assigning it to you."

"Did...did you just say a Hebridean Black?" I said in a voice that was barely a whisper. I couldn't believe what just came out of his mouth. He was going to let me work with my favorite breed?

"You heard correctly, Charles." Matthew's smirk was growing larger.

"But...but I don't have enough experience, you said so yourself. You...you should give the job to someone worthy, to someone who will know how to handle the breed." I knew that I should've just shut up and thank him for the opportunity. Working with a Hebridean Black has been my goal ever since I can remember, but I have to keep my head clear and think of what's best for the dragon.

"Thinking like this is exactly why I am giving the job to you even though I told you the last time you begged me that you need at least 7 more years before you can work with them." Something in his eyes shifted. He had the exact expression on his face as he did when he assigned me to breed those two Fireballs.

"You are up to something. What's wrong with the dragon?" I pursed my lips at him.

"Oh, the dragon is just fine. Lovely, actually. I bet you two will have a lot of fun." The sarcastic tone in his voice told me that he was hiding something from me but I didn't dare to ask him about it.

He deemed me ready to work with a Hebridean Black. To work with my favorite breed. I am not about to jeopardize that if he thinks I am the one for the job. In a week my biggest dream will come true and there was nothing in the world that could ruin that.

[mimi-cee-hq]

Every Season - Kyoutani x Reader

Pairing: Kyoutani x f!Reader

Summary: Kyoutani finally introduces Y/n to the team. When they all comment on how he got such a sweet and innocent girlfriend, Kyoutani lets out a snort. A cute and funny getting together story of different kisses throughout the years and seasons.

Genre and Tropes: Cute childhood friends fluff!

Words: 2,218

This is for the July HQWN monthly prompt event. I'm using the International Kissing Day prompt.

Author's Notes: This is a match-up story for an anon. Thanks to @kingkags for beta reading the first half of the story. :) 

To anon, I don't think I captured your personality very well because I only write PG. loll. I tried to keep the main aspects of your description, so I hope you still like it. >.<

*****

“I still can’t believe that’s Mad Dog’s girlfriend.”

There were crackles from the meat cooking at the neighbouring table. Y/n lit the barbeque for their own table as she welcomed them. The entire team was curious to see what sort of girl Kyoutani was dating so Yahaba and Watari decided on her family's restaurant when they organized a graduation party for the third years.

Y/n smiled at the boys, “What would you like to order?”

The large bow in her hair bounced as she nodded, taking their orders. After she went through the list she wrote, confirming their preferences, she pushed up her round glasses with her knuckles before she left to process the order.

After Oikawa finished gawking at her, he turned to Kyoutani and asked, “How the heck did you end up with such a sweet and innocent girlfriend?”

Kyoutani, just when he was about to sip his drink, let out a snort instead. They were lucky. If the drink was in his mouth, it would have ended up in their faces.

*****

A tiny young girl stood in front of Kyoutani in the living room of her house. “Kyoutani, this is Y/n,” her mother introduced her to the five-year-old boy.

Y/n gave him a sweet smile and waved at him. “It’s nice to meet you, Kyo-chan.” The black bow in her hair slightly shifted as she gave him a small polite nod.

Kyoutani jumped back a couple of feet, clutching his mom’s shirt once he was at her side. He gave a low growl as he glared at her. He had a feeling he should be weary of her.

“Ooo,” Y/n cooed. “Can we keep him?” she asked her mom, giggling.

“What?”

“He’s so cute!” Y/n told her. “He’s like a puppy!”

“He’s not a dog!” Y/n’s mom scolded her.

Kyoutani continued to scowl at Y/n. When his mom left his side, he tensed up, and retreated to the far side of a couch. He gritted his teeth and sat with all fours on a cushion, not allowing his eyes to leave Y/n’s even as their mothers walked out of the room.

Y/n ran to her well-worn toy box and stuck her head in. After she searched through it, she told him, “Look, Kyo-chan!” She held up a bright red leaf. “I have one for you too!” she said, revealing a second one. She continued to share about how she picked them up a few days ago when she marvelled at the trees turning into various shades of reds, yellows, and oranges.

Kyoutani, with his hands still tense, inched closer towards Y/n. Once beside her, he took the leaf from her hand. Staring at the intricate veins on the red leaf, he noted that it was whole and not bent or damaged. His eyes grew as he stared in awe, his scowl finally disappearing and his eyebrows relaxed.

“It’s pretty—,” he started to say. But just as he tilted his head up to look at Y/n, her face was right in front of his. And then she stole a kiss from him.

She giggled.

Kyoutani jumped back, cheeks red and ears flaring. Seeing his reaction, Y/n fell on the floor laughing.

Clenching his teeth, he knew he should have trusted his instincts and shouldn’t have let his guard down. He wouldn’t be tricked again.

“Mommy! Kyo-chan bit me!”

*****

“It’s your turn,” Kyoutani told Y/n with a smirk. He was one pair of cards ahead of her in their game of Go Fish, but she didn't give up yet.

Y/n’s mom was watching the two kids play through the opened sliding door to their backyard. A cool spring breeze would sometimes enter the kitchen as she prepared some kimchi for a future meal. She could see the two sitting on an outdoor mat as they continued taking turns removing a card from the other’s hand.

Now at eight-years-old, Kyoutani would often be at Y/n’s house whenever his parents needed a babysitter. He still didn’t exactly like Y/n, but he didn’t have much of a choice.

At first he wouldn’t even talk to her. He would sit at the couch, cautious of Y/n’s every move, waiting for his parents to come back. But Y/n’s parents were kind to him. They noticed Kyoutani’s discomfort so sometimes her dad would take him out of the house. Some days it would be for ice cream. Other days they’d grab a burger. He even brought Kyoutani to a volleyball game once. But over this past year, Kyoutani finally got along with Y/n - or at least enough to get through a couple of games.

Kyoutani eyed at the two cards in Y/n’s hand, wearing his perpetual scowl. He licked his lips just before he grabbed a card from Y/n. He placed his pair of cards on the mat with a smirk. He won.

“You cheated!” Y/n accused him. Kyoutani rolled his eyes, accustomed with Y/n’s inability to lose. “I demand a rematch!”

“Hmph,” Kyoutani crossed his arms, scowling as he looked away.

Y/n’s mom sighed and shook her head. “When are they finally going to get along,” she commented to herself.

“We do get along!” Y/n told her mom. As if to prove her point, she quickly leaned towards Kyoutani to give him a peck on his cheek.

He flinched and shuffled away from Y/n, grimacing at her gesture. She laughed at his reaction as usual.

“What did I tell you about kissing Kyoutani!” her mom scolded her. “You’re torturing the poor boy!”

“But I only kissed his cheek this time!”

As Y/n continued to argue with her mom, Kyoutani attempted to scratch the cooties off his cheek, unaware of the red hue on his face.

*****

Kyoutani got out of bed after hearing pebbles tapping his bedroom window. He pushed the curtains open to see Y/n below, standing in front of his house. After nearly seven years of knowing her, she still does things that he could never predict. He groaned as he watched her breathe into her palms and rub them together. There was no snow on the ground, yet it was cold enough to see her breath. Y/n wore earmuffs which matched the signature black bow in her hair.

When he let her in, she threw off her scarf and earmuffs, letting out a big yawn before curling up on his living room couch.

“Why are you here when you're so tired?” Kyoutani asked her.

“I stayed up last night to finish up that history project with Kimiko,” she replied, not quite answering his question. “I shouldn’t have paired up with her,” she laughed. “She thought I was smart because I worked hard. But I thought she was smart because she hung out with the smart kids.”

Kyoutani smirked, taking a seat at her feet as she lay on the couch.

“Turns out we both share a brain cell,” she giggled. “Kimiko is fun but she’s too much of a clown. We get so distracted when we’re together. I don't know if we'll get an A." She groaned. "Remind me to never do a project with her again.”

“Never do a project with her again,” Kyoutani plainly told her with a smirk.

Y/n rolled her eyes and then jabbed his side with her toes. Kyoutani jerked away from her feet and shoved them away.

Y/n sat up beside him and hugged her legs. She turned to look at him and said, “Don’t you wish we were in the same class so we could study together?” 

Kyoutani feigned disgust at the thought.

“Hm?” she prodded as she batted her eyes at him. When she leaned in closer to him, pretending to kiss him, Kyoutani pushed her face away with his whole palm. She pouted, then got up to finally open the paper gift bag she brought with her.

“I have something for you.” She pulled out her notebook, pieces of coloured paper peeking out of the edges. She stood in front of him, revealing the notebook’s cover. Y/n had pasted together a picture of the two of them with the words “Happy 12th birthday” written underneath in her handwriting.

Kyoutani blinked a couple of times, not knowing what to say. His shoulders relaxed, still staring at the scrapbook.

“I know it’s still a few hours until your birthday, but I didn’t want to miss it—”

Kyoutani wrapped his arms around her. He felt her tense up before she started to pat his head.

Kyoutani had a rough day. He heard his teammates talking behind his back again. He didn't care to be their friends, but he at least longed for a team where he felt like he was wanted.

Y/n kissed his hair and hugged his head. Kyoutani sighed, deciding this was enough for now. He could be a lone wolf with volleyball knowing he didn't have to be one with her.

*****

Textbooks, pens and notebooks covered the kitchen table. Y/n dropped her head on her notes, exhausted from studying.

“I’m just going to close my eyes for a bit,” she told Kyoutani. “Wake me up if I actually fall asleep.”

“Why don’t you just go home?” he replied as he scrunched his brows, still glaring at the words in his textbook.

“Because I'll fail the test tomorrow.”

Kyoutani glanced at Y/n, her necklace catching his eye. Its pendant dangled as she stirred with her eyes still closed.

“Where’s your uniform's bow?”

“I threw it out.”

“What?”

“I know,” she yawned. “But it doesn't match this bow,” she said, pointing to her hair. “And I like this necklace.”

“Whatever.” Kyoutani didn’t bother. He knew the teachers would let her get away with it anyway. Even if they asked about her modification, she would just claim she lost it.

Kyoutani checked his phone. It was July 6, one of the days Y/n used as an excuse to flirt with him. He frowned, knowing that lately, he wasn't the only person she teased.

They entered high school that year. With new faces, students were eager to get to know each other. Some looked to make new friends while others searched for dating potentials. So there was one guy who made a pass on Y/n, and as they got to know each other, Y/n started to tease and flirt with him too.

Whenever Kyoutani saw them together, he shoved the guy aside and took Y/n with him. Y/n would prod him, asking if he was jealous. He denied it every time. He knew she wasn't serious when she flirted. She just liked getting a reaction.

Like with him.

He sighed at his unrequited feelings, pondering the pointlessness of them. It was pathetic. Gazing at Y/n shut eyelids, he wondered if he should put his feelings to rest too.

“I’m awake!” Y/n exclaimed, popping her head up and causing Kyoutani to flinch. He relaxed when she plopped her head back on the table. She turned to Kyoutani, staring at him. Kyoutani blinked a few times, wondering if she was going to say something. She did.

“Kyo-chan, you’re so pretty.”

Kyoutani rolled his eyes, knowing she was in her loopy mode and definitely too sleepy. “You should go home now.”

“Noooo~ I don’t want to.”

He rubbed his head, not knowing what to do with her. “Ugh, just go already,” he complained, grabbing her arm.

“But I want to stay with you,” she replied. He scoffed, shoving her arm back to her, before she continued. “I love you, Kyo-chan.”

Kyoutani choked up a bit. Did she really mean that? He studied her eyes, realizing she was serious. But his doubts still lingered, hesitant to reply.

He went for it. He didn't care anymore. He took this opening, hoping to keep his feelings alive and awake.

So he swooped in to give her a deep kiss, finally releasing the months - no, probably years - of longing for her. And she returned it.

After they broke apart, she commented with a smirk, "Did you remember it was international kissing day?"

"No, I forgot," he lied, going for another kiss.

*****

"I can't believe Yahaba got sick and missed this," whispered Oikawa.

"Yeah," Iwaizumi replied with a smirk. "He was the one who was curious about her the most."

Kyoutani watched Y/n as she came back to their table. She took the seat beside him and snuggled up against him when he placed his arm around her. She puckered her lips, asking for a kiss. Kyoutani gave a snort and rolled his eyes. But upon seeing her frown, he decided to give her a peck anyway.

"Ewww...," Hanamaki teased them.

"PDA! PDA!" Matsukawa chanted.

Kyoutani glared at them while Y/n giggled at his reaction like usual.

*****

Bonus/ Preview

Their team's manager fidgeted at the table, glancing at her wrist after scanning the restaurant. "Kindaichi," she whispered, nudging him. "Where's Kunimi?"

"He said his mom needed him for something."

"Oh," was all that came out of her lips. It seemed like she would have to wait until the new school year to see him again.

*****

Author's Notes:

I hope you liked it. :) I can't believe I was able to make a cute story for Kyoutani. lollll.

Also, their team manager is Y/n from WWYTF SMAU (completed) and Kimiko is Y/n from my Yahaba fic. Now a bunch of my fics are in the same world because I thought it would be fun. lol! (FYI, that wasn't the real reason why Kunimi wasn't there.)

*****

Matchup request description from anonymous: (For the longest time, I didn't know what to do with this. lol. I'm sorry I took so long to write this.)

Hi ^^ I like your writing and saw you were taking match up requests. I'm a small korean girl under 5ft. I have black wavy hair that is barely above my shoulders but I tie it back half up half down style with a black bow uwu. I also have wispy bangs with a round face and a small nose. I have round circle glasses that fall down cause of my small nose. In my spare time I do art. I usually paint, scrapbook, and edit. If I'm with friends I play card games but I get kinda competitive 💫

💫When I get comfortable with someone I start to become more of myself. In school I work really hard so people assume I'm smart. I also watch my words so people think I'm sweet and innocent. That's the complete opposite with my friends. I tend to flirt with them so I end up saying sexual things. And I won't hesitate to put my friends in pain by speaking uwu. With my 0 braincells I decided I would do anything almost anything for the aesthetic. Breaking dress code is one of them. 💫

Taglist: @dorkyama @the-black-birb @hqprotectionsquad @nagichi-kenma @moonaaluna @muffins-puffins (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

[crimsonfic]

Min Yoongi Fanfiction (Part 3)

I haven't seen my "man" in the 5 solid months since we "got together". At this point I wasn't even sure if I had one anymore. We've talked almost every single day but for the past month, Yoongi has been irritable. He's been cutting phone calls short, doesn't video chat me anymore, and always says "you wouldn't understand" when I ask if anything is wrong.

