#also i think this is dark chocolate hot chocolate powder i put in the cup it tasted so weird until i realized it was dark chocolate | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

messers-moony · 3 years

Text

Hope | R.L

Paring: Remus Lupin X Wife!Potter!Reader

Summary: Life is unfair in numerous ways but it seems like it’s out to get the Potters in every way shape and form.

A part of growing up means maturing. Maturing means realizing that the world is cruel and unfair. People die every day without a reason or a why. Children are born into this world every day with love or hatred. Growing up, parents tell their kids, “Life isn’t fair”. No one had experience unfairness like Y/n Potter and Remus Lupin.

He was right there. So close, only a few feet from her arms yet so far apart in that wretched woman’s arms who held him like he was the grossest thing she’s ever touched. Those enchanting green eyes that glistened with trauma and pain. The brown hair that started to sprout from his scalp, already messy and untidy.

“No! This isn’t fair!” Y/n wailed as Remus held her tight to his chest, “I’m his biological aunt! Please!”

The Minister of Magic was merciless, “And so is Mrs.Dursley.”

“She’s a muggle! Harry is bound to be a wizard!” Y/n cried in contradiction; the feeling to vomit became relentless, “They’ll torture him. Please, you have to let me have him.”

“With your current living situation, it isn’t safe, Mrs.Lupin.”

Remus grimaced at those words, “My current living situation? Are you daft!?”

“With Mr.Lupins…” The Minister pondered, “condition, it isn’t safe for him.”

“Remus wouldn’t hurt him.” Y/n sobbed quietly, “He’s never hurt me!”

“I’m sorry, Mrs.Lupin, but Harry Potter is the safest with Mrs. and Mr. Dursley.”

The gavel was hit upon another circle of wood, adjourning the meeting as a finality. This was it. The fight was over. Harry Potter would grow up in an unloving household that wouldn’t be capable of understanding his magic. This was the epitome of unfairness. Remus’ hands were on her waist, her back to his chest while she sobbed, trying to get him to release her.

Eventually, she collapsed to a heap on the floor. Petunia and Vernon, each holding a baby watching the couple. Harry was wailing loudly, and Petunia couldn’t get him to settle down, making Y/n only cry harder. The young boy had just begun babbling nonsense due to Sirius’ hard effort to get him to say “Padfoot”. But it was that day he said his first word.

“Moo-me!” Harry yelped, and Remus could’ve sworn his heart shattered into a thousand pieces, “Moo-me!”

The brunet boy was trying to reach for Remus, and he squirmed for the adult male, but Petunia had a tight grip. Y/n could barely hear the little boy's words over her own sobs. Her body ached and shook with every tear that fell. The silver streams stained her cheeks, and her face was a brilliant rose red.

“Please make it stop….” Y/n muttered as Remus covered her from the other four people in the room, “If he says that one more time, I might not be able to handle it. Remus, help me, please.”

Hearing her so desperate broke his heart more. Remus’ body covered hers entirely in their crouched position. Harry was practically attacking Petunia to let him go, to be in the arms that are familiar to him. He didn’t like this. He didn’t know these people. These people weren’t his parents. Where was daddy? Where was mummy? Where was uncle Sirius and Peter?

What he did know was his aunt and uncle were right in front of him. Uncle Moony and Aunt Y/n. He could feel his aunt's sadness, her frustration, her anger. He could sense his uncle's remorse, desperation, and hopelessness. Why were they feeling this way? Why weren’t they protecting him? Harry so desperately wished he could speak and say, “Help! Save me from these strangers!” But all he could get out was “Moo-mee and Tee” for Moony and Auntie.

Petunia couldn’t handle his squirming any longer and allowed him on the floor. Harry was ecstatic with this new change. The boy crawled to the two adults on the floor. Harry could feel the warmth of their bodies before he tugged at his aunt's sleeve. Harry stared into her e/c irises and his uncle's green eyes. Those eyes he’d remember forever, engraved in his memory to never forget. His aunt collected him into her arms. His head pressed to her chest. Harry’s sobs calmed, now in the arms of familiarity.

The scent of chocolate, ink, and books surrounded him. His nose was barely catching the smell due to it being runny from crying. Petunia and Vernon approached them. Remus was hugging his wife and his best friend's son, protecting them from the outside world. Gently Y/n pulled Harry from her chest, leaving him to stare at his aunt and uncle.

Y/n sniffled and wiped his tears from his cheeks like mum used to do, “Harry, I promise you, I really don’t want to do this.”

His head tilted in confusion as Y/n’s eyes filled with tears again, “I’ll come back for you. Don’t doubt that for a second.”

“If he’s anything like Prongs, he’ll always have hope.” Remus commented, making Y/n smile.

“That’s what daddy used to do to mummy when she was sad,” Harry thought, “he used to say something to make her smile.”

Despite the soft smile on her face, she had wet trails on her cheeks, “I love you, Harry.”

Y/n kissed his forehead where the lightning scar was placed—hugging him one more time and Remus doing the same as his wife. Harry didn’t understand. Where was he going? Why was auntie Y/n letting him go? Why weren’t they taking him home? Where was mummy and daddy?! So he began to wail again. Petunia picked him up, and the family of four now started to walk out of the room.

She couldn’t even cry anymore. The water that once flowed down her cheeks had stopped. The dam had broken but no longer had water to give. Y/n turned to put her face harshly in Remus’ chest. His arms raked through her hair and rubbed her back. Silent tears rolled down his flushed cheeks, reaching his jawline and falling into Y/n’s hair.

“That was-“ Y/n hiccuped, “the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“I know, darling.” Remus whispered, “He’s got James’ spirit, and that means he won’t lose hope. He’s got Lily’s kindness. Harry will be fine.”

Y/n shook her head, “That’s not the point. He should be with me. Not that horrid woman.”

“I know. But you and I will get through this.” Remus assured, tilting her head to face him, “We’ve gotten through everything else. We can get through this too.”

Solemnly, Y/n nodded. Remus placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. The room was precise and silent, aside from Y/n’s hiccups. The clicking of a clock could be heard echoing throughout the room. Usually, the sound would bring a sense of solace to Remus but right now, it was a constant reminder that time had gone by. James and Lily were no longer with him. Sirius had betrayed them all, and Peter was dead. Godric, how could this all happen?

Remus flicked his wand from his pocket, apparating them back to their residence. Inside it was cozy and warm. Remus took off Y/n’s coat along with his own as she took a seat on the leather couch. She grabbed her wand, muttering an “Incendio” to start a fire in the fireplace. Her body was curled up, and Remus placed a blanket over her while he went to the kitchen.

The kitchen was a pale blue with dark oak flooring. The marble countertops and dark cabinets. A brilliant contrast. He could almost hear James’ laugh from when they were painting it together while also hearing Lily and Y/n’s scolding them for making a big mess. It brought an emptiness to his heart, but he filled the kettle with water, allowing it to boil on the water.

Inside the cabinets laid an assortment of tea. Something James and Lily had bought him as a joke. Remus always made tea no matter the occasion. It was so him. James had seen it at a muggle store Lily had brought him for. He had been dying of laughter in the store just thinking about it. It got laughs around the Christmas tree when Remus unwrapped the decorative paper.

Remus grabbed a tea bag for himself while grabbing cocoa powder from the same cabinet and two mugs from their wedding night. The kettle began making a high pitch noise, and Remus poured the water into both mugs. Placing the tea bag in one cup and a couple of scoops of cocoa powder in the other, mixing them both, adding marshmallows to the hot chocolate and whipped cream. He added honey to his tea.

Mugs in hand, Remus walked to the living room. He placed the cups on the coffee table. Coaxing Y/n to sit up and he set the mug in her hand as she sipped it carefully, not to burn her mouth. Y/n leaned her head on Remus’ shoulder, still holding her mug with both hands. The blanket draped across their laps. Remus had the cup in his right hand, his left arm draped around her shoulders, the pad of his thumb rubbing her shoulder.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Rem.”

The holidays were hard. Almost too hard for Y/n and Remus to celebrate. But despite their pain, they decorated their house with garland, lights, and knickknacks. The Christmas tree sat in the right of their living room, covered in the beautiful colorful lights. Placed upon the tree were ornaments and tiny pieces of tinsel. Beneath the tree held presents for each other and a little boy.

Y/n stood in front of the tree, staring at it with a longing look. Remus walked behind her, putting his arms around her neck gently. Y/n’s hands instinctively reached for his bicep, rubbing it gently. Remus kissed her cheek and placed his head on top of hers.

“I wanna visit him.”

“Okay.”

Y/n turned to face him, “Okay?”

“What am I gonna tell you?” Remus joked, “No?”

“No. I just- I didn’t expect you to agree so fast.” Y/n replied, and Remus cupped her cheek, “He’s your nephew too. You have a right to see him.”

She smiled, “Yeah, you’re right.”

He kissed her forehead, “First Christmas without them….”

“I know.” Y/n said sadly, “It feels strange not to have James jumping around like a child.”

“It feels not having Lily in the kitchen trying to make your mums mince pies.”

Y/n chuckled, “She never got to master them.”

“Don’t worry, dear, I’m sure she’s up there trying.” Remus replied, smiling, “You think Peter is trying to steal the batter?” Y/n asked.

“Oh, definitely!” Remus exclaimed, smiling more than he had in months, “That bugger always used to Nick my chocolate at Hogwarts.”

“I dunno how he found my stash every time.”

The couple placed their foreheads on each other’s, closing their eyes, “We miss you, James and Lily.”

“We miss you more than ever.”

Y/n sighed, “I love you guys.”

Christmas morning was dull compared to their regular routine. Y/n was used to having James jump on top of her every Christmas so they can wake up their parents and open presents. Instead, she was woken up with kisses being placed on her neck and shoulder. Y/n turned and was faced with the sleepy face of her husband.

His sandy hair ruffled and on top of the white pillow. Green eyes glazed with a film of sleep. His lips pulled up in an effortless gentle smile. The scars on his face were whiter instead of their usual pale pink. His stubble was growing into full facial hair due to his lack of shaving. Y/n let her hand cup his right cheek, her thumb rubbing his cheekbone.

“You need to shave.”

Remus chuckled, “It’s Christmas, and that’s the first thing you say to me?”

“Merry Christmas, you need to shave?” Y/n corrected with a smile, making him laugh, “Merry Christmas, darling.”

They shared a soft and gentle kiss. His lips taking her bottom one, hers taking his top one. Soft and slow. Gentle and sweet. Pulling apart, their eyes fluttered, focusing on one another. Her eyes were so beautiful. Looking into her eyes, Remus could read an endless amount of stories. The gorgeous e/c. His eyes were evergreen. Holding so much love and adoration. She could read him like a book through his eyes.

Christmas meant eating a good meal and sharing kisses beneath the mistletoe. The couple opened each other’s presents. Y/n earning new books and some of Remus’ old sweaters that she thought he threw away. The last item she received was a maroon and gold jersey. It was her brother's Quidditch Captain jersey from when he played. Remus must’ve found it in the wreckage at Godric’s Hallow.

Remus opened his presents, getting ink, quills, notebooks, and books of his own. Since Remus couldn’t work, he always dreamed of writing a book. At Hogwarts, Remus excelled in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and he wanted to write a nonbias textbook for it. Y/n always encouraged his dreams and goals. If anyone could do it, it was him.

Left under the tree were three wrapped boxes meant for the little boy. Remus grabbed a tote bag and placed them inside of it. Y/n gripped his hand tightly as they apparated to Privet Drive. They began walking down the street, sweaters on in the snow, while she grabbed his hand tighter.

“What if- What if he doesn’t recognize me?”

“Y/n, he couldn’t forget you.” Remus assured as they stood outside house four.

Gently Y/n knocked on the door. It was oak wood, and the house appeared to be at least two stories. Remus kept his hand intertwined with hers as his other held the bag with the boy's presents. Footsteps could be heard walking towards the door. Petunia had opened it to be faced with two young adults.

“Mrs. Dursley.” Remus greeted curtly, “May we see Harry?”

Petunia began to ponder and saw the bag of presents in the man's hand, “Sure.”

The woman walked into the hallway and unlocked the cupboard under the stairs. Harry was coaxed out of the storage space, and he turned to the left, where he saw his uncle and aunt. The boy's lips curved into a great big smile. Harry ran into the arms of his aunt, hugging her tightly.

“Auntie!”

Her heart melted, “Hey, mini Prongs.”

Harry turned the male beside her, “Moony!”

Remus wrapped his arms around the little boy and picked him up as they walked inside. The three of them sat in the foyer on the floor. Harry sat between Y/n’s legs, his back to her stomach as Remus sat in front of him. Gently Remus disposed of the bag and placed the presents in front of him.

“Go on, Harry. These are for you from Moony and Auntie.” Remus cooed, and Harry grabbed one, gently ripping the wrapping off.

Inside was a baby stag stuffed animal, which Harry hugged close to his chest, “Your dad's favorite animal was a stag. Thought you might want something to remember him by.” Remus stated, smiling sheepishly.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, daddy.” Y/n replied as Harry smiled up at her.

“Go on. There’s two more for you, baby.” Y/n pointed at the other two boxes, and Harry began unwrapping another.

This was a tinier box, and inside were golden glasses, “You don’t need these just yet, but these were your fathers. I wanted them to be yours.” Y/n informed him as he placed them on top of his nose.

The final box was mini-figures that Harry could play with in his spare time, which he seemed more than grateful for. Harry was giggling and laughing, happy with all his presents. The boy turned in Y/n’s lap, hugging her as tight as he could. Y/n’s hand rested on his back, and she gently kissed his forehead.

“I love you, Harry. Don’t forget that.”

“‘Ove you too.” Harry replied, having a hard time pronouncing words.

Next, he hugged Remus, who did the same. He didn’t want to leave Remus’ arms. He always ran hotter than the everyday person. Remus was a personal furnace. It makes sense why a cold young boy didn’t want to let go of the man. Within minutes the young boy was asleep in Remus’ arms.

Petunia came into the hallway an hour later to see Harry soundly asleep in the man's arms, “Excuse me, but I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“Yes, of course.” Y/n took Harry from Remus’ arms and gave him to Petunia, “Thank you for letting us see him.”

Petunia took the boy from Y/n’s arms, “Yes.”

She put the boy in his bed under the cupboard, making Y/n frown at his living situation, “Do you- Do you think that Harry could stay with us some weekends?”

“No.”

“Oh, okay.” Y/n muttered, “Thank you again, but we must’ve overstayed our welcome.”

“Of course.”

Y/n took Remus’ hand as they walked out of the house. They walked to a safe spot to apparate back home. They both took off their coats and placed them on the coat rack. Y/n went to turn on a movie on their television set while Remus made hot chocolate and snacks. Both of them curled up onto the sofa and fell asleep.

Over the course of the next nine years, Harry has been visited by his aunt and uncle on many different occasions. Birthdays, Christmas’s, Valentine’s Day, Halloween, and sometimes just randomly, but he always looked forward to seeing them. Every time without fail, Harry would always jump in Y/n’s arms no matter how old he got.

The warmth and feeling of being safe in her arms brought a sense of comfort no one seemed compared to. She felt like daddy. His radiate smile, his incredibly warm body, the smoothness of her voice, the glitter in her eyes, her untied hair. Auntie Y/n felt like James. But no matter how hard he tried, she never was dad exactly, but she was auntie. Y/n was his dad's sister, and for now, that’d have to do.

Of course, uncle Moony felt the same. But there were some days he didn’t show up, much to Harry’s displeasure. Harry loved sleeping in Remus’ arms when he was a young toddler. The chocolate, ink, and parchment smell always filled his sensitive nose with such a safe feeling. Harry’s favorite time of year was Christmas when Petunia would make hot cocoa, filling the room with its sweet sense. Although he never got a cup of it himself, the smell brought a sense of comfort. As if uncle Moony was embracing him tightly on all sides.

When Harry reached eleven, owls began delivering envelopes to Privet Drive number Four. But it seems that uncle Vernon refused to let him open any of them. He did whatever he had to, blocking the mail slot in the door, burning the letters, even going as extreme to leave the house. Where inevitably Hagrid - gamekeeper - at Hogwarts came to retrieve him and give him the letter.

He couldn’t believe it. He was a wizard! All this time being belittled by Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley, he finally felt special aside from those times with his other family. Harry had a chance to prove himself to be great. To prove himself that he wasn’t just a bug on the ground to be stepped on. Only one thought crossed his mind though.

“I can’t wait to tell aunt Y/n and uncle Moony.”

835 notes · View notes

samwilsonshandsandass · 3 years

Text

In The Coffee Shop

Summary: You work in a coffee shop and preparing the special of the month starts something you’d never thought would happen at your work place.

Pairing: Sharon Carter x Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff x Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Dubcon (sex pollen), smut, oral sex (m and f receiving, m and f giving), fingering, anal

Word count: 4.6K

A/N: This is my entry for @tinymalscoffee 400 follower writing challenge. Congrats on that milestone and thank you for hosting this challenge! I chose the prompts sex pollen and coffee shop AU. The graphics I used are by the amazing @firefly-graphics

It was, surprisingly, a slow morning in the coffee shop. Well, maybe not that surprising. There had been a warning for an extreme weather phenomenon and judging by the lack of customers in suits, several of the big employers had for once decided to not force their employees to come into work during this. You could already see the dark clouds forming on the sky.

The bell above the door rang and in came a red head with shorter hair. You didn’t look up from the flat white you were preparing and put some chocolate powder on it when your colleague yelled to you to get started on a double espresso. The flat white was done and snatched up by someone who visibly thought himself a hotshot, and even more visibly, wasn’t. Probably why he was out, to show his unwavering dedication to the company…

Then came the red head into your line of view directly. She was beautiful. And your hands trembled when you pushed the cup over the counter to her.

“Here’s your coffee, ma’am. Enjoy” You were surprised you were able to keep your voice steady.

“Thanks. Sugar is…?” Her voice was beautiful.

“To your right, ma’am.”

She smiled. “Do I look that old?”

“N-no, miss” You felt yourself get hot in the face.

“Don’t worry, just pulling your leg.”

You smiled at each other. Her smile made her even more beautiful. She nodded once more to you and then went to find a seat in the farthest nook of the shop. Your shift went on like usual after that.

Some days later, you had the afternoon shift. Your favorite. There were mostly students chatting about their lectures and during ordering, they were the nicest of customers and even chatting with you and the other baristas about their own side jobs, often in other cafés like yours.

This time you were on the register. Because of the influx of customers, you didn’t register the black-haired man and the blond one next to him until they stood directly in front of you.

