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capncassas · 2 years

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Syverson | Pretty As A Peach

Summary: You go on summer vacation with your college room mate and meet her parents, but you can’t stop yourself from lusting after Captain Daddy.

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, age gap, language, younger female reader, smut, Captain Cunnilingus is at it again (obviously oral, F recieving), some mild foot fetish? (foot rubbing on cock…that’s a thing right?), older man kink, (I think I got all of it, sorry if I forgot anything)

Words: 3.8 K

Tag List: @littlebirdofrivia @smile-sugar @ughdontbeboring @peachatori @daddys-littlewhitegirl @wheretheriversrunintothesea @beck07990 @mis-lil-red @myloveforhenrycavill @enchantedbytomandhenry @kebabgirl67 and @jessinchains because I know she loves her some Syverson SMUT

Two weeks away from the hectic schedule and stuffy classrooms of your mid-level college were exactly what you needed, but your parents went to see your brother out of state at the same time. That was fine. You were over eighteen; you took care of yourself while living the dorm life all the time.

You were trying to put up a brave face as you took the news that you would spend two weeks at your childhood home all alone in Connecticut when your dorm mate extended an invitation you couldn’t refuse.

“Y'know YN, you could always come home with me? I mean, I’m gonna spend a week in Arkansas with my mama and then hop that Texas boarder and spend a week with my dad. If you don’t mind bouncin’ around, that is.”

Michelle has been a lifesaver. Always so kind. Maybe it was a product of being southern? You always heard about the famous hospitality, but until you moved to Memphis to attend college, you never experienced it.

“Really? I wouldn’t be in the way?”

“Of course not, goose, you’re always welcome and I know my parents would love to meet you. Y'know mama was worried about me being by myself and then we were assigned to the same room.”

You did your best to not turn into a crybaby and hug Michelle. She really was the best friend you always dreamed of having.

—

After a week with Michelle’s mom, you felt pleasantly exhausted and sure you’d put on at least ten pounds in five days.

You were also certain that you’d fallen in love with Little Rock. There was so much to see and do and when the four of you weren’t visiting the museums and parks, you were going on shopping trips and eating some of the best food you ever had in your life. Little Rock was definitely a foodie town.

“Miss Heather, I’m sure going to miss you.” You told Michelle’s mom as you were about to leave for Texas. Being around Michelle’s family all week, you were picking up that warm southern way of speaking.

“I’ll miss you too, darlin’ now ya’ll remember to text when you get there and YN, don’t be shy. Anytime you wanna c'mon back here with Michelle, you do so. Bring your family next time too, we’d all have a good ol'e time.”

You beamed. Your mom would love Heather. “Yes, ma'am. I’ll do my best to get them out this way.”

Settling into the car for the next four hours, you drove the first two before letting Michelle take over after her nap on the second half, since she would know exactly where you were going.

“So… I noticed your mom didn’t talk about your dad much.” You commented. You didn’t want to pry, but well — maybe their divorce was painful?

“Mama doesn’t like to dwell. After the divorce it was hard but I think eventually they got to be friends again.”

Sometimes you wondered what it would be like if your parents got divorced. It felt like a terrifying prospect. You weren’t sure you would know how to feel, like a whole piece of you was being ripped apart not seeing your mom and dad together.

“So, they don’t have any ill feelings towards each other? Your dad won’t be upset we went to see her first?”

Michelle laughed, shaking her head. “No, my dad will tease us to death, he’s a real big joker and sometimes it’s hard to tell if he’s jokin’ but I’ll tell'em to take it easy on you.”

You felt relieved as you reached into the back seat for your bag. Before your last day, Michelle’s mom insisted on making sure that you and Michelle had all the feminine essentials. Even new bathing suits and sunscreen, despite telling her you were okay, and she didn’t need to buy you anything. Heather insisted saying ‘Child, don’t you take my blessing away now.’

Whatever that meant. Maybe it was another one of those southern things.

Squeezing some bath and body works lotion into your hand, you rubbed it in, swiping some onto your neck and around your thighs that felt like they were baking in the sun coming through the window.

—

Another hour passed before Michelle pulled onto a dirt road and the car bounced off the ruts until you spotted a double-wide trailer sitting in the distance.

“Is that it?” You asked curiously.

“Mhm, Daddy should be home. He said he wanted to cook for us.”

Men’s cooking was something you were nervous about. Your dad could barely pour cereal, so you were a little nervous. You really hoped you didn’t starve to death the last week of your trip. Maybe that was why Heather insisted on 'fattening’ you up before you came to Texas.

The closer you got, you noticed that there was a wraparound porch built onto the trailer and there was a two-car carport where a red Chevy sat along with what you assumed was a big shed or a workshop on the property and the gravel road even’d out as Michelle pulled up under the carport.

Sighing, you climbed out of the passenger side of the car. You were just as nervous if not more so meeting Michelle’s dad, Mr. Syverson… the retired Marine than you were meeting her mom. Heather was easy because she was a woman, but you were never good with men. They always made you anxious because you never knew what to say or what to talk to them about.

Guys were just hard.

“My back and butt feel like they’re going to fall off.” You commented as you heard a loud bang and a booming voice before Michelle squealed and ran towards the porch as the biggest man you’d ever seen in your life caught her and lifted her off the ground.

“Oh, my little darlin’ I’m so glad to see ya.”

Mr. Syverson squeezed Michelle before putting her on the ground.

“Shit, girl, lemme get a look at you. Beautiful, you’d tell you’re ol'e Daddy if there are any boys who need to disappear, won’t you?”

“Daaaaaaaad.”

Michelle sounded like she was annoyed, but from her tone, you knew she wasn’t.

Swallowing, your mouth felt dry as Michelle hugged her dad again and pointed to the car. Jeez, was she pointing at you?

You immediately wanted to crawl under the car and hide.

His hair was buzzed short, however the beard that covered the entire lower portion of his face did nothing to hide the handsome face beneath it.

Mr. Syverson looked too buff for his age, as if he was ready to be called back into service at any moment, judging by the biceps that were taxing the sleeves of his t-shirt.

“H-hello, Mr. Syverson.” You squeaked meekly, issuing a half wave.

He’s twice my age.