He's scheduled to be here in California tonight. He'll be arriving around 7 pm so I'm currently making dinner for him. I asked him what he wanted and he said a home cooked meal. Being that he's from Korea I asked him whats his favorite home cooked meal that his mom makes and he told me "You're not my mother, so why would you want to make what she makes?"

I left it alone after that and just decided to make him American dishes. I'm making my favorites and various meats. Honestly i'm making too much and I started very early this morning at about 4. Now it was 2 pm and my dad and little sister were here.

"Honey, that's a lot of food. You say you and this young man have only been together for 5 months and you're going all out for him. Are you sure this isn't....too much?"

"Dad, I don't know what he likes so its not too much, plus I'm giving you and Joy some of everything. You won't have to cook for at least a week. That's a good thing."

"I just don't want to see you hurt. If you're dating shouldn't you know his favorite thing to eat?"

"Daddy...please." I said suddenly feeling scared.

Yoongi has seemed really moody lately. I just want to fix it. We cant break up before we really even have a chance.

"Alright baby girl. Make sure I get a lot of those potatoes. You know I can eat those everyday." He said pointing over my shoulder at the huge pot of potatoes I was boiling on the stove.

"Of course, daddy."

I was making mashed potatoes, cornbread, corn beef and cabbage, chicken (both fried and baked), steak, corn, string beans, broccoli, asparagus, macaroni and cheese, sweet potatoes, ribs, spaghetti and salmon croquettes, rice, pork chops and biscuits. I know its a lot but I don't know what he likes. I also made a gumbo.

————————

I stepped out of the shower at 7pm on the nose.  I didn't want to see him for the first time in months smelling like chicken and grease. Major turn off.

Assuming it was safe to dress comfortably I put on leggings and a graphic tee. Then I combed my wet hair into a single braided ponytail.

Next was for me to wait. I sat down in my living room and texted my sister. She was asking me how the date was, to keep her updated and to ask about the other guys in BTS.

I texted her back telling her that she doesn't need any type of feedback on my dating life cause she's too young. But I told her I will ask about her "boys".

I was switching between different apps when I finally got a text from Yoongi. It said he was close.

I stood up because I was feeling way too anxious. Pacing back in forth between my couches.

Finally the door bell rang. Quickly, I walked to the front door. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door.

In front of me was Yoongi. His face was pretty expressionless but he looked good. Better than I remembered. As I stared at the handsome man before me I began to smile. "Hey Yoongi." I said as I stepped aside so he could come in. "Hey." He said walking in. He watched me close and lock the door but didn't say anything else. "You.....you look good. How was the flight?" I asked as I tried to think of something to say. "Thanks. It was....long. So..." he replied as he adjusted his bag. "I'm sorry. But atleast you get to relax and get comfortable tonight right?" "Right." He said dryly. I could see he was still irritable and grouchy like he's been all month. Hopefully food would fix it.

"Well, you can just drop your bag right by the stairs and we can eat. I know you're hungry after that long flight."

He nodded his head as he walked slowly to put his bag down.

I lead him into the kitchen. "Okay, so there is a lot of stuff here. I didn't know what you would like so I made lots of different stuff. So eat what you like." I handed him a plate and stepped back.

He took it and walked over to the island. Every time he opened a lid or top I would tell him what it is. Occasionally I would apologize because he didn't know what it was. It was a nerve wracking thing, I felt so nervous watching him.

Once he filled his plate he asked for another one. After handing him one he filled it with all of the meat I made.

He walked over to the table and sat down with both of his plates. "Do you need me to heat anything up?" I asked.

"No." I nodded once before I walked off to make my own. When I sat down in front of him I was shocked to see how much he had already eaten. I didn't say anything though, and we ate in silence because I didn't want to upset him. ————

After dinner he had got up and went straight to the sink to wash out his dishes. I began putting food away in the fridge. Thank god for my dad taking home half of everything cause I wouldn't have had enough space for this.

When I found a place for everything I noticed Suga was leaning against the wall by the doorway watching me. "You okay?" I asked as I walked over to him, "Yeah. Where can we sit and talk?"

I led us to the living room and sat down on the couch. He stood a few feet in front of me. He was just looking at me, standing there with his hands in his pocket. "What's wrong Yoongi?" "Thank you for dinner." He bypassed my question. "It was my pleasure." I told him genuinely.

A few moments of silence passed before he spoke again. "You have a nice house." "Thank you." I replied. "It's um....really nice. Like, big and extravagant." "Yes.....you could say that." "How are you able to afford it?" I was taken aback. Like what was this about? Why was he concerned? "I don't have to "afford" it." I use air quotes when I said afford. "It's mine. I bought it, I own it. I'm able to pay my bills thanks to my job." I could feel my attitude coming on. "As a hairstylist?" "Yes." "Hairstylist money bought you this house?" "Not completely, but hairstylist money has provided me with all of the things inside of it." "Okay, so what did you do to get money for the house." "Excuse me?" "How were you able to afford the house?" "Okay. Wait just a second. What is this about, and what are you getting at? It seems like you have something to say and it would probably just be easier if you get to the point."

"Okay..."

I shrugged my shoulders in a "ok and i'm waiting" gesture.

"Well what I'm really trying to ask....is.....do you do anything else to get money?"

I stared at him unblinking for quite some time.

"Say it."

"I did."

"No, say what you think I do for money."

Now it was his turn to stare at me, unblinking.

"hello?"

"Alright, fine." He took a deep breath. "Are you a stripper?"

5...4...3...2...1.

"Are you fucking serious right now?"

He looked surprised by my outburst, but then he covered his reaction with a stoic expression.

"People who shouldn't even know who you are do, and a few of my friends from Korea say you look familiar and they only come to America for 1 thing. Lets not forget to mention the types of pictures you take and your.....butt."

"So....some Korean people that probably think all black people look the same got you thinking I'm a stripper? And my butt? My butt? I don't even know what to say to that. It's big yeah but it's not fake. People know who I am because I work with celebrities and I am damn good at my job. And excuse the hell out of me for sending you pictures of me. I didn't know that you would think I was a stripper because of it. The money for the house came from my mom's insurance and will after her death. Fuck you Yoongi." I stood up and walked past him out to the foyer. Before going up the stairs I turned around. "You can sleep in whatever room you want, and anything you may need should be in there. If you don't mind being in my fucking stripper house." Then I proceeded up the stairs.

---------

An hour had gone by since I came upstairs. I was in my room fuming when my phone rang. It was Yoongi. I waited until it stopped ringing so I could continue watching videos on my phone.

A few seconds later my door opened. I looked up from my phone and seen Yoongi standing in my doorway. He was wearing a white t-shirt and shorts so I'm assuming he just showered.

"(y/n)."

"What?"

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. Very sorry. I don't know what I was I thinking. Or why I thought what I said made sense. I'm sorry for my disrespect."

I wanted to forgive him but I just couldn't shake my attitude. I was so mad. Just as I was about to express my frustrations he began talking.

"Look, lately I've been frustrated. I was feeling like this, us, was a bad idea. We live so far apart and have such different cultures it was overwhelming to think of all of the work we have to do to actually have a relationship. Then on top of that we hardly know each other because we don't have experiences together, sure we "told" each other everything we think there is to know about ourselves but that's never enough. I didn't want to make a commitment without truly knowing you. You understand?"

"So now what?"

"I don't know. We can't cram everything into my free days. We just don't have enough time to truly get to know each other. So....I don't know."

"Sounds like you know to me." I said.

He looked down, then off to the side.

"Well, whatever you decide, I'm....cool with." I lied. "But as I said before, make yourself comfortable anywhere you'd like. My home is still open to you while you're here."

"Thank you." He said.

There was brief moment of silence before he waved and then walked out of the room.

I wanted to cry I was so mad. I just felt like we haven't even tried. But that's what my forward ass gets for always tryna make something happen.

————— I had just finished eating lunch when I walked out to my backyard. I turned on my speakers and Lupe Fiasco boomed through. I started stretching before I began playing basketball. I'm too lazy to stay in shape in other ways so I always use this as my opportunity for cardio every week. I could do more but I'm not.

35 minutes into my "cardio" I heard someone say wow from behind me. Turning around, I saw Yoongi on the patio watching me. I'm still a little salty so I just continued what I was doing without acknowledging him further. A little while later Yoongi caught the basketball after I missed the shot.

"You play basketball?" "All throughout grade school. Stopped in college." I said wiping the sweat off my forehead with the towel I kept in my pocket. "You never told me that." "Oh." "Can I play?" "Sure." I was about to turn and leave but he stopped me. "I mean with you." He said. "Oh...yeah. Sure."

As we were playing one on one I noticed that he was a really defensive player. So far I had just been playing politely but the more the game went on, the more I saw his face, the angrier I got. So now, I was gonna play for real.

My shift in stance and seriousness didn't go unnoticed by Yoongi. He smirked. He thought he would by pass me but he couldn't. I was there, guarding him at every turn and move he made. The only thing he could do was try to take the shot. When he went for it, I stole the ball. After making my shot his mouth dropped open. When I came back to him and passed him the ball I told him to close his mouth before something flew in. Immediately he closed it shut. His face changed too and I noticed he was now determined to win. Good. He'll be crying by the end of this game.

I won. Much to Yoongi's dismay. "You're good." He told me as he stood there breathing heavily. "So are you." Before he could say anything else I went into my house. I went straight to my bathroom to shower. Maybe 10 minutes of being in there I heard a knock on the door. I ignored it. I was still in my feelings so I really didn't want to talk to Yoongi. I heard the door open but didn't care. "(Y/n)." Yoongi said. "What?" "Can I talk to you." "You are already...so..." "Why are you being so cold to me?" I bursted out into laughter. Real belly aching laughter. "Okay. I guess I understand that." Yoongi said. "Look, you never told me that you played ball. That's an example of what I mean about us not knowing everything due to our distance." "Okay." I said nonchalantly. "That's something we could've bonded over." "Mhm." He sighed loudly. "It's difficult to be with someone when you don't have things in common." "We had a lot of things in common Yoongi, basketball isn't the only thing." "Like what?" He asked. I inwardly rolled my eyes as I washed my hair. "Nothing. Cause you obviously didn't take much interest in our conversations to notice." "It hard to notice someone's characteristics through the phone. So if you don't say it directly then I don't know."

"I could say I'm a serial killer, but just because I said it doesn't make it true."

"Okay I wouldn't think you would lie to me about who you are though." He said catching my hint.

"People lie everyday B." "What?" "Nothing." "How can you be...upset with me, when you know you haven't told me things about you. You know I love basketball but you didn't tell me that you did too. What else haven't you told me? The reason I was so frustrated was because I felt like I didn't know you."

"I showed you everything about myself, it's not my fault if you couldn't tell."

"We live on opposite sides of the world.....I can't decipher you over the phone."

"I know that you're sensitive, introverted, playful, strong, ambitious, stubborn and caring to the ones you love without you having to tell me. Important things I've noticed over the phone without you being direct and telling me. It's not about being able to decipher me over the phone it's about wanting to know me or not. You didn't care to know me. That's the problem. And I mean.....it's okay. You don't have to be interested in me. But don't try to make it seem like it's because of things I didn't say."

He was quiet for quite some time. The whole time it took me to wash the conditioner out of my hair it was silent.

Not caring to wait for his response I stepped out of the shower. I grabbed my towel off the rack and began drying off quickly. Then I wrapped the towel around my body and walked over to the mirror to view my curls I've worked so hard to make prominent. The mirror was too foggy to see out of. I turned to the door, where Yoongi was frozen. His cheeks were slightly pink and his mouth was open.

I didn't care that he saw me naked. "Excuse me." I said. He stepped aside from in front of the door and opened it for me. I walked out into my room and grabbed my hair towel that I keep folded tightly by my vanity and dried my hair to stop it from dipping. When I saw my curls I smiled. "Yessss. Okay now curls." I said to myself. I was very proud that my natural curl pattern was a lot more defined now.

I walked over to one of my dressers and started taking out clothes to wear when my phone rang. It was my little sister.

"Hey Joy." I said using her nickname mom gave her. "Hey Pride. Um....I know Suga is there but I need your help." "Now what does Suga being here have to do with anything? You know you can come over here no matter what. What do you need help with?" "My hair." She laughed. "Oh I'm thinking it was an emergency or something, but okay. Is dad gonna bring you?" "Yes. We'll be there in like 30 minutes." "Okay." "Bye love you." "Love you too."

I hung up and began getting dressed. "Do you want me to leave?" Yoongi asked. "You already seen me naked there's no difference now." I said. "No not because of that because your family is coming over."

I looked at him, and noticed that he wasn't looking at me. I sighed.

"Of course I don't want you to leave. You only have one day left to relax. You can stay here." "Okay." He said before he walked out of the room. ————

"Wow." I turned around and saw Suga near the stairs behind me. "What?" I asked as I finished locking the door my family just left out of. He didn't answer me right away. He walked over to me and stopped when we were practically touching. "You're.......amazing." I blinked. "Why do you say that?" "The way you are with your family. It's......adorable....and I like it." I thought about how Suga watched very interestedly as I did my sister's hair, how he talked to dad about music and both of their careers and how he seemed to really enjoy the conversation. It was so attractive to me, to see him being so pleasant with them and seeming relaxed. That didn't matter now though.

"Thanks." I said "Sure." He smiled at me. "You know what I know about you?" He asked. "What?" "You're caring." He kissed me. My body, moving on its own accord made me kiss him back immediately. Unfortunately he broke the kiss. "You're protective." He kissed me again. "Silly." Kiss "Outgoing" Kiss "Smart" Kiss "Hot headed" Kiss "And beautiful." Kiss. Every time he pulled away from me I felt like I was being deprived of something. His soft but passionate kisses made me feel weak in the knees. Before I could deepen this kiss he pulled away from me. "And you know how to play basketball." He laughed. "Shutup." I laughed before pulling him back to me for another kiss. I was finally able to kiss him the way I wanted to. It turned into a full blown make-out session in my foyer. After what felt like hours Yoongi broke the kiss. "You know what else I know?" He asked me. "What?" "You have a stripper booty." He said as he grabbed my butt playfully. I straight faced him and pushed him away, causing him to laugh out loud. "Too soon? I'm sorry." He said between his laughter. "Ha ha ha." I said dryly trying to walk past him. He grabbed my hand and pulled me back. Back into a kiss. Making me forget I'm supposed to be mad at him.

*********

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Injury | Insecurity | Part 4 |

[jupitertherevolution]

its 230 but ive done tha writin check it out

“food as a love language”, johndave, 1k, slow burn but just barely the sparks

It’s 7pm on a Tuesday, and you and your boy are exhausted. Your boy being one Dave Strider, and you being one John Egbert. Though you’re not really thinking much about identity right now. In fact, the vague, nebulous concept of identity is the furthest thing from your mind right now. At the forefront of your mind right is a different vague, nebulous concept, one that has plagued humanity since the dawn of time: being fucking hungry.