“What can I get you, sirs? Our feature of the month is the flat white and the blueberry muffin.”

“I’ll have a latte macchiato and one of those blueberry muffins. Sound delicious.” The black-haired man grinned at you.

“And for you, sir?”

“Just a black coffee, thanks.” The blond one smiled.

“Right away, just wait for it over there.” You pointed to the end of the counter.

“Thanks” The black-haired one smiled. “So, Steve about that idea for Veterans Day…”

A week later, right at noon, a blonde woman and a brown-haired man came in. You were just finishing up an americano when they came over to you and you caught a snippet of their conversation: “… but knives-“ Said the blonde woman.

You had expected normal talks about work or whatnot. But not about knives, and apparently that had shown on your face.

“Don’t you scare the lady that’s granting you tea, Sharon!” The man said and smiled at you.

You smiled back as you gave them their tea and coffee and they smiled back. Like customers and employees smiled at each other.

Days later, when you were on table cleaning duty, your eyes swept over the customers’ heads. There was that cute couple that had had their first date here. You had no idea what number date they were on, but they were clearly progressing. The redhead putting her hand on the hand of the other woman after she put down the cookie she just broke in half.

The next table already had drunk their orders and the crumbs on the one plate in front of the brown-haired man signaled them being finished.

“Can I clear away?” You asked.

The brown-haired man and the redhead woman nodded.

“Thanks.”

There was even more traffic than usual in the morning today. Some conference was happening near you. And it wasn’t the fun kind for comics or books or games or a combination or all three with people in cosplay and sometimes, literally, screaming about who they saw and who was gonna be where and what they wanted to do and fandom discussions you got way to invested in for the fact that you were working. No, it was some business conference. It meant even more suits and even more snatched drinks without so much as a glance. It shouldn’t have bothered you, but it still did.

On one table though, there were two blondes and a black-haired man next to them. When you yelled out their orders, the blonde woman came up and took them with a genuine but tired “Thanks.” It was the first thanks you had heard that day by a customer.

When you went to do your cleaning rounds and came to their table the black-haired man and the blonde woman seemed to be dozing. The other blond smiled to himself. You took the cups and remembered how they all had wanted a double-caffeine shot.

“Thank you very much, ma’am” The blond man said.

You looked up at him, aghast. Thanking customers were one thing. They made your day. But this? This much manners? Calling you ‘ma’am’? Wow.

“O- of course. You’re welcome.”

You came out of the back room and had to grip the doorframe to hold yourself up. Your head was swimming.

“Hey! … okay?” You heard a voice in front of you.

You clenched your eyes and opened them again.

“Hey. You okay?” The blonde woman came into focus.

“I feel … weird…” You mumbled.

“I’ll take a look” The blond man said and went to the back room. A few minutes later, he came back, carrying a tray with a coffee grinder and half of the beans already ground.

“Did you just work on this?”

“Yeah… it’s… it’s our … special feature … the coffee with … with our special… home-ground beans…” Speaking was hard, you slurred, but somehow you managed while the blonde woman stroked your back.

“And you prepared them for tomorrow?” The redhead asked.

You nodded.

“Right, there was an ad about the new monthly feature” The brown-haired man mused.

You nodded again.

The blond man bent over the tray and took a whiff.

“Steve, no!” The black-haired man shouted.

“That’s been a losing battle for decades now, Sam” The brown-haired man sounded almost resigned.

“It smells a little weird.”

“I don’t smell anything” The redhead said. “But if you sense something, it must be there. Probably not strong enough for her to pick up.” She nodded to you.

The brown-haired man stood up from where he sat and went into the back room. He came back shortly after and pinched his nose in what seemed disbelief. “I think I know what it is. And all of us already inhaled it.”

“What are you talking about, Bucky?” The blonde woman spoke up.

“There were rumors about a substance that could be both used in liquids and in air to heighten sexual arousal. At the moment I don’t yet know who exactly produced it or why they need this and I also don’t know who ‘they’ are but the rumors I could listen to years ago when they were slow with wiping me, apparently led to something.”

“So, ‘they’ isn’t Hydra?” That was the redhead.

The guy shook his head.

“So, what happens now?” The blond man, Steve, asked.

“Most likely, all of us will go more or less crazy unless we…” Bucky scratched his neck and trailed off.

“Getting ourselves of by ourselves isn’t an option?” Sam wanted to know. “The whole thing would be weird if it was just people we knew from work, but she” He pointed to you. “doesn’t know us, we don’t know her and besides introducing ourselves, there won’t be much getting to know each other.”

“I know your orders, but that’s about it. I can’t even tell if you have a routine for which you need caffeine, because you all came in at different times and all the time” You mumbled with a tight-lipped smile.

“They say something about ourselves, right?” The man who was called Steve.

You nodded and looked at the blonde woman. “You have someone British in your family.”

Now Steve. “You want something simple. Maybe you don’t care for all the special things coffee shops have, but maybe, you’re also overwhelmed by the sheer amount of choice.”

The one called Sam was next. “You want something sweet but unlike others, you don’t want it contrasted with a drink on the bitter side of the spectrum. You want something toned down. You don’t need another stark contrast.”

“You” You looked at the redhead- “want something strong and sweet. Always. It’s both a pick me up and something to calm down but stay energized.”

“And you, ordering a black coffee but with caramel and peppermint syrup. There are people who order one of the two syrups in their coffee. Maybe caramel and hazelnut together. Peppermint on its own. But caramel and peppermint? That’s very unusual.” That was the last one of the group.

As much as they looked stunned, you looked proudly at them.

“How do you know I have someone British in my family?” The blonde woman seemed a little lost for words.

“Tea in this shop is either ordered by people who wanna seem fancy but not too fancy to hinder their career or by people who have an emotional response to tea. That’s why we sell almost no tea when there’s a conference, even to those suit-wearing people from around here who normally order one.”

“But how?” The one called Sam wondered.

“Barista.”

“If you know all that just by our drink orders and we’ll probably have sex with each other tonight, we should probably know each other’s names, right?” Steve said.

You nodded. “I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Steve and this are Sharon, Natasha, Sam and Bucky.”

You shook their hands and looked them in the eyes when their names were called and they smiled at you. You shook hands with people you barely, if at all, knew and who you were going to have sex with in probably a few minutes.

“Is there somewhere where it wouldn’t be that uncomfortable?” Natasha asked.

You nodded and led them to the very back of the shop, right where Natasha had once drunk her double espresso.

“The first time I came in here, you made the coffee and I went to this nook. You make a mean double espresso.”

“How do you remember that one coffee?”

“Because the first time it wasn’t you who made it, it didn’t taste as good.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You smiled; the barista part of your ego needed that and getting that compliment from someone like her, was an added bonus.

“May I?” Sam asked and untied the apron, now working on your shirt and you nodded.

Your clothes went one by one, slowly and when you were just in your underwear, you saw the others had taken off their clothing as well, except Sam of course.

You looked at Sam and when he smiled at you, you took off his clothes, first the sweater, then the pants.

Someone took your hand and you looked to your right to see Sharon pulling you with her on the couch. She put her hands on your cheeks and slowly kissed you. Her lips moved with yours and left you breathless when she let you go.

You felt someone on the other side of you who rubbed your waist. Turning your head, you saw Steve who looked encouragingly at you. He kissed the junction of your shoulder and neck. You could feel his chest pressing to your back and leant into him.

Suddenly there was something cold on your left leg and you flinched away, only to be stopped by soft hands.

“Sorry” Bucky mumbled and when you looked down you saw him massaging your leg with his hands, one flesh, one metal and you couldn’t help but think of how his metal hand would feel between your folds.

On your right leg were Natasha’s hands, massaging, kneading higher and higher until you felt her between your folds. She rose up until you could feel the tip of her tongue when you heard Steve say: “Nat, wait a second.”

You tore your eyes away from Natasha and saw Steve push a pillow under Natasha’s knees. She turned her head to give him a quick smile of thanks and then licked a stripe on the junction between your vulva and your right leg and then on the other side. Her hands had left your leg to hold you down at your hips and not too soon, because as her tongue was on your vulva longer than a second and she moved around, licking up and down your lips, your body bucked into her mouth on its own.

Sam moved behind Sharon, pressing himself into her, pushing her on you and both of you a little more into Steve. He somehow got his hands under your butt, letting his fingers dance over it, rubbing all the spots that you didn’t even know would make you moan. And then, he removed one of his hands. You just heard a wet pop and felt Steve’s forefinger at your hole.

“Okay?”

You tried to nod but in that moment Natasha inserted two of her fingers in your channel, and already, you could hear your wetness. So, instead of a nod, a moan escaped your lips and that was the non-verbal “Yes” Steve needed and he pushed his finger in.

Your mouth, still open from your moan, fell open even more and Sam traced it with his thumb. You moved your head forward a bit and closed your lips around it and sucked. You wrapped your right hand around Sam’s wrist to keep his hand where it was and linked your left hand with Sharon’s. You could feel her thighs next to yours on the couch moving. You looked at her. She had her eyes closed, whimpering into your neck.

“Y/N, hold her hip” Sam ordered.

You moved your hand from his wrist to her hip and Sam held her other hip. He moved forward and Sharon whined when Sam sank into her.

“Good?” You asked her.

She smiled lazily at you and nodded. You rubbed her neck and with each thrust of Sam, he squished her and your chests together. You angled your head a little to easier to kiss Sharon. You traced her lips with yours, she traced yours with hers when you pulled back for a second. She caressed your cheekbones with her thumbs and only when you opened your lips a bit further, did she use her tongue. She poked yours playfully, you poked back and could hear her giggle that traveled straight to your core. You entangled her in a light dance until you both had to breathe.

You leaned against each other, foreheads touching. You felt Sam moving his arm but couldn’t see where it went. You just noticed Sharon jolting and looked down to see him rubbing her clit.

“Baby, open up” Sam purred and pulled down your bottom lip with the thumb of his other hand.

You parted your lips immediately.

A second later, Natasha pulled her fingers from you and held them up in front of your face. She scissored them a bit and you could see your wetness between them.

“Sam?”

“Oh, yeah” He chuckled and removed his thumb from your mouth to a whine from you but that turned into a moan when Nat pushed her fingers into your mouth. You moved your tongue around, tasting yourself on her and maybe, just maybe, putting on a little show for her.

Steve kissed your shoulder blades, your neck, your collar bones while he moved his finger in you.

“Ready for the next one?”

This time you could nod, and you did.

“Alright” You could hear the smile in Steve’s voice.

He inserted his middle finger alongside his forefinger slowly and gently. He waited until he felt you relax and suck on Natasha’s fingers again. Just enjoying the feeling of being full and you felt your pussy clenching around nothing.

Now, you felt Bucky moving up a little. He looked up at you through his lashes. He massaged your tummy, going in circles until his hands gripped you were Natasha had had her hands. Bucky dove in, kitten licking your pussy and Nat’s soft hair was one thing between your thighs and definitely something you’d enjoy later when you were alone, even if it was just a memory, but Bucky’s shorter hair combined with his stubble was something else.

You couldn’t help but put your legs over his shoulders and link your ankles.

“Good… so good…” You moaned. Natasha had pulled her fingers back by now and kneaded yours and Sharon’s breasts.

“Yeah? What exactly feels good, baby?” Sam purred as he thrust into Sharon.

“Nat’s… Natasha’s fingers… and Steve’s as well” You could feel Steve’s grin on your shoulder blade and his fingers thrusting a bit deeper. “And-“ Bucky’s tongue entered you, going back and forth, in and out and you clenched around him.

When he pulled back for a moment with a grin, he said: “You were saying?”

You swallowed thickly and summoned your will to answer him. “Your beard! It feels so good on my thighs, never had one between them before…” You moaned again.

“Then I’m honored to be your first” He winked and dove back in.

He continued right where he left of. His tongue fucked up into you, his hands pulled you down onto him and soon your hips were basically riding his face. After a very pointed movement of his tongue, perfectly timed with Bucky squeezing your hips while pulling you down again, made you come undone. Your pussy spasmed around him, your mouth opened and your eyes closed.

You couldn’t hear anything, you couldn’t move anything but when you came down back to earth, you could still feel your pussy spasming. Apparently, you had gripped Bucky’s hair at some point and carded your fingers through it and scratched his scalp to ground yourself. But that plan backfired. Your scratching of his scalp made him purr. Understandably because having your scalp scratched was nice but after such an orgasm it was too much for you and you whimpered.

Bucky moved his metal hand to cup your pussy and the pressure of the plates without much structure plus the coldness soothed you and you sighed.

You felt several hands stroking you, calming you down and Sharon and Natasha kissing you.

“All good?” Steve wanted to know from behind you.

You nodded and turned your head to kiss him, moving your tongue against his.

They all pulled back a bit, Natasha and Bucky sitting back on their heels, Sam pulled Sharon from you and leant back and Steve removed his fingers and while you still felt Steve’s chest at your back and Sharon’s thighs next to yours but other than that, nothing.

You whined at the loss of contact and of the confusion until Steve lifted you up by your waist.

“Spread your legs, love” He commanded softly, and you did. As he lowered you down, you could almost feel his thighs under yours and the tip of his cock at your spread butthole.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Then breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. Steady, okay?”

You followed Steve’s advice and you felt him slowly inch in. He stopped every few seconds, letting you adjust to it all until you felt his hips digging into your butt.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and slowly leaned back, until he laid flat on the couch with you on top of him. He rubbed your arms

Bucky climbed between your and Steve’s legs, holding his dick and looked to you for confirmation. You made grabby hands and he chuckled.

“Needy.”

Bucky bent over you and looked you in the eyes. And he continued to hold your gaze as he entered you. You couldn’t have looked away if you wanted to.

“Wet. So warm and wet” His eyes were screwed shut and he leaned his forehead on your collarbone.

Natasha moved to your head and you moved so your head was on Steve’s shoulder. You put your hands on Nat’s hips and pulled her down until her clit met your lips and she hissed on contact, while facing away from Bucky. She slowly began to ride your face and you moved your tongue a bit to touch her.

Seeing Natasha in this position, you below her, your mouth on her clit, her using you for your pleasure and her stiff nipples and her breasts moving made you wish for two mouths. You wanted to taste her but at the same time, you wanted to suck and bite her nipples until they were swollen and she’d push you away because it felt too good.

Bucky and Steve held you close, sandwiched between them, their arms around you and each other and when they started to move, they moved in unison. They made you feel almost completely empty and then full again and Bucky rubbed your clit with his left middle finger and forefinger.

That was the moment Sam softly took your left hand from under Bucky’s and Steve’s arms. Sam wrapped it around him and started moving it up and down. When you looked to your left, you saw Sam, but you also saw Sharon looking straight at you as she quickly rode Sam’s thigh. She smiled and reached out to stroke your forearm.

You were so glad Sam helped you, because on your own, you wouldn’t have been able to do something. The stimulation of Bucky’s slow and deep strokes that hit all the points in you, Steve grinding and keeping you close, Sharon’s touches a contrast but at the same time not to it all, the heat of them around you, Natasha on your face and moaning. It was all too much.

Natasha rode your face rhythmically, you licked and sucked on her until the rhythm she had built stuttered, her moan broke off and her legs twitched. You could see her bending forward to rest on her forearms.

Sam moved your hand along him, he squeezed your hand around him, lessening it a bit when he came to the tip and twisting your hand around it.

You moved your right hand from under Bucky’s arm and put it on Natasha’s hip to stabilize her. She moaned at the contact and the moan morphed into a whimper when you switched from using your tongue to nipping and sucking on her with your lips.

At the same time Steve gripped your hips and used what leverage he had to chase his release and soon you could feel him cumming with a groan. After the last spurt, he pressed you to him.

The slightly new angle seemed to trigger something in Bucky. He started rutting arrhythmically in you. With each thrust, he bent over you a little more until he effectively blanketed you with his body. Bucky softly rubbed and pinched your clit and you clenched around him. He stopped moving and you heard his growl as he started cumming in you.

And then you felt like you were floating up and away from the earth.

For a short time, nothing.

And then you felt like you were floating back down to earth.

You could feel your pussy still spasming, although now around nothing, and you could hear voices. You couldn’t discern who said what.

“Hey. Hey! … Oh shit, I think that was too much.”

“Too much of what exactly?”

“Of everything.”

“That wasn’t me, was it? The weight of my body?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Hey, Y/N. Hey. Come back to us.”

“Mmmhmmmm”

“Oh, good, you’re back. Thought we’d lost you there for a second.”

“You probably did, but I’m back now.”

You were maneuvered to lean against the back of the couch and just breathed in and out a few times. When you calmed down and got your beating heart a little more under control, your eyes fell to Sam’s cock, which still stood at attention.

“May I?” You asked and looked at him, at his cock and back at his face.

Sam just nodded and that was enough to lick long stripes up and down, only sucking on his tip for a second before you went back to the base of him and massaged his balls until you could feel him twitch. You waited until the last second to put your mouth on just his tip and sucked.

You continued sucking on Sam, letting him buck up his hips and swirled the tip of your tongue around the slit until he couldn’t take it anymore. Sam came and spurted in your mouth until he literally tore your mouth off his dick. You swallowed and grinned at him like a Cheshire cat.

You turned to Sharon, and this time, you pulled her on the couch. You pushed her back until she laid on her back. You moved down her breasts and tummy with little kisses and bites. You ignored her whimpers when you neglected where she visibly wanted you the most in favor of her thighs. You altered between nips, kisses and bites that would leave a memory for a few days, until you reached the junction between her legs.

You pursed your lips and only moved them over her. When your mouth was back at her entrance, you flattened your tongue and licked up until you swirled your tongue around Sharon’s clit. First in bigger circles that went smaller and smaller up to the point where you sucked her clit in your mouth. You continued sucking on her with alternating pressure until you could feel her twitch and buck her hips into your mouth.

Each time Sharon bucked into you, you made it a point to get closer to her, until she couldn’t take it anymore and came. She whimpered, she wailed, you could see several hands stroking her body, soothing her and you felt her thighs shake next to your head. After some time, her thighs stilled and you gently uncrossed her legs and took them off your shoulders. You licked your lips and grinned at her.

“Good?”

Sharon only nodded with a smile.

One day after this one-of-a-kind night, Natasha came back in the morning and left with a little black container under her arm and a double espresso to-go.

One or two weeks later, you had the day shift and were solely on coffee making duty. Your coworker had just told you the next order and it was a big one all at once.

“Latte macchiato, one blueberry muffin, black coffee, double espresso, black coffee with peppermint and caramel and a black tea!” You yelled out.