He’s my best friend’s dad.

He’s way too old for me.

Guys like him would never look at me.

Geez, why is he so handsome?

I wonder how old he actually is.

“Call me, Sy or Dwayne… only my troupe calls me Syverson.” That deep baritone said, and you realized Michelle was getting the bags out of the car and leaving her dad to his own devices.

Gravel crunched underfoot as you spotted a pair of worn car-hart boots appear as you gazed down at your sandal clad feet.

Oh, sweet cheddar cheese on a ritz he was squatting down to get a good look at you and before you could lift your eyes up and reply, he tucked the calloused pad of his index finger under your chin and lifted your head up.

“What’s wrong, Sugarbear? I don’t scare ya now do I? Hm, cat got your tongue, pussycat?”

“Daddy, don’t tease YN too bad. She ain’t used to being around big ole Texas rough necks.” Michelle laughed.

“Is that all?” Sy asked, glancing back at Michelle for a second before the world was suddenly spinning and you were upside down.

“Ah!” The world righted itself a second before you realized the scream you heard wasn’t from yourself but Michelle and you were both being carried over Mr. Syverson’s shoulders into the trailer.

“Well, I think we can get'er used to us ol'e Texas rough necks over a week don’t you Pumpkin?” Sy asked with a husky laugh and you felt the flat broad part of his palm squeeze the back of your thigh causing the muscle to quiver. An act you were sure that Mr. Sy… Dwayne didn’t miss as he sat you and Michelle on your feet.

The living room of the double-wide was enormous, bigger than the living room of your own New England childhood home. And it was dim. No lights were on and the only way you saw the dark look in Sy’s deep blue eyes was from the sunlight coming through the plantation shuttered blinds.

“You two get freshened up and keep an eye on my sauce, will you, puddin?” Sy asked, his gaze switching to Michelle, but she wasn’t paying attention. She was pulling her shoes off, perched on the arm of a big sectional sofa that dominated one corner of the spacious living room.

“Alright,” Michelle said before the captain was marching back out of the screen door and you heard his boots thumping along the porch.

“Sauce?” You asked, feeling butterflies battling for supremacy in your abdomen. Men didn’t look at you the way he did, they didn’t pick you up either… likely none of them could.

Miss Heather kept saying you were too thin. But compared to Michelle and most of the other girls at your school, you were already on the heavy side of chubby.

Michelle sniffed before grinning. “Smells like Daddy’s makin’ his famous spaghetti and meatballs. I mentioned to him that you’re from Connecticut and he thinks everyone from New England is Italian for some reason.” She laughed.

“Is it good?” Your brows scrunched up softly.

“Best damn spaghetti you’ll ever eat hands down, and that’s a fact. Come with me and I’ll show you where everything is.”

—

After touring the house, and the backyard with Dwayne kept a vegetable garden, an aboveground pool and his grilling pit you got freshened up and were a little more relaxed, except you couldn’t stop sneaking glances at Sy and he didn’t seem like the shy type.

During dinner, he spent the time flashing you a grin as he went over some of Michelle’s most embarrassing childhood memories and some of his time overseas. Mostly, those stories were censored and you could tell that he was avoiding the ones that still gave him nightmares.

Once you all were too stuffed to eat another bite, Michelle wasn’t lying when she said that his spaghetti would be the best you ever had. You helped clean the kitchen before you and Michelle showered.

The three of you were barely through the movie you were watching when Michelle announced she was too pooped to pop and went to bed.

“Sure, you’ll be alright in here all by yourself, darlin? I can take the couch.” Dwayne asked, as you plumped a nice fluffy pillow and stretched your legs out.

“I’ll be okay but thank you Mr. Syv… Dwayne.”

He stared at you a second longer before nodding.

“Y'need anythin’ y'know where I am.”

How invitation lingered. You swallowed slightly, your thighs pressing together of their own accord.

Nodding, Sy leaned over the back of the couch and kissed your forehead, the tickling bristles of his beard scratching your skin as he inhaled the scent of your shampoo and body wash.

“Sweet dreams, pussycat.”

Once he disappeared down the hall, you exhale the breath you were holding and prayed that he didn’t notice how your nipples tightened beneath the thin t-shirt you were wearing. You could still feel the whiskery kiss he left on your forehead fitfully, trying not to think about what it might feel like between your legs, tickling up your thigh from your knees to the apex of your heat.

No, no, no. You will not think about Mr. Syverson’s mouth.

You won’t think about what he might say as he slid your shorts and panties down and spread your thighs.

You certainly weren’t going to that about that oddly sexy growl thing he did when he stretched. Or how his pupils dilated at dinner when you hummed in appreciation after the first bite of the spaghetti, or how his stare lingered watching you lick your lips before remembering your manners and grabbing your napkin to wipe your mouth.

Why, out of all the guys you could get hung up on, did it have to be your best friend’s dad?

Uncomfortably wet, you tried to reposition yourself on the couch and turned the tv down to a soft murmur before flicking through the channels for something to help lull you to sleep. Reruns of Designing Women won as you tried to just take a few deep breathes and forget all about Dwayne’s eyes, his voice, the way his hand felt on the back of your thigh or his finger under your chin. Even the nickname he chose for you.

Pussy cat.

Like he was personally speaking to the aching little thing between your legs.

Damn him.

You tried to sleep, twisting, and turning. It had nothing to do with the couch. It was incredibly comfortable. It was more because of the discomfort between your legs. You never realized it was possible to crave someone you just met so badly.

Glancing at the clock, it was nearly two in the morning and the trailer was silent save for the soft murmur of the tv.

You could not fall asleep, not with the aching need between your legs. You didn’t even think about packing some assistance to bring with you, but then again, you weren’t betting on Michelle’s dad being a total DILF either.

Relaxing onto your back, you laid your hand over your abdomen, idly stroking the flesh of your tummy where your shirt rode up before you listened closely. Everyone was asleep. It couldn’t hurt anything. Could it?

Sliding your hand up your shirt, your fingers found your nipple and began to graze it with your pointer finger, swallowing a shallow moan that was summoned to the back of your throat as those tingled spread from your nipple to the muscles in your thighs. You bit your lip slightly before you moved your free hand from your side and pushed the elastic waistband of your shorts and panties down.