Yes, you and Dave are incredibly hungry. It’s been a long day at work, you at the gas station and him at the Marshall’s, it’s storming like one sunuvabitch outside, and neither of you want to cook.

… But you will. Why? Because for one you’re the better cook out of you two, and you know that Dave wants you to cook even if he’s not saying it yet. The other reason is that if you don’t you’ll both just eat a few slices of cheese. And that’s not gonna cut it.

So while Dave sits his ass down on a barstool and leans on the counter, you consult the fridge. There’s not much in terms of raw ingredients.

“Man, we didn’t get to grab any groceries…” you complain aloud.

“We could reheat those wings?” Dave suggests from his slump on the counter. But you’re struck with an idea. You grab the wings, some shredded cheese, and a packet of tortillas. You snag some vegetable oil from the cabinet and set a frying pan onto the stove. You don’t turn on the burner just yet.

“Dude, what are you even cooking over there? The fridge is a barren-ass desert right now. A cold desert. A tundra. Gonna find a minecraft igloo with some jankass basement in there,” Dave says.

You smile as you start deboning the wings. You put the meat in a bowl and pop it in the microwave for 45 seconds. “I’m making leftovers quesadillas,” you tell him.

You turn on the burner and pour a little oil onto the pan. Just about the size of a quarter. You used to make these all the time when your dad couldn’t make it home by dinner time. You’ve got it down to a science. “They’re just quesadillas with whatever meat you have around the house.”

He snorts a bit at ‘meat you have around the house’. “Dude, you are a blessing,” he says.

You bat your hand as you swirl the oil around in the pan. “Nah, it’s easy. Besides, we gotta eat something, right?”

“No but like… you didn’t have to cook a wholeass meal.” The microwave beeps and you take the chicken out of the microwave. You lay a tortilla on the pan and it sizzles. “Cooking isn’t that hard, Dave. You just,” you start. You grab the cheese and sprinkle a generous amount. “…Add the cheese…” Next you lay a bit of chicken. “…and the chicken…” You grab a spatula and scoop under one side of the tortilla, folding it in half on itself. “…and then you just flatten it like this!”

He giggles. “Like my own personal cooking youtuber.”

“Oh, uh, whoops.” You say, a bit flushed.

“Nah, nah, it’s cool. I like it. It’s like I’m right there with you cooking, except not actually because that would be a disaster, I can’t cook for shit.”

You make a little pout as you flip the tortilla off of the pan and start making another one. “I’m sure you could cook fine if you learned to,” you say.

You can hear him smiling as he says, “Yeah but why would I need to? I’ve got you here as my personal chef!”

You laugh a bit at that. “Yeah, yeah. Anyways, can you grab some plates or some drinks? I’m almost done.”

“O-kay,” he says and makes the most demonic noise while stretching before sliding off of his seat and heading to the minifridge at the other side of the apartment. “You want a mountain dew or a pepsi?”

“Pepsi!” you answer and flip the second quesadilla off. One would think that’d be the end of it, but no! You always make two folded ones per person. Basic leftovers quesadillas rule. You put another tortilla on. “Man, I can’t believe you always buy pepsi… I want coke sometimes, man!” Dave gripes.

“Sorry Dave, but I just don’t like the hostile red. I need my soothing blues.” You’re on the verge of bursting into laughter just from saying it.

“What are you, a bull?” he says.

“Yes,” you say and hold a straight face for about a second before cracking up. It’s not that funny, but it’s become a running joke that you like pepsi better purely because of its ‘soothing blue packaging’.

You flip the third quesadilla off and get started on the last one. Tortilla, cheese, and chicken, in a nice rhythm. “Plates?” you say.

“Right, right,” Dave says and opens up the cabinet. “I’m still surprised you did all this. You didn’t have to.”

“Dave, I told you, it’s easy! Plus it tastes really good, and I didn’t really feel like eating shitty food tonight,” you say.

He sets the plates down on the counter across from you. “No but like dude, anything you cook is like, insanely good. I wake up every day and thank god I get to have a roomie who cooks like a goddamn michelin-approved restaurant chef.”

Your face warms a bit, but you flip the last quesadilla off and turn off the burner. “…Thanks Dave,” you finally manage to stammer out.

Finished with the cooking, you grab the pizza cutter and slice the quesadillas into quarters. You two grab your plates and drinks and sit next to each other. It’s as good as you thought it would be.

“Man, maybe you should teach me to cook. This is godly,” Dave says in between bites. “I’d be happy to teach you whenever you want, Dave,” you say.

The quesadillas are quickly demolished, and after putting the dishes in the dishwasher, you two are satisfied. “You down to just chill on the couch? Watch a movie?” he says.

You stand up and head to the living room corner. “Yeah, but I get to pick.” He complains as he gets up, “Nooo, you’re gonna pick something unironically shitty…”

“Hey, chef’s priveleges.”

[wondersofdreaming]

Dumplings 101

Characters: Henry Cavill x female reader

Word count: 1.179

Warnings: Mentions of being sad, depressed, homesick. The rest is pure fluff.

Author’s note: I miss my mum so bad today, and I listened to ‘Homesick’ by Dua Lipa, which made me miss her even more.

I do not own any characters in this short story, except the reader and her parents who are figments of my imagination.

Tag: @katerka88 @littlefreya @hell1129-blog @mitzwinchester @mary-ann84 @valkavill @sciapod @henry-cavlll @luclittlepond @iloveyouyen @trippedmetaldetector @radaofrivia @omgkatinka @gothwhopper @fcgrizi @alyxkbrl​ @singeramg​ @onlyhenrys​ @henrythickcavill​ @madbaddic7ed​ @palaiasaurus64​ @queenslandlover-93​ @magdelen69​ @shellbilee​ @mis-lil-red @vania-marie @tumblnewby

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list.

MASTERLIST

Feedback is appreciated.

It had been three years since you last saw your parents. They lived far away, while you had moved to London to study. You had ended up falling in love and stayed, even moving in with the man of your dreams.

You talked to your parents at least once a week through video chat and your mother texted you every day through a messenger app. She would send memes, jokes your dad had thrown at her that day, or simply just a message of love, telling you she missed and loved you.

You hadn’t felt homesick in a long time. But one day you were walking through Chinatown with Henry and the scents of the food reminded you of your mum’s cooking.

Henry, the sweet and caring attentive boyfriend, noticed you were feeling a bit gloomy and sad. He asked what was on your mind, and you would answer that you felt a little homesick.

A few weeks later he came home from grocery shopping, which had taken two hours longer than it used to. He walked into the kitchen and laid out all the ingredients he had bought.

“Ground pork, spring onions, garlic, coriander, chilli, ginger, Chinese cabbage. Honey, why have you bought these things?” You asked him curiously, watching him take out the flour and potato starch.

“You told me yesterday that you missed your mum’s dumplings, so we’re making some,” he smiled and reached at the top shelve for the largest bowl you owned.

A light went on in your head. All the ingredients matched perfectly with your mother’s dumpling recipe.

“Henry… did my mum give you her recipe?”

“Yes? Why?”

“She guards that recipe like a dragon protecting its treasure. How did you do it?”

“Well…”

The doorbell saved Henry from answering, as you went to open, puzzled by who it could be. Outside stood your parents.

“Mama?! Papa?! What are you doing here?” You hugged both and clung to them for dear life.

“Invite us in and we’ll tell you everything,” your father chuckled and patted your back. He waltzed inside and patted Kal, who happily wagged his bushy tail.

“What’s going on, Henry?” You asked him as he and your father shook hands.

“Your sweetheart of a boyfriend called us a week ago, saying you were awfully depressed and missed us. We took two weeks off from work and flew here, arranged by Henry and everything. We’re even staying at the hotel just a few blocks over.” Your mother chipped. She went straight to the kitchen, “And something about you wanting my gyozas, so I gave him the ingredient list, but not how to make them.”

“See, I knew something was going on when he said you had given him the recipe.”

“Today, I am going to teach you two how to make them, then you won’t miss me as much, dear.”

“I’ll always miss you, mama.”

Your mother smiled softly. She pulled out an apron from her purse and asked Henry for a notebook and a pen.

“First we start with the dumpling wrappers…”

She quickly took over the kitchen, as any cooking-loving mother would do. You measured the ingredients while Henry kneaded the dough. Your father sat at the two-person table, where you ate breakfast with Henry, and played tug with Kal. You and your mother stood at one side of the kitchen island, while Henry worked the dough, his muscles on display.

“Here you go, dear, you’re drooling,” your mother handed you a napkin. Your cheeks blushed a crimson red, but Henry just smiled at you. He knew it, the cheeky monkey, what effect it had on you when he showcased his biceps.

“There, it’s all smooth,” Henry handed your mother the dough. She inspected it and approved it. After wrapping it in film, you moved on to the filling.

“My mama taught me how to chop everything nicely, so it will have a nice mouthfeel when you take a bite of the dumpling. But we’re going to use your meat grinder.”

You put the meat grinder attachment to your kitchen machine. You put almost all the vegetables through and had this wet mixture in the end. Henry was tasked to shred the small block of ginger.

Your mother added soy sauce, sesame oil, and black pepper as seasonings to the veggie-mix and then added the ground pork and ginger. She mixed it thoroughly and set it aside.

“Mama, how do we know how much soy to put in?” You asked.

“You can always panfry a little of the filling and taste it, dear. Henry, be a darling and roll the dough out for me.”

After your mother was happy with the thickness of the dough, you used a small bowl to cut out circles. She filled the dough with a teaspoon of the filling and showed you how to fold it closed, making it stick together with water on the edges.

The first few attempts were disastrous, you kept overfilling the dough and ended up with ground pork all over your hands. Your mother showed you over and over again until you got the hang of it. Henry, on the other hand, impressed you with his technique. He shouldn’t have been able to work with such a delicate dough, but the way he folded the edges so gently, made you wonder how he did it with his large thick fingers.

“Well done, Henry. Looks like you’ve tried this before,” your mother praised him.

“Not really, but it is a little similar to working with pasta,” he smiled. You had been nervous to have him meet your parents, but now you knew there had been nothing to worry about. He was turning on the charm, full throttle.

You went in search of a pan with a lid while your mother and Henry gushed over filled pasta. You heated up the pan with some neutral oil and added the gyozas in a circular pattern. When the dumplings had gotten a golden and crispy bottom, you added water and put the lid on, letting the dumplings steam and cook.

“Henry, will you set the dinner table, please?” You interrupted the two food-loving talkers. Henry smiled and went to grab the plates.

“Let’s make some dipping sauces,” your mother clasped her hands together and went to work. Your father helped Henry with glasses and chopsticks.

10 minutes later all the food was on the table, with you sitting next to Henry and opposite your parents. You thanked for the food and started putting food on your plate with your chopsticks, your parents doing the same, while Henry had a little more difficulty using his.

“Here, you hold it like this. One in the crook of your thumb and sitting at the tip of your ring finger, the other sits a little higher and nestled between your middle and index finger.”

He did his best and would learn with a little more practice.

“So, these dumplings are the ones that you can eat without getting tired of them?” Henry asked.

“All day, every day.”

[lalahbug]

Guidance - Zuko x Reader Chapter 1

Fandom: Avatar the Last Air bender Word Count: 3,819 My Masterlist Warnings/disclaim: General In this fic, characters are aged up, to what I see fit for my story, but will stay roughly on the same timeline This takes place on the timeline after the North Pole and Zuko and his Uncle go their separate ways for a bit. If you’ve never seen ATLA, the story may be confusing and vague/give spoilers.   Author’s Note: under the story ___ is a blank for your name/oc/whatever you prefer Written in 3rd person Line/header is to separate paragraphs to indicate time skips, as Tumblr hates my formatting.  Story under cut, 1 of 8: Guidance Masterlist

Limply riding along on his ostrich-horse Zuko clung to his stomach as a waft of food hit him. It was coming from a nearby forest, he turned the animal into the trees a bit before demounting and tying the reins to a trunk near some water. Zuko quietly walked, following the smell of food, the closer he got he could tell it was fish. 

A woman came into view, she looked around his age, but was alone, with many basins of salt, which he amused was for curing some type of meat. He kept low and quiet, waiting for the perfect moment to steal some food. 

Watching the girl intently, Zuko gripped the hilts of his double swords when she sat down a couple of leaves on the ground. She took the fish, which she had been roasting and rotating above a flame, gently pushed it off the stick it was cooking onto the leaf. She repeated the movements until 3 fish were on each leaf, she picked up one and sat down. 

After sipping her tea, she sat another cup across from her, with the other pile of cooked fish. This confused Zuko, because she seemed alone, yet was setting a place across from her, repeating with some rice in small bowls. 

“You are very stealthy but I apologize, not good enough to evade me.” The lady spoke softly, after a bite of rice. “Please come join me, you’re hungry, I could hear your stomach.” 

Zuko froze, it seemed like a trick, yet his need for food drove his feet forward slowly. 

“Would you like some water along with your tea and food?” She gave him a gentle smile as he emerged from the forest into her clearing. 

“Why?” Zuko demand. 

“Why not?” She retorted, pouring him a cup of water and setting it near the food. 

Zuko glared at her, he didn’t want to just take food given, yet it was technically better than trying to steal it when it was clearly free. 

He gingerly sat down in front of her, eyeing her. 

She chuckled a bit then sighed, “are you going to let that food go to waste?” 

“Answer my question, why?” 

“Technically I did, you didn’t answer mine. Why not?” Zuko glanced down at the food before glaring at her again, causing her to sigh again. “Let’s just chalk it up to me not wanting to fight today. I’ve had a very nice day, and I have enough food and supplies to share with someone who does not. Is that a good enough answer for you?” 

“So, you’re only giving it to me because you’re in a good mood?” He sneered. 

“No,” she stated calmly, taking a piece of fish and eating it. “I’m doing it because I know what it's like to travel and have almost nothing. It’s not pleasant. It’s not something I would even wish upon my enemy; hunger is the cruelest torture of life.” 

Zuko looked at the food again, before picking up the fish and starting to eat it. 

 Zuko kept eyeing her as they ate in silence, she didn’t bother to start conversation nor stared at him, her calm composure was throwing him off, but it also calmed him as it reminded him of Uncle Iroh. 

When Zuko was done eating, she handed him a water bladder, it was bigger than the empty one upon his person. 

“Trade me, I need a smaller one for watering plants.” Zuko glanced over at her makeshift home and saw a couple of pots with flowers near her makeshift wall. 