Someone came up to you and you recognized Sam.

“Good to see you” He winked with a smile.

“Not like I work here” You retorted with a smile of your own.

“Buck! Help me carry all these things!”

Bucky came up and looked at you. “Hey. Nice seeing you.”

“Surprisingly, I work at the place that I also call ‘my workplace’” You deadpanned.

Bucky let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, should have expected that.”

They both took half of the order in their hands and went to walk to the table where the others were sat. Although you couldn’t see the entire table, you knew exactly who sat at it, just from the orders.

Sam turned his upper body to you again. “When do you get off work?”

“In an hour. Why?”

“Wait for us here?”

“Who is ‘we’?”

Sam only winked and he and Bucky went to their table.

275 notes · View notes

blogger-yura · 3 years

Text

Entry #33 Nov 12th '21

#YurasLife #FoodFriday #Food #Cooking #Recipes

𝐅𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 - 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐬 (Cookies!)

*contact Yura for removal of any food related posts taglist

Hello hello my little muffins~ How are you today! Friday has finally come around, are you looking forward to the weekend? I certainly am! But then again I always am, aren't I? Hahaha

I'm one to think that Friday is already somewhat part of the weekend, especially the afternoon, when most people is already out of work and heading home (•ω•) And therefore, I think the best way to start the weekend is by doing someting we love! So today, I decided to bake some cookies.

This recipe is super fast and easy, I love doing these when last minute plans pop up and I'm short in time because I always have the ingredients at home so I don't have to rush out for anything! It's also great to try with friends or kids even! And again, it's so fast and easy even someone who doesn't bake can pull them off!

I'd love to know if you guys try it out and what you think ♡

Prep: 15min - Cook: 15min aprox - Level: Super easy! - Makes: 20 big cookies!

Ingredients-

▪2 eggs ▪ 200g butter ▪ 380gr self rising flour

▪230gr sugar ▪ 350gr dark chocolate bar

▪Teaspoon vanilla extract

Variations-

For chocolate cookies replace 80gr of flour with unsweetened cacao powder and dark chocolate chips for white chocolate.

Instead of chocolate chips you can use nuts (almonds, walnuts, hazelnuts...)

Instead of chocolate chips you can use seeds.

Steps-

1- Step one, as always... Yes! Preheat your oven!!! Minimum-medium setting depending on how fast it heats up. Never max setting because you don't cook on max! Things will burn otherwise and we do not want a burnt cookie.

2- As the oven heats up, we're gonna get started on chopping! Chop your chocolate bars (or whatever you've decided to put in the cookies). Do not try to grate the chocolate! We're not trying to melt it into the cookie dough. If it starts getting hot and things gets messy, get the pieces in the fridge for a bit while you get everything else ready! You can always use store chocolate chips, but I do like the chopped bar better for mines~.

3- As I said before, this is a super easy recipe. There's no need to be super exact with anything, just have fun! Your third step is simply to melt your butter and mix all the ingredients in a bowl. You can use your hands (make sure to wash them well!), a spatula, whatever you want. The mix is super buttery though and since it's already warm butter and your hands generate heat too I like to save it on the fridge for 5 minutes when I mix by hand just for it to get a little more firm and easier to handle.

4- Now, the dough itself has enough butter for the cookies to not stick on your trays, but you can always use parchment paper if you feel safer with it!

For the cookies shape, you will pick out a ball of dough of your preferred size, place it on the tray and push down on it until it's as thick as you like it. I usually make 6 cookies per tray because I like them big and a little chunky too. Keep in mind that the thinner the cookies are, the less soft and more crunchy they get!

5- Finally, you're gonna want to cook them for around 15-20 minutes depending on your oven. They have to be firm enough to not bend, but they'll still be soft if you press down!

What do you think? Easier enough for anyone to try out? Have you ever made chocolate chip cookies on your own before?

It had been a while since I last made them so it was fun getting my hands dirty like that again (^_^) I will now get started on packing them up! Have to send out some to some people of course~.

I hope you guys enjoyed and try them out someday! Especially with the warmer weather coming around, it's always nice to have some cookies to eat with a nice hot chocolate or a cup of coffee \(*_*)/

Anyway! I won't make this any longer~. I hope you guys have a nice weekend ahead! Please take care, look after yourselves and have some fun! We all deserve some fun after a long week, hm?

I'll see you around! Ok? All the love~ -Yura ♡

🧡: @madmanwoodam @archangel-oc @shin-haneul @lunaaofthemoon @moongoddesselene @jinju-oc @ochouse @esmeralda-oc @jihan-oc

@cb-museclub @achillesunwoo @mafia-chae @skzcbspam @betrayerjongup @ppg-3ye @moonlightchn @temptationcb @vampiremomo @suburbanbots @antiromantic-jun @roommates-bot @modelsiblings @floristyujeong @eunwoo-bot @hopelessromantic-juyeon @silvernightcb @botuniverse @modelsora @adorbsana @richsocietybot @runawayscb @velvetparadise @berryjinnie @urown-im @azieville-institution @7deadlysins-chan @journeythroughtime @mverse @ur-ai @ahswitchescb @kbxts @ur-sunwoo @ur-nanno @mediumchae @urjenniekim @ghoul-yeri @tbz-cb @sweetheartbakery @gamer-yeji

#yura types 🧡#food friday #cw food #yuras kitchen 🍽

44 notes · View notes

lumosinlove · 3 years

Text

PREVIOUSLY ON RELIC KEEL

Dorcas meets up with Marlene at Marlene’s house and Luke is there—we figure out Marlene and Luke are cousins. Luke, as it turns out, has a neglecting mother (as well as a father who has been taken to jail, Marlene’s father doesn’t want her dating Dorcas because she’s from Salazar, and Marlene still hasn’t told Dorcas that she got into college.

Saint goes to wait for Logan at The Carrows in Salazar, where he restocks his Crucio supply.

Lily and James are painting one of the Potter’s old boats together. Lily is confused and frustrated—and in love with James. James, already hurt and trying not to cause himself further harm but also not wanting to lose Lily entirely, lets Lily kiss him but ends it there. They’re both nervous about college.

Instead of Logan, Saint runs into Luke first, who, as a last resort, is going to the Carrows for Crucio. Luke seems to have some surprises up his sleeve—a love for books that Saint shares, perhaps. When Saint does spot Logan, he makes Luke get into his car so as to not alarm him, and steals his dad’s gold watch in the process.

When Saint goes to fetch Logan, they run into Amycus Carrow, who tells Saint that Logan owes them for using their stash of Crucio without paying—but they won’t tell Saint or Logan how much Logan owes.

As a result, Logan gets it into his head that he can pay off his debt if he finds the treasure of The Voldemort, the one that Leo’s dad died looking for. Logan tries to get Saint to help by asking what he wants most, and when that doesn’t work, asking what he hates. Perhaps Saint is one for revenge, rather than need.

Sirius and Dorcas finally get Saint talking about Logan and his time at Saint Clair. Saint reveals that there were harsh punishments for bad behavior in Saint Clair. He also reveals that, for reasons he can only guess at, when kids turn 18, the age at which they could leave the orphanage, they decide to stay. Saint believes Crucio has something to do with it. He has memories of being extremely tired at night, and having vivid dreams—he doesn’t say what these dreams were about. Saint believes that many of the kids, if they arrived young enough, don’t know how to tell the difference between a Crucio-filled mind and a Crucio-free one. The scene ends with them receiving an invitation to a party at James’ house.

Logan finds Leo at his family’s workshop and says he wants to help him find The Voldemort. Leo wants to finish his father’s work, Logan needs the money—Saint shows up, seeming to have found his motivation, too, whatever it may be.

***CW: mentions of taking drugs and being drugged, brief mentions of blood, brief mention of death of a father***

part vi

In his dream, Finn was in a house. There was a woman sitting at the table, a man at the stove, and a boy leaning against the counter. Everything was murky at the edges, even their laughter.

Finn knew what family was. He’d read about it. He’d thought about it. With Logan, he’d felt it.

What he didn’t know, what he could never be sure of, was whether he’d seen it. What it looked like. What his looked like. Every time he thought he did…he’d wake up.

They had begun as pills—vitamins. But pills could be kept on the tongue.

Powder couldn’t be kept from food.

Finn, sweetheart, the woman said in his dream. How was school today? Is Logan still coming over for dinner?

Your boyfriend, the other boy teased, smiling. The man turned from the stove and laughed, reaching over to tussle Finn’s hair.

Yeah, Finn heard himself say. He is.

He looked at the woman—his mother, maybe—and she looked different than she had a moment ago.

We can play pick up, the brother said—but he wasn’t anymore. There was a sister, and now a brother again, now two brothers. And then his mother was at the stove and his father coming in from the yard, and then there was a younger sister sitting on his lap, and then he was the younger brother and his dad was coming home from work, briefcase in hand, closing the front door, giving his mother a kiss—

Finn woke up. His throat was dry and his eyes were, too. He used to wake up crying when he was younger. And Logan had been there, both of them not understanding.

Finn didn’t know if Logan understood now. Finn hadn’t figured it out until after he’d gotten Logan out, not entirely. Not about the Felix. Just about the kids that weren’t leaving. Something was keeping them here, and all he had wanted was to protect Logan and himself from that. Now that he knew that it was Felix that kept them here…Finn couldn’t see why they wanted it so bad. He didn’t want these false glimpses of family. He didn’t want Felix. He wanted Logan. Logan was real. His only comfort was that Logan was free of it. Of this place.

Finn blinked slowly up at the walls of the solitary room. His eyes were heavy. His head, his limbs. He hadn’t eaten anything in almost a week now.

And the dreams still came.

Maybe it wasn’t anything but his own head that was doing the imagining now.

He knew what was real, and this wasn’t it.

Luke looked across the deck at his mother in her lounge chair and pinched the Felix, within a small plastic bag within his pocket, to make it sift back and forth. A sound only he could hear. That, and the ice cubes in his mother’s whiskey. The sun was hot on his bare chest, drying the water droplets left from the pool quickly. He couldn’t stop rubbing the place where his father’s watch had been. Just thinking about it, about Saint and his quick fingers, made him snarl.

His mother’s ice cubes rattled.

“I want to start going through your father’s things,” she said airily from beneath her floppy sun hat. “There’s just so much of it. His papers, and all those fat books he has. God, that stupid treasure obsession.”

“It wasn’t stupid,” Luke replied as evenly as he could. “And he’s not dead. He’s coming back.”

His mother laughed. “Oh, sweetheart.”

She had cut her hair very short after Luke’s dad had been taken away. Luke couldn’t get the images out of his mind. Her, walking back through the door the next day, with her long blonde hair cut to her chin, curling just beneath her jaw. She had smiled at him and given her head a shake. Like it, mon lumière?

My light, she called him. When he was little she’d kissed him goodnight with that nickname every day, turning on the small nightlight that he kept—he still kept it. He’d tried not to, but every time, every night, the dark was just too dark. He was almost mad at her for giving it to him in the first place. If he had just gotten used to the dark…maybe he would be more prepared now.

Since his father, she’d been moving about the house like nothing had changed. Or, rather, like something had changed, and she was all the better for it.

His father’s leather chairs were gone from the living room, replaced by two baby blue couches that made Luke sick to look at. The pirate ship wheel was gone from the wall, too.

Luke didn’t know this mother.

Not even the island knew this woman. They knew the bake-sale-bringing, strict-rule-making, no-nonsense-grounding mother that Luke had known his entire life. He’d spent so many nights furious in his room after she’d caught him sneaking out or drinking.

And now, here his mother was, offering him a glass of whiskey at eleven in the morning.

Luke pinched the Felix between his fingers more harshly.

“No, thanks,” he said, and squinted back out towards the ocean.

“If you’re sure,” his mother said. “Well, I just said so because I’m tired of looking at it all.”

“Don’t get rid of it,” Luke said, trying to keep the pleading out of his voice. “I like his office. Mom, it reminds me of him.”

Luke had spent hours in there, laughing with his father, talking about history and literature, sneaking the rare puff on his cigar.

Then, they had taken him away, and his mother had gotten a hair cut, and suddenly Luke didn’t know anything anymore.

“Excuse me,” Luke mumbled, and left his mother in the sun with her drink and the pills that were no doubt already within. She was getting high more than he ever had now.

Luke could barely see anything inside the house after the bright day outside, but he didn’t need to see. He could have found his father’s study, and everything in it, blind.

He was still damp when he sunk down shakily into his father’s desk chair, the plush leather smelling of cigars, and took the bag of pinkish powder out of his pocket.

Just to see him again.

Just for something else to have happened.

Just not this.

Remus met Sirius in James’ kitchen again. The large glass doors were flung wide, opening out onto the porch and the pool beyond where a projector and screen were set up, along with chairs and blankets. Lily had set out the floating lanterns that the Potters put in the pool during their dinner parties and they floated idly back and forth in the evening breeze, giving out a soft yellow glow to mix with the dusky blue that came in from the ocean. The palm trees leaned over the house’s surrounding gate, swaying.

The counter between Remus and Sirius was covered in food. Pizza and nachos from Thomas’ family’s restaurant, chocolate chip cookies, chips and salsa, sodas and liquor.

“If you’re gonna do it, do it in the house,” Mrs. Potter always said.

Sirius looked the same, but fresh out of the ocean. His dark hair was damp, dripping onto the collar of his faded t-shirt. He looked like the ocean had the same effect on him as it did on Remus. Sirius’ eyes looked brighter. His shoulders looked more relaxed. He looked up from where he was pouring some whiskey into a cup and even managed an easier smile than usual.

“Hey,” Remus said, taking a paper plate from the stack. “How’s it going?”

Sirius’ eyes found his, then he looked down, stoppering the bottle. “Pretty good, you?”

“Pretty good,” Remus said, and then took a breath before testing the waters. “Had a nice sail this morning, clocked a shift at the museum, can’t complain.”

Sirius glanced up quickly, and Remus suppressed a smile as he loaded his plate.

“Oh,” Sirius began. “I mean, yeah, I saw.”

“You like sailing?”

Sirius nodded. “Kris lets me take one of his out sometimes.”

“Kris?” Remus questioned.

“Oh,” Sirius cleared his throat. Remus watched some of those ocean washed walls begin to go back up. “Yeah, he runs the boat rental shop over in Rowena. I guess you wouldn’t know given that you have…you know.”

Remus tried to side-step the awkward shift. Sirius seemed to have ideas about him already. Remus wished he had some clue about Sirius, beside his ocean-eyes and guarded expression.

“Well, that’s cool of him,” Remus said.

Sirius nodding from over the brim of his cup. “Yeah, it is.”

“Hey, well—” Remus shrugged. “I mean, I’m sure you do it on your own all the time but…you know if you ever wanted to…”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. Remus hadn’t finished his sentence.

“I mean, if you ever wanted to,” Remus began again, and was suddenly nervous. Sirius didn’t even like him. It looked as though he didn’t like Gods in general. He’d probably think this was charity. He’d probably hate Remus for offering. “Go out.”

Sirius’ eyebrow raised further.

“On my boat,” Remus said, all in a rush. His cheeks were hot. “Go sailing on—my boat.”

Remus didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t for Sirius to do nothing at all. He stood there, frozen and off guard.

“Only if you want,” Remus said hopelessly. “I get up pretty early.”

“So do I,” Sirius said, and there was the slap of flip flops from behind Remus.

“Look who I found at the kid’s table,” Saint’s voice came, and he leaned on the counter beside Remus in his tank-top and shorts, taking a nacho off of his plate. “Hello, Remus Lupin. You’re looking flushed. Sirius, are you making him blush?”

“Um,” Sirius said.

Remus just shook his head and reached for a soda. He felt idiotic, and now more so, after being interrupted. He could hear the others talking and laughing over the movie and wished he was over there—wished he hadn’t tried to hit on Sirius Black, of all people. He didn’t know if Sirius liked men. He didn't even know Sirius.

“Re, Saint, Black, someone bring me back a drink!” Marlene’s voice came over the chatter. She was tangled with Dorcas on one of the blankets, leaning back into her chest.

“Why do you look like you’ve done something?” Sirius said, drawing Remus’ eyes back to him.

“Well, I haven’t yet,” Saint replied. “But just watch.” He leaned closer to Remus. “Fruit-Loop, I need you to get me into that museum of yours.”

Remus looked at him warily. “How do you know I work at the museum…”

“A friend,” Saint said.

Remus looked at the hand Saint was resting his chin on. He was fairly sure that was Luke’s father’s watch.

“Get you in?” he asked. “Why not just go?”

Saint looked at him like he was entirely put upon, like he couldn’t believe Remus hadn’t caught on yet. “Because I don’t think what I’m looking for is on the floor, as they say.”

“Saint,” Sirius said incredulously. “What…what?”

“Can you help?” Saint looked at Remus. “You know, I could just take it.”

“Let you take something from the museum?” Remus laughed. “No.”

“Fine,” Saint sighed and pushed up from the counter, taking Remus’ plate from him and beginning to walk away. “I was just giving you the option to make this a little easier.”

Remus stared after him, then looked at Sirius, who shook his head before Remus could even ask.

“No idea,” Sirius said.

Saint didn’t actually know that many movies.

The movie theater was fine, but old. Grimmauld didn’t have a TV. It definitely didn’t have a large projector screen and James’ laptop. There was dancing on the screen. The actors were some place warm. He didn’t recognize it.

Books, on the other hand. Books, he knew.

He spied Luke resting on his forearms, long legs stretched in front of him on a blanket near that back of their group, and smiled.

“Deveaux,” Saint said as he sat down, placing the plate between them. “Pleasure to see you again.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Oh Jesus, who invited you.”

“The peace keeper named James Potter,” Saint replied. “Not sure what sort of peace he thinks there is to keep. I, for one, think he’s made it all up in his head.”

Luke grabbed Saint’s wrist, the gold of his watch beneath his rough palm.

“This is mine,” Luke said. “You little thief.”

“Is it?”

“Saint,” Luke’s eyes were dark in the dying light and flickering screen. “Give it back to me.”

“What will you give me?” Saint asked, and leaned in.

Luke snarled and let go. “I’m not bargaining for my watch. You stole it.”

“I steal a lot of things. Your mother has good taste, by the way. So does Mrs. Potter. Unlike some of these God mothers. Do you think they know their husbands buy them the fake stuff, and save the goods for their mistresses?”

“Fuck off.”

Saint broke part of a cookie off. “Those are your two favorite words.”

Luke just shook his head, his jaw tight and angry, eyes remaining on the screen. Saint chewed slowly.

