#i just make a large batch and eat a spoonful after dinner | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ala-baguette · 6 months

Text

It's the most loneliest time of the year

Busy trying to finish KwtL and trying to stop myself from getting sidetracked with what has become an annual tradition of writing an angsty Christmas fic. So here's a throw-back to last year's instead. Summary: Four Christmases in which Percy Weasley was alone. And one in which he very much was not. Relationships: Percy/Audrey Rating: T | Words: 5.5k | Read it here or on AO3

Christmas, 1994

As he descended the stairs, Percy’s ears were met with a cacophony of clanking pots and pans from the kitchen. A mouth-watering aroma wafted up to meet his nostrils. Oh, dear. Mum. We talked about this. He straightened his dress robes as he brusquely took the last few steps down and turned the corner into the kitchen.

As he predicted, every flat surface was covered in food. A dozen mince pies were still left after Mum had sent off the majority of the batch to the rest of the family yesterday, and all week she had been baking biscuits and tarts and cakes. Now, dish-by-dish, Christmas dinner was making its way out of the oven. Percy’s eyes followed a plate of Yorkshire puddings as it flew across the kitchen and over to the dining table. It came to rest beside a large chicken surrounded by roast potatoes, parsnips, and Brussels. Mum pocketed her wand after conducting the Yorkshire pudding dance and turned back to resume stirring a gravy at the hob. Dad smiled at Percy as he entered, then went back to setting the table. Percy immediately took note of three place settings arranged at one end of the long wooden table. Why do they never listen to me?

“Mother,” Percy said with a sigh. “This is too much food for just you and Dad. I told you not to go overboard; I can’t stay for dinner, remember? Mr Crouch is counting on me to make sure everything is prepared at Hogwarts.”

“Well, I thought, you know… Just in case you changed your mind.” Then clearly not able to resist reopening their previous argument, Mum chided, “Surely you can have a small bite before you go.” She waved her spoon at him like a naughty child. “The Yule Ball doesn’t start until eight o’clock!”

“Yes, I know. But I want to get there early!” Percy ground out for what felt like the hundredth time. “There’s so much to prepare and so many people to organise. Someone needs to make sure everything is getting done—tables to set up and the band and the decorations. Merlin knows we can’t count on Ludo Bagman for help.”

“I’m sure the House-elves will have all that taken care of. Really, Percy.”

“There’ll be a feast at the ball, Mother!” he reminded her. “I really don’t need to eat twice. I told you this. I have to go.”

“Come now, Percy,” said Dad, passing a gravy boat to Mum to fill. “Go easy on us. This is the first time your mother and I have been alone for Christmas evening since before Bill was born! Can’t blame us for feeling a bit lonely.” Dad was smiling at him in that way Percy hated so much. That patronising smile that said he saw something Percy didn’t. Which was complete rubbish, of course. Quite the opposite, in fact!

Why couldn’t they understand that this was important! He, Percy, was Mr Crouch’s personal assistant, and this was one of his first real tests. Everything had to go smoothly tonight. Percy was representing Mr Crouch and nothing could tarnish the reputation of his boss or his department.

Or maybe Dad did understand. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe he was jealous that in the first six months of his career, Percy was already becoming more important at the Ministry than Dad ever would.

But Percy could hardly say such thoughts aloud.

Percy sighed irritably. The nerve Dad had to go for that guilt trip. It was hardly his fault that Ginny, Ron, and the twins had decided to stay at Hogwarts for the Yule Ball. Hardly his fault that Charlie had said he couldn’t justify the expense of travelling back when he’d already visited twice this year. Hardly his fault that they had uncovered some big new tomb in Egypt, and Bill had needed to cancel his trip home to work on breaking down the curses protecting it. Why did everything always fall to Percy? Why was it always his job to keep this family together?

But Mum and Dad were both looking at him expectantly. And he had to admit that it was rather sad to see them standing there with so many empty chairs around the dining table. And the Yorkshire pudding did admittedly smell divine.