Zuko traded with her, without any words then he stood up to leave, as he turned, he glanced at her over his shoulder, “thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” she paused as he started to walk away. “Would you like some feed for your ostrich-horse?” 

Zuko paused at the line of the clearing, mulling it over, she was frustrating him. 

“Why? Because you think I need handouts from a homeless person?!” He shouted at her. 

“I may be homeless, but at least I am not lost. I see the hurt and loss within you, I’ve been there, it’s easier to get through when you’re not alone and not wondering when you’ll eat again.” 

“So, you pity me? There is no way you could know what I’m going through! What I’ve lost!” 

She opened a piece of parchment with his face on it, his wanted poster. 

“Prince Zuko, I may not know what you’re going through exactly but I know what you’ve lost.” 

“If you know who I am then why would you feed me? Give me water? Offer me feed?” 

The woman stood and walked towards him, with an open hand, offering it to him.  “Because I know what it's like to be not wanted by anyone, not even my home.” 

Zuko could see her eyes water a bit before quickly blinking them away, he could see the truth behind her words, and the sorrow within her eyes. 

Zuko looked down at her hand, “so what are you offering?” He asked softly. 

“To teach you how to live on your own, and possibly guide you to yourself.” 

Her words struck him the way his Uncle’s do, but this time, he knew that the one behind the words had been in his place before. But was she was so lucky to have someone to help her, would he choose his self-isolation or take the chance to learn? He furrowed his brow not knowing any of the answers. He looked up into her eyes then gently shook her hand. 

“Okay.” 

A few weeks had passed with Zuko and ___, he learned her name and told her his fake name, Lee, in case anyone came around. He found out she was 20, 2 years older than him, yet she seemed so much more knowledgeable on just about everything he had questions on. 

“And that is how to make a basket,” she said calmly, giving her basket to him. 

Zuko grunted and started to weave the pieces together, getting more and getting frustrated as the pieces wouldn’t stay together. 

“Here,” ___ sat closely next to him, moving his hands into a different position. “You can’t use so much force, you’re simply weaving pieces together, keeping composure and being firm, with your hands further apart and it should be easier. It’ll still take practice, but you’ll get it.” 

___ gently patted his shoulder before standing up and moving over to the fire, where she was cooking soup. 

“Why would I need a basket anyways?” Zuko grumbled as he took the process a bit slower and more seriously. 

“If you become good at it, you can make more watertight ones, so you can brine or soak meats before curing them, so you have more food while traveling. A couple of good baskets with salt in them, on the side saddle of your animal, you’ll just have to start a fire to cook, then you could eat and rest. Or knowing you, cook then continue.” She laughed slightly at her comment as she stirred the soup. 

Zuko put down his in-process basket, which was holding its shape thankfully and not coming undone the moment it wasn’t being held together. 

“How long have you been on your own?” Zuko asked before drinking some water. 

“I guess about 8 years now, soon to be 9. I left home right before my 12th birthday.” 

Zuko sat down to eat as she handed him a bowl of soup. Scooping soup for herself then sitting next to him. “What happened?” 

___ ate some of her soup before looking at the flames flicker. “Where I’m from,” she started hesitantly, “as a girl, you get married at 16, have a child, but you can’t fight, only can you learn how to aid and heal others. 

“My mother didn’t follow that path, she had me, outside of wedlock and kept me secret from everyone but our maid and my nanny. My mom was higher up in politics, working long hours, but when she came home, she’d send home my nanny and the maid, and it would be just us. She doted on me, loved me, but above all, I was still a secret, no one outside of our home knew I existed, not even my father. 

“I was about 8 or so when I begged and cried for her to take me shopping with her. I hadn’t been allowed outside of the house and I was tired of being a good girl and staying all cooped up. After what seemed like days, she finally agreed. Everyone stared at me as I clung to her, I was so excited but scared of everyone eyeing me. 

“While we were at a store, getting me some new clothes, a man ran up to my mother. Panting as if he ran with all his force, my mother hid me behind her. They argued quietly for a bit before my mom let me come out and introduced me to the man. Saying he was my father. The man broke down crying then hugged me like I’d disappear if he let go. 

“Once we were home, my mom explained to me that she never told my father about me, and when the town saw me, someone told him that his ex was walking around with a child that looked like him. She explained to me that to get where she was in her career, she couldn’t let a scandal like me out. She told me that if I wanted, I could go to school with other kids and see my father more to get to know him. 

“At the time I was just happy to have the opportunity to finally make friends and have a dad. A few years passed and my parents eventually got married and we lived like a true family.” 

___ had a smile the whole story until now, her face fell a bit. 

“My parents, being important members of our nation, were sent on a mission. They never returned. I don’t really know what happened to them, but it’s one of two things. Either Fire Nation got them, or nature did. I think it was nature, we had a very harsh winter that year and I never saw any soot in the sky, my mom and dad were supposed to stay close to home. 

“So, I was an orphan, but more than that I was angry at nature, the world. I wanted to learn how to fight and get strong. I begged the master and our council and even attempted to fight the master. 

“Of course, having no training nor good stamina, I got beat down again and again, over a week. One day, an elder came to me, telling me I’d taunted and tainted our traditions. If I was willing to let go of my anger I could stay home, but if I continued to be brash and try to fight, I would need to leave as my anger and thoughts were not welcome there. 

“So, I left, with very little, and all the money my mother and father had.” 

___ stopped, getting herself and Zuko more soup. After a few moments, she sighed softly as she could feel Zuko’s eyes on her, silently asking her to continue. 

“I went back a couple of years after I left and they could tell I had become a fighter, on my own. Because of that, I was forbidden to come home, to even enter the walls. I was sent away and I haven’t looked back.” 

“Where are you from?” Zuko asked softly, but she didn’t answer, she simply added some wood to the fire. “You know where I’m from, tell me.” Zuko tried to persuade her. 

“The North Pole,” she spat the words while poking the fire. 

“Are you a waterbender?” 

She chuckled dryly, “not a very good one. But I can fight, I know chi blocking, heal a bit, and I have very good senses, they are heightened. Which is how I heard you coming before.” 

“I didn’t know the North Pole was like that, it seems, so sexist,” he whispered while glancing at her before handing her a cup of water. 

“I didn’t have the happiest childhood, but not the worst, the war didn’t affect me until I left home. I’ve seen the devastation, so I made it my will to help everyone I can.” 

“But why would you help me, I’m Fire Nation, I’m the prince.” 

“You are as affected by the Fire Nation as the rest of the world. You were a child speaking with worry about your citizens with care and goodwill. For it, you were burned and banished for showing weakness, for showing loyalty and love to your father. At least when you were a kid, you were banished for trying to be good. I was banished for following my anger.” ___ gave him a soft smile, and it made his heart hammer. 

“No one has ever said I was good,” he murmured. 

“You have a dysfunctional family, the only good one is your uncle. It took him a while and pain to find his way. I know you’ll find your way.” 

“I just want my throne, my home, my country, my honor.” 

“I’m going to say something and I suggest you think about it.” 

“Just spit it out already, oh wise one,” Zuko said sarcastically. 

“No one can take your honor. No one can take your birthright from you. You need to take it back; you don’t have to earn and prove yourself to anyone. Who are you? Who do you want to be? What do you want out of life, for yourself? Look inside yourself and ask yourself the hard questions. Stop living up to the person someone wants you to be, be yourself, the best version of you. Because no one can take that from you, no one can be you, but you.” 

Zuko glared at the fire internalizing her words. “You sound like my uncle,” he said bitterly. “But with less nonsense and straight to the point.” 

“Still I guess my words can sound like nonsense if I’m not careful,” she laughed softly. “Come one, it’s time for bed.” 

Zuko sighed softly before helping ___ pick up the campsite and put out the fire. She cleaned up the dishes and put them away, going into the tent. 

“Hey, Zuko, it’s getting colder outside. Would you like to sleep inside or at least have a sleeping bag?” She asked while putting a blanket on to the ostrich-horse who was lying down next to the tent. 

Zuko stared at the ground for a moment, it was colder last night, and although the sleeping bag would be nice, the shelter would be better. 

“You’re furrowing your brow, thinking about it so much,” she laughed slightly before poking the bunched-up skin in-between his eyebrows. He glared at her slightly, “Since your debating, let me throw in another option. You can do both, have a sleeping bag, and come inside.” ___ gave him a soft smile; his heart did an odd twist at her smile. 

“Okay,” he looked away from her and walked into the tent. It was definitely warmer inside, probably because of the foliage she had around it. 

He saw her cot in the back and near one of the walls, she’d already laid out the bag for him nearby. ___ came in and started tidying up a bit more, putting some more things into a large backpack. 

“What’s the backpack for?” He’d seen it here and there; within the days he’d been there. 

“Oh, this is my necessities bag, so if I’m attacked or something happens, I can grab this bag and run. I’d have the most important things so I can start over.” 

“That’s a very good idea,” he mumbled softly before sitting down on the sleeping bag. “So, what are you teaching me tomorrow? I’ve learned fishing, gutting and deboning the fish, brine and curing, identifying good and bad berries and herbs, and today the baskets.” 

“I actually need to go into town tomorrow,” she said while taking off her heavier clothes. “I haven’t been in a couple of months. I’m a bit low on rice and potatoes. The blacksmith was supposed to make me a heavy-duty pan like the one I make soup in. Plus, I need to sell some things. Like baskets, cured meats and fish, I made some jewelry last month, I should sell that too.” ___ continued, but it seemed more so like she was rambling to herself. 

“So, what am I supposed to do?” Zuko groaned. 

“Come with me, I usually stay there for a week or so when I go. I do things around town, helping people, earning money. I’ll teach you some labor stuff, so when you leave and are on the road again. You’ll know how to look for things to fix, to get a free meal, supplies, or even money; if they have it.” 

“How long have you been doing this?” 

“Well, I’ve been here in this spot for about 2 years, I will probably be leaving soon, but there are two good towns here. I’ve been helping towns for about 4 years. I was wandering and learning to fight for about 2 years before settling down. You know, learning about plants and stuff too.” 

“So, you’ll just leave this place for a week and come back.” 

“Yeah I usually go every month into town, but,” she trailed off while getting into bed. 

“But?” 

“So, there's this guy, he’s nice and all, but he’s not my type, just a little too,” she paused for a moment before getting the right wording. "Complacent. I want to travel again someday, move around as I wish. He wants to just stay in one place his whole life. He’s been very flirty lately and I just don’t want him to bother me. Nor do I want to nicely put him down and give him any hope. He’s kinda too confident for his own good, which can also be annoying.” 

“Oh,” Zuko mumbled. ___ is attractive, even to him, and her kind heart is very enduring. “How often does that happen to you?” 

“Not much. I try not to let anyone be too friendly, because I won’t be around long. Nor do I want to make a good friend and feel conflicted about exploring my life.” 

“What if you loved them?” 

“I don’t know. You can’t plan who you love. But I would hope they would want to travel with me, or at least be willing to in the future, once the war ends.” 

“You seem so sure the war will end.” 

“I am,” she stated calmly. 

“How?” Zuko asked. 

___ yawned, “it’s a story to tell another day.” She rolled over facing away from him. 

Zuko groaned and lied down annoyed. 

“Goodnight Zuko,” she mumbled softly. 

“Night ___,” he grumbled. 

Wind was whipping at the tent, waking Zuko, he sat up to look over at ___ to see how she could sleep through this noise. But he was shocked to see her cot empty. He gently lit a flame in his hand and called out her name, but got no reply. He got out of the sleeping bag and went outside to look for her. 

He looked about the general area of the campsite, but couldn’t see her. Eventually, he wandered towards the nearby river and froze when he saw ___ standing in the middle of it.  

___ was elegantly moving water, wearing a beautiful white dress that flowed and moved with her. Pushing, pulling, and swirling the water all around her, polished and gentle. There was no strength, just graceful movements. Zuko had only fought waterbenders, he never saw the beauty in it as he did now.  

As she slowed her movements she looked up at the full moon, with her face in the luminescence he could see tears streaming down her face. His heart tightened at the sight, he could almost feel how much pain and desolation she felt even with the distance between them.  

___ slowly sat down in the water, curling her knees into her chest, resting her head on the tops of her knees. A few moments passed when the water started to glow around her, illuminating all the water around her. The glowing water slowly consumed her; ___ lifted her head as the water reached her neck. Zuko could see her taking a deep breath, preparing for the void. 

The sight was unsettling as she was engulfed, vanishing along with the glow of water. Zuko wanted to jump in after her but his confusion as to why she would let it happen kept him in place. He came back to his senses realizing he could barely hear with the wind because the sound of his blood was pounding within his body.  

Zuko slowly sat down on the ground trying to calm down, as his heart calmed, he could hear the wind did too. He could only think of Zhao, who had been taken by the ocean spirit. What spirit wanted ___ and why? 

While contemplating, the river started to glow again. Zuko watched intently as he could start to make out ___’s body within the water, pushing her gently up onto the riverbank. She was motionless, Zuko scrambled to his feet and ran to her side. Being closer he could see she was breathing slowly. She was dry, the water didn’t drown her, it simply took her and returned her. But why? 

___ took a deep breath while exhaling her eyes opened and the same glow as the water was there, briefly. Zuko was lost for words, as their eyes locked. 

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was soft but raspy as if she’d been sleeping. 

“You weren’t in bed, so I came looking for you. What happened to you?” 

___ sat up slowly looking away from him, clearly debating on what to say, depending on how much he saw, “how long have you been here?” 

“A while,” Zuko answered a bit curt, he wanted answers, not more questions. 

She stood up slowly, Zuko mirrored her warily and cautious as she looked weak. She wobbled a bit, Zuko quickly wrapped his arms around her. 

“Are you okay?” Even though he was annoyed and curious, he was also concerned. 

“I’m vastly drained,” she rested her head against his shoulder. Although he stiffened a bit, it was pleasant to him, he welcomed the feeling while tightening his arms around her. Something about this just felt so accurate, he rested his cheek on top of her head. Soon her weight started to drift onto him more and her breathing slowed. 

“___?” Zuko called her gently, but when she didn’t answer. He gingerly scooped her up into his arms, carrying her back to her bed. 

Author’s Note: I haven’t wrote a story with intent to make it visible in a long time. So new work 2020, I refell in love with Zuko, like a lot of people did with the resurface of Avatar being on Netflix, I’ve watched it three times now, aha. Fanfiction wasn’t a part of my life/world when it first came out when I watched it. But Avatar did launch me into my love of anime, and from there I eventually found fanfics, then started writing them. I feel very late to post a Zuko fic, but this story has been in my head ever since I rewatched it, the first time. So, hopefully, someone is craving more Zuko fics like me and they’ll enjoy this with me <3

[jaxsteamblog]

I’ll Save You from the Pirates

Click here to read the entire fic on AO3

Katara made sure everything was zipped and buttoned before stepping out of the small control building. She was grateful for the early morning survey trip; being in the South Pole brought in a lot of things too close for comfort.