“What’s this?” Saint asked, jerking his chin towards the screen.

He felt Luke look at him. “You don’t know?”

“I just asked, didn’t I?”

“What?” Luke scoffed. “It’s Mamma Mia. You’ve never seen this movie? Where the fuck have you been?”

Saint looked at him steadily.

“Right,” Luke nodded. “Fucked childhood, and all that.”

“That’s one way to look at it, thank you, tweedle.”

“What else haven’t you seen?”

Saint flicked the hand with the watch on it. “How the fuck should I know?”

Luke’s eyes followed the gold for a moment, and then he looked back out towards the others. Saint did, too, laughing softly. He could practically feel Luke trying to decide how to get the watch from his wrist.

“Irish wrist watch,” Saint whispered. “Irish wrist watch, Irish wrist watch…”

James was sitting with Lily. Marlene and Dorcas were to the side, dancing along to the music with Thomas. Sirius and Remus had followed him out of the house and were, to Saint’s surprise, sitting awkwardly beside each other. Sirius seemed to be asking about the movie, too, and Remus explaining it to him.

Fucking Gods, Saint thought as he looked around at the glowing pool, the mountain of food in the kitchen. Fucking Gods and all their careless lives.

He wondered if maybe he should have brought Leo along, if his sob story about his dad might have gotten Remus to help.

Remus works at the museum, Leo had said. Me and Logan heard him say, him and Layla—her family owns it. If there’s any chance of seeing another copy of that map, it’s the History Museum.

“I’ve never seen you be quiet for this long,” Luke’s voice interrupted.

“You’re the one who ruined it.”

Luke reached between them for the plate and plucked up the other half of Saint’s cookie. “I was just saying.”

“I’ve never seen you not glower for this long—oh, there it is.”

“Give me my watch back.”

“For what?”

Luke paused, then said, “Books.”

That made Saint look at him. Luke’s eyes were on Saint’s wrist, but Saint remembered him in the car, reading James’ copy of Shelley. Saint felt stormy again, a familiar building in his chest that always simmered.

“Excuse me?”

“Give me my watch and I’ll give you—”

“So, you are bargaining.”

“You seem to like hand-outs,” Luke bit back. “You take books from James, don’t you? Not to mention this,” Luke shifted towards Saint. “You take a lot of things from people you claim to hate.”

“Ouch,” Saint said, and it really had hurt. Waste of space. He smiled.

“I can do you better,” Luke said. “Tell me what you want.”

“You mean your daddy could?”

Luke’s expression went cold all over. Lightning, over the strike of green in his right eye, nestled among the deep brown. “What’s his is mine now.”

Saint wondered if Luke had Crucio in his system right now. He didn’t have the tired look of it. Come to think of it, Luke never had that look, not like Logan did. He must take it at night, Saint thought. To sleep, maybe. Some people used it like that. Some people thought it let them control their dreams.

Saint didn’t think anyone could control their dreams, their wants and wishes—waking or asleep. Even if they wanted to.

“Was this his, too?” Saint looked at the watch face.

“God, just—” Luke broke off, shoulders tense, and rubbed his eyes. “What the fuck do you want? Money? Just tell me and give it back.”

Saint checked the time, then looked back at Luke.

“One-thirty. My bedtime. And I don’t need shit from you,” Saint said breezily, and patted Luke’s thigh before pushing himself up from the blanket.

“Saint,” he heard Sirius say faintly, but nothing from Luke, and he kept walking through the Potter’s house.

Sirius was almost angry at Saint. Or, maybe, he was angry at himself for wanting to stay at the Potters. He knew why he had been invited, why James had wrapped an arm around him, told him to help himself to the food, why Remus had talked to him, sat beside him, offered…well, he wasn’t sure what Remus had offered.

Pity.

At least, he thought he knew.

Though talking to Remus had felt far from pity. Remus laughed with his eyes squeezed shut, and it had taken Sirius off guard each and every time. He was angry at Remus Lupin. He was angry at him for his words when they were eleven.

Are you okay? Sirius, right?

As if he didn’t know Sirius’ name, and of course Sirius wasn’t okay.

But now Remus Lupin was talking about his boat, and this movie, whatever it was, that Sirius had never seen, and smiling at him as though he’d done nothing wrong.

Or, at least he had been, before Sirius had followed a blank-faced Saint out of the house.

“What are you doing?” Sirius asked Saint’s retreating back as they jogged down the steps to the driveway.

Saint had merely held up something that jingled over his shoulder. The car keys glinted as much as the watch on his wrist which Sirius knew wasn’t his own.

“Taking Luke’s car.”

“Saint, come on,” Sirius sighed. “I mean—that looked pretty fucking civil. Non?”

Saint turned on him. “Oh, yes, and you could hear every word? Non.” Saint kicked one of the tires. “Fuck the Gods, and fuck their shiny cars, too.”

Sirius shook his head. “What’s this—museum stuff? What’s going on? Saint, just talk to me—”

“You took Lupin’s side,” Saint breezed as he chirped Luke’s car. “You don’t get to know.”

That stopped Sirius in his tracks. He took a step back. “Since when do we do that?”

Saint slammed the door, sitting in the driver seat.

“Not tell each other things?” Sirius pushed forward. “Since when?”

Sirius watched him through the rolled down window as he ran his hands over the dark leather of the seats, the shiny black of the dash.

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” Saint said softly. “There’s a lot I don’t know.”

“What do you want from the museum?” Sirius tried again. “Is this about…Saint Clair? Logan? Ever since he showed up—”

“Orphan!” came from the house just moments before the front door blew open. Luke zeroed in on Saint behind the wheel instantly, sandy hair casting shadows over his forehead and eyes. “What the fuck is up with you and taking my shit?”

“See you at home, sweetheart,” Saint said to Sirius, and started the car. Luke brushed past Sirius and tugged fruitlessly on the locked door.

“Hey,” Luke only just managed to bang on the back window as Saint screeched out of the Potter’s drive. “Saint!”

Sirius watched as Luke stood there in the humid night, watching his own taillights disappear. He cursed again, running a hand through his hair, and then turned.

Luke looked at Sirius. They stayed a few feet apart in the driveway.

“Do you know where he’s going?” Luke asked, breathing heavily.

Sirius did not like Luke Deveaux.

“No,” he said, and turned back into the house to find Remus.

Leo looked over at Logan. They were sitting on the curb outside The Lion, waiting for word from Saint, and Logan was quiet. Not that Logan wasn’t usually quiet, but this felt different. He was picking at an old scab on his knee, taking his hat off and putting it back on again.

“Are you okay?” Leo asked, and Logan didn’t look up when he nodded.

“Is it,” Leo hesitated. “Finn?”

That snapped Logan’s head up. “How did you…”

“You said his name to me,” Leo said softly. “The first night we met. You were…” but Leo didn’t really know the word. High? Hallucinating?

“I know what I was,” Logan sighed.

“Do you want to talk about him?” Leo asked. “I mean, you don’t have to I just…I know it helps to talk about my dad sometimes.”

“Finn isn’t dead,” Logan said harshly. He took his hat off, pushing his hair back, and put it back on again.

“I know,” Leo said. “I know, I just meant—never mind.”

Leo, in a way that Logan would probably hate him for, was dying to know more about Saint Clair. Saint had been around long enough that Leo sometimes lost track of the fact that he’d escaped. Others were around the island, doing work and looking normal enough that Leo could forget about them, too.

But he couldn’t forget Logan. Logan, who was tortured and rough and missing someone in a way that Leo could feel, that Leo could recognize.

Beautiful, with his green eyes and rare smiles, that Leo knew he should steer well away from. Because Finn. Finn sounded like—

“He’s my—” Logan began, then shook his head. “I don’t know what to say. Boyfriend sounds—small.” Logan shifted, looking at Leo. “He’s all I have. He’s all I’ve had for a long time. Since I can remember. My entire life.” Logan ran a hand over his face, and when it came away, he looked exhausted. “I’m just repeating myself, but do you get it?”

“Yes,” Leo said. “I get it.”

“And now he’s—and I’m out here, and…”

“And you want to get him out, too,” Leo finished for him. Logan looked stricken.

“He got me out,” he said softly. “When it came down to it, he chose me. But I didn’t have time to choose him. It was all over so fast.”

Leo rubbed the colorful bracelet on his wrist. Boyfriend. “And when you say you’re looking for him…Waiting for him…”

“I know where he is,” Logan said. “And the waiting part was a lie. I’d be stupid to wait. I need to get him. He—“ Logan swallowed. “There’s a courtyard. Where I can usually see him. But he hasn’t been there.”

Leo watched Logan’s throat bob again. He was picking at his nail beds, at the scab. Leo lay his palm over his restless fingers, and Logan looked up, eyes bright.

“He needs my help.”

“Okay,” Leo nodded. “Okay.”

“Lovers on the wharf,” came a voice, accompanied by thumping music. Saint pulled up in a sleek looking car—that definitely wasn’t his own. He leaned out the window, grinning. “Deveaux has terrible taste in music.”

“You stole this car,” Leo said dryly. “Didn’t you.”

“Yes I did, Knut. Yes, I did.”

“Let's go,” Logan said. He sniffed and picked up his backpack.

“Who’s got shot gun?” Saint asked.

Remus stopped in front of the gallery heading that read Madness On Hogwarts.

He hadn’t asked his mother about it yet. He wasn’t even sure how to ask. But, there it was. The name Lupin was there. He didn’t have to look far. It was there, telling about the slow demise of the mind.

Part of Remus had always wondered when his own would begin.

Another part of him felt like it already had.

He was, after all, standing beside Sirius Black on the dark museum floor, looking for a rogue orphan from Saint Clair.

“It seems pretty quiet, to me,” Remus said. “You really think he came here tonight?”

“He stole Luke’s car, didn’t he?”

Remus snorted. “Yeah, but…”

“So, that’s very get-away-ish of him. I mean he blamed it on hating Gods but—“

Sirius cut off, swallowing, realizing what he said.

“It’s okay,” Remus said and smiled a little. “I…it’s okay.”

Sirius cleared his throat. “It’s just that ours doesn’t always start up.”

Remus’ tried to ease the tension. “Get-away-ish?”

Sirius just shrugged and ducked his head, but Remus thought he was maybe smiling, too.

“Why didn’t you tell James where we were going?” Sirius asked instead, shining his flashlight over a model of a great merchant ship, its sails molded to seem like they were filled with wind. Remus could practically feel it.

It was Remus’ turn to duck as they walked around the exhibits, listening. “James Potter and sneaking anywhere? I don’t know about that.”

Sirius did laugh this time, and he looked almost surprised with it. “I guess you’re right.”

“Besides, he and Lily looked cozy.”

Sirius nodded. “Yeah, that’s been almost happening ever since I can remember.”

“Right,” Remus laughed. For a moment it felt like they did know each other. As though they had been going to school together since they were little. As though Sirius hadn’t left school one day and never returned.

“Can I…ask you something?” Remus said hesitantly.

Sirius made a non-committal sound, and Remus figured that was as good as he was going to get.

“When you left school,” Remus began, then hesitated. “Well, I guess I mean, how? Didn’t your parents…or the police, even…”

“My parents don’t want a son like me,” Sirius replied easily. “As far as the law goes…I’ve never been bothered. I assumed they told the Academy I was being homeschooled. When I say someone like me, I guess I mean they don't want anything to ruin their reputation.” Sirius sighed. “Whatever that may be. Otherwise, I don’t know.”

“But you weren’t homeschooled,” Remus said. “You’re in The Hollow?”

Sirius’ smile was a little challenging. “Surfing every morning. Hanging out with my friends every night. I get work where I can, but I don’t need much.”

Remus nodded. “I guess that doesn’t sound too bad. I guess you’re not going to college, then.”

“That stuff isn’t for everyone,” Sirius replied.

“Oh,” Remus began. “No, I wasn’t, like, judging, I was just—”

That was when they heard a thump and a curse. They jolted, looking at each other.

“The archives,” Remus whispered.

“He did say it wasn’t on the floor.”

Remus took off towards the back rooms, Sirius on his heels. He fumbled with his keys for a moment, then shoved the correct one into the lock and pushed the door open.

“Saint,” Sirius panted.

Remus looked from the pried open window, to the boy peaking his head through the glass—Logan, he remembered—and then, finally, to Saint, crouched on the floor and pulling flat drawers open, one after another.

Saint just looked over his shoulder at them, flashlight between his teeth, then back to the file drawer he was rummaging through.

“If you were hoping to catch me, maybe don’t leave your big flashy car out front, Lupin.”

Remus narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t even thought of the car.

“Look, I can’t let you steal something,” Remus said.

Saint scoffed. “Look, if it means that much to you, I’ll put it right back, we just need to look at it.”

Logan dropped in through the window, then, hissing as he cut his forearm on what looked like a stray nail. He looked up, seemingly mindless of the blood dripping near his fingers.

“We’ll just take a picture,” Logan said. “I promise.”

“Who says I’ll let you?” Remus said.

“Because I’m limber like that,” Saint said. “I can get in and out of here, and I can certainly slip through your sailor hands.”

“Yeah, is that something you worry about?” Sirius said, and Saint’s head snapped towards him. The light fell over Sirius’ face. “Being able to make the escape?”

Remus thought the words sounded menacing, at least he thought Saint thought that, but Sirius’ expression was softer. Worried, even.

“Very funny,” Saint finally replied, and his smile had a bite to it around the light. “Ha, ha.”

Saint Clair, Remus realized. Sirius was talking about Saint Clair. He looked at Logan again. Logan was watching Saint almost eagerly.

“What are you even looking for?” Remus asked.

There was a grunt as a third boy piled in—Leo, from The Lion.

“Leo?” Sirius said, looking between the three of them. “Jesus, Saint, what’s going on?”

“We’re looking for something,” Saint’s words were marred by the metal between his teeth. “Merde, aren’t you listening?”

“I told you no,” Remus said.

Saint pulled open another drawer. “And I told me yes.”

Remus and Sirius looked at each other. Remus shook his head, at a loss, and Sirius sighed.

“At least tell us what it is,” Sirius said, and went to crouch beside Saint.

Remus watched as Sirius put a hand on his back, low and firm. It was a familiar and comfortable gesture, and Remus thought Saint maybe pushed into it a little.

Remus tilted his head, looking at the soft splay of Sirius’ fingers.

“A map,” Leo said, and Saint all but hissed at him. “What? We’re not taking anything. I don’t even know why we broke in, really, we should have just asked—”

Saint took the light from his mouth. “I’m nothing if not a showboat.”

“Anything?” Logan asked, peering closer to what Saint was looking at. Saint had two papers in his hands, but he tossed them down roughly—too roughly for Remus’ liking.

Saint ignored Logan with a long sigh, and turned to Remus, bumping one of the flat drawers closed with a hip. “We are in need of a treasure map, Lupin.”

Remus blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t tell me the mad-house you grew up in didn’t have tales of The Voldemort.”

Remus felt his blood spike, heat draping itself around his neck. “Don’t fucking—”

“What Saint means,” Leo stepped forward, eyes apologetic. “I…my dad was looking for it. He was close and…and he’s—Saint and Logan agreed to help me find it. I didn’t know we’d be doing this. They know how much it means to me—”

“If your dad’s close to finding it, why not just use his map?” Remus asked.

Leo glanced up at him, then down at the drawers. “It went down with him and his boat.”

“Oh,” Remus stuttered out. “I…”

Leo just shook his head. “I remember what it looks like. I’ll know it when I see it.”

Saint waved his hand, and Remus noticed Luke’s watch again. “What’s it going to say, Knut, the ancient treasure lies here?”

“It’s not to The Voldemort,” Leo said. “It’s to a trading post, a stop point just off of Hogwarts. In the Cradle. People thought that it might have been a sort of cover operation, that maybe someone found the gold and was using it as a way to smuggle it out unnoticed—”

“So, it’s not even there?” Logan asked.

Leo splayed his hands helplessly. “I don’t know!”

Remus looked at Sirius when he laughed. “You’re kidding.” Sirius knocked Saint’s shoulder. “You’re looking for the fucking Voldemort? Since when?”

“You’re the one who wants to leave this island,” Saint said lowly. “To do that you’ll need money.”

Sirius’ expression changed in the dim light. The moon was high now, and he looked silver and shadowed—and surprised.

“What?” Sirius said faintly. Saint wouldn’t meet his eye. “But you don’t want—”

Logan stepped forward, eyes still on Remus. “Look. We’re not crazy. Leo wants this for his dad, and I—I need to help someone. I told you when we met, didn’t I?”

“You said you were looking for someone,” Remus replied.

Logan nodded quickly.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Saint said and rose, turning to Logan and pointing the light towards his chest like an accusing finger. “Hold every single one of your horses. This is not about Saint Clair, and this is not about Finn. This is about your stupidity and The Carrows.”

“No,” Logan said. “This is about getting Finn out.”

“The Carrows,” Leo repeated, looking at Logan. Logan glanced at him, then rubbed a hand over his face.

“Then help me with Finn,” Logan said, louder this time. “I made a mistake with The Carrows, fine, but are you going to be my next one?”

“No,” Saint all but snarled back.

Logan shoved him, hard, sending Saint crashing back against the files, making them rattle.

“Hey,” Sirius said lowly, and then he had a hand wrapped up in Logan’s shirt, pushing him back.

“Stop,” Remus said, putting his hands out. “Jesus, not here. Maybe you all don’t give a shit, but everything in here is old. It’s precious.” He turned to Leo. “A map, you said a map, just tell me so we can all leave.”

Leo bit his lip, gesturing towards the drawers. “These are labeled?”

Remus nodded and watched them all warily as Leo took the light from Logan and crouched to read the writing on the drawers.

Saint and Logan were still staring at each other. Remus could practically feel some unsaid words between them. Sirius had let Logan go, but Remus didn’t want to keep the three of them in this room together for much longer.

“Here,” Leo said suddenly, and the sound of one of the rattling drawers filled the room. “It’s—oh.”

“What?” Logan asked, shoving around Sirius’ body towards the drawer. Remus followed, glancing back once. Saint and Sirius had their heads close. Sirius had his hand on Saint’s neck, and they were talking softly but quickly to each other.

Remus looked away.

The label read, Cartography. C. 18th. Commerce Port, but in place of anything that the label suggested, was an index card with neat handwriting on it.

On loan: Victor Deveaux

“Deveaux,” Saint said, clucking his tongue. “Deveaux, Deveaux, Deveaux…”

“No,” Remus heard Leo breathe.

“That’s Luke’s dad,” Remus said. He stared at the name. “Oh. That’s…”

“What?” Logan asked. “What do you know?”