You brought your hips up, pushing the annoying pieces of clothing down your hips before getting comfortable again. Spreading your folds with your index and ring finger, just like your nipple, you barely touched your clit. Just enough to tease yourself and feel those tingling electric shivers in your core causing your back to arch. The second your finger touched that pink pearl between your legs, you were ready to cum right there, but you wanted more. Backing off each time you felt your orgasm building until you were a soaked mess in the sofa cushions.

“Need some help, pussy cat?”

Your eyes shot open suddenly, heart accelerating in your chest so fast and hard you were shocked that you hadn’t screamed and fallen off the couch.

How did he get in here without you hearing?

“You looked pretty distracted, darlin’.” Syverson grinned, reading the expression on your shocked and embarrassed face. You’d never been caught masturbating before by anyone and now this man, who was nearly a complete stranger to you, had caught you red-handed in the act.

“I-…I’m so sorr-,”

Dwayne shook his head. Who knew what brought him out of bed at this hour, and you hoped and prayed that … if you hadn’t heard him, you were making enough noise to wake him up, or heaven forbid Michelle? In the glow from the tv, you could tell he was wearing a pair of red Texas A & M ball shorts and nothing else. The mask of chest hair made you nearly whimper as he moved your blanket and took a seat on the space of the sofa where your leg was curled up.

“Don’t be sorry, little girl. Mind tell'em me what or…who you were thinkin’ of?” He smirked.

Could he tell? How did he know? You began to scoot up, but his hand caught your calve and stopped you, his firm grip massaging the tense muscle. “Come on now, don’t make me tell you twice.”

The tone in his voice was enough to make your thighs clench together as he laid your foot in his lap and you felt the outline of his cock against the arch of your foot.

“I..I was…” you stuttered as his hand moved to your thigh and paused, his fingers dancing over the sticky nectar that had spread between your legs to your upper thigh and his cock twitched against your foot.

“Is he…someone you know or just some fantasy boy you have a crush on at school?”

Swallowing, Sy’s fingers brushed the outline of your weeping folds.

“I know him..n-not a fantasy.”

A deep, low growl issued from his throat as he pressed the arch of your foot against his cock.

“Does he know you?”

You caught his brow lift as he trailed the tips of his fingers up and down the crease of your folds, coating the tip of his digits in your moisture.

“Yeah..h-he knows me. We … just met.” Your voice quivered as his thumb stroked your clit, in this slow up and down pressure that made your breath halt in your throat and your hips twitch.

“I see,” Dwayne mused, leaning back onto the cushion on the couch, his thumb sliding down and tracing the narrow silk of your slit, massaging you with his thumb. “He got you pretty riled up, Sugar…” he commented, “let’s see,” he murmured, smirking at the whimper that escaped your lips as he took his hand away and he gathered the blanket out of his way.

You needed to stop this. It was so wrong.

Mr. Syverson is your best friend’s dad, but your aching core and trembling hands couldn’t find the strength to muster the will to sit up and cover yourself.

He was so big, brawny. Nothing at all like the few guys you dated from school. He wasn’t like those rowdy, yelling guys from the parties you attended on campus.

Everything about Dwayne Syverson was controlled, exuding authority and discipline. Not something you ever expected yourself to be so deeply attracted to.

The brawny bull chuckled faintly at the tangled ball of your shorts and panties. Tossing those onto the carpeted floor. “Goddamn, baby…you look like you been wet all day.” Sy exclaimed lowly, the deep gravely like growl of his voice actually made you clench and from the way he licked his lips as he caught your eyes, he hadn’t missed that.

“Such a pretty little thing.” He cooed, moving lower on the sofa, one of his hands sliding beneath your thigh, lifting your leg higher as he positioned himself between your legs and you nearly cried from the tingling prick of his beard brushing the soft sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“Mr. Syver-”

“No mister, little one.” Sy looked up at you, his maw curling back into a ferocious grin that made the muscles in your tummy twitch and a fresh wave of arousal hit you.

“M-may-be we shouldn’t be doing this…” your voice quaked, terror and desire lacing your vocals.

Dwayne looked at you, studying the very real fear and anxiety in your eyes, and felt his cock throb with desire.

“Why not, babygirl? Y'scared of me, baby? Tell me… I can see ya want it,” his gaze drifted to the aching, weeping little thing only two or three inches from his face. “You want it so fuckin bad sweet one.” But he restrained, trailing his fingers along the back of your thigh in slow soothing circles.

“Y-you’re..my best friend’s dad..” you spluttered out, trying to think of any other reason you shouldn’t let this continue though you weren’t pushing him away, you weren’t getting up. He wasn’t wrong, you wanted him. You wanted him more than you had ever experienced for any other member of the opposite sex in your life. “You gonna tell'er?” His brows flicked up, but his mouth tipped lower, his tongue sliding between your pussy lips, lapping up your honeyed elixir causing you to shiver and mewl, arching beneath him. “You gonna go tell that your best friend’s daddy ate your sweet little pussy, babygirl?” Sy mused as he brought his other hand to your lips, using his fingers to spread you apart so his tongue could lave over your clit in low cat-like licks that made your thighs shake and try to clamp together but he easily forced them back open with an amused chuckle. “Are you going to say… that a roughneck from Texas destroyed your perfect tiny cunt with his fat cock over summer vacation?”

Any remaining resolve you might have had to bring this to an end shattered by his words.

Seeing the struggle die in your eyes, he smiled like the cat that ate the canary as his mouth descended on you once more and gave you his full attention. A strangled moan breaking past your lips, not loud enough to wake the house, and Sy hummed against your clit.

“Taste so fucking good, girl. Pretty as a peach.”

The grin that tugged the corners of his lips made your head spin. How could someone be so sinfully beautiful with just a curl of the lips?

HIs hands moved from your thighs and rested against your lower abdomen, pressing down to hold you in place as his tongue began a ferocious assault on your clit and it took everything in you not to moan out loud as you squirmed beneath his brutal libations as if he were offering a gift to a deity on a dais.