The village she had selected for the initial drilling was on the northern side of the mountains watched over her childhood. On an especially clear day in summer, it was possible to see the far distant peaks of the Air Nation archipelago.

Or else, that’s what she assumed those smudges on the horizon were.

Shaking her head, Katara forced a smile at the workers waiting for her at the dock. She assumed she had a touch of midnight sun sickness, since her body was used to the perpetual darkness of the northern winter at the moment. Even with the new simulated nighttime, Katara was not adjusting as quickly as she had hoped.

It made her head feel like a balloon despite her body feeling sluggish.

“Shall we?” Katara asked, looking from man to man. They were unfamiliar to her, but so were many of the people she met in the South Pole.

The only time she had ever left her village was the once. And she hadn’t properly returned from that trip.

A lifetime ago, Katara had stepped onto a different sort of rickety boat. This one was made of metal, required some sort of crew to operate, and was probably more likely to survive a squall in the open ocean.

But her head still rocked violently when she was fully onboard.

“Gum, Majesty?” One of the men offered. Katara smiled in a closed lipped, queasy sort of way. Taking the thin rectangle of foil, her fingertips felt numb while unwrapping it. The gum was a pale pink, like the meat of any arctic fish.

That image didn’t help her head.

Her jaw worked slowly, feeling the gum nearly disintegrate between her teeth. The flavor was odd, but there was enough mint to calm her a bit.

Sitting on a box of supplies, Katara looked over the edge as the ship pulled away from the dock. The Beifong representative had been complaining of pirates for weeks. Small, quick boats that harassed their supply ships. Usually the attacks were pointless; the expensive equipment had been installed months ago. But medical supplies, shelf stable food, and other minor sundries were beginning to add up on the list of pirated goods.

Fire Nation engineers weren’t bothered by the pirates. Many of them were former military and were not at all subtle over their wish to interact with sea bandits.

Not to be inferred as wanting to fight Water Tribals of course, your Highness.

They were a congenial sort, in their own way.

As they continued on, Katara rubbed her eyes. A migraine was building at her forehead and she called up the cold water to attempt to heal it.

The brain was tricky, and sometimes she had trouble healing herself as she often didn’t think it was bad enough to worry over. Pressure pounded, but the pain stayed as that cloudy prophecy of worse to come.

In her mouth, the gum quickly lost its flavor, so Katara spat out the wad into her palm. The pink was long gone, and the wrinkled gray lump looked foul.

“What even was that?” She muttered and turned around. The man who offered her the gum was standing next to her, a bag in his hands.

Thinking it was trash, Katara moved to shake out the used gum.

The bag went over her head.

When she came to, the sun was setting. This meant two things: that she had been unconscious for a very long time and that they were no longer in South Pole waters.

And noting that she was also in a straight jacket, bound to a tree, Katara figured she was in the Earth Kingdom.

The pirates, as she assumed them to be, were near enough by that Katara could see them at their small fire. The light faded before it got to her, and so she couldn’t make out faces or words.

Looking around, and trying to shift into a comfortable position, Katara knew she was in the woods and far from the ocean. The straight jacket kept her arms and hands from bending, and her legs were shackled tightly together.

Rohan had told her stories about how the late King Bumi could earthbend by wriggling his eyebrows, but Katara wasn’t that skilled. Yet.

Sighing, Katara looked back at the fire.

Historical pirates had been her people, but they were effectively wiped out during the war. Airbender Bumi had created his Sky Pirates, and now they had been replaced by Earth Kingdom citizens. A counterclockwise Avatar cycle.

Bound and still feeling sick, the night air was at least steadying her senses. But she really didn’t know what to do next.

And yet, she really didn’t feel the need to plan. The situation almost made her feel calm. It took the sudden figure behind her to tell her why.

“I’ll save you from the pirates.” A soft voice whispered into her ear.

Katara snorted, turning it into a sneeze in case she was overheard. She was, and one of the pirates got up to investigate.

“Oh no. A ruffian approaches. Whatever shall I do.” Katara said robotically.

The man frowned as he neared.

“Don’t think of calling for help.” He said.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Katara replied and smiled broadly.

“You think something’s funny? I’d like to see you try your bending now.” He said.

“Neither of us needs bending to kick your ass.” The shadowed man said.

The pirate straightened just as the hilt of a sword smashed into the side of his head. The man collapsed as his assailant moved into the dusky light.

The blue oni mask sent electricity through Katara’s veins.

“Let me help you out.” Zuko said, crouching next to her and slicing through the straps.

“You might want to focus on them.” Katara said, wiggling out of the restraint.

Zuko stood and turned, separating his dual swords and rotating his wrists to loosen them.

“Be right back my love.” He said and darted forward.

Katara watched as closely as she could, shoulder off the straightjacket. Zuko moved quickly, as he always did, and many of the pirates were unable to even reach their guns. Those that did nearly lost a hand before Zuko knocked them prone.

To her surprise, there was an actual Earthbender among the group and Katara wondered if she should intervene. She was working on the shackles on her ankles when the cannonball of earth slammed Zuko into a tree. But the Blue Spirit leapt back onto his feet and kicked debris into the Bender’s face. By the time Katara snapped off the frozen metal, the Bender was face down on the ground.

Zuko paused to put out the small fires made when he kicked their cook fire before walking back to Katara. He held out his hand to help her up and she dusted off the back of her pants as he sheathed his unified sword.

“How did you get here so quickly?” She asked.

“Sokka helped.” He explained.

“But this?” Katara questioned, gesturing to his costume.

“I had plans.”

“Plans?” She stepped in close, running her fingers along the edge of his mask. “Did it involve a veil?”

“For you it involved only veils.” He answered, putting a warm hand on her lower back.

“KATARA!” A man’s voice bellowed and they jumped apart.

“My dad?” Katara choked out.

“It would make sense that others would be responding to this incident, yes.” Zuko said stoically, like he was also just realizing this.

“You need to go.” She hissed, shoving at Zuko’s side.

“Where?” He whispered back. “I don’t really know where I am!”

“KATARA!” Hakoda called again, much closer now.

“They can’t see you! You’re a wanted man!” Katara continued to shove, but Zuko didn’t move.

“My boat is that way!” He said, pointing past her to where Hakoda’s voice had come.

“KATARA!” Hakoda sounded desperate, and it actually raked at Katara.

“You have to get-” She stopped as she heard multiple people run into the clearing.

“GET AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER!” Hakoda yelled. Katara turned, spreading her arms wide.

“He saved me dad!” She yelled back.

Hakoda halted and looked around. Seeing the very recent carnage, Hakoda made quick gestures. The others with him ran forward, securing the unconscious pirates.

“Who are you?” Hakoda asked cautiously, walking slowly up to them.

“This is the Blue Spirit. I’ve actually met him before, during the war.” Katara explained haltingly. She lowered her arms and glanced upward. “He’s….mute?”

“Well then.” Hakoda was awkward and his words were just as fumbled. “Thank you.”

He then made a sort of pained face, tilting his head slightly. “Are you really a spirit?”

“Probably not.” Katara said and heard Zuko huff behind his mask.

“At least, the Fire Nation thinks he’s just some traitor.” She added.

“I haven’t much cared for the opinion of the Fire Nation.” Hakoda muttered and Katara frowned.

“But I thank you for rescuing my daughter.” He continued. “Man or not, I must thank you properly for your help. It’s my duty as a chief, and a father.”

As Katara started to protest, Zuko moved from behind her and bowed. It was a modified gesture from the typical Fire Nation salute. It was meant to show respect to other nations.

“Great, now we can see what a spirit eats.” Katara growled, her jaw clenched.

“You know, we should hope he is a spirit.” Hakoda said as they started to walk in the direction Katara assumed the boats had moored.

“Why’s that?” Katara asked in exasperation, knowing Zuko would want to ask himself.

“You said you’ve met before. I don’t think the Fire Lord would appreciate the competition.” Hakoda finished.

Zuko huffed again and Katara sighed.

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[janeofcakes]

Soulmates: How John Met Sherlock...Again  Chapter 3

Hello, my friends! It’s been a busy weekend and I’m more than a little sunburned (grrrrr), but here it is! The next chapter is ready and waiting for you all. I hope you enjoy it and had a great weekend!

---

The next two Saturdays come and go with Olive and Gracie no closer to getting their fathers to meet. The one following their first would have been perfect, but Sherlock had a case on that did not finish as timely as he had hoped. Mrs. Hudson was out of town with Mrs. Turner, so he called in his own babysitter. She and John had a pleasant enough conversation on the park bench from what little Gracie and Olive overheard. It didn’t really matter that John had been told Sherlock’s name was William because Annie had always called him that anyway. From what Olive understood, it was an attempt to protect both Sherlock and Annie’s privacy. She could reference him as her employer with ease while avoiding the inevitable ‘Yes, Sherlock Holmes. Yes, he does have a child.’ conversation. It was also better that Sherlock not advertise the fact.

Olive and Gracie’s anticipation of the following Saturday grew with John’s answer to the playdate at Olive’s flat question. He had said it would likely be fine, but he needed to meet Olive’s parents first. When Saturday came, John was called away on an emergency and Candace took Gracie to the park AGAIN. After the two girls pouted a bit, they cooked up a scheme wherein Candace gave her impression of Sherlock to John so they could move things along. The girls thought this would suffice, but John still insisted upon meeting ‘Will’ himself. Gracie tried to argue that he trusts Candace and should just go along with it. She had a good, long strop on Sunday when he refused. 

Gracie’s class sits together in the smaller of the school’s two gymnasiums when they arrive individually before the day begins. Every class has its place so each can rise and file to its room when the bell rings. Olive and Gracie love beginning the day this way because they have a chance to talk before having to sit quietly for lessons. It makes it much easier to pay attention. This particular Monday morning, however, is not going to plan.

Gracie glances up to the clock on the wall impatiently and begins to worry. Olive is not in the gym yet and it is not like her. Sherlock always has her to school at exactly eight minutes before the bell rings and it is now five minutes to the bell. Gracie lowers her eyes again and bites her lip. She knows her concern is ridiculous at this stage. It’s probably just traffic or something, but her protective side won’t let it drop. Could Olive and her father have gotten caught up in a case somehow? Gracie furrows her brow as she considers what that might mean when a pair of red shoes comes into view. She lets her eyes focus on them a moment before lifting them to see a girl from one of the other grade three classes standing before her nervously.

“Hi, Grace,” she says quietly. Her name is Julia and she usually keeps to herself, but Olive has built up a report with her. She says Julia sees and knows everything and is really nice, just a bit shy. Knowing this, Gracie is surprised she has left her own class group to come over to Gracie’s and talk.

“Hi,” Gracie mutters and then adds, thinking it the most likely reason for Julia’s visit, “Olive isn’t here yet.”

“I know. I just wanted to tell you,” Julia casts a slow side glance to her right and then back to Gracie, whose curious eyes follow the other girl’s. “Jones is planning something for lunch today. I’m not sure what, but she wants to embarrass you. She’s still mad about that punch on your first day.”

“Oh,” Gracie replies, not knowing why she expected anything less. Jones hadn’t said word one to them since that day and Olive kept saying it was only a matter of time. “Thanks. I’ll watch out for that.”

“We all loved it, you know,” Julia carries on swiftly. “Jones has been a pain in everyone’s side forever. She deserved it.”

Julia glances away again and takes a step back. Her brown eyes are intense when she returns them to Gracie’s and she angles her head closer.

“We’re all with you in this,” she almost whispers. “We’ll help anytime you need it.”

“Thanks,” Gracie doesn’t try to stop the small smile on her face. “I’ll remember that.”

Julia nods once and hurries back to her class’s spot. Gracie watches her go, feeling a bit lighter than she did before. She doesn’t know who is encompassed in the word ‘we’ at this moment, but it must be more than just grade three, right?. She had gotten quite a lot of attention from the other kids after the punch. More had greeted her afterwards or thrown a smile her way. Gracie wouldn’t say they all wanted to be friends or anything, just that they knew of her and liked what they knew. Very different from her old school where she was virtually unknown outside of her own grade.

Gracie thinks back on the friends she left behind in Bath and resolves to zoom with them soon. Turning her head to check the clock again, she nearly jumps out of her skin when Olive plops down right in front of her. The brunette is breathless, obviously having walked as fast as possible through the school halls to get here. Gracie cocks a brow and crosses her arms over her chest. 

“Where the heck have you been?” she nearly scolds, secretly eyeing her friend for any signs of injury. “The bell’s about to ring.”

“Pfft,” Olive makes a dismissive sound and waves a hand. “We still have two minutes.”

“Well, where were you?” Gracie fidgets, feeling a little exposed, but wanting to say this nonetheless. “I was kind of worried. Like maybe you ended up on a case or something.”

“Oh, no. Dad never takes me on cases,” Olive tells her in a very serious tone. “Well, only once when he absolutely had to and only because he knew there was no danger.”

Gracie releases the lip she’s been chewing on and lets the tension drain from her body. Seeing her friend relax, Olive smiles and lightens her tone.

“Dad did get a call for a case though and Mrs. Hudson had to bring me in. She’s never as fast as dad is,” Olive’s whole face lights up then and she hops up to sit on her knees for a change of subject. Gracie knows what it is too. It’s the reason she has waited for her friend so anxiously. “So did you ask him? What did he say? Whaddid he say?”

“He still needs to meet your dad first,” Gracie sighs with disappointment.

“What?” Olive blurts indignantly. “But he trusts Candace’s judgement.”

“That’s what I said, but he says he still has to meet your parents before I can go to your flat,” Gracie huffs. “It’s like he thinks he can tell they aren’t axe murderers with just one look.”

“You can, you know,” Olive replies suddenly in a calmer voice.

“What?”

“Tell someone isn’t an axe murderer with one look,” Olive sounds very pleased with herself for knowing this bit of information.

“What are you on about?” Gracie shakes her head. “That’s not even important right now.”

“No. You’re right,” Olive concedes. She touched a finger to her lips to think and then groans loudly, her voice dripping with annoyance. “We have to make sure they meet this weekend. I’ll tell Uncle Greg not to even call Dad if I have to.”

“I’ll do what I can too, but there’s no way I can stop another emergency,” Gracie grumbles and wrinkles her nose.

“Any chance of a baby again?” Olive asks, trying to plan for any contingency. 