Percy reached up and smoothed back his hair. “Ten minutes,” he said in compromise at last. Honestly, it was really quite magnanimous of him, Percy thought. “One piece of chicken. One Yorkshire. A little gravy. Then I have to go.”

Mum beamed and rushed to kiss him on the cheek. Dad smiled approvingly. Percy took his seat, and Mum began piling far more than just one piece of chicken, one Yorkshire, and a little gravy onto his plate. Percy swallowed his complaint. None of them would ever truly appreciate how much he did for this family.

Christmas, 1995

His flat was tiny. One room. That was it. He’d managed to squeeze a bed in one corner awkwardly butted up against the kitchenette. A desk that doubled as a dining table sat opposite. Percy suspected the bathroom had once been a cupboard before the crumbling walk-up had been repurposed into ��chique industrial’ flats. Hermes had adopted the top of the bookcase as his perch, nestling himself into the hollow between some exposed piping. He was currently shredding a newspaper for recreation, a repetitive shhhrup echoing in the quiet of the room.

Outside was anything but quiet. The honking of Muggle cars and the rumbling of busses and the yelling of merchants was a constant roar outside the single pane window. But the constancy made it easy enough to ignore.

Percy pushed his glasses up his nose as he scratched out a line on the parchment at his desk. He scribbled a correction in the margin, then read it through again. Shhhrup. He glanced up at Hermes and let out an irritated breath. Then went back to his work.

Yes, it was Christmas. Yes, he could have taken the day off. But he really wanted to finish this report for the office. As Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic, it was, after all, his job to stay on top of these things. The Minister was counting on him to keep his administration running smoothly. With all the wild rumours and accusations the Ministry had to contend with lately… Well, it was all keeping Percy very busy, and he didn’t want to fall any further behind. He definitely didn’t need any more distractions.

Against his better judgment, Percy’s eyes strayed from the document he was working on to a letter lying crumpled on the far corner of the desk. He could still make out the closing line from where it lay:

Love from your brother, Bill

Percy felt his lip pull up in a sneer. Love. How could any of them claim ‘love’ for him. They had turned their back on him—the whole family had. Turned their back on Percy. Turned their back on the Ministry. Turned their back on their country! They had gone off to join some foolish rebellion, and Percy had been left behind as the sole voice of reason.

‘Rebellion’ was the word Percy used when he was feeling generous. ‘Treason’ was perhaps the more accurate word.

Percy had spent the last six months distancing himself from his family. It was just a matter of time before Dumbledore and Potter and everyone associated with them was brought down, and Percy would have nothing to do with it!

But now Bill had the nerve to write to him of father’s injuries. To encourage him to visit Dad at St Mungo’s and ‘mend fences’. To say that surely Percy should be ‘able to see how important family is in times like these’.

How dare he lecture him? When his father had literally been caught dangerously wounded in the Ministry with some utterly codswollop cover-story about an escaped beast that had been previously confiscated by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures? How thick did they think the Ministry was? Did they really think that the Ministry didn’t know that Dad had been up to something shady for Dumbledore? Just because they couldn’t prove it, didn’t mean they didn’t know.

And Percy was just supposed to forgive and forget, just because Dad was injured? Shouldn’t it mean the opposite? Shouldn’t something like this be a wake-up call to his family that they had no place getting mixed up in Dumbledore’s insurrection? Shouldn’t they be the ones coming to him to tell him how wrong they’d been? To ‘mend fences,’ as Bill had put it?

Shhhrup.

Percy dropped his quill to the desk and a splotch of ink marred his report for the office. “Do you mind?” he growled at Hermes. “I’m trying to work here.”

Hermes met his gaze. The owl cocked his head, blinked once at Percy, then his talons gripped another strip of newspaper deliberately. Shhhrup.