You felt a strand at the base of your navel tug with each stroke of his tongue, the humming groans that vibrated from the back of his throat as his lips plucked and tugged at that pearl between your legs forcing your back to arch up off the sofa cushions as your hand tangled into part of the blanket that was half laying on your stomach and half slung into the floor.

That strand of delicate cord was threatening to break as you neared your orgasm, thighs shivering as you bit into your bottom lip to keep quiet, knowing that there was no way you could stop yourself if you cried out.

“I -,” you choked, tears swimming to the surface of your eyes as you panted, steadily fighting for each gulp of oxygen that your lungs struggled to take in as your eyes pinched shut and your lips fell apart.

In a flash, a large paw moved from your stomach and clamped over your lips like a vice as you came undone. Never once did that beast’s tongue relent, taking you higher until you were free falling back down to earth.

#Syverson #Syverson Smut #Capt Syverson #Capt Daddy #Syverson x Reader #Henry Cavill as Capt Syverson #SMUT #MDNI #Age Gape #Reblog

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elfenbensord · 4 years

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GOODBYE, STRANGER / CHAPTER 1

GOODBYE, STRANGER / CHAPTER ONE / OBLIVIATE

SERIES MASTERLIST

3-10.8.20

A/N: This is a new series I started a bit randomly one night. Enjoy some sad Remus and chaotic Y/N content

Warning: A Sad™ time.

Word count: 3.8 k

It was an early morning yesterday

I was up before the dawn

And I really have enjoyed my stay

But I must be moving on

---

October 31st, 1981

On a train to London

Remus could see tiny stars on a black infinity as he looked up at the sky through the dingy windows of the train. He was all alone in the carriage, something which reflected his current life situation very well. In his mind, a series of panicked questioned were playing on repeat.

What had Dumbledore said? That the hiding place had been compromised? That the Dark Lord had personally gone after Lily and James?

And where was Sirius in all this? Where was Peter?

Were his best friends still alive?

The stars above granted him no answers.

---

October, 1982

A year after

Remus woke up early. He always did. For a few hours, it was just him and the early morning sun. He hated it. Once, he could’ve given anything for just an hour of silence, a minute of calm. Now he felt himself suffocating on this endless expanse of nothing. The silence acted as yet another confirmation of one of his many dreadful suspicions - that he was lonely. Perhaps he always had been. He probably always would be.

Breathing in deeply, he couldn’t help but turn his nose away in distaste. His entire flat smelled of old stains and neglected dishes. Sunlight peeked through the curtains of his bedroom window, illuminating a gentle storm of dust for an instance. After shining in a quite naturally magical way, it settled into his clothes, into his lungs. Looking down, he saw the same shirt and slacks he’d worn the night before. And the night before that.

I’m not even hungover, he thought.

He wasn’t. He hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol in months. The thought of drowning his sorrows in brown liquids and vile smells had never been appealing to him. Not even now. ‘Now’ being the end of everything. Well, maybe not everything. But the end of him, at least. It had already begun, deep in his mind. He just hadn’t come to the right conclusions just yet.

The sun smiled at him from its rightful place in the sky. After giving it a dirty look, Remus closed the curtains.

---

His morning coffee tasted way too bitterly. With every sugar, it only seemed to turn darker. Nothing tasted quite the same anymore. Sweet was often exchanged for bitterness, and vice versa. Whenever he wished for one, he got the other. If anything, it made eating an awful business to him.

That night a year ago constantly lingered in the back of Remus‘ mind. That final night. When his entire fate was turned upside down.

He’d lost so many things that one night. Went to bed one day, to discover it all gone the moment he woke up. He’d had a home. Grimmauld Place 12 had been a wonderful place back then, always full of volunteers and members of the Order, old and new. And there was a constant lingering smell of Molly Weasley’s roast chicken, companionship, and too much firewhiskey now and then.

And he’d had friends. Best friends. “Cross my heart and hope to die” friends.

He’d had a purpose, or something like it. The war had given Remus a meaning. Where it to so many others had taken lives, it had unusually granted him one.

It was a life he did his best to take good care of. A life he’d spent years building, repairing, and desperately ensuring. He was even making plans to enroll in studies at a university nearby that hopefully one day would become a degree in teaching. He’d known where he was, and where he was going.

And over one night, nothing was left of that.

He still remembered arriving to Grimmauld Place, only to see it empty and abandoned. And that recurring question - Where were his best friends?

Gone. He’d discovered in the morning. No one had bothered to tell him - instead, he’d had to read all about it in the Daily Prophet.

James and Lily Potter dead. Their son, Harry, somehow survived.

The Dark Lord defeated.

Peter Pettigrew - dead at the hands of Sirius Black.

Sirius Black - the damned traitor! - a life sentence in Azkaban.

Remus was the only one left. Without friends. Without a home. And without purpose.

---

“Mr. Lupin, are you listening?”, the Healer inquired.

“Hmm?”

“Did you hear what I just said?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then what did I say?”

“I- I don’t… I don’t know.”

Remus felt like he was being scolded, like a child who’d nicked candy from the Christmas shelf. A heavy knot of tears started to settle in the base of his throat. Like a child. Pathetic.

The Healer smiled in a, what he thought, sympathetic way. To Remus it simply looked like pity. A lot of things looked like pity to him now. “No worries, I’ll go over it again…”

Please, don’t, he thought.

“As I said, I need you to keep coming back for checkups at least once a month…”

Great, another thing to dread.

“... and I’ll have your asthma medication ready next time…”

Not only are all my friends dead, now my lungs are giving in as well.

“... and I really think it’d be good for you if you started making some new friends.”

New friends?

“Did you hear me this time, Remus?”

“Loud and clear. I’ll be back in a month.”

“Looking forward to see you.”

I’m not.

---

New friends?

Remus wasn’t even sure how to do that anymore. Friends were something for the past him. He hadn’t had anyone since that final night, a year ago. He didn’t even consider himself to be his own friend. Because what other friends than his first and last could he possibly ever have? And he even felt like a traitor to them. Most days, he tried to think as little of them as possible. Hoped to eventually forget them, in an attempt to soften the pain. Tried to stay in the present. But nothing worked. Nothing would grant him a single second of relief.

How could it? His best friends had died.