“I don’t think so,” Gracie shrugs. “Dad usually tells me to be ready when it’s something he can anticipate.”

“Hm. Then we’ll just have to hope for a slow weekend,” Olive mumbles, touching a finger to her lips again.

“Right,” Gracie agrees, leaning forward and lowering her voice. “Something interesting happened right before you got here.”

The bell rings and teachers begin to call out instructions as Olive opens her mouth to respond. The two girls rise with their classmates, Gracie shouldering her backpack. Their line starts moving almost right away. Olive puts a hand on Gracie’s shoulder and leans in, the shorter girl turning her head to hear better.

“You can tell me at lunch,” Olives says, “and we can decide what to do on our first playdate.”

Gracie grins and agrees as they walk into the hall to their classroom.

***

“And then I’ll show you our latest experiment,” Olive had started listing the things she and Gracie would do on their first playdate the moment they walked into the lunch room. Olive puts a spoon full of yogurt into her mouth triumphantly.

“What are you working on now?” Gracie asks, snapping off a piece of her carrot and chewing. Her face is bright and open. Thinking about her first time in Olive’s flat is her most fun pastime these days. She has even dreamt about it: what she pictures it to look like and what they will do. It is the most excited she has been about something in a while. She was excited to move to London and start in a new school. Of course she was, but this has none of the uncertainty or anxiety those did. It is all pure anticipation and Olive feels it too, which makes it all the harder to wait until their fathers meet.

“The effects of cola on raw meat,” Olive answers Gracie’s question while dipping her spoon for more yogurt.

“What?” Gracie frowns and cocks a brow. “Why?”

“You don’t want to know,” Olive eyes the mound of yogurt on her spoon. “We’ve also added other stuff, like poisons and things to see if it makes any difference as far as how quickly the meat deteriorates or absorbs the poison. It’s for a homicide case.”

“What’s homicide?” Gracie asks curiously.

“Murder,” Olive whispers and closes her mouth smoothly around the spoon.

“Wow,” Gracie looks at her with wide eyes, carrot still in hand.

“I can’t guarantee we’ll still be doing it by the time we have our playdate though,” Olive tells her almost regretfully, holding the spoon to her lower lip. “There’s no way it could last two weeks. Dad never takes that long to solve a case.”

“That’s okay. It sounds kind of gross anyway,” Gracie pops the carrot into her mouth and grabs another. “What else could we do?”

“I want to show you my room. That’ll be the best part,” Olive declares, shifting from side to side in her seat eagerly. “It’s the upstairs bedroom. The only room upstairs.”

“Oh my god. Your flat has an upstairs?” Gracie blinks her eyes wide. “Ours have always been all on one floor.”

“Sometimes I pretend it’s a castle on top of a huge mountain and I have to climb it to search for prisoners or treasure or villains,” Olive is waving her spoon around now, gesturing enthusiastically.

“That sounds brilliant!” Gracie bubbles. “We could climb it together.”

“And, and!” Olive gasps, grabbing Gracie’s wrist and holding perfectly still. Gracie freezes too, but nearly vibrates with the anticipation of what she will say. “You can bring Pandy and we’ll save her and Wellies.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s perfect!” Gracie shoves a carrot in her mouth. “I can’t wait.”

“We have to get our dads to meet this Saturday,” Olive says emphatically, nearly in a whine as the bell rings. “I can’t wait anymore.”

Around them, Miss Chapel begins rounding everyone up. Olive and Gracie both shove what’s left of their lunches into their bags and hurry to stand.

“Hey, wait. We forgot. What were you going to tell me?” Olive asks, pushing her chair in.

“What?” Gracie replies, not sure what she means.

“From this morning,” Olive answers as Gracie picks up her bag and milk carton. “I got so excited about our playdate, I forgot to ask.”

“Oh, that,” Gracie starts toward the door, but her foot catches on something and she falls flat on the floor. Throwing her arms out to catch herself, she drops her lunch bag and milk carton and then lands right on them. Both smash flat, the half full carton soaking the front of her uniform.

“Gracie, are you okay?” Olive darts around the table to help, but Gracie is already getting to her knees.

“I’m fine,” Gracie mutters, looking down at herself and grumbling. Olive follows Gracie’s legs to find the sources of her fall and her eyes settle on a black size six. She knows who it is without even looking, but raises her angry gaze nonetheless and rests it on the smug face of Samantha Jones.

“Your friend had best watch where she’s going, Holmes,” Jones sneers, her two lackeys grinning behind her. “She could get hurt.”

“You’re a coward, Jones,” Olive scowls. “She faced you straight on and bested you, and now you hide in the corner waiting to catch her off-guard.”

“Olive,” Gracie cautions, standing next to the taller girl now.

“You watch yourself, Holmes,” Jones steps up close and stares Olive down. “Your pet won’t be with you all the time and that’s when I’ll find you.”

“Girls,” Miss Chapel calls sternly from behind Olive and Gracie, “what are you doing? Did you not hear the bell?”

“Just coming, Miss Chapel,” Jones replies pleasantly, side-stepping the two younger girls while staring at them menacingly. “Wouldn’t want to be late to class.”

After the three grade sixers are gone, Olive takes Gracie’s lunch bag and goes to class while Miss Chapel helps Gracie clean up a bit in the loo. She isn’t too worried about missing anything. Olive will fill her in on the lesson later. What Gracie has on her mind now is how to get back at Samantha Jones and really put her in her place so she doesn’t bully anyone in the school again. If anyone can do it, it’s Gracie Watson and Olive Holmes. 

***

“Just the two of you against the world then, eh?” John chuckles as he drops Gracie’s soiled uniform into the washer with some other laundry and closes the lid.

“The world of bullies, yeah,” Gracie answers as if there is no way it could be questioned. “You should see her, Dad. She pushes everyone around and steals the good stuff from their lunches as a ‘protection fee’.”

John flips the dial on the machine to start the cycle and turns to his daughter with a both bemused and amused expression. She wears a look of determination that only furthers his pleasure. Gracie looks nothing less than adorable. Her brow is furrowed, her eyes deadly serious and her mouth purse into half its usual size. With a hand on one hip and her other arm wrapped around Pandy, she stands strong with her feet planted on the floor. The smiling panda t-shirt, her favorite one, looks up at him with friendly eyes that contrast with his daughter’s.

“Protection fee?” John laughs because he just can’t help himself at this point. “Where on earth did you hear that?”

“That’s what Olive calls it,” she informs him in a tone that is all business. “Jones says she won’t bother them if they give her the treats from their lunches and they do it because they’re scared of her. She’s mean and you say I should stand up against bullies.”

“True, but…” John cuts in, seeing where this is going and not sure it’s the best course of action for Gracie to take.

“You don’t want me to stand back and let her bully little kids,” Gracie continues. “Kids in my class, even the ones who are younger than us. Why shouldn’t I stop her if I can?”

“Gracie…” John begins again, gathering his thoughts quickly.

“I thought you’d get it,” Gracie’s voice is insistent, but has a touch of pleading as well, and even some disappointment. “You fought in a war.”

“This is hardly war, Gracie,” John says a bit more sternly than he meant to . She snaps her mouth shut in a thin frown and the furrow of her brow deepens. She tilts her chin down and looks up at him with frustrated eyes, crossing her arms over her chest and pressing Pandy against her body. John sighs and squats down before her, placing his hands on her shoulders. 

“Gracie, I’m just trying to look out for you,” he tells her in a soft tone of concern. “I love that you want to help the other kids and don’t want to back down from a fight. I couldn’t be more proud.”

Gracie takes a deep breath through her nose, shoulders straightening and her chest puffing out. The corners of her mouth turn up ever so slightly.

“You’ve only been at the school for a few weeks,” John carries on carefully. “I don’t want kids that could have been friends to steer clear of you because they think you like trouble, or will get them in trouble.”

“Seriously?” Gracie questions, obviously finding the idea unbelievably stupid. “They seem to like me more because I stood up to Jones in the lunchroom. Like Julia said.”

“Oh, right,” John lifts his chin and raises his eyes briefly as he remembers. “The informant.”

“She knows everything,” Gracie lowers her voice and glances to her left before leaning in conspiratorially. “She lays low and hears all kinds of things. Olive can always go to her if she has questions about stuff that’s going on.”

“Just like Billy,” John mutters to himself with a quiet laugh.

“Who?” Gracie asks, looking a little confused.

“Nothing, sweet pea. Someone from another life,” John deftly pushes away his past. “I’m your dad. It’s my job to help you any way I can to be a good person and get on with other kids, or with schoolwork and whatever, yeah? I’m a lot older and have done a lot of things. It’s called experience.”

“Okay,” Gracie says slowly like she is beginning to see his point. She watches him thoughtfully.

“Sometimes people just think you’ll be the next bully when you stand up to one,” John explains. “You have to be careful kids don’t get the wrong impression and assume they should avoid you too.”

“I don’t think that would happen,” Gracie shakes her head. “Not with Olive on my side and Julia talking to everybody.”

“Well, good,” John straightens his legs to stand. “I’m glad you have such good and supportive friends.”

Gracie follows him as he walks to the kitchen to check the lasagna baking in the oven. It smells delicious and is one of their favorite dinners.

“Did you and your best friend help people?” Gracie asks curiously, lagging behind a little to stay away from the heat of the open oven door.

“Oh, yes,” John replies without even thinking as he lifts the aluminum foil from the casserole pan to look at the bubbling cheese. “Every case we solved helped people and even saved lives. It was an amazing time.”

“You solved cases?” Gracie asks after a brief pause. John’s eyes widen as he realizes what he just said and he hurriedly grabs for the oven mitts on the counter.

“Medical cases, sweetie,” John pulls the lasagna from the oven and moves across the counter. “Will you close the door, please?”

Gracie pushes the oven door shut and steps to the counter next to John. She picks up the first plate and hands it to him when he turns to retrieve it.

“Thank you,” he says warmly, taking it and dishing up the lasagna, some vegetables he had kept warm and a bit of salad. He tries not to look at Gracie for too long as he hands her the plate and she passes him an empty one. After all these years it is still too easy to read his expressions and he knows his daughter will know immediately that he’s hoping his lame explanation will suffice. John does, however, have to get it together before he sits down to eat with Gracie or he will spend the rest of the night telling her how the beloved characters in her bedtime stories are real and one of them is her own father. Will she feel betrayed? Like he has kept a huge part of himself from her? Do eight year olds even understand that concept? Gracie is fairly mature and advanced in her thinking, but enough to feel wronged or just to think her dad has this cool, secret past?

Finished filling his own plate, John schools his features as he turns to the table to see Gracie watching him expectantly. She has not only gotten the glass of milk he poured for her from the fridge, but his ice water as well. As he moves to sit opposite her, John wonders just how long it took him to dish up his own food. Gracie doesn’t look the least bit suspicious though, which is definitely a good sign. John really doesn’t want to spend the night dwelling on his former best friend. He has patently tried not to do just that since the day he agreed to take over the practice.

“Daddy?” Gracie’s voice interrupts his thoughts. John looks across the table to see her staring at him with a very deliberate expression as she chews. “You have to come to the park this Saturday and meet Olive’s dad. We’ve already planned what we’re going to do on our first playdate and it’s going to be amazing.”

“I’m sure you have,” John almost sighs in relief, picking up his glass for a drink. “You both love your master plans.”

“I’m not kidding, Dad,” Gracie says plainly. “This is very important.”

“Well, I don’t anticipate any emergencies, so it should be fine,” John answers. He replaces his water glass and scoops some lasagna onto his fork. “You’ll get to have a playdate soon enough.”

***

After dinner and the washing up, John and Gracie play a few card games until bedtime. Gracie beats him twice at Old Maid and once at Go-Fish, but John wins both games of Gin. John picks up and puts away the last deck of cards while Gracie brushes her teeth. He makes himself a cup of tea while she runs to her room to change into pajamas.

When John appears in her doorway, cup in hand, Gracie is lying down with the covers pulled up to her shoulders. He walks in, sets the tea on the bedside table and grabs the chair from her desk. Pulling it up to her bed, he sits and grabs his mug again.

“So,” John sips the tea, “what would you like tonight? Another chapter of the old Nancy Drew you and Olive are reading?”

“Actually…” Gracie’s tone is slightly higher than usual. A clear indication that she is going to ask for something she thinks he will say no to. “I was hoping for a Sam and Dean story. One you haven’t told me before.”

“Just how many of those stories do you think there are?” John asks good-naturedly after a quick bark of laughter.

“Hundreds!” Gracie answers with a sparkle in her eyes that John can never resist. He looks  down at her with a soft smile.

“I wouldn’t say that,” John tells her, “but I do still have some you don’t know.”

One leaps to mind. Why, John doesn’t know, but it is suddenly the only one he can think of. It isn’t a pleasant memory, but is certainly a case that pulled him and Sherlock closer together.

“I was going to save this one for when you’re older,” John pauses to wet his lips as Gracie’s eyes go wide.

“Please, Daddy, please,” she throws the covers off her arms, sits up and grabs the arm that doesn’t have a mug of tea at the end. “I’m old enough, please.”

John studies her for a moment and then sets down his tea.

“All right, all right,” he puts his hands on her shoulders, “but lie down. This is bedtime after all.”

“Yes!” Gracie declares in triumph and lays back quickly. John pulls the covers up to her chin and begins to tell her the story about pips, hostages, explosions and Moriarty, who he calls Chuck instead. Gracie listens with rapt attention, only really getting nervous when they were staring at that damn painting and the voice on the phone was a child. John has not told anyone, or even thought of this case, for over ten years and a feeling like exhaustion settles over him as he reaches the pool.

“The door opened and Dean walked in wearing a thick parka,” John says as Gracie gasps in horror. Her eyes are wide with shock, her mouth drops open.

“Oh my god, it was Dean?” she whispers, scarcely able to say the words. John’s heart sinks when she makes the same assumption Sherlock did, but rebounds when she quickly takes it back. “No. No, it can’t be Dean. He would never do that.”

“Right you are,” John commends her. “Dean pulled open the coat to reveal a waistcoat of explosives.”

Gracie lets out a huge gasp, her hands shooting from under the covers and over her mouth.

“No! What did he do? How did Sam save him?” Gracie demands in a hushed voice, unwilling to take her eyes off John for even a moment.

“Dean couldn’t say or do anything but what Chuck told him and Sam… He didn’t know what to do,” John shakes his head, remembering Sherlock’s face. He had been so frightened and vulnerable for that split-second before he schooled his expression, but John had seen it all. Unfortunately, so had Moriarty. John flinches as the words echo through his mind for the first time in years.

I will burn you. I will burn the heart out of you.