A growl escaped Percy’s chest. “You know what? Here. If you’re going to do that, why not shred something worth shredding.” His fist crumpled around Bill’s letter, and he chucked it up on top of the bookcase. Hermes hopped to dodge the projectile and ruffled his feathers indignantly.

Percy opened his mouth to say something more, but he was cut off by a tap tap tap on the window. He spun around. Then was immediately annoyed with himself at the burst of hope and joy he’d felt at the sound. He paused for a moment, staring at the dark shape on the window ledge outside the glass. With a sharp release of his breath, he marched over and wrenched the window open.

Errol tumbled in and onto the desk. The ancient owl was gasping for breath, slumped against the lumpy parcel he’d been carrying. Percy merely stood there and stared down at him. A concerned trill came from atop the bookcase.

Percy’s face felt stony as he stared at Errol for a moment. Then his gaze flitted to the brown paper-wrapped package. It was lumpy and soft, and Percy had no doubts as to what it contained. He knew without looking that it would be mustard yellow, because it always was. Knew there would be not a single dropped stitch. Knew how it would feel, how it would smell. He looked back to the owl.

“What are you doing here?” Errol blinked open tired eyes to look at him questioningly. “I told her I don’t want anything to do with any of them.” But Percy’s fingers twitched as a traitorous part of his heart longed to tear open the paper and run his hands across the thick soft wool. Longed to breathe in the scent of his mother, of his home. The urge only served to make him angrier.

“Take it back.” Hermes let out a warning hiss from atop the bookcase, but Percy ignored him. “Take it back this instant,” he snapped at Errol. Errol looked up at Hermes as though begging for help. The old owl was still slumped and panting and looking utterly exhausted.

Hermes fluttered down to land next to Errol and glowered up at Percy. “What? It’s not my fault they sent him on a long flight to carry a package they knew I didn’t want!” he snapped at Hermes. Then he turned back to Errol who had still made no move to leave. “Well? What are you still doing here? Go on. Get out of here! And take this with you. Go!” Hermes snapped his beak angrily at Percy, then turned to nuzzle encouragingly at Errol. Grasping the parcel in his own talons and nudging Errol toward the window, Hermes spared Percy one last disgusted look before he spread his wings and took flight with the package in tow. Errol followed tiredly after.

“Fine. Side with them. See if I care,” he called out the window after Hermes. But Percy stood at the open window for a long time after watching them disappear into the night.

The breeze coming through the window was bitingly cold, but he barely felt it. He stared after the two owls long lost to the darkness. Dimly he registered that they were flying northeast, which was not the direction of the Burrow, but he refused to allow himself to wonder why. It didn’t matter. Whatever his family was up to, it was none of his concern. They had made that quite clear. They had chosen their side. And so had he.

Slamming the window shut, he turned and marched into the kitchenette. He bent to retrieve his dinner from the larder, kicking the cupboard door shut after. He banged the dinner down on the counter and glared down at the packaging.

Mrs Misley’s Magical Meals for One TURKEY ROAST *Tap your wand here and enjoy a warm delicious meal in seconds!

Percy proceeded to prod it so hard with his wand, the packaging ignited. “Aguamenti!” he yelped, smothering the flames in water. He let out a long sigh as what appeared to be half frozen turkey soup leaked from the charred packaging. Cursing under his breath, he scooped the sodden cardboard and some mush that he suspected was supposed to be mashed potatoes into the rubbish bin. He returned to his desk to finish his report.

Christmas, 1996

“Weasley. We’re going,” the Minister snapped through the open kitchen door. Potter had just swept in from the garden and was returning to his seat at the table with the attitude of a petulant child. Scrimgeour was clearly in no better mood; he had not even bothered to come in to say goodbye to the family. The pretence was done with, then. Thank God. Just in time. Because Percy couldn’t have stood a single minute more of it.