And now… Now he was someone else. He suspected he’d become unrecognizable to the ones who’d known him. He hadn’t cut his hair in a year. It hung around his ears in sorry curls. He hunched in a new way now, something which might’ve granted him a sense of anonymity and security during the war, but now only hurt his back more as each day passed. Sometimes he felt like he was still in the thick of it. Still in the middle of a wizarding war. Like he’d forgotten it was all over. That’s why he still couldn’t walk without casting cautious glances over his shoulder every other minute. That’s why he awoke soaked in sweat, terrified and confused, in the middle of the night.

They were always there. In the back of his mind. Their screams. Their final words.

And as he failed to forget them, he started to forget himself instead. His existence before this seemed more and more like a dream for each day that passed. He existed in an endless vacuum. Only ‘now’ existed. Nothing before or to be. Nothing ever would.

And he could never forget the night that made him want to forget himself. But Remus wanted to forget. For real, not just for a moment.

And he knew just the spell.

---

“Bloody fuck”, he whispered, eyes locked at the grey cobble street by his feet. The wind tugged at his hair. He added a curse for himself, and for not realizing he should’ve worn a hat. His ears burned in that cool way, when warmth and cold seem indistinguishable. He drew his worn-out tweed coat tighter around him. It’s unusually cold for July. Is it even still July?

Before him was his well-familiar grocery shop. In one of the big glass windows hung a sign, ‘Sorry, we’re closed!’ and a handwritten note, stating that the shop was to close permanently because of family troubles.

For Remus, that meant he’d have to walk two more blocks to get to the next shop. Or disapparate. But he hadn’t tried to teleport in so many months, he was scared he might’ve forgotten how to. And if he messed up, who would he call?

What he’d have to do was to walk. And he’d come to despise walking. He muttered a few swears, before beginning his journey.

It took one block, before his lungs started to burn. Remus had come to despise the wheezing sound they - his lungs - made after the smallest kinds of exercise. His airways only seemed to close in tighter, in their wild ambition to strangle him. He found that even if he did arrive at the shop, he wouldn’t be able to get home. And then the whole thing seemed rather pointless.

All this resulted in him turning around, and accepting the fact that he couldn’t have dinner tonight. It wouldn’t be the first time. Sure, his Healer had said that any more skipped meals would eventually result in some sort of wicked starvation, which could get him a place at St. Mungo’s. And another month at St. Mungo’s wasn’t something he wanted. He thought he’d wasted enough time lying in a bed, being fed and dallied with.

Remus didn’t know what to do. His lungs burned. He could’ve killed for Molly Weasley’s roast chicken. With buttered potatoes and steamed green beans. Only a year ago, he had killed for Molly Weasley.

His lungs wouldn’t stop gasping for air. He pulled his arms around himself, and let out an ill-sounding cough. The sorry sight gained him a few looks from the people passing by.

Pull yourself together!

Then he remembered - a few weeks back, he’d bought far too many instant soup packs after finding a coupon in the Daily Prophet. Maybe he could find one of them, preferably mushroom-flavoured, somewhere at the very back of his kitchen drawers. It was a shot in the dark, he admitted that. But it was a shot at something, at least.

---

Coughing and wheezing, he finally arrived home. Well, perhaps ‘home’ wasn’t the right word. He arrived at the place where he’d been hiding away for the past year. How homely that was, he didn’t want to judge for himself.

As he held on to the wall beside the staircase for his dear life, he noticed how the front door opposite his own was hanging opened.

Someone’s in there! His mind went haywire, hand cramping around the wand from his inner pocket. Breaths became shallow, inaudible. Steps softened. Time seemed to slow down. He could feel the seconds moving past him.

The top step creaked under the weight of his right foot.

Remus moved closer to the open door. Meanwhile, he rehearsed the most useful spells for attack and defense.

But the scene before him was nothing like he’d imagined or rehearsed for.

“Hello there, stranger!” A girl half-shouted from inside. She was surrounded by moving boxes, but already looked quite at home. There was a happy look plastered upon her face.

No Death Eaters. No ‘fight or flight’. Just a girl.

Remus was taken aback. “Good evening”, his voice sounded like an unfamiliar croak. “... stranger.”

At the presence of another human being, Remus also found himself quite self-conscious about his looks. He knew he hadn’t showered in ages, and he couldn’t remember if he’d brushed his teeth this morning. Only Godric knew the last time he’d combed his hair. He made a half-hearted attempt to calm his disorderly brown locks, before tucking his arms into his sides. He felt the sharp end of his wand dig into the flesh of his hips, and hoped he wouldn’t accidentally turn his insides to jelly.

There was a stack of bowls wrapped in old newspapers in her arms, and a cheery smile on her lips. She hurried to put them down on the floor, causing Remus to cringe at the clinking sound they made. Surely something must’ve broken. She got up from the floor, standing in her full length. She still didn’t reach past Remus’ shoulders. “I’m the new neighbor.”

New neighbor?

“I’m Y/N”, she handed him her name. And, judging by the smile on her lips, a piece of her heart as well. She looked so effortlessly happy. It stirred something in Remus, making him wanting to return the smile in the best way he could.

He got lost in her happiness, and forgot himself for a moment. “I’m…”, an idiot. “I’m Remus Lupin.”

“Nice to meet you”, another goddamned smile. Wide and white-teethed. “I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. I mean, sharing a whole corridor and all.”

Remus had never once given that corridor a single thought. “Yup. An entire corridor...”

Another smile. “It’ll be fun, won’t it?”

Fun? “Sure.”

He realized he still had his wand in his hand, and quickly put it away as to not look like he’d just been planning an attack on a devotee of the Dark Lord.

“I better get back-”, he mumbled.

“I need to keep unpacking-”, she said.

She reached out a final hand. A final smile. “Nice meeting you.”

Remus took it. It was softer than he remembered hands could be. His lips were forced into a strained smile, “Same.”

Nose crinkled, eyes sparked. “See you around, Remus.”

Her door was still hanging open when Remus turned his back on her to return to his own nest. Careless girl.

All of this made Remus unsure of how to feel. This exceeded all his expectations - but to be fair, pretty much anything did now a days. He felt himself thrown off his usual dull rhythm. This was... new. He threw a last look down the corridor, and noticed he could still see her through her open door.