Remus shot him a look. He seemed even more on edge than a few moments ago.

“I’d sort of forgotten with everything. Everything that happened to Luke this past year, but,” Remus said. “Luke was always sort of obsessed with the treasure. Only because his dad was, though. When we got older, me and James sort of made fun of him for it, but when we were younger, Mr. Deveaux used to hide little trinkets or candy for us somewhere in the house, and then write out clues for us to work through.” Remus smiled at the memory. It was happy, and it was sad. It seemed like too long ago. “It was fun.”

“So, he has the map,” Logan said. “Can you take us there?”

“Can you relax, speed racer, thanks,” Saint snapped.

“We need the map,” Logan barked back.

“It’s almost three in the morning,” Remus said.

“All the better,” Saint replied and closed the window they had come through before opening the museum door.

“Can’t this wait until morning?”

“Luke won’t just hand it over,” Sirius offered.

Remus turned to him. “What do you care?”

“Saint cares.”

Remus blinked. Sirius was all walled up again, eyes silver.

“Lead the way, Sailor,” Saint said.

Luke’s house was large and pristine, but it looked abandoned somehow. Saint stared up at the white walls, the stone chimney that he couldn’t imagine ever got used. He wondered if it was as grand as the Potters’ house inside. It certainly looked that way, manicured and vast. But it lacked the warmth. It seemed to shift in the night wind.

“We can’t just knock,” Remus broke the silence.

“We should wait,” Leo said somewhat nervously.

“I’ve got this,” Saint replied, chin tilted up towards the large house’s windows. “Which one’s his?”

Remus laughed. “You’re not serious.”

“No, that’d be him,” Saint said, clapping Sirius on the back—who rolled his eyes. “Now, tell me.”

“What are you going to do, climb up the drain pipe?”

Saint shucked his flip flops into the grass. “Yes, sir.”

“You could fall,” Sirius warned.

Saint looked at the windows, set deep into the house’s frame. The rough painted sides and stray vine climbing the surface. He looked at the tilted roof. “I won’t. Now which room is his?”

Remus, behind Saint, was quiet for a long time. Saint kept his eyes forward, squeezing his hands into fists, and then letting them out again. His heart beat hard in his chest, as if remembering a memory his mind wouldn’t.

“He keeps a light on,” Remus finally sighed, and pointed. “That window there.”

The metal and stone were cold beneath Saint’s feet. The pipe was sturdy, but every time it creaked he could hear the others whisper from below. The higher Saint climbed, the more the wind picked up. He closed his eyes letting it push his hair off of his forehead. The summer night was humid, and the moon was high.

“Saint?” he heard Sirius whisper from below.

Saint didn’t respond, just kept climbing. That was how climbing worked. Maybe, if you were lucky, you could rest, but the real part was pushing through the aches and the fear.

What do you hate so much that you’re helping us? Logan had asked him in the car on their way to the museum, and Saint had said something silly, as he always did. He’d smiled. Logan hadn’t laughed, but anyone else would have.

Saint thought of Sirius’ hand, low on his back in the archives rooms.

But you don’t want to go, Sirius had been about to say when Saint told him why they needed the gold. But you don’t want to leave.

If they had been alone, Saint might have actually told him the truth.

But you do, he would have said. If there was anything that wouldn’t be wasteful, it was getting Sirius Black off of this island and away from his own, terrified self. Saint might be a waste, but Sirius wasn’t.

Saint reached the roof and crouched, breathing hard. He could see the light from Luke’s room below him, the slates of the slight, pointed arch above the window frame. It was a short drop. He made it soundlessly, glancing down at the dark shape of the others as he swung himself onto the wooden sill. He could see the source of the light now.

It was a small bulb, plugged in low on the wall by the bed. Simple and cheap, with some sort of picture lit up. A sea shell, Saint thought. It didn’t illuminate much, but Saint could see Luke’s face. He was turned towards the window, on his stomach with an arm beginning to fall over the side of the mattress. He was bare to his waist, where the sheets pooled along his lower back.

Saint pushed at the top of the window until it cracked enough for him to curl his fingers beneath the frame. Luke didn’t stir, not even when Saint let the humid night air meet the AC, and set his bare feet softly on the hardwood floor.

Saint still didn’t know if Luke was a snoop, but he certainly knew that he was.

The floor was stacked with books. They were shoved over to the sides of the walls, near the desk beside a tangle of laptop chords and phone chargers. The bedside table was littered with old water glasses and coffee mugs, clothes occupied more of the floor than the open closet. There were small, empty plastic bags littered throughout the room. Saint picked up one, looking at the few grains of remnants.

He let it flutter back to the floor.

Everyone needed to control something, or at least think they did. Saint, for one too many times since Logan arrived, let himself think about Saint Clair. They’d taken clarity from him. He didn’t know how The Voldemort would get him that back—maybe nothing would. It would certainly take Sirius away, the only constant.

But everyone needed to control something. Or at least think they did. If Saint was going to be alone, he wouldn’t let it sneak up on him. Not again.

Saint was as good at tricking himself as he was at tricking others. And he liked gold. Part of him liked Luke, too. Stubborn. Mean. Beautiful. That would never change.

Saint looked down at Luke’s sleeping form. He looked younger in his sleep. He was dreaming. Saint could tell, there was a flicker beneath his eyelids. The bruise on his cheek was slowly fading, but a faint purple still graced his cheek.

“Tricky bastard,” Saint said aloud, and Luke stirred, cracking an eye open.

There it was. The sleepy look of Crucio, the haze. The lack of will, or maybe the abundance of it.

“You,” Luke mumbled. “You’re…”

His eyes flickered over Saint’s shoulder. Saint wondered who he was seeing. Saint crouched beside him and stroked a hand through his hair. Luke leaned into it. A loved one, then.

Luke blinked at him, and his expression shifted. He scrambled backwards, cursing.

“Saint,” Luke said, blinking. Saint laughed. He sort of liked that Luke couldn’t tell if he was really there or not.

“Hello, tweedle,” Saint said, and held up Luke’s father’s watch. “I need something from you.”

#relic keel lumosinlove #wolfstar #saint #Luke deveaux #jily #dorlene #harry potter #wolfstar fic #cw: drugs #cw: mention of death #lumosinlove ocs #lumosinlove

165 notes · View notes

valhallasubstitute · 3 years

Text

Birthday Cake

Modern! Finan x reader x Sihtric

How many men does it take to bake a cake? Two and their tired girlfriend.

With a distinct lack of supervision, you come home to find Finan and Sihtric causing absolute havoc in the kitchen. What else can you do but lend a hand and join the chaos.

Tags: @flowers-in-your-hayr @geekandbooknerd @mariaenchanted

WARNINGS: tooth rooting fluff

A/N: I don’t know why but I imagine Sihtric having a really sweet tooth?

WC:876

You heard them before you saw them. Music was blaring and your key practically vibrated as you put in the door. A noise complaint would really be the cherry on top for this shitty Tuesday. It was 4pm, work was a bitch and you wanted nothing more than a glass of wine and to cuddle up with your two favourite boys.

Alas.

With a deep sigh you dropped your shopping bags, kicked off your shoes and headed to the kitchen.

The sight before you was both bewildering and endearing; Finan stood with flour covering his deliciously tight t-shirt, sprinkles of white dusting falling from his black hair as he gently swayed to classic rock. Despite his relaxed demeanour a scowl defined his handsome face, dark eyes scanning a tattered cookbook.

The close of the fridge door brought your attention away from Finan, slipping from the Irishman and onto your Dane. Sihtric was also covered in flour, grey sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his hips covered in dusty handprints. A spoon was perched between his lips and a bowl of chocolate icing was cradled in his hands, mischief gleaming in his eyes.

‘For God’s sake Sihtric, can you leave the ganache alone?’

You snorted at Finan’s tone, evidently this wasn’t the first time the bowl had been pillaged. The sound of your amusement gave away your position at the door, your smile doubling as your boys drank in the sight of you.

‘Babe, you’re back!’ Sihtric stepped to greet you, the icing discarded in favour of looping his arms around your waist, his hands resting just above the curve of your ass.

‘Yes I am. Did you miss me?’ You could already feel your stresses melting away as your arms loosely circled his neck.

‘Terribly. Worst five hours of my life.’ You scoffed, rolling your eyes at your lovers’ dramatics. He always did have a flair for play pretend.

You took the spoon from his mouth, throwing it into the sink before placing your lips on his. He tasted like chocolate, with the faintest hint of protein powder. His lips were slightly chapped but plush and the feel of them, however brief, never failed to give you butterflies.

You broke apart as Finan turned the music down, his smile making your heart flutter. Sihtric pecked your lips once more before unravelling himself, his eyes falling back onto the bowl of chocolaty goodness.

Finan wasted no time in taking you into his arms, his beard tickling your neck as he breathed you in.

‘How was your day, my love?’ You melted at the sound of his voice, kissing his shoulder between words.

‘It was long. Busy,’ He hummed sympathetically, his hands coming to cup your cheeks after a quick kiss. ‘Yours seems to have been …productive…’

The Irishman’s laugh blended with Sihtric’s, the two of them sharing a look that screamed of trouble. By the state of your kitchen, you could tell they had been at this all day, the counters were covered in flour, dirty dishes and eggshells scattered around too. The clean-up would be hellish.

‘We’re making a cake.’ The pride in which Finan said it made you want to scream, your heart fit to burst as Sihtric nodded along. ‘Trying to at least. We could probably use some help if I’m honest.’

You debated it, the ache in your shoulders and the call of a hot bath incredibly alluring but the idea of dancing with Finan and stealing the icing with Sihtric won out. You tapped your finger against your lips in mock thought, breaking as you met Sihtric’s silent, pleading gaze.

‘Well since you asked so nicely, I guess I could lend a hand.’

‘You’re an angel.’

‘Less talking, more baking.’

Finan laughed at your back talk, smacking your arse with a wink. Sihtric hopped from the counter, his own hand coming to meet with your other cheek, a smirk on his face as you struggled to see the matching handprints that branded your ass.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

‘It’s perfect.’ The cake was perfectly cooked, it had risen and slid from the tin without so much as a crumb falling out of place. ‘It smells so good.’

‘How long before we can ice it?’

‘When it’s cold, that’s assuming Sihtric hasn’t eaten it all.’

The Dane brushed Finan off with eye roll, his lips twitching despite himself. You smiled, glancing between them, they looked as if they had spent all day in the gym, not baking a cake.

‘What exactly is the cake for?’

Finan looked down at you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. ‘Osferth’s surprise birthday party.’ He explained, his hand gesturing to the calendar pinned to the fridge.

‘Can’t have a surprise party without a cake.’ Sihtric nodded as he spoke, slapping Finan on the back in agreement.

‘Exactly, my friend, exactly. It was bloody hard though; I don’t think I’m baking again anytime soon.’ The two of them nodded, and you bit your lip to hold in your amusement.

You looked between them again, radiating pride, covered in batter and absolutely clueless. It was in that moment you decided not to tell them about the shop bought cake sitting in the hall.

‘Mmh, you don’t say.’

#tlk fanfic #finan #finan x reader #tlk finan x reader #tlk sihtric #tlk sihtric x reader #finan x reader x sihtric #finan fluff #sihtric fluff #Sihtric #inga writes

112 notes · View notes

feliix · 4 years

Text

Icing ✦ JJK (18+)

✦ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader ✦ Word count: 2.5k ✦ Rating: M

✦ Genre: smut, fluff, crack (if you think I’m funny)

✦ Summary: Baking with your boyfriend sounds like a good idea until he makes a mess and then gets a boner. You know where it goes from there.

✦ Warnings: explicit smut, fingering, pussy slapping, spanking, cum play, unprotected sex, established relationship

✦ Requested by @luxekook: “TAKE TWO: KOOK + COCKTAIL W/ SOME HOT CHOCOLATE BC HE FLUFFY AF” & This Anon: “I had an idea! Jk and reader are attempting to bake. Including a flour fight, playful arguing, and batter tasting and it’s really cutesy 🥺 but could turn 👀”

✦ A/N: I got a little carried away and this may no longer be a drabble anymore oopsies! I am still accepting drabble requests based on these guidelines!! Thank you to @jintobean and @bangtiddies for giving me the hype to post this because I needed it, ily both ♥︎ (also this is not fully edited so sorry)

✦ Written for the Drinks and Drabbles game hosted by @bangtan-dreamland and BHQ

“Jungkook stop you’re making a mess!”

A cloud of flour coats the air as Jungkook attempts to send a cup through the sifter. His sifting motion is a little too intense, the powder ending up all over your kitchen counter instead of in the bowl like the recipe called for.

“This is why I don’t bake,” he laughs, placing his hand down on the counter top to coat it with the white powder. By the devilish look in his eye you knew exactly what was coming next.

“Jungkook please don’t,” you say calmly as your arms raise in surrender, trying all methods to call a truce. Taking a few steps backward, you do your best to get away from the flour-handed boy, but to your demise your back meets the cold metal of the refrigerator. Jungkook approaches closer, hands stretched outwards as you turn your head, attempting to shield yourself. Before he gets too close you take a deep breath, holding your inhale as your eyes slam shut – like that would even prevent you from the disaster that was on the verge of occurring.

All the muscles in your body tighten as you felt his presence directly in front of you, his breath beating down the side of your neck. When nothing happens you slowly release your pent up breath, cracking your eyes open to see what Jungkook was actually up to.

Finally relaxing your thoughts, you see him standing straight in front of you, hands by his sides and eyes staring down at your smaller figure. A furrowed brow forms on your face as you begin opening your mouth, ready to question his intentions. Much to your dismay, Jungkook had other plans.

With the excessive amount of flour coating his hands, Jungkook brings them up level with your face. Time slows as you watch his hands move closer and closer to each other. Preparing yourself for the worst, you suck in as much precious air as you can. And then it hits you.

A while cloud of flour floats through the air, coating your face, clothing, and the insides of your mouth. The devilish smirk on his face returned before he was turning around, sprinting in the opposite direction of the house knowing he was about to get it.

“You’re such a dick!” You yell, chasing after him through the living room and to the bedroom where he had run into. Legs no match for Jungkook’s quick movements, he scoots past you and darts into the connected bathroom, slamming the door behind him and hiding from you like a little kid. “Open the door!” Your warning holds no value, not exactly sure what you’re going to do once you actually face him; but you sure are amped up enough to try and beat his ass. Although, you knew damn well how that would end.

“I don’t think so,” he taunts back, out of breath and wheezing from how many obstacles he encountered on his way to the bathroom to escape your wrath. A grin was spread wide across his face as he listened to you huff and puff on the other side of the door. There was nothing better than pissing you off – you were really cute when you were mad.

“Jungkook! I swear to god open this door right now!” You nearly yell, pounding your fist on the door in hopes it would finally make him open up. Shuffling ensues behind the door and you can hear him getting ready to face you, slightly worried at the extent of your wrath.

As the door swings open he meets his flour faced girlfriend, covered from head to toe in white powder. He can’t help but burst out laughing at your appearance, standing cross armed in the doorway as you look at him with a solemn expression. It was adorable.

“It's not funny! I’m a mess and the kitchen’s a disaster,” you try to remain serious, but it's too hard to hold back from joining in on this gigglefest. You clutch your stomach as laughter racks your body, hindering your ability to stand up straight.

After the laughter finally subsides Jungkook sits you down on the side of the tub, wetting a washcloth to use to wipe the flour residue off your face. Cheeks sore and stomach aching from all the giggles, Jungkook’s sweet gestures were the icing on the unfinished cake. The way his eyes were so concentrated on making sure each dot of flour was carefully removed kept you in awe. How could someone be such a brat 5 minutes ago now handle you with such care? He was really a keeper.

“There,” he says as he places the damped rag down on the side of the tub, standing back up and extending a hand out to you. Standing up in front of him he gives you a bunny-like smile, admiring your newly clean features, “Beautiful.” Blushing at his comment, you pick your head up to meet his eyes, only to be stopped dead in your tracks mid-way.

“Why are you hard? I'm literally covered in flour,” you question, reaching out in front of you to grab at your boyfriends dick teasingly. Jungkook flinches mildly in response, jumping back a little bit to escape your touch. Things between you and Jungkook were pretty open, neither of you were ever shy about calling each other out for being horny fucks, and neither of you were embarrassed about it either.

“I’m always hard when I’m around you,” he smirks devilishly as he wiggles his eyebrows in a teasing manner.

“You’re gross!” You roll your eyes, standing up to swat at him as he crosses his arms in defense. You both knew where things were headed from here. It didn't need to be some grand gesture or passionate kiss to turn either of you on, just a random boner and a little bit of excitement and you were good to go.

“So… are we gonna have sex now or what?” He asks, wrapping his hands around your waist and pulling your body into his. A joking scoff leaves your throat as you lean into him, your ear meeting his chest as he kisses the top of your head sweetly.

With a crook of your head you were turning on your heels to face the door, walking into your bedroom with ease. Jungkook follows behind you as you take your spot on the bed, sitting by the edge as he leans over you.

His hand grazes your thigh as you sit on the bed, him gently pushing you back into a lying position while his body moves over yours. His chocolate eyes focus on each of your features as he hovers over you, amazed by your beauty and wondering how he got so lucky. Placed under him you waited for him to make a move, so badly wanting to just wrap your hand around the back of his neck and push his lips to yours.

Time seemed to tick by slower and slower as his lips finally began approaching yours; your eyes staring down as his lips as his tongue ran over them gently. When his mouth finally meets yours all is good in the world. Electricity flows through your body each time he kisses you, the spark between you never dying. His soft lips caressed your own so gently, taking his time to make each movement count. Each light exhale from his nose warming your cheek and sending goosebumps to litter your skin.

He deepens the kiss as his hand wraps around the backside of your neck. His thumb moves in small motions along your ear as he holds your head delicately in his hand. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to notice your eyes were begging him for more. The small movements and shifts in his body language could tell you that he was lusting for more too.

In a swift movement Jungkook breaks the kiss, leaving your chest heaving from your desire-filled kiss. The demeanor in Jungkook’s eyes quickly shifts. What once was lust filled and dark transforms to something more fiery, his eyes narrowing and his lips curling upwards as he leans in towards your ear. “I’m gonna ice you like that cake we were supposed to make.”

Jaw dropping at his unusual choice of dirty talk, you lick your lips trying to come up with an equally playful response. He withdraws his head back to look at the dazed expression on your face, “Will you just shut up and put your dick in me already?”