Percy stormed through the back door and slammed it behind him, cutting off his mother’s cry of “Percy, wait!” He followed Scrimgeour across the garden, the frozen earth crunching angrily under his feet. Not slowing his speed, he removed his glasses and shook them hard to dislodge the bits of mashed parsnip splattered across them. He brushed another chunk from his hair impatiently before redonning his specs.

Ahead of him, the Minister was walking faster than Percy would have thought possible with his bad leg and walking stick. He seemed as eager to be gone as Percy. Things had clearly not gone well with Potter. So it had all been for nothing. Can’t you see they’re using you, Percy?

Percy wanted to hit something. Fury was bubbling in his chest. All of this had been to give the Minister an in with Harry Potter. And Percy had gone along with it. He’d swallowed his pride and gone along with it because it was his duty. Because he had trusted that it was in the best interest of the Ministry of Magic. But it had all been for nothing. Potter was the most stubborn, pig-headed—

“Dumbledore’s man, through-and-through,” Scrimgeour grumbled under his breath followed by a frustrated growl in the back of his throat. He shook his head and kept walking, pushing his way through the garden gate.

They were all stubborn. The whole family was being utterly infuriating. Why they couldn’t recognise their duty to ally with the Ministry… Why they insisted on sticking to Dumbledore’s secretive agenda when clearly, they were all on the same side… Percy just could not understand them. None of them.

And yet… Percy had walked into the kitchen a little bit ago. And he’d smelled the turkey and stuffing. And he could see the tree covered in fairy lights and Ginny’s paperchains hanging from the rafters in the next room. And he had seen Mum’s famous Christmas pudding waiting on the counter for dessert. And he had seen everybody wearing their Weasley jumpers. And he’d felt Mum hug him, felt her tears on his shoulder, smelled her lemon soap and bergamot scent. And, just for a fraction of a moment, he had felt like a small child coming down to Christmas dinner. And he’d had to avert his eyes to keep from wanting it. Missing it.

Of course the row that started the minute Potter and Scrimgeour had left the room had been very quick to cure him of those thoughts. Barely had the Minister and Potter left the room before Dad had accosted Percy, demanding to know what Scrimgeour wanted with Potter. Dad’s voice was still ringing in his ears. We’re not fools Percy, and neither are you! Surely you can see what’s happening here. Surely you can see that he’s just trying to get to Harry. Can’t you see they’re using you, Percy? Percy felt his teeth grinding together. What did Dad know of duty.

Percy followed Scrimgeour through the gate and swung it shut behind him. The click of the latch echoed in the quiet stillness of the country lane leading into Ottery St. Catchpole. He looked to Scrimgeour who was now stationary, staring out across the frosted hills and shaking his head with a sour look on his face. Percy shoved his hands in the pockets of his cloak and waited. Waited for the Minister to declare the next move. Waited for his next instruction. Waited to do his duty to the Ministry of Magic.

But the Minister merely stood there.

It was a full minute later before Scrimgeour seemed to abruptly remember that Percy was there. He glanced over and looked Percy up and down for brief moment. He didn’t particularly seem to like what he saw. “See you at the office,” the Minister growled. And without so much as a ‘Happy Christmas’, he Disapparated with a pop.

Percy stood on the deserted lane for a long while. It had grown dark and the cold bit through his cloak. He glanced back toward the Burrow. He could just make out the brightly lit kitchen window through the snow-laden vegetation. The shadows of people moved within the square of warm yellow light. Then he turned to stare down the road toward the spot where Scrimgeour’s footprints in the snow disappeared. Beyond stretched a colourless landscape of snowy hills, pastures bordered by low stone walls and scrubby hedges. Wind ruffled his hair and tugged at his cloak.

Percy spared one last glance toward the Burrow before he too Disapparated.

Christmas, 1997

The rumble of the Muggle street below was the only sound as Percy sat with his elbows propped on his desk, his hands clasped together. Even Hermes was quiet tonight. The owl was staring at the window as though expecting something.

Percy too glanced to the window. But there was nothing there. Just as there had been nothing there the last time he’d checked.