Anyone could walk through an open door. Shaking his head, he closed his own door with a loud ‘thud’.

---

FRIDAY

Remus had made sure the door was locked at least three times now. He got up from the coach to check again. Locked. Like it’d been the first time.

Satisfied, he returned to the coach. Looking around him, he made sure to check that everything was in order. He’d written himself a note, containing his name and birth information. He didn’t intend to forget every thing, but he knew that these sort of spells could be incalculable. ‘These sort of spells’ being spells for desperate fools. Such as himself.

The note was in place on the coffee table in front of him. He figured he better sit down. It wasn’t impossible that a erasing your past could make you a bit fussy.

It’s probably best to just nap it out, he thought to himself. Just… fall asleep old and wake up brand new.

The familiar wood of his wand felt like an old friend. Not that he particularly knew what those felt like anymore. The slender stick was the only thing linking him to his past. It started heating up slightly against his hand. Almost as if it knew what he was about to do. Begging him not to. His wand hand started shaking more. He needed steadier hands for this. The truth was, he needed someone else’s hands for this. Someone else to pull the plug.

He had no one. Nothing.

His lungs wheezed as he took a deep breath, steadying his hands. Another breath, and he braced himself.

His lips begun to shape the word, but his voice wouldn’t produce a sound. He tried again. Nothing.

Then, there was a sudden pain. The ever present ache in his head became more apparent; it turned into a sharp pain. His hands started to shake, dropping the wand like it was burning his skin. His airways closed in, there suddenly was no sair for him to breath. He could feel his head starting to spin, his vision becoming fuzzy. He felt like he was melting away.

Then there was nothing.

---

SATURDAY

Remus woke up late. Judging by the way the sun was burning into his eyes, it must’ve been past noon. He’d been passed out for more than 12 hours.

His mouth felt like sandpaper. Head was still fuzzy, and hands and limbs not feeling quite like they should. He was alive. And he didn’t know whether to be disappointed or not.

A shower, he thought. A shower and I’ll be fine. Well, ‘fine’ was an overstatement.

Looking into the bathroom mirror, he barely recognized himself. Who was this man? With sunken in, dull eyes, gazing back at him. There was an angry red mark on the bridge of his nose, probably caused by his metal-rimmed glasses digging into his face all through the night. And most of the day. His face was nothing more but a pale complexion in a dirty mirror.

I used to be covered in freckles, he remembered. Little delightful brown spots everywhere. Now, his face was laid bare.

The hot water from the shower hurt and pricked his fragile skin. But it was a good hurt. It was an ‘I’m alive’ hurt. Remus rested his head against one of the tiled walls, feeling the water pour down his back. He still couldn’t understand what had exactly happened last night. He’d tried to forget. He’d ended up passing out.

“Shit”, he mumbled. The water ran a little hotter. His fist punched the hard surface of the tile wall. “Shit, shit, shit, shit!”

Through the small window of his bathroom, the sun kept pouring in. It burned his eyes with its brightness.

He cursed the sun. He cursed the moon and the stars. He cursed himself. Himself and his incapability. Himself and his naivete - had he really thought he could just forget?

A cold, frosty feeling started to settle into his insides. The water from the shower head turned freezing cold. Out of hot water.

“... Shit.”

---

There was a knocking at the door. Three quick beats. At his front door. Remus was still standing in his hallway, towel wrapped around his middle and hair in a wet mess. He muttered a series of curses and swears, as he tried to find a clean shirt in his mess of a bedroom. Finding no such thing, he retorted to one of his coats from the hangers next to the door. It’d have to do. He’d fought off Death Eaters - one time even the Dark Lord himself - with worse dress sense.

The knocking continued, followed by a voice. “Hello?”

The last syllable was dragged out far too long for Remus’ liking. Realizing a Death Eater most certainly would never use the word in such a comical way, he let himself relax just a little.

“Anybody home?”

He opened the door an inch, casting a cautious look outside.

The new neighbor. The girl. Whatever her name was.

“Good afternoon”, followed by a wide smile.

Was it really that late?

She noticed the coat. The damned coat. “Are you going out?”

He crossed his arms around himself, in yet another attempt to hide himself. “No. Not particularly.”

Remus’ confused face clearly amused her, for a bubbling laughter fell out of her lips.

“Were you out for a bit too long last night?”

Was that a joke? “Yeah, something like that… Sorry, did you need anything?”

“No. I was just wondering what you were up to right now.”

A small smile started to involuntarily form on his lips. “I’m not doing… anything. Ever.”

At least that’s true.

“Good. ‘Cause I need a companion.”

“Companion?”

“You know, like a friend.”

Friend? “Oh. Right.” Friend? “Me? Am… Am I your friend?”

Another smile. “Of course. You’re the closest friend I’ve got in London at the moment.”

Friend? Remus wasn’t anyone’s friend. The thought both thrilled and concerned him.

“Okay. Sure. I can be your”, he cleared his throat, “companion.” Then he remember, the damned coat!

With his easiest smile, “Could you give me just a quick minute?”

“Sure. I’ll just wait inside.”

Before Remus could say or do anything she halfway forced, halfway snuck into his sorry excuse of a flat. This was not what he was expecting. But then, what had he really been expecting? From minute one, she’d been completely… unexpected.

Whatever-her-name-was looked around, inspecting his dirty dishes, the clothes that had been on the floor for months. The layers of dust covering almost every area.

A small nod, another dawning smile. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

Remus could only try to keep up, “... Thanks?”

“You’re welcome. Oh, and you should probably put on some clothes before we head out.”

Remus looked down. His stomach dropped as he saw how his coat was hanging half open, revealing the towel around his waist. “Sorry! I’ll see to that right now.”

---

Dressed in his only clean button up shirt and a pair of almost clean jeans, Remus now walked side by side with his new acquaintance. He didn’t dare call her a friend yet, partly because of his own doubt, partly because of her (so far) unpredictable ways. The terms and conditions of this so called “friendship” were still a mystery to him, like so many things about her.

“Excuse me for asking, but exactly where are we going?” He turned around to look at her, only to be met with a smile. Didn’t she ever stop smiling?

“Didn’t I tell you?”

Didn’t her mouth ever get tired?