“Can do,” He says as his fingers hook on the sides of your shorts and into your underwear, immediately ripping them down your legs with one swift motion. He grins to himself at your exposed lower half placed perfectly beneath him. His eyes wander your body in admiration, the cockiest look plastered across his face.

Standing up, he grabs the collar of his shirt before he rips the fabric over his head and wiggles out of his dark jeans, kicking them off to the side. While he’s busy undressing himself you take it into your own hands to rid yourself of your own sweatshirt. You lift the fabric over your head and carelessly throw the garment off the bed.

“No bra today?” His eyebrows raise in your direction, his dick being swept up with a firm hand, “Sweet.”

“Can you stop acting like a horny 16 year old boy for like 20 minutes,” you sigh, secretly amused with this fuck boy persona he likes to sport. He does look unbelievably hot with that smug look on his face though…

“I’ll act like a horny 23 year old, just for you,” he smirks to himself at the banter, walking back over to you as he pumps his cock in his hand a few times. Can’t help but rolling your eyes at him again, you let out a mockingly annoyed sigh.. As annoyed as you wanted to be, his little act was too cute for you to hold back small giggles from escaping your tightly sealed lips.

Reaching out in front of you, you grab onto his wrists, pulling him in closer. Jungkook’s hand remains wrapped around his dick, pumping it slowly to full erection as he gazes down at you, “Spread ‘em.”

You follow his orders, placing a hand on each knee and opening your legs to display your damp cunt to him. With his free hand he reaches down, dragging his middle and index finger along your slit; your eyes following the slow motion of his hand. Once he reaches the end he finishes with a playful slap to your clit. Wincing in reaction, you look up at him with needy eyes – you wanted more.

His hands grab a hold of your hips, flipping you over so that you're laying with your chest placed to the mattress, legs dangling off the bed. A hand is brought up to Jungkook’s mouth, coating his digits with a layer of saliva before bringing it back down to your pussy. His fingers trace your entrance as arousal begins to spill from your hole. Your arousal is collected by his fingertips, using it as lubricant to circle around your clit before dipping a finger into your cunt.

Your ass automatically moves back into his hand, begging him to give you more. Jungkook takes your hint as his fingers slip past your entrance to caress your walls. Tightening around his digits, you feel a fire begin to burn in your belly as his fingers pump in and out of you. It was so soon and too sudden, and Jungkook had every intention of holding you off until he could be inside you.

Walls clench around nothing as he withdrawals his fingers from your cunt, leaving you whining in response. His hand is quick to line himself up with your entrance, pushing into you ruggedly as your body tenses up. He gives you a second to relax as your body adjusts to his size, your walls stretching deliciously as you accommodate his length.

With your fists grasping for the sheets Jungkook begins thrusting his hips slowly – lining the tip at your entrance and then plunging back into you again. His hands roam down the curve of your back, landing at the swell of your ass. He gives it a light squeeze followed by a playful spank; not hard enough to hurt but just enough to make you clench down around him.

You both fall silent as the sounds slapping from his balls against your pussy fill the room. Breath is sucked out of you at one hard thrust in particular; stars forming at the back of your eyes and your mouth salivating at the ever increasing pleasure bestowing upon you.

Growing needy for release you buck your hips back at him, meeting his thrusts and sending Jungkook deeper inside of you. A loud moan escapes Jungkook’s lips as he feels the tip of his dick press against a more sensitive area, your walls gripping around him harder and sucking him in.

“I’m close,” you manage to exhale out between moans. Jungkook’s fingers dig deeper into your sides as you grind your ass back on him, arching your back as far as you could to feel every inch of him. A choked whine falls from your mouth as Jungkook’s fingers meet your clit. Rolling the bud between his fingertips sends you into a full blown frenzy; chasing your much needed high as his hips drive harshly into your ass.

The coil in your lower abdomen snaps, eyes closing so harshly that teardrops squeeze through the corners of your eyelids and leak down the sides of your face. Cries of pleasure fill the room as your release finally arrives. Jungkook’s thrusts persist through your orgasm, not failing to chase his own pleasure after he meets your own. Legs left shaking and so fucked out you’re basically rendered immobile, all you can offer is the tightening spasms your pussy. Milking Jungkook for everything he’s worth is your top priority.

After just a few more sharp snaps of his hips, Jungkook’s thrusts became more slow and heavy. Against your internal wishes, Jungkook decided to pull out of you, leaving your feeling empty at the loss of contact. Before you had time to even ask why, white hot spurts of cum were landing on the supple skin of your ass. Left breathless on the bed, Jungkook smears his cum across your asscheek, keeping his word and icing you like a cupcake. You were too fucked out and drained from your orgasm to complain, not that you would even want to if you could.

The weight of Jungkook’s body presses down into the mattress next to you as he lets out an exhausted grunt. Turning your head to the other side, you meet his goofy post-sex grin, still cocky as can be.

“I think you have a little bit of flour in your hair,” his smile grows as he reaches over to ruffle the hair on your head.

“Remind me to never ask you to bake with me again.”

#networkbangtan #btswriterscollective #bangtanarmynet #smutcentralnet #ficswithluv #goldenclosetnet #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfiction #jjk oneshot #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #bhqdrabbles

786 notes · View notes

mr-and-mr-diaz · 3 years

Text

*Gasp* And They Were NEIGHBORS! A Buddie Neighbor AU

This fic is dedicated to @agentmarymargaretskitz who sent me the original prompt (as well as so many others when I wasn’t feeling well, seriously can’t thank you enough and I will respond to each of your asks, I’m just savoring them) and to @justsmilestuffhappens who I have been mutualling back and forth with for a REALLY long time (Hi! Nice to meet you, I love you already!) and wanted to see this prompt happen!

***

“I SWEAR to god, Buck, if I hear even one more word out of your mouth about this guy and his kid I will throw you over this balcony!”

“But Hen--”

“He’s gorgeous, I know! And his kid is the cutest thing since puppies! We get it! Now stop talking about it and do something about it!” Hen sounded mostly exasperated, but dare Buck hope he still heard a little fondness in there as well?

He smiled. “Right. Okay.” Silence followed as he wracked his brains. “Wait, what should I do?? This guy doesn’t know me at all, I haven’t gone over yet to say hello, I’m so worried about being awkward or overkill--”

“Overkill? You??” Chimney chuckled from across the firehouse loft where he was playing the pinball arcade.

“Hey!”

“In all seriousness, Buck,” Chim turned and addressed him, his smile gone from teasing to kind. “You’re gonna be fine, just go say hi. The sooner you get it over with, the less awkward it’ll be. Also, remember you still gotta find out if he’s interested. And available too; if he’s as hot as you say, he could already be dating someone.”

“Oh shit! Wait, what if he is?” Buck put his face in his hands and groaned. “Urgh, what should I do?”

“Why not take over some of those cookies I taught you how to bake last week, Buck?” Buck raised his eyes to Bobby, who was watching him with a small, patient smile. “Nothing out of the ordinary about bringing some baked goods to a new neighbor. It’s a great way to introduce yourself and get in their good books.”

“Okay!” Buck nodded. “Can you help me bake them again, Cap?”

Bobby's nodded, already headed for the pantry. “Of course.”

***

Eddie sighed. He was so glad he moved but it didn’t stop the process from being hell. It had been a long day job hunting and he still needed to find a good school for Chris. At the moment, Chris was in the living room, watching TV.

Eddie got up and went over to the fridge, digging around for the Tupperware of dinner Abuela had sent over and transferring it to a pot to reheat. Soon the smell of delicious posole filled the house and he sat, taking a moment just to savor the scent and feel just a bit more at home.

He was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“No rest for the weary.” Sighing, Eddie stood and shuffled over, glancing through the peephole. A tall man stood there, his hair short and neatly slicked back. He was shuffling back and forth awkwardly, a covered plate in his hands.

Who is this? Eddie opened the door.

“Can I help you?”

“Uh hey!” The man’s eyes lit up and he looked Eddie up and down. He was a bit taller than Eddie and dressed sharply in a firefighter’s uniform. Eddie instantly became aware of the ratty sweatpants and loose Henley he’d thrown on as soon as he’d gotten back home and how mussed his hair likely was from running his fingers through it in frustration. Weirdly though, the man’s smile didn’t dim.

“Hi, My name’s Evan Buckley, I’m your neighbor! Apartment 2B.” He smiled, eyes lingering on Eddie’s for just a moment too long, before he jolted and laughed awkwardly, lifting his hands up. “Cookies! Uh, I mean, I made cookies for you.” The man lifted the cloth off the plate and a heavenly smell wafted from a pile of delicious looking cookies. “They’re chocolate chip macadamia--wait, you don’t have any allergies right? Or gluten intolerant or anything? Or, shit, are you vegan? I should’ve asked, there’s eggs in here...” Evan made to cover the plate again, but Eddie put out a hand, stopping him. He couldn’t help grinning at the guy--the way he rambled, his bright smile.

“You think I’m gonna let you walk away with those now that you’ve offered? They smell great, Evan.”

“Oh thank goodness!” The smile was back and brighter. “And, uh, feel free to call me Buck, all my friends do. And welcome to the neighborhood! It’s nice here, everyone’s polite, except Mr. Grivary in 4C, he can be a bit--but of course you don’t want to hear me rambling...” The guy blushed and Eddie felt his own smile widen. This man was adorable.

“Actually, that sounds like useful information Buck.” Eddie remembered Abuela’s dinner and held the door wider. “I’m not really a cook myself, but we have my Abuela’s posole for dinner, would you like to join us?”

“Yes!! I mean,” Buck blushed again and cleared his throat. “Yeah sure, if it isn’t any trouble...”

***

Buck felt like he’d barely fallen asleep when his doorbell rang.

“Hmm?” He mumbled at the door. Which of course could not be heard by whoever was on the other side. They rang the doorbell again.

“Ugh, fuck... Yeah, coming!” Buck dragged himself out of bed and stumbled to the door, glancing through the peephole. He couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on his face as he caught sight of golden brown curls, red glasses, and the world’s cutest smile.

“Chris!” He pulled the door open. “What’s up, buddy?”

“I’ve got news!” Chris giggled as he carefully walked into Buck’s apartment and sat himself down at the kitchen table. Buck automatically reached for his crutches and propped them against the chair. It was hardly the first time Chris had come to visit; he came over often to play games, tell Buck about his day, or help him try out a new recipe. “Our school is holding a bake sale on Friday.”

“Those are fun.” Buck sat down across from Chris, voice lowered conspiratorially. “What are you making?”

“That’s the thing.” Christopher’s tone turned sad. “The teacher said it has to be homemade and Dad’s been stressing out about it. He’s super busy with his new job and I know he wants to help, but... He burned water once. Just water.”

“Aw man.” Buck put in every effort not to laugh, but a giggle still escaped. “You want me to help you put something together, take the pressure off your dad?” Christopher nodded happily and Buck reach for his notebook where he carefully documented all of Bobby’s recipes. “How’s cupcakes sound, Superman?”

In short order, they had all the ingredients lined up on the counter, and Chris was comfortably seated right next to the mixer, ready to dump in anything Buck handed him.

“...And then, only after that you want to add the dry stuff. I don’t really know the science behind it yet, I just know that it works. If I do find out, I’ll tell you.”

“Okay. Buck?”

“Hmm?” Buck consulted Bobby’s notes carefully and measured out a cup of flour, handing it over to be added to the mix.

“Where did you learn how to bake so well? Did your mom or dad teach you?”

Buck grinned. “Nah. My captain at the fire station is the best cook I’ve ever met. Everything I baked for you guys I learned from him.”

“Oh.” Christopher reached out a hand for the second cup of carefully measured flour. “Are your parents also bad cooks like my dad?”

“Well, no. My parents are nothing like your dad.” Buck sobered. “My mom cooked a little for us, but mostly we ordered in. And she never... uh, she never had time to teach me or Maddie. I didn’t have a complete homemade meal until I started working at the 118.” He shook his head to clear the thoughts and smiled at Christopher. “But now thanks to Cap, I got an almost-dad who cooks for me every day! And now he’s teaching me so I can do it one day for my kids, if I’m ever lucky enough to have them.”

Christopher thought for a second, absently reaching for the teaspoon of baking powder and adding it to the mix before saying. “I already have a dad, and I don’t want to trade him for anything. But... Could you be my second dad?”

Buck looked up from the salt, startled.

“Like a cooking almost-dad who teaches me how to cook just like your Cap does for you? I want to be able to help Dad so he stops feeling so bad about not cooking.” Christopher was smiling at him, waiting for a response. Buck looked away quickly and took a deep breath, clearing the sudden thickness in his throat and blinking away wet eyes.

“Y-yeah, sure, Chris. I’d be happy to.”

***

Eddie arrived home from work exhausted. As he approached the door, he noted how quiet the apartment sounded. Usually that meant that Christopher was hanging out by Buck’s, but Buck’s apartment was also quiet and dark. Hurrying toward the door, Eddie fumbled with his key and jerked it open as fast as he could--

“SURPRISE!!”

For only two people, Buck and Christopher still managed to startle the shit out of him.

“Fu-fudge! Guys what the hell...!”

“Happy birthday, Dad!” Christopher called from the table.

“Happy birthday, Eddie!” Buck was bent over something, his broad back blocking whatever it was. Then he rose and stepped away to Christopher’s side. He grinned, cheeks slightly flushed. “It’s not perfect, Cap would’ve done it better, but I’d say for Chris and I’s first ever layer cake it’s pretty darn good!” He and Chris high-fived each other as Eddie stepped closer.

The cake was lopsided, and the icing oozed down the sides a bit and on top... was that the number 32?

“Chris did all the writing,” Buck added proudly. “As the mastermind behind this, it was only right that he got the honors.”

“What do you think, Dad?” Chris’ voice bubbled over with delight.

Eddie looked up. They were both watching him, eyes bright, smiles wide, waiting on his response. I think--no, I know have the best kid ever.

And the best Buck.

Eddie couldn’t contain the huge grin that broke out on his face. “It’s perfect.” He looked a them, eyes meeting Christopher's, then Buck’s. “Thank you.”

***

“So when do I get to meet her?” Abuela was layering a container with tamales, her back to Eddie.

“Who?”

“The person you’ve been sharing all my cooking with.” Abuela’s tone brooked no nonsense. “The person who makes you smile to yourself every time you think I’m not looking.”

Eddie startled. “Oh, Buck? He’s not... we’re not--”

“Nonsense, mi amor.” Abuela chuckled, clamping the lid down on the container of tamales and handing them to Eddie’s slack hands. “If he isn’t, then he should be.”

Eddie stopped where he was. Abuela is right. Chris adores him, I adore him... What am I waiting for?

He reached for his phone and sent out a text.

To: Buck

From Eddie:

Abuela made tamales. Come over tonight?

#buddie #buddie fic #911 fic #neighbors au #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #buddiepher

63 notes · View notes

aethelflaedladyofmercia · 3 years

Text

Sweet Victory (Good Omens Fic)

On April 21, 2021 - Aethelflaed and Elf-on-the-Shelf met in frantic Discord Sprint Competition. The goal: be the first in the DIWS Discord server to reach Level 1000. The reward: the coveted title of Spront Lord. In our final sprint, we chose the shared prompt of "Sweet Victory." My results follow...and can also be found on AO3

“Ready?” Aziraphale said, resting primly against the kitchen wall.

Crowley, meanwhile, crouched, braced himself to charge forward.

“Go!” the demon shouted.

They dashed to the kitchen counter, where two sets of equipment and ingredients sat waiting, and began sorting through them as fast as possible.

Crowley had seen his angel cook before. Aziraphale took great delight in following every recipe to the letter, selecting only the finest ingredients, measuring each precisely, scraping a knife across the top of each cup to ensure not a single extra grain of sugar was added.

Crowley’s own methods were more…Crowley-esque.

He tore open each bag and container, scooping out the flour and dumping it into the bowl. Half of it wound up around the bowl, but that’s why he used big scoops. Sugar by the fistful, salt one pinch at a time. Butter. Milk. Cocoa powder. Everything that he needed to create the perfect cake.

The electric mixer screamed along at its top speed, brown dust flying in every direction, batter spattering up his shirt and across the wall. Four different eggs smashed on the floor, and he swept them aside with his foot.

The oven was pre-set to the correct temperature, but there would barely be room for two pans. The one who completed his mix first would get the coveted spot in the middle of the oven; the other would have to make do with another rack.

Crowley dumped the batter into the cake pan and slid it into place, slamming the oven shut while Aziraphale was still carefully counting the strokes of his spoon.

“Ha!” he crowed, leaning against the oven, then quickly danced away. “Ow, ow, ow, door hot.”

“Yes, dear,” Aziraphale said placidly. His pacing hadn’t altered, steady as a metronome.

He carefully measured and poured his batter into two small pans and placed his cakes in on the lower shelf, setting an egg timer down in his counter space.

Crowley, on the other hand, knelt and watched through the window, a trick he’d learned from Bake Off. The cake cooked quickly, puffing up just a little. When it looked done-ish, he snatched it out.

They had made the icing the previous night, though failed to agree that Crowley had definitely won that one. He snatched it out of the refrigerator now, and started slathering it atop the cake, thick as he could. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at him and glanced at his timer, but continued waiting with patience that was rarely reserved for non-food-related activities.

The timer dinged, and Aziraphale pulled his cake pans out of the oven as Crowley put the finishing touches on his own: showering it with three different kinds of sprinkles. He folded his arms and gave the angel his smuggest grin.

Aziraphale’s cake cooled, and Crowley’s began to drip.

First the icing…melted off the cake, turning back into a runny glaze. He attacked it with spoon and knife, trying to pile it all on top where it belonged, but it was no good—now the cake began to crumble, sections breaking off, collapsing inward.

By the time Aziraphale finished his, glancing at the clock with a little bastard smile, Crowley’s had been reduced to a pile of chocolate crumbs mashed up in icing.

“You have another minute,” Aziraphale said. “if you think you have a plan.”

“I always have a plan.” Crowley scraped his cake into a clean bowl, mashed and stirred frantically with a fork, and looked up just as the clock struck noon. “S’pudding,” he explained with a grin.

“I…suppose…” Aziraphale looked skeptically at the mess. “I suppose I should taste yours first.”

“Yeah. Because I won. Sweet victory!”

“We were racing for the oven, yes, but we agreed victory would go to the best dessert, not the fastest.”

“Same difference.”

Aziraphale frowned, dipping first a fork and then—when that didn’t seem to work—a spoon into Crowley’s pudding. He lifted the bite, sniffed it, and popped it in his mouth.

Then promptly spat it into the sink.