The night stretched on, and still nothing came. No owl. No letter. No soft lumpy package.

Had Mum finally given up on Percy and not made him a jumper this year? Had something happened to Errol? Had something happened to his parents? Would he even hear about it if it had?

Percy reached up to pull off his glasses. There was a clatter as he dropped them next to his rapidly cooling and hardly touched tray of Mrs Misley’s Magical Meals for One.

And he buried his face in his hands and wept.

Christmas, 1998

We are so late. The bathroom door was shamelessly open. Percy had a clear line of sight from where he sat on the foot of the bed. He chewed a thumb nail as he watched her getting ready, his knee bouncing up and down restlessly. She kept saying she was almost ready, but her sparkling emerald green dress was still spread on the bed next to him awaiting its wearer more patiently than was Percy.

He cocked his head as Audrey leaned across the bathroom vanity to check her lipstick in the mirror. It gave Percy a rather pleasant view of her backside, clad only in knickers and sheer stockings. Her eyes caught his in the reflection and she winked, a small smile curving up her newly red painted lips. Percy thought she looked rather smug as she turned her attention to her hair.

“You look great. You don’t have to put so much effort in. They’re going to love you,” he assured her.

“I know,” she replied, turning around to look at him directly as she ran her brush through straight dark hair. “Everybody loves me. I just feel like looking pretty.”

“I’m just saying, no one else is going to be particularly dressed up. We’re not really that kind of family.”

“Sometimes, I want to dress up for me, you know?” She laid the brush down on the vanity and gave her reflection one final look over. “It’s not always about dressing up for other people.” She smiled at herself, then marched into the bedroom and picked up the dress, stepping into the skirts.

Percy chewed his lip as he watched her. “Okay. I’m just saying that if you didn’t want—”

“Oh, my God!” Audrey straightened, and she turned to look at him as though she’d just realised something. There was a moment’s pause as she studied him, the dress bunched around her hips as though she’d quite forgotten what she was doing. Percy tried not to stare at her lace-clad breasts.

“What?” Percy asked, startled by her sudden outburst.

Audrey didn’t speak for a moment. She shimmied her arms into the sleeves, eyeing him with a sudden frown on her face as she did so. Still with her eyes on him, she reached around to zip up the back. Percy made to stand to help her, but she just shook her head and did it herself, arching her back to reach the top. But never once did her eyes stray from his face. “You’re nervous!” she accused him.

“What? I’m not—”

“You are! You’re completely terrified! You think they’re going to hate me!”

“I don’t think they’re going to hate you.” He pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Yes, you do! You’ve been dragging your feet about introducing me to your parents for weeks! You don’t think I’m going to fit in with your family!”

“It’s not that…”

“Then what?” she demanded, but she had a teasing smile on her red lips.

“They’re going to love you,” he said weakly.

“You said that already,” Audrey insisted. She was refusing to let him off the hook. “Fess up. You’re ashamed of me.” Her broad grin acknowledged that no man in his right mind could ever be ashamed of her and she knew it.

“You’re going to fit in great with my family,” Percy assured her, shifting uncomfortably. He found his gaze traveling to his shoes. “You’re… you’re going to fit in better than I do,” he added in a mumble.

He glanced up at her just in time to see her teasing smile faulter. “Percy…” she said gently.

Percy looked away again, leaning his elbows on his knees. He felt the bed beside him sag as she sat next to him and felt her eyes on the back of his neck. Then a gentle hand he didn’t deserve caressed the hair back from his forehead.

“It’s not you I’m ashamed of,” he managed softly. “It’s me.” She was so quiet, he had to turn to see if her face would show what she thought of that. But she was merely gazing at him sombrely, her expression inviting him to go on. “You’ve only ever seen me at work or among friends. But my family…” Percy bit his lip and stared at the ceiling as he tried to consider the words. “I’ve done terrible things. Said terrible things. I turned my back on them. For three years, I did everything I could to distance myself from them. But if I had just done what I should… Maybe I could have helped… Maybe I could have stopped… Maybe he’d…” Maybe he’d still be alive. But Percy couldn’t say those words aloud. Not even to Audrey. Especially not to Audrey.