“No, I don’t think so.”

Yet another smile. She seemed to have smiles for everyone. “How silly of me!” Her lips only widened. “We’re going to a marketplace.”

Marketplace? “Is there such a thing here?”

“I guess we’re about to find out.”

Right. Of course.

“Right… And why did you need me to come with you?”

“So I don’t get lonely, obviously.”

Who was she? “Right. Sure. Obviously.”

He realized a rather embarrassing fact. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

A smile. “You must have a really bad memory.”

“Well, no, I’d actually argue my memory’s quite good, but I was… distracted when I met you.”

Another smile. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N. I’m your neighbor.”

“Yes. Right. And I’m Remus.” He stuck his hand out, “Very nice to meet you.”

She grabbed his hand in an unexpected way, and sped up her pace. “Come on, this’ll be fun!”

A strangled noise forced its way out of his throat. Chest begun to feel warm and slightly shaky. He was laughing. She soon joined him.

Looking up, Remus saw how the sky was clearing up. The sun still strained to reach through a fading curtain of clouds. He closed his eyes, and felt the sun smile on his face for what felt like the very first time.

---

taglists

permanent: @rocking-like-a-ravenclaw / @kapolisradomthoughts / @siriusement / @classy-sith-lady / @hermione-who / @theseuscmander / @sleepingalaska

remus lupin: @writingwitchly / @serenefreakgeek / @spideyfan456 / @un-nouveau-soleil / @evyiione / @reggieblck / @bookworm0123 / @deathbyramennoodles / @cedricisnotonfire / @allauraleigh

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #young!remus lupin x reader #young!remus lupin #goodbye stranger #gs

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whimsically-ominously-auspice · 7 years