“Darling,” he said with immense patience. “Did you mix up the sugar and the salt again?”

“No!” Crowley looked at the counter where he’d worked, white powder covering every surface. “Possibly.” He scraped his finger through the pudding and licked it with a forked tongue, then gagged. “Yes.”

Aziraphale smiled, cutting off a small section of two-layer cake, buttercream evenly spread with a whimsical pattern drawn in dark red piping. He lifted the forkful to his mouth and took a delicate bite. “Perfection” he said, licking his lips. “Absolutely delectable.”

“How do I know?” Crowley scowled, reaching grab a handful, though Aziraphale batted his arm away. “It isn’t fair if I can’t at least taste it.”

“Of course.” Aziraphale cut off another forkful and offered the bite. Crowley leaned forward to take it, but the angel pulled it back and popped it in his own mouth.

“Oi! How am I—”

Aziraphale pulled his husband into a kiss, a warm, chocolate-flavored kiss.

Defeat had never tasted so sweet.

Thank you for reading! Yes, this WAS all written in a single 20 minute sprint...except for the last few sentences, because I ran out of time...and also all the edits.

Regardless, the results of Elf's and my competition was: we both passed Level 1000 after this sprint! But Elf had enough bonus points to get up to Level 1001. So we both got the title of Spront Lord, but she technically did slightly better.

SLIGHTLY.

#good omens fanfiction #good omens fluff #south downs cottage #aziraphale and crowley #ineffable husbands #asexual ineffable husbands #asexual good omens #cake #aziraphale loves food #aziraphale loves crowley #crowley loves aziraphale #crowley is a mess #ineffable idiots #my writing #short and sweet #ao3 link

39 notes · View notes

gingersaremytype · 4 years

Text

Hold Me Close - Montgomery De La Cruz x Reader

Masterlist

Prompt List

Montgomery De La Cruz x Reader

Monty comes to the reader after trouble at home and they comfort him :(

Warnings: Mentions of abuse

Word Count - 1.8k

It was almost 3 am when your doorbell rang multiple times. Your parents were at a wedding for the weekend so you were home alone. Sitting up abruptly in bed, you quickly woke up, threw on a hoodie and jogged downstairs. Cautiously opening the door, your eyes fell onto a familiar figure.

Montgomery De La Cruz.

You'd known Monty since the two of you started at Liberty and never been especially close but knew each other relatively well. There always seemed to be some form of flirting happening between the two of you but it never turned into anything more. You knew he was damaged and that he didn't have much self-control. You'd witnessed him lashing out multiple times, firing like a loose cannon. He hung around Bryce and the other jocks which meant you'd normally sit with him at lunch, being good friends with Justin, Scott and some of the others.

However, the boy stood in front of you now was not the one you seemed to know. His head was bowed and his hood was covering most of his face.

"Monty?" You asked, his head raising slightly.

"I-just." his voice broke slightly as he tried to speak, "please can I come in, Y/n. I don't know where else to go." He stated. The way he said your name made your heart break slightly, it was so hollow.

You nodded your head and closed the door behind him once he was inside. Flicking on the light, you could see him clearly. The side of his face was red, with some parts turning black and he had fresh scratches all over.

You gasped slightly as the realisation hit you. You'd always seen Monty with bruises or cuts but you'd assumed they'd been from football or fistfights. A wave of guilt rushed over you. You'd never realised what was happening at home.

"I'm so sorry, Monty." You whispered, stepping closer to him.

He avoided your gaze and opened his mouth but only a croak came out as you saw a tear fall from his eye. You wrapped your arms around him and he rested his head on yours. His body shook with shaky breaths as you felt your own tears forming behind your eyes. You'd thought Monty was damaged but you were wrong; he wasn't damaged, he was completely broken.

You pulled away from the hug after a little while and looked at his red eyes, tears still falling. Seeing him like this made you feel sick to your stomach. You took his hand, interlocking your fingers and leading him to the kitchen. He stood, leaning on the counter, as you fished around in the cupboards, pulling out two mugs, hot chocolate powder and mini marshmallows. You walked over to the freezer and pulled out a bag of peas. He watched you as you moved around the kitchen, filling the mugs with milk and putting them in the microwave. You walked over and handed him the frozen peas. The corners of his mouth tilted upwards as a thank you. He put the bag onto his bruised cheek and winced slightly at the pressure and the cold. You didn't expect him to talk about it, he wasn't a very talkative person; especially when it came to something personal.

The kitchen stood silent as the two of you didn't say anything. It wasn't exactly a comfortable silence but there wasn't anything awkward about it either. Since you'd opened the door, you'd been wondering why Monty had come here. Come to you, at his most vulnerable and when he needed someone the most. He had come to you.

You knew Bryce was out of town for the weekend at some fancy country club party with his parents but there were loads of other people. The whole baseball team, for example. But no, Monty had come to your house.

You were drawn out of your thoughts by the microwave beeping. You walked over and grabbed the mugs, setting them down quickly before they scorched your hands. You picked up two generous handfuls of marshmallows and put them on top. Turning around, you could see Monty was smiling at you. It was only a small smile and the majority of his face was covered by the bag of peas but you still saw it. You carried the mugs into your living room and set them on the coffee table in front of the sofa, Monty following behind.

You realised you hadn’t even asked if he wanted a drink, you’d just made one. Whenever you were down or needing cheering up, hot chocolate was always the answer. It was an automatic response, you were never the greatest at consoling people but you were a good listener and always there for your friends and surely you’d have to be crazy to decline a mug of hot chocolate.

He sat down and put his head in his hands, placing the bag of peas on the table.

"I'm sorry, Y/n," he whispered as you sat beside him on the sofa. It was the first time he'd spoken since he'd stood on your doorstep.

“Sorry? Monty, you have no reason to be," you replied softly, tilting your head to try and see his face.

He looked up at you with desperate eyes.

"It's not fair, to come here and dump this on you. I just-" He paused, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

You moved closer to him and placed your hand on his shoulder.

"I promise you, it's okay. You're not dumping anything on me, I’m here, Monty. I want to help."

He looked at you as you felt tears in your eyes, threatening to fall. You didn't know why seeing him like this made you feel so deeply sad. You felt like you should've been here for him ages ago. But, how could you? You didn't know what was happening and you didn't know how. The best you'd been able to come up with so far was hot chocolate and marshmallows. A tear slipped out as you realised you had no idea how to make any of this better.

He silently wiped your tear away as you looked up at him.

"I just knew that if I was with you, I'd feel better." He whispered, his hand lingering on your cheek.

You smiled slightly as your stomach twisted at his words and a warmth spread through your body and up to your cheeks. Except, at the same time, looking at him devastated you. You closed your eyes as he stroked your cheek with his thumb.

When you opened them, Monty was closer to you and you felt your heartbeat quicken. You stared into his dark eyes and before you were fully aware of what was happening, you shut your eyes and Monty's lips were on yours. He kissed you softly as you moved your hand from his shoulder and onto the back of his neck, your fingers wandering into his dark hair as you pulled him closer. You didn't know a single kiss could hold so much emotion, but this one did. It was slow and gentle, neither of you wanting to change it into something more. It sparked something inside of you that you hadn't felt before, making your skin feel electric to his touch. The two of you parted and just looked at each other, both at a loss for words.

Monty didn't say anything instead, he just looked at you, trying to read your expression. Your head spun, in your mind, you’d always disregarded the comments Monty had made at school, knowing he said the same to other girls.

However, thinking about it, lately, he hadn’t been complimenting other girls… just you.

A small smile spread across your lips and you kissed him again. He pulled you into his lap as you wrapped your arms around him. You pulled away and looked at the bruise on the side of his face.

“It’s fine, Y/n, it’s just a bruise. He was drunk and I said something I shouldn’t have.” He replied, looking away from you.

“It’s not fine.” You whispered softly, resting your forehead on his.

He kissed you again, his hands bringing you closer to him. He never wanted to let you go and he needed you with him.

“At least, stay here for the weekend.” You mumbled, being careful to not put your hands on his bruise.

“What about your parents? I don’t want to get you in trouble, Y/n,” He replied, his voice soft.

“They’re not here and even if they were, I can talk to them and-“

You looked at him with sad eyes and buried your head into his neck. He sighed and hugged you tight.

The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes, not saying anything and just enjoying the feeling of having the other in your arms.

You yawned, remembering it was the middle of the night.

“Do you wanna go upstairs?” You asked, ignoring the hot chocolates sat on the coffee table.

“Yeah, okay,” He replied softly.

You slipped off of him and stood up, offering your hand to pull him up. The two of you walked up the stairs and you lead him to your room. You were glad your parents had made you tidy it the day before, as it was actually in an okay state for someone else to be seeing it.

Monty walked over to the photos stuck on the wall and looked at all the smiling faces. One was from a house party at Bryce's a few months ago; there were a couple of other people in the photo but Monty noticed that you and he were looking at each other and laughing, each holding a red cup filled with god knows what and raising them to each other. He thought back to that night and remembered thinking how pretty you’d looked.

You walked over to him and rested your head on his shoulder, following his eyes to the photo. It was one of the only photos you had together but you had always loved it.

“I beat you at beer pong that night,” You stated with a smile.

Monty smiled at you properly for the first time and shook his head, “we’ll have to have a rematch,” he replied, turning to look at you, "and I’m pretty sure that was Reed’s fault, not mine,” He added, causing you to smile.

You took off your hoodie and climbed into bed. Monty climbed in next to you and rolled over to look at you. He tangled you up in his arms and pulled you close, resting his head on yours. You felt his heartbeat slow and his body relax as you buried your head in his chest and breathed in his scent.

You realised how deeply he needed you and, although you hadn’t realised it before, you also wanted him to hold you close and never let go.

#monty de la cruz #monty de la cruz x reader #montgomery de la cruz #montgomery de la cruz x reader #13rw #13 reasons why #netflix #fluff #monty de la cruz fluff #imagine #13rw imagine #monty de la cruz imagine #montgomery de la cruz imagine #13 reasons why masterlist #13rw masterlist

339 notes · View notes

ex-vengeancedemon · 3 years

Text

Averting Disasters and Other Ways to Avoid Your Problems

Chapter 2

Characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Mentions of things that occurred in Angel: The Series season 5.

Main Pairing: Buffy x Spike

Characters: Buffy, Spike, Giles, Willow, Xander, Andrew, Faith, Dawn

Summary: Set in 2008, five years after Spike's resurrection at Wolfram & Hart. Buffy is living in Cleveland guarding the hellmouth. Spike has left Angel and company and is hiding out in Chicago. The Scoobies are scattered. When something starts going wrong with the slayers around the world, it's time to get the gang back together.

Masterlist & Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Cleveland, Ohio

Buffy woke up groggy. She was still in her bed. It was still dark outside. Her eyelids felt heavy as she squinted through the dim, struggling to focus. After a disorienting minute, she shook the fog from her head and glanced at her alarm clock resting on the nightstand, its only fixture. She had meant to decorate. She would....eventually.

The segmented, glowing red numbers on her alarm informed her it was four in the morning. That couldn't be right. Could it? Had she really only slept for an hour? Add sleep deprivation to the list. Whatever list that was. List of future problems maybe.

A light patter of rain beat down on the roof and decorated the windows with beads that shimmered with the occasional passing headlights. Buffy couldn't recall forecasting rain that night. It had been still and cloudless all night. Good patrol weather. A distant crack of thunder sounded and the windows vibrated softly.

Buffy frowned as she swung her legs out of bed. When her bare feet hit the cold wooden floor she was irritated to notice a healthy coating of dirt scattered on the ground and clinging to her soles. She would have to clean it up later. It could wait. No way did she plan on going all vacuum crazy at four a.m. She wasn't that lost to reason.

The house rattled again with a closer shock of thunder as Buffy made her way downstairs. It was kind of nice. The storm. It broke up the quiet. Buffy reached the kitchen and snatched the kettle from the stovetop. She filled it with water without bothering to turn on the lights and switched the burner on. A quick cup of tea and then back to sleep. It was something her mom had done. If she woke up in the middle of the night restless, her mom would somehow know and... what did she say? She would say something. Buffy's hand slipped slightly and the kettle dropped the rest of the way to the burner. She jumped at the sudden noise just as some water that had spilled hissed against the now red hot grills.

Buffy held a hand to her head and winced as she noticed a fresh bruise she didn't remember getting. She sighed as she rummaged through her cupboards looking for the box of tea bags. She didn't have to look too far. The cupboards were dangerously empty. A grocery run was definitely called for. The joys of living alone.

As she grabbed an old UC Sunnydale mug from the dish rack she noticed the answering machine was flashing green again. Another message. Someone needed to cut back on the caffeine. Then again, maybe it was Giles. Maybe the time was more reasonable in England. Buffy was too tired to think about the exact time difference.

The tea kettle started whistling and Buffy redirected her attention, pulling the kettle off and fixing her cup of tea. She had never really liked tea. But her mom had drank it and Giles drank it and so it was just something she did now. She let the cup steep while she went to check her messages.

As she reached out her hand she noticed that her sleeve was torn. And it was her favorite shirt. Buffy picked at the ripped seam in the cute white top she had bought for Dawn's graduation. Her brows furrowed. Why had she worn it on patrol? She never wore it on patrol. She didn't wear it last night.

Buffy spun around, suddenly uneasy. But she heard nothing but the light taps of rain. The kitchen was dark and empty without barely even a slinking shadow. Moving quietly and deliberately, she made her way to every door in the house and checked the locks. Everything was locked, bolted, and chained. Just as she had left it. At least, she was pretty sure that was how she had left it.

What was that thing her mom always said? Something to do with tea. Or had it been coffee? Hot chocolate? Something about tiny marshmallows?

A note a panic started to rise in the back of her mind, but it was impossible to pinpoint why. She made her way back to the answering machine and hit the button.

"Hey B," Faith's voice came through. "Look I-" Her voice cut off, then returned with a waver. "I don't know. There's just- something's wrong. I woke up in the cemetery last night. No idea how I got there. And you never got back to me... it's been a week. I need help. Call me."

Buffy's face paled and she staggered away from the phone. A week? A week since Faith called last. It couldn't be, she-

She couldn't remember anything.

***

Chicago, Illinois

"Where's Willow?" Spike asked, more than a little irritated. "I'm sorry but your being on the case doesn't exactly strike me as reassuring. Where's the witch?"

Andrew had made himself comfortable on the one chair Spike owned. Bit of a cheeky bastard that one. Barging into someone's home and stealing his chair. Next thing he's gonna start raiding the fridge.

Andrew raised his hands. "Hey now, patience is a virtue."

"Don't have any virtues." Spike pressed off the wall and moved to grab his jacket.

Andrew gave another nervous grin. "Right. Well. She's in Cleveland. You know..." He seemed to struggle for words. "Working on it. It's a bit of a mess right now... well, everywhere."

Spike slung his coat on and began buckling his boots. "Does she know?"

"Willow?"

Spike looked up from what he was doing with a frown. "Buffy."

The name felt strange. He hadn't said it out loud in years. No one to say it to.

"None of them know what's happening," Andrew answered, his face darkening. "We haven't been able to risk informing them. At least, not yet."

Yet. Spike hated that word. Only reason to use it was to put off some horrible thing or another.

"Where's Giles? He have anything in that bookish brain of his that'll... help?"

Andrew shook his head. "Not yet. But he's-"

"Workin' on it. Right," Spike finished, straightening up. "Guess it's time for a little field trip then."

Andrew's face brightened up. "Oh you're gonna love the car! It's got those special glass windows... you know so you don't turn into powder and all. And," he leaned in conspiratorially, "it's a total chick magnet."

Spike raised an eyebrow at him. "Right. So I guess it's just the burning dash to the car then. Brilliant."

Spike grabbed Andrew by the collar and tossed him out of the chair towards the door. He stumbled a bit before catching himself on the door and shooting Spike an indignant look.

"Hey! That's Armani!" Andrew protested as he straightened his suit and walked up the stairs.

***

On the drive to Cleveland, Andrew had been able to more or less catch Spike up to speed on what they knew so far. The color commentary on his own life was a bit less than welcome, but Spike had refrained from socking him in the jaw so that was something.

So far, it seemed that slayers all over the world were having strange lapses in memory. It started with small things, forgetting they had called someone, forgetting to meet up for coffee. Small things. But lately, things had been getting significantly worse. Huge blocks of time - days, weeks, for some even months - had been lost. No one was sure why. The girls seemed more or less normal during the blackouts. As far as anyone could tell. But they had been getting more and more reports of the same phenomenon. Slayers were losing time. Andrew seemed cagey to say much more than that on the subject.

Willow was already in Cleveland where both Buffy and Faith were stationed. If something was going wrong with slayers, it seemed only logical that they'd both be feeling the effects. Although no one had been able to reach either of them for days.

Giles was already on a flight from London. Xander was apparently also on his way, not that Spike really gave a damn. Xander was all but useless in most cases.

"So, anyone told Dawn?" Spike asked, breaking the silence that had fallen after Andrew had suggested a road game.

Andrew shook his head. Spike could almost say there was something like guilt there.

"Why not?" Spike pressed. "Think she'd want to know if the big sis was in danger."

"Buffy didn't want Dawn involved in any of this stuff," Andrew replied. "We're just respecting her wishes."

"She's already involved," Spike muttered under his breath. "Not like there's an out for any of us now, is there?"

Andrew didn't respond to that last bit. Spike wasn't sure if he was just pretending he hadn't heard or if silence was his answer. Guess it was all the same.

The thought of seeing the gang again was... uncomfortable. He hadn't seen any of them besides Andrew since he had burned to ashes and been buried beneath the rubble of Sunnydale. They didn't know he was alive. She didn't know he was alive.

He had planned on telling her. Eventually. It just... he wasn't sure if fair was the right word. But it just didn't seem fair to barge back into her life. He was dead. They saved the world. He died. End of story. She was free to go off and live a semi-normal life with a normal guy. At least, that was the lie he told himself. The truth was always worse.

#btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #buffy the vampire slayer fanfic #btvs fanfiction #spuffy fanfic #spike x buffy #buffy summers #spike #buffy the vampire slayer fanfiction #chapter 2 #averting disasters and other ways to avoid your problems #spuffy

7 notes · View notes

mist-sly · 3 years

Text

Sing of the moon

Chapter One: Coffee talks

This is a Wolfstar MMA AU that's on AO3 that I have been writing. However I'm gonna start posting it on here too because its easier for me to kept track of what I wrote. Any ways Hope you enjoy!