“Anyway. Family gatherings… They can be… hard. Everybody pretending like none of it ever happened.”

Audrey took a moment before she answered. “Has it occurred to you,” she said at last. “That maybe they’re not pretending? That maybe they’ve just moved on? Forgiven you? And that maybe it’s time to forgive yourself?”

Percy glanced at her, and she was gazing at him. He saw no doubt in her eyes. She merely seemed as though she were waiting for him to cotton onto something that was terribly obvious to her.

“How could they possibly forgive me for something like that?” he asked her. And he looked into her eyes, desperate for them to hold an answer to a question he had asked himself a hundred thousand times, but never uttered aloud before this moment.

Audrey just smiled as though this were the most obvious thing in the world. “Because they love you, you tosser.”

Percy felt a huff of disbelief escape his chest, and he turned away, shaking his head. “You don’t even know them.”

“I don’t have to. I know that you love them. And I know that I love you. And I have excellent taste, so obviously they agree with me.”

He looked at her sidelong. And the grin on her face was enough to break through the gloom. He laughed in spite of himself. Reaching up, he cupped her cheek in his hand and her smile shifted from mischievous to affectionate. They simply gazed at each other for a long moment, smiling like idiots.

“I love you too,” Percy said at last.

“Well, good,” Audrey shrugged. “Because it would be really inconvenient if I loved you and you didn’t love me ba—”

But Percy cut off whatever wisecrack she might have had in store for him next by pulling her face close and kissing her hard on the mouth. He felt her grin against his mouth before submitting, and her lips softened against his.

Percy had kissed her a thousand times and would kiss her a thousand times again, and still he would not have gotten over the thrill at feeling her lips against his. The way they always moved and parted in time with his as though to a well-choreographed dance he couldn’t remember learning. The way they made his heart pound and his stomach clench. The way they made him feel like the most important man in the world and the humblest, all at the same time.

Loosing himself in the feeling, Percy buried his hands in her silky hair and felt hers running up his back. He deepened the kiss contentedly, but she pulled back slightly, and he felt rather than saw her smile. “I thought you said we were going to be late,” she whispered against his lips. “I know how you hate being late.”

Percy groaned. He did hate being late. Audrey laughed softly, pecking him lightly on the lips before pulling back fully. They allowed themselves one moment more to simply look into the other’s eyes. Audrey’s gaze darted down to his lips and a funny smile tugged at her cheek. Percy thought she was considering kissing him again, but she stood up determinedly. “Give me a minute to fix the damage you’ve done to my hair and makeup. Then we can go.”

Percy threw his head back and drew in a deep steadying breath as she disappeared into the bathroom again.

They arrived at the garden gate to the Burrow hand-in-hand. Percy felt Audrey give his hand a gentle squeeze before they walked up the garden path. The door was flung open before they could knock.

“Oh, Percy, thank goodness!” Mum flung herself on him, hugging him tightly there on the front stoop. “I was getting worried! You’re never late.” She pulled back and looked him over as though assuring herself that he was alive and whole.

“Sorry, Mum—” Percy began. But before he could get another word out, she caught sight of Audrey standing just behind him.

“Oh, and you must be Audrey! At last! We’ve been telling Percy to bring you for weeks and weeks!” Percy found himself pushed aside as she dove to hug Audrey. But somehow he didn’t mind one bit. Audrey smiled at him from over Mum’s shoulder.

“Oh, you’re so pretty!” Mum said, patting her own hair back as she took Audrey in up and down. “Come in! It’s freezing out here! I’ve knitted you a jumper. I so hope it fits; Percy wasn’t much help when I asked your size.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Audrey laughed, shooting Percy a mischievous grin. “Men are so useless at that sort of thing, aren’t they?” The pair of women walked into the house arm-in-arm in happy excited conversation as though they’d known each other for years, and Percy followed behind.