Text

Robert Hight

The first weekend that he broke Matt's record I was just waiting for Matt to break it. Matt's been making me crazy cause he just hangs out at the tree like he's texting at the stop light or something... that's all I gotta say about that. 339 is a huge jump... So to get that -- it's difficult for Matt. I know Matt's issues while driving but he's in. And habit hard to break. To be honest he's gotta work a long time practicing to get out of the way he drives. I'm not gonna sit here and write it out it's obvious. Let's move forward... So... Friday night Robert nearly got his ass beat. There was a huge to do because Robert was taunting me. I haven't said a word to anyone about Robert. The only only thing that I've said is that I think that Matt can beat the record that Robert set. That is all that I said and I wrote that in Sugar's Twitter So Friday night he started taunting me and Matt told him to stop. The FBI told him to stop. It went on for over an hour so Matt went over to their teepee and got John Force to understand what Robert was doing. So John Force finally was able to stop it. Because Robert does not respect anyone. He's a disrespectful little bastard. So after John and Matt got him by the neck he started to be nice to me. I still just ignored him. So then last night he started his shit again. I had already said what I thought about his breaking the 3.8 barrier. I said that Dejoria was the first one to break 4.o so as far as I see it, he's it any better than Dejoria We all know what I say about Dejoria. And I have not always said anything nice about her. In fact I've described her character in-depth and I don't believe any if it was positive until the last six months. And I've been on about her for YEARS. So just because he broke a barrier it doesn't mean that he's some God or some Braniac or someone to look up to. So I say that yet I admire Matt very much so for breaking barriers and being the first and making history. I'm saying that it's my choice to. I can make my own choices about who I want to admire and when. I choose not to admire Robert Hight. I fully believe he masterminded and swindled and talked his way into the Force Home. I don't believe he truly loves his wife. I dont. I think he just basically fucked his way into the top of the Funny Car NHRA. Who would not want to be in with John Force? He was champion for a decade back to back back to back back to back. I think Robert Hight's eyes lit up with greed and he did whatever he could to get in with John Force. Anything he could. And I think he does anything to stay with him. I don't think that John Force is a Mr Magoo. All blind and dumb and stupid. I think that John Force uses his heart and thinks with it more often than his brain. He lives in a highly competitive world where everything is cut throat and there's so so so much greed. I think he needs to love. He needs to trust. He needs to have a world that is kind. I think he should had shielded his heart and Family more. And his business as well. Especially since that's what Robert Hight wants most. And he has it. He's president. Matt has been in love with me his whole life. I was the first person to show him love. True patience, worry, kindness. The first person that could give that without being demanding or mean or evil. I'm not Robert Hight. I will never be Robert Hight. So what he holds a record. But when that littl pansy ass crybaby bitch dies. He ain't getting into Heaven. He will be lucky to retain memories of the good feelings that he got when he broke records. So let Robert Hight hold a record for a minute. It's the lamest and most pathetic thing that he is. That's all he is. A title. A title doesn't make a man. Matt Hagan at two years old told me he was a man. I was literally scared to death of him absolutely terrified. He knew what he wanted and what he wanted was me. I was scared to death and to this day 32 --- THIRTY-TWO years later, my hands still shake and my heart goes out of control beating from that memory that he told me that he loved me. I was so scared of love. Love wasn't real. Love made people do things. I didn't understand love. I was powered by love. I was absolutely powered by love and I cared to the deepest of my being. I was taught how to love. I was taught how to care. So he told me, he knew I loved and he loved me back and he wanted to keep my love forever. The deepest and most terrifying feeling, you can never ever feel, never imagine how scary it is, until you've felt it is the wonder if you can life until the end of time. If you can every single time perfectly execute caring, kindness, love, generosity. I guess you could say that Matt was ultimately terrible to me. Absolutely horrible to have that desire. That desire to be treated right and to have love forever. From me. I held him when he cried because someone else hurt him so bad that he has the deepest scars anyone has ever seen. I didn't believe that I could hurt him that same way. But despite his trust in me, he was afraid I would. And that made me want to melt into a puddle and die. Someone did it once. Why wouldn't it happen again? So obviously. Someone breaking his world record is nothing. Not a dam thing when he's thrown his heart in the middle of the floor and dared me to squish it. Told me it would break. But that he would still love me. He will break Robert Hight's record. Probably. Most definitely if he stays a Nitro Funny Car driver. I have absolutely no doubt that he will. What if he doesn't? You know what? He's talking about saving the lives of cows, deer and other animals. He's talking about carrying me because it's too painful for to walk. Talks about carrying me to the toilet. I'm 36 years old and he's like I want you to live past 80. And so that's a very long time for him to use me as a gym. It's obvious, the way that Matt Hagan has been driving this 2017 year that he really just does not give a shit about Robert stupid fucking Hight. He's got enough Wallys to make me a dildo a year for 20 years. So really. Who the fuck cares when you know he's gonna be using his dick? Point is that Robert doesn't care about anyone. Robert doesn't care about love. He doesn't have any of the values that John Force believed he had. John Force had to TEACH HIM LOVE. I actually like Robert Hight. On TV. He's got a great fun personality. But because he's been so busy hiding his personal (evil) agenda, he can't see real things. He can't see how people really are. Because he's been so busy hiding himself. Being fake. Trying to reach the top to be the bacon when he is just slop the pig eats. So maybe. Maybe just like Dejoria when she broke the 4.0 maybe he finally broke his own shell that made him a piece of shit ass hole. Luckily for him, John Force has an awkward and shy but huge and loving heart and spirit. Because if John wasn't so amazing then Robert Hight wouldn't be able to learn and to change and to become the type of person that deserves to hold a record. I hadn't said anything about Robert breaking the record. Because silence is golden. Everyone loves a nice quiet Sunday dinner when no one has to say a goddam word but be able to live in peace and Harmony. So I said nothing. I told Matt I hoped he would break it back because I believe he deserves to have it and no one else. That's exactly what I said. I'm sure Robert over heard as I can't stop him from spying. but I didn't say it for Robert. I said it for myself. I said it for Matt. But maybe Matt didn't even want to hear it... He wanted to hear me say those words but maybe that's all he wanted. He didn't want to break it. He just wanted to hear me say I think he deserves something absolutely amazing that everyone knows about. Maybe. So I didn't say anything about Robert that was negative. Things I think and feel. Things I think that will start a war and bull shit and make Robert mad. Because when Robert gets mad, he's disgusting. Absolutely furious and if you ask me is just a waste of carbon dioxide, oxygen and water. He deserves nothing but maggots out his eyes. His temper. It's disgusting And it's mostly disgusting Because he lies. And he thinks he can beat me. He thinks he can break me. He started a war with me. But I'm not playing. Because it's not a cold war. Everyone can see from his attitude how absolutely disgusting he is. They can tell from his temper he's a piece of shit. Don Schumacher is a different story. That's straight up cold war Russian spy. Like how Robert used to be before he became a spoiled brat. Like Denise. All I'm good I'm a good person then when you close the office door. It gets dirty. Disgusting and terrifying. So. I didn't say anything. I asked him to leave me alone very nicely and calmly on Friday. I told the FBI that he needed to leave me alone and so several stood between me and him. Robert wanted to pick and fight so they did the whole thing. I don't like that shit. It's stupid. I'm not going to talk to an arrogant jerk. I'll win but goddam I'll get so exhausted I will cry. (Not with Don tho) I'm sick. I very very very sick. My kidneys are on their way out and I didn't even know. I just found out... I knew they were hurting but I thought it was something else entirely. So idk if we can reverse it or what. It explains why my metformin isn't being digested and shit out whole and why my insulin has spiked so much that if it doesn't go down they will put me on insulin shots. And then I can still have a seizure because the seziure medicine I'm on for my fibromyalgia doesn't cover the type of seizures that I have. Found that out about 12 hours ago. So really. I don't give a shit about stupid ass Robert Hight. So Saturday night he's prancing around like a peacock with a dildo shoved up his ass and his Gramma chained to it and shoving it in and out for him. And I just told him "you look fucking stupid and get your stupid fucking ass away from me because you're just looking stupidier by the second" So the FBI herded him away. I should not had had to say anything. Friday night it was an outright war with alot of people just getting between me and him. Until he came back and was actually a normal human being. Whether or not it was fake I don't even care. I'm just tired of people bothering me. Then I said "big deal. Dejoria broke 4.0 some one has to break the record. Someone has to. Anyone. Just so happened to be Robert. Big deal" I really don't care about racing. I could care more but I'm not there. I'm here. At my house. Where my kid bitches we don't have water. Where Alex's dog was brutally murdered in cold blood for no reason. Where my refrigerator my stupid ex-husband insisted on getting and I didn't want but got it because it made him smile doesn't work anymore. Where I can't get my kid's iron up high enough because she won't get off her period. So it's really difficult for me to care about some record. Maybe if I helped break it I would care. But I didn't. So I don't. Maybe I helped Robert want to be a real person because I wasn't afraid to tell him that I see through his lying and selfish ass. I don't know. I don't care. I have real shit to care about. Really shit that's a whole lot more important to me than some stupid ass NHRA extra cariccular activity that someone decided to make a career out of. I didn't decide that. Matt decided he wanted to race. He always loved cars. He was so excited when j got my driver's license. He loved every second of me driving. And racing trains by crossing in front of them. Waiting till they got as close as possible before I crossed the tracks. So that's Matt. That's what Matt decided to do with his life He also decided to care about farms and shit. Call me what you want but I care more about what a cow eats before I care about how fast a car can go. I think I could beat Robert Hight's record myself. I think Matt is an absolutely amazing driver. He is. It's not just me. He proves it. But I also see what he does wrong when h drives. I can be as good as him. I know can be better than him. I don't care about Robert. I admire Matt. I want to be better than him. I want to be better than John Force when he was running back to back champions. Matt gets all bugged cause John wears a white hat. Always. I'm all.leave him alone. He deserves that hat. If I was him, I'd want w fucking crown but I would settle for a white hat everyday. People tell that I'm the best they got. I tell them God help this planet because there's Gotta be someone better than me. I pray all the time that there's people better than me And that they stay that way and not because I get worse but because they keep getting better. So I don't feel bad for wanting to beat people I admire. So here's to you Robert Hight, I don't give a shit you won and you better leave me the hell alone or you're gonna get your ass beat in every single possible way in your life. If it make you feel better then congratulations, too. Because I'm not bothered by you. Just like someone beat Dejoria's 4.0 break. Someone will break the 3.7 and the 3.6 and I think it can get down to two point two. Then someone may eventually been beat that.

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