I have been reliably informed I don’t have one.

We both know that’s not quite true.

“All of a sudden, Chuck appeared and started telling Sam how he needed to give up, let him carry on with his plans,” John continues, trying not to see Sherlock’s face and hear the words again.

Gracie’s eyes are glued to John as he tells her how he had grabbed Moriarty and told Sherlock to go, but that he wouldn’t leave. John had known there was no way out when he saw those damn red dots on Sherlock’s forehead and throat. He had released Moriarty and swallowed hard in resignation, but then the little devil had left. Gracie breathes a sigh of relief when the semtex came off and then screeches quietly, full of fear again when Moriarty returned. 

“Sam looked Dean in the eye and it was all Dean needed to know what he was thinking.” John’s voice is hushed, the only sound in the room. “He was going to shoot the bomb and cause an explosion.”

“Oh my god, no!” Gracie mutters, one hand over her mouth and the other clutching Pandy to her chest tightly. “He can’t.”

“It would’ve killed the two of them, but would also put an end to Chuck’s plans,” John says, trying to keep his tone even as the past floods back to him. It wouldn’t have stopped Moriarty. If they had survived somehow, he still would have ruined Sherlock’s reputation, threatened the three people most important to him and forced him to jump. You owe me a fall. Moriarty would have gone to any lengths to see that happen and must have had the pieces in place even then. God, how that man had fucked up their lives.

“What happened?” Gracie’s voice, thick with anticipation and dread, breaks John free from his thoughts. His gaze comes into focus again and he looks at his daughter for a moment before finding his voice.

“His phone rang,” he says simply.

“What?” Gracie blinks her eyes wide, her whole face rife with disbelief. John allows himself a small smile. 

“Someone gave him another way to end the detective and make him useful in the process,” John says grimly. “So he just left. So did his henchmen, but Sam and Dean knew he would be back.”

“Wow,” Gracie breathes in utter amazement. “What an ending. I can’t believe he got away. Did he come after Sam and Dean again?”

“Unfortunately,” John gives her a shallow nod, knowing he cannot tell her that story anytime soon. Maybe never.

“Oh my gosh,” Gracie mutters. “When? How? Did they get away? Do they beat him?”

“Oh, no,” John shakes his head. “You get one story and that one was much longer than it should have been.”

“What? Dad!” Gracie cries, disappointment coloring her face and tone.

“You know the rules, Gracie,” John tells her firmly. “It’s late enough already. You need to sleep.”

“Fine,” Gracie grumbles after studying him long enough to see there is no hope of John changing his mind. She snuggles Pandy close to her cheek as John bends down to kiss her head.

“Good night, sweet pea,” John says into her hair and then sits up again. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Gracie replies, already looking sleepy. John stands and replaces the chair by the desk. He turns off the lamp on the bedside table as he picks up his mug, leaving only the dim night light to illuminate the room.

“Good night,” John whispers. Gracie’s eyes are closed and she does not open them. John slips from the room and heads for the kitchen. It’s still fairly early, but John will only think of Sherlock if he stays awake. Even crap telly or a book will not distract him at this point.

John sighs and sets the mug in the sink. He goes to his bedroom and into the ensuite, cleans his teeth and readies for bed. Once his pajamas are on and he is staring at the ceiling in the dark, John allows his mind to unveil that portrait of Sherlock he keeps so tightly covered and looks at it for a long time. Being in London again and not even that far from Baker Street, John has resolutely kept the man from his thoughts and will not entertain the idea of going anywhere near his former flat, even just to see if Sherlock is still there. When John left with Mary, there were too many things left unsaid. It is too late to say them now.

John turns on his side with a sad sigh, closes his eyes and pulls the curtain over Sherlock’s ever-changing eyes once again.

---

There you are! Complete with a vision of creepy Moriarty and the pool. Incidentally, I have a great idea for a one shot involving the pool and what follows that strays wildly from canon (infamous eyebrow waggle). Hopefully I can start on it soon. In the meantime, feel free to let me know what you think about chapter 3 or teasers or any ideas that might be running through your heads. Have a great week, my friends, and thank you so much for your support and love. Makes my heart glow.  Jane

@johnlock-rocks

[b3k1720]

Tainted food : Jacob Frye

TW: mentions of death, poisoning, swearing and violence.

It was common practice in the Victorian era for grocers, butchers and bakers to substitute some ingredients in their food to save money or because certain things weren’t available.

But these things always lead to people getting sick...

Rebekah came home one afternoon with the groceries, everything from meat for dinner to milk for little Cecily.

“Emmett sweetheart go out to the garden and grab four carrots and six potato’s for me” she announced before putting down the bag and starting to put things in their proper place.

“Ok mum!”

Soon Amelia came in holding Cecily’s hand.

“Mum ceci says she’s hungry and I am to”

“I Hungry mama! The little two year old cried out.

Rebekah wiped her hands of on her apron as she hummed and shook her head,

“Alright you can both have a slice of this new bread” she told them before slicing off two pieces from the loaf, buttering it and giving it to Amelia,

The young girl placed her little sister in her high chair before sitting in the chair next and handing the other slice to the toddler.

“I got them mum!” Emmett shouted with excitement as he entered through the back door with the carrots and potato’s bundled in his arms, his hands and somehow his cheeks covered with dirt.

The boy dumped them in to the basin to be washed, Rebekah knowing he’d also be hungry prepared a slice for him as well.

But she stopped him as he reached for it,

“Ah ah! Go wash your hands and face before you touch that bread young man your father and I didn’t raise you in a barn” Rebekah sternly told him as she pointed to the door leading to the bathroom.

“Yes mum”

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

Before long all the children had eaten their snack

And as dinner was just about ready, potato, carrot and beef stew with a side of bread,

“I’m home!” A charming voice rang out from out the kitchen and down the hall leading to the mud room.

“Dada!” Little Cecily cried out with a shrill little voice as Jacob entered to find his family about to settle in for dinner, the table set and Rebekah about to dish out serves of the warm delicious stew.

“Hey little princess” he chuckled before placing a kiss on her strawberry blonde ringlets, causing the little girl to giggle.

Amelia and Emmett quickly jumped up from their seats to greet their father with a hug which was met with a warm tight hug from the assassin, he smelt of smoke and gunpowder.

And before sitting down he gave his wife an affectionate kiss and a charming smile,

“Stew tonight? You definitely know my favourite my darling” Jacob chuckled.

“It’s been your favourite since I first cooked dinner for you and Evie” Rebekah laughed as she sat down, her mind returning to years gone by when she was living in the train...in the reign of Starrick’s terror...

Amelia giggled at the romance of her mum and dad which caused Cecily to giggle without knowing the reason, poor Emmett rolled his eyes, it was all gross!

Finally all settled down the family began to eat, Making small talk about their days from the children about school and play with little cecily’s input of seeing a puppy which needed some translation from Rebekah.

“This isn’t the usual bread we buy” Jacob commented with a raised brow after taking a bite of his slathered with butter and a spoonful of stew on top. He couldn’t help but think it tasted powdery.

“No it’s not, the usual baker raised the price by five shillings and I heard from someone at the market a new baker set up shop and his bread is a bit cheaper” Rebekah sighed, the prices just kept rising!

“Oh well that’s alright I guess” Jacob shrugged but he still couldn’t help but feel cautious.

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

Through the next week Rebekah served bread and butter with every meal, making strawberry jam sandwiches for the children for their lunches, she even packed lamb sandwiches for Jacob which he did quite enjoy.

But as they went on with life...that’s when the troubles began.

Amelia, Emmette and cecily began to constantly complained of sore stomachs, little cecily cried every night from the pains.

Both Amelia and Emmette had to stay home from school after two days!

It was hurting both Rebekah and Jacob to watch their children cry, even now when Rebekah got the same cramps in her stomach causing her to curl over in pain, wincing and groaning as her stomach tightened during the household chores.

Even Jacob was now starting to get the pains!

He had to stop every so often when running over the roofs of London to console his stomach and take a break.

And soon enough the doctor was called in after Jacob came home in a fury but stopped by a massive cramp.

“My children are suffering, my wife is in agony and it’s now affecting my work!” he cursed at the physician who only nodded and checked everyone over.

After an hour he could make his diagnosis.

“I’m afraid I’ve had quite a few similar visits and complaints of stomach cramping, one little boy I visited was just buried this afternoon, poor thing was only four years old” he explained.

“Dear god” Rebekah gasped hugging her youngest child closer to her chest.

“What’s wrong with us?” Amelia asked as she hugged on to her father, trying not to cry out in pain.

“I’m afraid your all being poisoned...arsenic in this case”

The children looked confused as they hugged their mother and father, Rebekah was shocked and mortified!

Jacob saw red!

He had a sneaking suspicions of who was doing it as well!

Carefully he let go of his daughter and paid the doctor.

Then in such a chillingly calm tone asked for the address of the baker from his wife...

Then left the house immediately after throwing on his assassins coat.

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

‘How dare someone hurt them, hurt my children, hurt my wife...” Jacob seethed inside his head as he stalked down the street.

His mind wouldn’t stop going back to the nights his poor children curled up in bed with them whimpering in pain...begging “daddy” and “mummy” for the pain to go away!

Once at the bakery Jacob didn’t wait for the baker to come greet him, he hurled himself over the counter and launched in to the kitchen.

The stocky man who reeked of yeast stood no chance against Jacob’s knuckle duster as they pounded in to his stomach.

“Where do you keep the arsenic you bastard” he growled in such a low tone he was only just heard by the mans cauliflower ears.

“W-What arsenic?”

Jacob snarled and punched him hard in the gut two more times, now he was coughing up blood.

“Don’t play dumb with me! The arsenic you’ve been using to poison your customers and MY FAMILY! WHERE IS IT!”

Now trembling and wheezing the baker pointed to a cabinet.

Once opened it revealed twelve small blue bottles filled with the deadly powder.

“I should slaughter you right here...and burn down your shop..” Jacob spat.

But before the man could utter another word the assassin knocked him out...then tied him up and dragged him out to an unoccupied carriage.

The carriage made its way to Scotland Yard and the baker made his way half unconscious in to Fredrick Abberline’s office!

“Abberline, when you go to the address you’ll see evidence of arsenic poisoning, if he doesn’t do life I’ll be back to slaughter the bastard” Jacob announced as he slammed the paper with the address on the desk along with the man.

“A-Alright then” in all his years of knowing Jacob he’d never seen him so...so angry..

.........

Soon enough time passed and the small family healed from the traumatic experience.

Rebekah never brought bread anymore and never again did so for as long as she lived.

Every week she baked her own with the children....

And if there any more reports of tainted food...Jacob was on to it...

@thatcrazycrowgirl @assassins-and-hidden-blades @nemo-my-name-forevermore

[lia-jones]

Growing Together - Chapter Twenty - The Green Eyed Monster

It was early dawn when we left the apartment, the cold breeze enough to jolt me awake from my remaining morning sleepiness. Loveland was still asleep, as it would be on a very early Saturday morning, and the only thing we could hear was the sound of our footsteps on the gravel… and my moaned complaints. I’m really not a morning person, and making me leave the warmth of my bed to face the frosty 6 am air without even letting me have my coffee first was pure torture. Needless to say, I was beyond moody.

It had been almost a month since Owen’s grandmother’s first and last contact with us, which meant that probably she took my words to heart and decided to leave us alone. Victor announced a week later that Daniel had been sentenced to 15 years of prison, and was waiting to be charged for other crimes, which meant he would probably never leave prison. All of the things that were taunting us were slowly but surely slipping away, and now we dared to take a deep breath of relief. Which led us to why we were getting up so early in the first place.

We were aware that things would become hectic pretty soon. LFG France was almost ready to make its official debut, which meant that Victor would have to make a long business trip to France in order to tie up the last loose ends, and we would be seeing much less of him in the upcoming weeks. With that in mind, my husband decided to treat the family with a comfort meal, and take the three of us on a small field trip: we were going to Loveland’s Farmer’s Market to get the best ingredients. Early. When it was freezing outside. This meal had better be worth it.

“Are you cold?” Victor wrapped his arm around me as we walked towards the market. “I told you to put on more clothes. It’s chilly early in the morning.”

I grunted in protest, but still leaned my nose on his chest, looking for warmth.

“I see what this is all about.” He let out a chuckle. “Don’t worry, you’ll have your coffee soon enough.”

“I want a hot chocolate!” Owen chimed in, excited. “Do you think I can ask for marshmallows?”

“How are you so perky?” I squinted at my son, offended that he could be so alert while I was still trying to stave off sleep.

“Dad says that all the great chefs go at this hour, and they personally pick the ingredients.” Owen jumped as he explained. “Can you imagine meeting one of those top chefs that we see on TV?”

I grunted again, burying myself in Victor as much as I could. The only chef I wanted to meet was Pillow Boyardee, back in my bed, where it was still warm. But that was so far away that it felt like I had left it in another dimension.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Victor nudged me playfully, making me look at him. “We’re here. Do you want something else with your coffee?”

The scent of freshly ground beans hit my nostrils, awakening from my stupor. The Promised Land! Finally, I had arrived at a place where I could be happy: the coffee shop. Victor laughed again, as I promptly gave up his warm embrace for the promise of caffeine.

“Two coffees, one hot chocolate with marshmallows and three cinnamon rolls, please.” He asked the cashier, a perky brunette in her early twenties.

“Can I have the names to identify the beverages, please?” The cashier smiled widely at him.

“Coffee for Andrea and Victor, and hot chocolate for Owen.”

“Andrea, Owen and Victor…” The girl rolled her tongue weirdly as she pronounced Victor’s name. “You can have a seat anywhere, I’ll meet you there. After all, you are very hard to miss.” She gave him a sultry smile.

I blinked in confusion as Victor took mine and Owen’s hands, leading us to a table nearby.

“Is it just me or was that girl a little bit too friendly?” I asked as Victor pulled a chair for me to sit.

“What girl? The cashier?” He gave me a confused frown.

“You didn’t notice? I could swear she wa-”

“Here’s your coffee.” The cashier came with our order. “Strong and hot, just like you.” She winked at Victor.

I was so appalled I couldn’t even react. How dare she hit on my husband right in front of me?

“Careful, she said it’s hot.” Victor slid my coffee cup towards me, seemingly ignorant of what just happened.

“Ok, there is no way you didn’t see that.” I glared at him, only to have my glare returned with a confused look.

“See what?”

“Strong and hot, just like you.” I repeated her words with a nasal voice. “She was flirting!”

“You probably heard it wrong. I’m sure she didn’t say that.”

I felt my blood boil.

“So I’m hearing thin-”

“And even if she did, it would be useless. I’m happily married.” He said matter-of-factly. “Drink your coffee, you’ll feel better.”