There was a rush of movement and sound through the crowded kitchen as they entered. Calls of ‘Hello’ and ‘Happy Christmas’ echoed in the cramped space. Percy found himself separated from Audrey as Dad came up to hug him and Charlie slapped him on the back and George poured him a drink.

His head felt like it was floating in all the noise and conversation. Before he could respond to one person, another was greeting him. Percy craned his head to check in on how Audrey was getting on; he saw her shaking hands with Harry and, to her credit, she did not appear painfully starstruck like most people were when meeting him.

Drinks and half-eaten appetisers were claiming spots at the table, but few people were seated yet. Percy couldn’t help it as his gaze travelled to a particular empty chair at the table. He was sure it wasn’t empty by coincidence. No one wanted to sit in that particular spot.

“Hey! Looking good, Audrey!” called Bill across the room, cutting into an unpleasant reverie. Percy turned back to look over to Audrey himself. She had slipped on her first of what was sure to be many Weasley jumpers and was grinning at him from across the room. The lumpy olive-green wool far from complimented her sparkly emerald dress, but she wore it with so much confidence, the runway models were sure to be adopting the style by next season. A small cheer went up around the room and Audrey’s grin widened. “Percy, dear! Come and get yours,” Mum called, and Percy picked his way through the throng to them. As Mum turned to collect another jumper from under the tree, Percy felt his arm wrap around Audrey’s waist. She squeezed him back.

As he’d known it would be, the soft wool was a mustard yellow. As he’d known it would, it had not a single dropped stitch. As he’d known it would, it smelled of lemon soap and bergamot. “Thanks, Mum,” he said softly, kissing her on the cheek.

“Alright, come along, all of you!” said Mum, waving him off, though she had a touch of a blush on her cheeks. She began shepherding them all toward the dining table. “It’s dinner time!” she called to the room at large. Another cheer and some laughter as the group migrated toward the table.

Percy followed suit, but he paused to look around the room. For a moment, he just stood there, clutching his Weasley jumper to his chest. He looked around the table as his family took their seats, all chatting amongst themselves, all laughing and smiling and relaxed. Their faces were brightly lit by the candles on the dining table. And before them was a spread of all of his favourite foods. And Ginny’s paperchains were hanging artfully from the rafters. And the fire was crackling merrily. And everything was perfect.

And yet everything was wrong.

Percy felt his feet faulter. They seemed unable to make the final few steps to the table. His breath was coming fast and shallow. He felt as though he were caught midway through Apparition. As though a tight rubber band was compressing his chest. He didn’t belong here. He didn’t belong in this warm and loving house, surrounded by warm and loving people. He didn’t deserve it. How could it be that he was here and someone else was not. When it had been Percy who had had squandered their last chance to ever again have them all together in this room.

“Er, Perce,” said George as he pulled out a chair across from him. Percy blinked several times as he tried to clear his head enough to really take him in. George gestured to his lips. “Trying out a new shade? I think red clashes with your hair a bit.”

Percy merely continued to blinked at him bemusedly for a moment. Then he felt heat flood to his face, and his hand shot up to scrub at his lips. Several snickers sounded around the table. He glanced apologetically to Audrey only to find her grinning at him in a way that reminded him uncannily of Fred. He sighed. His glare was made rather less effective by the traitorous smile tugging at his lips. “You didn’t tell me on purpose.”

Audrey shrugged. “I thought the shade suited you quite well.”

The kitchen was filled with laughter and the screeching of chairs on the floor as everybody took their seats. George was still sniggering and Dad was smiling fondly at him and Mum was piling food onto his plate and Audrey was beaming at him. As fast as it had come, the rubber band around his chest was gone. When he at last sat down, he felt he was exactly where he belonged.