It was the biggest fight of the year. The middle-weight title on the line. Millions of people watching around the world. The champ, Sirius Black facing one of his biggest rivals, Severus Snape. It was a long overdue fight, the two constantly targeting each other on social media and making comments to the press.

The hype had been real. Every press conference was another layer of added tension and anticipation to the fight. No one wanted to miss it. Sirius was athletic and had every technique known to fighting in his arsenal. A predictable fight many had said. Others argued that Snape’s slippery, submission style could be enough to beat the champ.

Either way, it had drawn the attention of everyone. Even those who shied away from the bright lights of UFC. It lured those who lived in the shadows of the fighting scene.

A large flat screen TV had been set up in the old underground stadium. A crowd of fighters all gathered round to watch, each one sitting on some old create or broken chair. “Its not looking good for him wolfy,” said a teenager with dyed grey hair. He was sitting cross legged on the floor. The TV screen reflecting of his blue eyes. “Ill say. Every punch Black is receiving is drawing blood,” a big, bulky red-haired man said. He scratched at his beard and looked over to his left staring at the young man who was sitting back on the old, patchy red couch. The young man’s eyes darted around the screen, zoning in to one thing specifically as Snape aimed a body shot. “You see something, don’t you wolfy.” The other fighters dragged their eyes away from the screen to look at the young man.

Remus Lupin sat forwards, his elbows resting on his thighs, his hands covering his mouth and nose as he stared at the TV. Remus’s golden amber eyes narrowed right as Snape connect a light jab to Sirius face. He watched as a small cut formed on the champ’s cheek, drawing blood. He drew his hands away from his face showing his frown.

“There’s always something with an opponent like Snape,” he said in a low voice. The camera angle changed on the screen. A close up of Sirius’s face, enlarged for everyone to see. One eye was swollen shut, the other turning a mix of blue and purple. You could not see where cuts began, and trails of blood ended.

This should not have been the outcome. A total of three rounds the fight went on for. Thirteen minutes and a gory scene that would make any viewer feel sick. Three minutes into the third round and it was over. The champ got hit and did not get back up. The group of fighters where quiet. This should not have been the outcome.

However, everything happens for reason.

It had been exactly thirty-seven days since he lost. Thirty-seven days of thinking how? How did he lose that fight? Sirius had gone through it a thousand and one times in his head. He was quicker than Snape. Had a harder punch than Snape and was far more intelligent when it came to thinking on his feet?

Sirius shook his head to rid him off the thoughts. He was on his daily run to clear his head, not bring back more memory’s and questions. He stopped, his breaths heavy, panting as he ran a hand through his incredibly dark locks of hair. “Shit,” he muttered as he looked around. The area was unfamiliar to him. Small shops and old building surrounding the street he had just came down. Clearly it was in the more run-down part of Gryffindor. Sirius didn’t even know there was a run-down part of Gryffindor.

He spotted a small coffee shop further on down the street. A few people where sitting outside it but other than that, the street was relatively quiet.

A bell rang over head as he entered. The smell of coffee and baked goods immediately hitting him like a bus. It was warm inside, a delightful change from the nippy autumn air outside. The walls were painted a vibrant orange, the furniture looking old giving the whole coffee shop a warm and vintage feel.

“Hi, what can I get you?” asked a girl behind the counter. She had long, flowing red hair and beautiful green eyes. A sweet and pleasant smile on her face. “Sorry, I’m a bit lost. Could you tell me how to get to the upper side oh and a coffee, black?” he asked the girl.

The girl snorted turning away from him. “An up sider? How did you end up down here?” the girl asked as she started to brew a fresh pot of coffee. “Went for a run, got lost in my head.” Sirius give the girl a smirk as she looked over at him. Her eyes travelled up and down his body, taking in his appearance.

“Guess that explains why your sweaty. What about the bruises?” she asked staring at the faint mix of yellow and brown that covered half his face. Sirius smirk dropped. The girl knew she struct a nerve but before she could apologise, the bell above the door went again.

“Hey Lils. Can I get the regular for the trio and a peppermint tea for me?” Said a young man who walked towards Sirius. Tall, Sirius first thought upon seeing him. Skinny too. He watched as the young man walked towards him. His hair was curly, a caramel brown colour that Sirius doesn’t think he has ever seen before. He wore an old orange jumper that had seen better days and a pair of grey sweats that were rolled up at his ankles. Sirius looked at the bottom on his sweats surprised, surly no one that tall would need to roll up their cloths.

The young man nodded at Sirius before standing beside him at the counter. “Three sugars wolfy?” the girl, ‘Lils’, asked. The young man nodded.

It was quiet after that. The sound of coffee machines running and ‘Lils’ humming echoing around the small coffee shop.

“Here you go Up sider. One Back coffee to go.” The girl slid the coffee over to Sirius before scribbling something down on a piece of paper. “Up sider?” The man asked suddenly. Sirius looked over at him. His amber eyes sparling with curiously as he looked at Sirius.

It was now that Sirius got a good look at the young man. He had handsome features, that was for sure. He had a nice jawline, not to strong and not to soft. Freckles littered his face likes stars in the night sky. He has long eyelashes that seemed to make his amber eyes brighter.

He would have looked soft, too soft, if it weren’t for the scars on his face. He had one across the bridge of his nose and another one on his left cheek going down to his jawline. The young man had a fresh cut above his right eye that was bruised.

However, as Sirius looked at the man, the man also looked at Sirius. That was not good in Sirius’s head. The last thing he needed, was for the media to know where he is.

“You shouldn’t have lost your fight,” the young man said bluntly as Lils set the piece of paper down with directions in front of Sirius. The statement had taken Sirius by surprise. So, the guy knew him, that was great but to say something like that irritated Sirius. He didn’t see Mr tall and skinny facing a world class fighter like Snape.

“Excuse me. I’d like to see yo-“Sirius started only to be cut off by the young man saying, “Snape’s gloves were loaded.” Sirius blinked at the man, “tampered with,” he added in case Sirius didn’t understand.

Sirius couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Who the hell was this guy? Some losers who clearly knows nothing. Sirius took a deep breath and looked at the man. “Look. I’m not sure how much you know after fighting but official gloves have to be worn, not to mention that the gloves got checked and nothing was off with either one.”

The man however kept looking at Sirius with those amber eyes. “That wouldn’t necessarily matter. There’s always ways around the system.” He shrugged. Sirius could feel the laughter starting to bubble in him stomach again. “Ok then. Enlighten me, how were the gloves tampered with?” The man narrowed his eyes, a darker look falling over his once soft face. “A layer of padding was taken out of the gloves. That would have been obvious if they had not replaced it with something else. That other layer would have had to been roughly the same weight as the padding. My guess is that they used soft cast.” Sirius snorted.

Sirius knew what soft cast was. What fighter didn’t? It was an old scandal back in the day with a boxer. It had long since been forgotten though. The man continued, however. “It would make the hits harder on your face not to mention as the soft cast scratched the leather of the glove it would wear the material down.” He raised an eyebrow at Sirius to see if he was keeping up.

Sirius nodded and gestured for the man to continue, taking a sip of his coffee. Sighing the man rubbed his eyes, as if he were trying to teach a child how to read a simple word that they couldn’t quite grasp. “The soft cast would scratch against your skin and the impact of each punch would increase as the match went on because the cast would harden over time. Didn’t you notice when you were fighting, how the first hit was not hard but still drew blood? How as the fight went on Snape put less effort into each hit but was still able to increase the impact every time?” Sirius stopped drinking. His coffee cup frozen at his smooth lips. He blinked at the man as he thought back to the fight. When Snape landed his first punch, he was off balance. The punch shouldn’t have had enough force to bruise his cheek so badly, the way it did.

The more Sirius thought about it, the more he realized how much of what the tall, skinny man was saying, was true.

He shook his head and narrowed his eyes on the man just as ‘Lils’ brought over four take away drinks in coffee cups. “Here you go wolfy! One hot chocolate with cream for Seb, a black coffee with two sugars for Harley, warmed milk with coco powder on top for Cain and your peppermint tea, three sugars,” ‘Lils’ said happily with a bright smile. The man, ‘wolfy’, nodded his thanks and took the four drinks.

“Wait! How did you know about the gloves?” Sirius asked before ‘wolfy’ could leave. “I watched your fight. Noticed what was happening and put it together with an old street fighting trick.” He shrugged and opened the door with his back.

“A little too good to be true, don’t you think?” Sirius said with a laugh, but the young man didn’t laugh back. He shrugged and turned his back to Sirius. “If you don’t believe me then check for yourself.”

Sirius watched as the door closed behind the man. He stayed in the coffee shop, not taking his silver eyes away from the door. The conversation replaying in his head like a broken record. He turned back around to ‘Lils’ who was wiping the countertop. “Do you have a phone I could borrow,” he said in a rush. Like somehow, he would forget everything the man just told him.

The girl smiled at him and nodded. She took out her iPhone from the pocket of her green apron and handed it to Sirius. He wasted no time in dialing a number. Listening as it rang in his ear.

“Hello. Yeah, James it’s me. I need you and your dad to check something out for me……”

P.s this is my first proper time writing so I'm not the best.

#wolfstar #remus Lupin #Sirius black #MMA AU #Sing of the Moon #chapter 1 #lily evens

37 notes · View notes

abused-sides · 4 years

Text

Virgil Comes Home [Roommates AU]

Trigger warning: This au follows most of the sides in the aftermath of surviving abuse (domestic, parental, etc). In this particular fic it’s not stated explicitly, but it’s an instrumental part of the story and if that bothers you, then please not only scroll past this fic, but block my blog as well.

More tws: All sides are sympathetic, mentions of living in homeless shelters, poverty, a lot of flinching (though no actual danger), food, descriptions of severe eczema, please let me know if i missed anything. If there are any other preventative measures I can take to keep people safe, also please let me know.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Ships: Endgame romantic intruloceit, romantic prinxiety, queerplatonic royality

Words: 1729

Virgil’s hands trembled as the elevator climbed.

He was still in a sort-of trance, ready to wake up back home with his boyfriend on his way and waiting for dinner. He wasn’t convinced he was moving into his new apartment today, wasn’t convinced he was starting a new life.

He flinched, the elevator ding sharp. He adjusted his backpack and ducked his head as he tiptoed down the hallway. He reached the door, but before he could knock, the door behind him swung open.

“So you’re the new one!”

Virgil whipped around and puffed his chest out, squaring his shoulders.

“Remus,” a bored voice said, “leave him alone.”

Remus stared with a manic, unblinking grin. His face was covered in stubble and his dark hair fell in oily, tangled curls down his face. Dread settled deep in Virgil’s stomach.

“Remus.” Another boy appeared at the door, a delicate, scab covered hand wrapping around Remus’s shoulder. The new boy’s face was red and blotchy, covered in angry scabs and dead skin. A glare twisted his face. “You’re going to be late for work. Want me to finish, or not?”

Remus’s face melted into a pout. “You’re the one that insists I put it up in the first place!”

“That’s because you look like you never made it off the streets.” The boy flicked one of Remus’s curls, his mouth quirking into a barely-noticeable smile.

The door behind Virgil swung open, and he leapt back so his eyeline could catch both threats.

“Are you two seriously trying to scare him off?” A boy who looked strikingly similar to Remus, only more… Put together, glared at the neighbours.

“Don’t lump me in with him,” the boy said flatly.

Remus giggled and kissed the boy’s cheek. “You’re stuck with me, Jan-Jan!”

“I’m sorry about them,” his new roommate huffed. “I’m Roman. Come on inside, I’ll help you get the rest of your stuff.”

Virgil’s heart pounded. He couldn’t get himself out of fight mode, even as Jan pulled Remus back into their own apartment and slammed the door. “This- This is it,” he managed. “This is all of it.”

Roman poorly masked his surprise. “Oh! Okay, well, travelling light has its pros, too, I’m sure.”

He gestured Virgil inside. The apartment was exactly how he remembered it; warm, a little cluttered, covered in frames of photos of the three of them, beautiful homemade artwork, to-do lists, and schedules. Patton, the one who interviewed Virgil, stood in the kitchenette over a sizzling pan of bacon.

“Virgil!” He cried happily and bounded over.

Virgil stiffened as Patton pulled him into a tight hug. He marginally relaxed when Patton pulled away. “You’re just in time, breakfast is ready!”

Shrieking sounded through the apartment— Everyone flinched, and Virgil covered his head as the smoke detector wailed. A boy in glasses came out of one of the closed doors, disabled the smoke detector without stopping, and headed for the front door.

“Thanks, Logan!” Patton straightened up and grinned. “Breakfast is ready!”

“I’m okay, I’ll grab something on the way.” He stopped in front of Virgil. His face was guarded, unreadable. He stuck his hand out. “My name is Logan. Virgil, I presume?” Virgil managed a nod. “Welcome. I won’t be back until tonight, but Patton works from home, so he should be able to help you settle in.”

“Mister, your schedule is self-imposed,” Patton said with a scowl. “You’re eating breakfast! I know you won’t actually grab something on the way. Do you think I’m stupid?”

The smallest of flinches tensed Logan’s shoulders. “Of course not.”

Patton scraped the burnt bacon into the trash. “Ro, set the table for me, love? Logan, show Verge to his room and get cleaned up for breakfast.”

Logan pursed his lips and nodded. “Come with me.”

Virgil followed Logan into his room. It was bare, walls empty and carpet vacuumed. There was a mattress and a desk with no chair.

“We wanted to get you started with more, coming from the shelter and all that, but we’ve been short on rent the last couple months so we could only spare so much.”

Virgil was shaking his head before Logan finished talking. “It’s everything I need. Thank- Thank you.”

Logan glanced at him from the side of his eyes. “No trouble at all, Virgil.”

Logan left. Virgil shrugged his backpack off and set it on the mattress. It was covered in what was clearly spare blankets, and a dirty pillow without a case. It was both so much less and so much more than what he left behind. It was his.

From his backpack, he pulled out two t-shirts, a pair of jeans, a sleep shirt, a teddy bear, a stress ball, and a bag of cash. This was all he owned. It was all he needed.

“Virgil! Breakfast is getting cold!”

He shook off the panic crawling up his spine with the realization that he did nothing to help. He just got here— How was he meant to help?

He steeled himself, forced up a scowl, and headed into the kitchen. He fought not to melt at the amazing smell coming from the stack of pancakes, warm bacon, and hot coffee from the table.

“Coffee, Virgil?” Roman asked as he poured Logan some.

“Uh, sure.” He refused to admit he’d never had any before. “Thank you.”

“Milk and sugar’s by the bacon!” Patton handed out napkins and took his head.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled. He wrapped his stiff fingers around the hot ceramic and pulled it close to his face. It smelled like hazelnut and vanilla.

Don’t cry.

Don’t let them see you cry.

“So, Virgil,” Roman said after downing half of his coffee, “Patton’s been talking about you nonstop, but we still don’t know anything about you.”

Virgil hummed noncommittedly, not sure how to answer. All the eyes on him made him want to crawl out of his skin.

“Don’t be invasive,” Logan mumbled. He cut his pancakes into perfect squares, piling up the round edges on his fork and dropping them onto Patton’s plate. Patton immediately soaked them in syrup. “He doesn’t have to talk about anything he doesn’t want to.”

Roman pouted. “I know that! But, well, he can at least tell us what job he plans on getting.” He peeked at Virgil nervously. “Right?”

Virgil’s heart was in his throat. Was he supposed to know that already? What jobs were even available in the city?

“Roman.” Patton gave him a look.

Roman huffed and continued eating. “Well, if you’re stuck, the theatre is always hiring for the crew. We can’t get anyone to stick around that long.” His eyes widened. “Not that it’s a bad job! We just don’t really have enough money to pay more than minimum wage, and there’re limited hours. You can volunteer more time if you want, but we wouldn’t be able to pay for it.”

Patton dumped approximately half a cup of sugar into his mug and stirred it with a child’s spoon, a frog at the end of the handle. “How about this: Virgil, would you want to walk around the city with me later? I have a few orders to finish up and then I gotta drop them off, so I’ll be walking around for a few hours. We’re sure to pass tons of help wanted signs, and we’ll see if anything pops out at you. If nothing does, maybe you’d want to go to the theatre with Roman tomorrow and see if you like it better there.”

Virgil nodded slowly. “Sure. Yeah, I can do that.”

They finished eating, Virgil silent while the others engaged freely. Roman was louder than Virgil appreciated, constantly making Virgil flinch or go into defence mode. Logan occasionally noticed and gave him a small nod, or an eye roll in Roman’s direction, and it almost made Virgil feel better.

Logan hurried out the first chance he got, claiming that he was behind on schedule and he really needed to get to the library. Roman was out shortly after, declaring something about the play they’re doing that Virgil couldn’t understand as much as he tried.

On autopilot, Virgil picked up all the dishes and balanced it all in his arms. Patton looked at him in surprise as he carried them to the sink.

“Wow, that’s- That’s impressive!” He laughed. “But you don’t have to do that!”

Virgil’s face heated up as his actions caught up with him. He scrambled for the upper hand, “Yeah, I drop in short on rent, don’t help cook, eat my share, and I don’t have a job to get to, but sure, I’ll go fuck off and you can do them.”

Patton’s giggling surprised him. “Well, I won’t complain! Thanks, Verge! I’ll just get started on my orders.”

He pulled out the flour, sugar, and other baking supplies while Virgil washed the dishes. When he finished drying and putting them away, he went to leave, when Patton stopped him.

“Oh, Verge!” Patton smiled sheepishly, his fingers covered in sticky cookie dough. “Could you grab the chocolate chips for me before you go?”

“Uh- Sure.” Virgil found the bag with Patton’s direction and poured them into the bowl until Patton said. “Anything else I can do for you?”

Patton looked at him in surprise. “Well, if you really don’t mind, I’m going to have to use the bowl and other stuff again right after I get the cookies in the oven. Would you mind washing those, too?”

He didn’t have anything better to do, and he wasn’t even paying the full rent. “Sure.”

He got those washed up, too, and once again asked if Patton needed anything else. He ended up helping Patton through the rest of his orders, getting powdered sugar and flour and cinnamon all over his clothes and hair. He knew more about baking than Patton had expected— Much to Patton’s delight.

“Okay,” Patton said once all the treats were packaged up in pastel boxes, “I’m going to go clean up, and then I’ll be ready.” He threw his arms around Virgil, who flinched, but found his arms wrapping back around him. Patton squeezed him and buried his face in Virgil’s sweaty neck. “Welcome home, Virgil.”

And then he’d skipped back into his room, door shutting behind him. And Virgil was left alone with the butterflies in his stomach.

71 notes · View notes