The table fell silent. Victor was minding his phone while Owen was focused on blowing on his hot chocolate, poking the marshmallows with his little finger so they would melt a bit more. And I was steaming just as much as my coffee, but I kept quiet, not wanting to make a scene.

“What are we buying, Dad?” Owen broke the silence.

“I am glad you asked, my loyal esquire. This quest will not be an easy one.” Victor answered in all seriousness. “It is essential that today we make a meal fit for royalty, since our Queen is discontent.”

He was teasing me to make me laugh, and the sad part was, it was working. I took a sip of my coffee to hide my grin, but obviously he caught it and kept on playing, his tone even more exaggeratedly ceremonious than before.

“We start our perilous adventure fighting the most ruthless of adversaries: the butcher. We must obtain from his bloody hands the most precious cut of meat, the tenderloin.”

“We will go into the woods, holding our mighty swords, looking for the beast to hunt it down.” Owen continued, amused with the story.

“Or, in your father’s case, he’ll go into the market holding his mighty wallet.” I chimed in with a dry tone, although I was melting with how playful these two could be.

“The tool is irrelevant.” Victor smiled at me, sipping his drink. “All that matters is that I win the Queen’s heart.”

And just like that, Victor was making me giggle like a schoolgirl. He was good, I had to give him that.

“Why is there a number written under your cup?” Owen interrupted, frowning at the bottom of Victor’s cup.

“She wrote her number under your cup?” I looked at the paper cup like it was cursed.

“It's nothing.” He lifted his cup at an odd angle, so I wouldn’t see the bottom, drinking his coffee in one go. “Let's go. The market will get busy soon.” He declared as he crumpled the cup and promptly threw it away.

Somehow I managed to let myself be led out of that coffee shop without making a scene, but the truth was I was barely holding myself. Jealousy was churning inside me, and I wanted nothing more than to unleash all my anger. That girl had some nerve, hitting on a married man in front of his wife.

“You are surprisingly quiet.” Victor noticed. “Is this because of that woman?”

“No.” I pouted as I lied. Of course, he wouldn’t buy it.

“Why are you making such a fuss over this? I clearly have no intention to pursue any other romantic endeavors. You are too much trouble already.” He tickled my ribs, trying to get a smile out of me. He got an annoyed scoff instead.

“This doesn’t become you, you know.” He continued. “Jealousy is for insecure people with unfulfilling relationships.”

“I'm not jealous. I’m just annoyed that she flirted with you in front of me. What happened to sisters before misters?”

“I admit it was crass, but since when do you even pay attention to those things?"

“I don't.” I threw, wanting to close the topic. “It’s over, let’s move on.”

I could feel his eyes studying me and all my movements. When I turned to scold him, he was smiling mischievously.

“Well, I suppose you do have reasons to be cautious about other women.” He gave me a smug smile. “I am quite the catch.”

“Self-confident, are we?” I gave him a warning look.

“Rightfully so. You fell for my charms, didn’t you?”

“Ugh.” I walked faster, hoping he would just drop the subject. It was obvious he wouldn't.

“Admit it, I’m irresistible. You tell me yourself every day, I’m handsome, I have a promising career, I can cook…”

“You can be ridiculously annoying sometimes.” I added. “Like now.”

“They called me Loveland’s Most Eligible Bachelor, after all.” He continued, amused. “You can’t blame me for having all these women falling at my feet. Because, in all seriousness, who wouldn’t fall for this?” He pointed at himself like he was presenting an appliance in a game show.

“You're such an idiot." I shook my head.

“You're such a moron." He quipped.

It was true that there would always be some floozie flirting with Victor, he was indeed a remarkable man. But it was also true that, probably due to some lucky star, he only had eyes for me, and he showed me that every single day. Why was I letting such petty things get to me? The green-eyed monster was definitely not a good advisor, and I wasn’t going to let him ruin my day. Especially when I felt my husband’s hand hold mine, his fingers entwined with my own.

We finally stopped at the butcher’s door, Owen looking at it in amazement. He probably was expecting a violent man chopping off some animal’s head inside, and not the scrawny guy with a high-pitched voice that Victor called Clarence. Nonetheless, Victor looked at Owen with wide scared eyes.

“Do not look straight at him.” He warned, and I couldn’t help but laugh at Owen’s excited gasp. “His eyes feed on the souls of fools.”

“I am no fool!” Owen declared. “I will go prepared!”

Of course, he had nothing to prepare for, the butcher shop was as normal as any other, with burgers and meatballs on display, along with some other cuts of meat.

“Mr. Lee!” We heard Clarence’s high-pitched voice, very unlike someone who can eat your soul with his eyes. “Came to take your order?”

Victor was distracted for a few moments, staring at the door.

“Yes, my wife will take it for me. Here.” He quickly put some money on the counter, turning to me afterward. “Wait for me outside, me and Owen will be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“On another perilous mission.” He gave me a smug smile. “Don’t worry, Owen will swat away all the women that throw themselves at me. I will be safe.”

“Not as safe as you think.” I frowned.

I turned to face the counter again, part of me happy for seeing him in such a good mood, the other part a bit concerned that now that he knew I was jealous, he would be teasing me all day. I caught one of the workers watching our interaction, a large bag in her hands.

“Here’s your order.” She smiled. “May I interest you in anything else?”

“No need, thank you.” I smiled. “To be honest, I have no idea what he’s cooking.”

“Mr. Lee is cooking?” She sighed. “You are lucky. A good-looking husband that can cook? Most of us can only hope.”

I felt the green-eyed monster poking my shoulder.

“Don’t get too excited, he doesn’t cook that well.” I lied through my teeth. What was with Victor and women today? Jesus.

As agreed, I waited by the butcher’s door, holding a bag full of meat, wondering where the hell could the two men of my life be. I felt a hand on my shoulder and immediately turned around, expecting to see my husband’s smug smile again. I had a whole different thing coming.

“Andy?”

“Levi!” I threw myself into his arms for a big hug. “I haven’t seen you in ages, how are you?”

“Last time I saw you was when Victor had that accident. I never heard from you since.” His voice had a tinge of hurt. “I knew you moved from the guys that were taking your stuff from your apartment.”

“Oh God, yes.” I grimaced. “A lot has happened since.”

“Oh, I know. I saw your wedding on TV. You looked beautiful, by the way.” He gave me a sweet look. “And congratulations on your award. And for the new job position.”

“Thank you, like I said, I have been pretty busy.” I smiled, feeling awful. I had been a terrible friend. Levi was a very close friend before I met Victor, my greatest support when I was alone and had no one to help me, and I didn’t even invite him to my wedding. Even worse, I couldn’t find the time to make a call. All he knew from me, he had to learn from the media. “I’m sorry, I am a bad friend.”

“It’s alright, it’s never too late to catch… Oh, hi, Victor, how are you?”

Victor was standing right behind me, his earlier playfulness gone, a grim expression instead, eyeing Levi like he was one of the monsters he and Owen were supposed to be slaying. Levi extended his hand for Victor to shake. Victor shamelessly ignored it.

“Mom! Mom!” Owen pulled my arm, excited. “We got something for you!”

I looked back at Victor’s hands and spotted the bouquet of roses he was holding.

“You’re a mom?” Levi asked, seemingly incredulous.

“Oh yes, I am sorry.” I took my son’s hand. “Levi, this is Owen, my son. Owen, this is Levi, my friend. He used to teach me Krav Maga. It’s a martial art.”

“You taught my mother how to fight?” Owen’s interest in Levi peeked instantly. “Will you teach me too?”

“I sure will.” Levi nodded. “Ask your mom to bring you to the studio one of these days, we have a kids’ class you can attend.” He turned to me with a smile. “And maybe she will let me buy her some coffee, see if we can catch up on lost time.”

“I can’t really promise you that for now, I have been super busy with work. But text me the time, maybe I’ll ask our nanny to drive Owen.” I looked at my beautiful boy. “Would you like that?”

“Yes, yes, I would love it! I want to be strong like Levi!” Owen turned to Victor. “Can I, Dad? Can I?”

“We’ll discuss it later.” Victor answered dryly. “Shall we?” He took my hand.

“Yes, we need to go. So nice to see you, Levi.” I let go of my husband’s hand to give Levi another tight hug.

“Don’t be a stranger, will you?” He ruffled my curls. “And no excuses, I want your sweet tushie in my studio for proper training!”

I had no time for Krav Maga, but the truth was, I did miss it. I had been so stressed the last few weeks, I definitely could use blowing off some steam. Owen definitely seemed excited about it.

“Mom, do you think he will teach me how to kick, like this?” He lifted his little leg haphazardly, kicking the air. “I bet he is super strong! I bet he can lift forty pounds!”

“Who cares if he can lift forty pounds?” Victor muttered. “Elephants can lift a lot more, they don’t waste their time bragging about it.”

“He didn’t brag about it, Owen was the one who mentioned it.” I pointed at the flowers in his hand. “Are those for me?”

“No.” Victor almost pouted, pulling the flowers to himself. “And you don’t need to defend Leonard. If he is so incredibly strong, he can defend himself.”

“Ok, number one, I wasn’t defending him, I was merely pointing out an inaccuracy.” I spoke gently, trying not to aggravate my already very aggravated husband.

“You’re an inaccuracy.” He childishly muttered, but I wouldn’t be deterred.

“Number two!” I called his attention again, holding up two fingers. “His name is Levi and you know it.”

“I do not have the time nor the interest to memorize Larry’s name.” He scoffed.

“Did you know that the elephant communicates with others by purring as cats do?” Owen chimed in, completely oblivious to the subject at hand. “And that they are the only mammal that can’t jump?”

“That does sound like Lenny.” Victor quipped. “Quick to purr, but slow on the jump. ”

I looked at my husband, reading his expression and posture as he stopped by one of the many colorful stalls to pick some vegetables. His eyes were focused on whatever produce he was handling, but his jaw told me he was churning over something else. He was jealous.

I observed him for a while longer, wondering if I should take this moment to my advantage and tease him as he teased me. The answer was pretty simple.

“Come on, Victor, are you jealous of Levi?” I joked. “You said it yourself, jealousy is for insecure people with unfulfilling relationships.”

“I am not jealous, why would I be jealous?” He frowned. “Because Lemur was flirting with you, despite the wedding ring you have on your finger? Maybe I’ll have to buy you a bigger diamond, or a traffic cone. Do you think he will see that?”

“Why would Mom wear a traffic cone?” Owen giggled, again completely unaware of our argument. “That’s ridiculous.”

Victor scoffed as he took the bags full of groceries from the vendor, and I prepared to deliver a final blow.

“Ok, I will let you have this one.” I threw my hands up in defeat. “You are right.”

“You don’t need to tell me, I know I am.”

“It’s just like you said earlier.” I gave him a cocky grin. “I can’t help being this irresistible.”

He paused to look at me, right before unlocking our car.

“So, that’s how you are going to play this.”

“Well, it’s not like I can turn it off.” I continued. “Of course I will have men throwing themselves at me.”

“Fine.” He declared before getting in the vehicle.

“I mean, I did get Loveland’s Most Eligible Bachelor to marry me, that has to count for something.” I stuck my tongue out to him.

“Can I drive us home in peace or do you want to cause an accident?” He glared at me before starting the car.

“Can you acknowledge your jealousy is just as ridiculous as mine?” I glared back.

“Shut up.” He pressed the Start button.

Victor seemed to be incredibly tense the whole ride, so I decided to leave things as they were. It was pointless to discuss things that would never happen anyway, we were both loyal, I knew that. And talking only seemed to make things worse, so the best thing to do was to hope that cooking would distract him, and eventually the green eyed monster would leave him as well.

Sadly, that was not the case. After I helped him put all the food away, I found him flattening the steaks with a hammer, his blows so hard he almost punched a hole in one of them.

“Victor, you’re hurting the food.”

“Do you think Lawrence would do a better job?”

Even though I knew it would only upset him more, I had to laugh. Victor’s commitment to not mentioning Levi’s name was truly commendable.

“Why are you laughing? Is my distress amusing to you?”

“I have to admit it is a bit amusing.” I came closer, running my hands through his chest. “Come on, let’s end this.”

“There is nothing to end.” He stiffened.

“You know, I’m an idiot.”

“I agree.”

“So are you!” I playfully smacked him on the chest. “We love each other. Why waste time with this?” I wrapped my arms around his neck, prompting him to come down for a kiss. Victor, however, stood tall, unwilling to give in.

“Come on, let me make it better.” I purred.

“I need to get lunch ready.”

I wasted no time. I grabbed his shoulders and basically jumped up, knowing he would catch me so I wouldn’t hurt myself. I wasn’t wrong. His arms wrapped around my waist out of instinct.

“Are you trying to get yourself hurt?” He scolded.

I kissed him, my tongue grazing his lips. He hardly resisted, deepening the kiss as he placed me on top of the kitchen island, so his hands would be free to roam my body.

“Now, doesn’t it feel better?”

“Not really. I burned my tongue drinking my coffee so fast.” He was still trying to appear upset, but his tone told me otherwise.

“So I wouldn’t see what she wrote?”

“So you wouldn’t get upset. I don’t want you to ever feel insecure about other women. There is no need for that.” He gave me an earnest look.

“Same goes for other men. I’m yours.”

“I guess we both are idiots.” Victor reached behind my back, presenting me with the bouquet he bought.

“Aw, Mr. Lee, those are for me?” I smelled the beautiful red buttons.

“They were always meant for you, and you know it.” He complained as he slowly pecked the tip of my nose, moving to my mouth, and then my neck, making me shiver with pleasure.

The sound of our doorbell echoed through the apartment.

“Are you expecting anyone?” I gave him a curious look.

Without a word, Victor walked to the hall. I followed him.

“Mr. Victor Lee and Mrs. Andrea Lee?” I heard a man ask.

“Yes?”

“You have been served.” The man handed Victor two envelopes, turning to leave.

Victor closed the door with a stern look and went to the study to find a letter opener. I found him wide-eyed, reading the contents of the envelopes.

“Pamela is suing for Owen’s custody.”

“What?” I took one of the letters from Victor’s hands to read. “She said she wouldn’t interfere in the adoption.”

“And you believed her? It’s irrelevant, either way. She won’t get him.” Victor declared, narrowing his eyes at the piece of paper. “He’s our son.”

Sometimes, jealousy -- or in Pamela’s case, greed -- gets the best of us. It tells us that we don’t deserve something, and urges us to do the craziest things to secure them. Crazy like throwing an irrational fit, or like removing a child from a safe loving place. Either way, at the end of the day, we all fall prey to the green-eyed monster.