And when Audrey sat herself in the empty seat beside him— the one seat everyone had been avoiding— no one seemed to mind at all.

Least of all Percy.

#harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #canon compliant #percy weasley #weasley family #percy/ audrey #christmas fic #christmas #angst #character arc #family

21 notes · View notes

steak-n-popotoes · 2 years

Text

FFxivWrite ‘22 - 9

They hired on some Matanga recently, right? Wonder if any of them are working the kitchen...

May as well go for the long shot.

“You guys have tsuivan on the menu?”

“I am afraid not, sir... though... I believe I have heard of the dish? It’s quite popular in the Steppe.” The Hippo Rider fluttered her ears thoughtfully. “Maybe we could do a special batch? We’ve been working on trading recipes with Acala’s people to diversify our brand.”

Caranar snorted. Sure, they’ve been doing great business, but... ‘diversify our brand’? Kozu’s been helping out around there too often. “Nah, that’s alright. Just put in an order for whatever’s hottest.”

“Of course, sir.”

Caranar leaned back against a cool stone wall in the Radz-at-Han street as he watched the messenger clamber into her cart and speed out into the night. Normally on a night like this, he’d be at the meyhane trying to squeeze a few gil out of Estinien with card games and bar tricks, but the crowd and noise of the best bar in town just didn’t seem appealing that night. Wrapped in the rare moment of solitude, he wasn’t aware that he had company.

~~~~~

By the time the Rider came back with the goods, even business at the meyhane was like to be slowing down for the night.

“Here we are! One spicy hamsa curry plate with a large side of rice, and naan thrown in for good measure.” She stretched her arms above her head and curled her trunk as Caranar counted out the payment (with tip).

After the usual farewell pleasantries, Caranar turned round the corner and nearly slung his dinner into the street as he all but tripped over Beef.

Having heard the scuffle through Gale, Beef drifted slowly into the waking world.

Caranar huffed as he checked to make sure everything was still in order. Almost lost the naan. “What, d’you follow me here and then doze off? What if I hadn’t spotted you?”

Beef gave Caranar a yawn in reply.

Yeah, knowing this kid he probably wouldn’t have run into trouble anyway. Caranar leaned against the wall, then slid down to the ground next to Beef. Wordlessly, he offered the toasty naan.

Beef nodded, then rubbed a bleary eye with one hand and accepted the bread with the other.

A cloud of richly fragrant steam rose from the rice and curry the moment Caranar popped the lid off the dish. For a moment, he let it linger in his senses until his stomach loudly reminded him what he was supposed to do next. “Oh. Where’s the-” He wearily looked aside and beneath the container, but... “Beef, do you have...?”

Beef was already looking through his satchel for eating utensils to share. Or rather, Gale was doing the looking. Beef's tired eyelids had slowly fallen closed again, but he was still searching as though they were open. Gale was leaned forward over her perch atop his head and staring down into the bag in his stead. Eventually they found what they were looking for and offered a well-used wooden fork to Caranar, keeping the spoon to compliment the pair.

He’s doing that weird thing again... Caranar thought to himself as he watched Beef steal a spoonful of rice, eyes still closed. While he poked around in the curry for a hearty chunk of hamsa, Beef tore off a strip of naan and dunked it generously into the sauce.

“Hey, careful that’s-”

A couple seconds after the curry hit his tongue, Beef’s eyes scrunched shut even tighter and his cheeks puffed out as he chewed, resulting in a remarkable imitation of a moogle that’d been stung by a bee. It didn’t really slow him down, for when he had finished with that mouthful he began to prepare more naan for the next.

“...spicy.”

#FFxivWrite2022 #FFxivWrite #FFXIV #Caranar Bairon #Beef Broganoff

3 notes · View notes

sakaiyuji234 · 9 days

Text

Together Forever

Chapter 3

*MTL*

Every Sunday, Tong Yan goes to work at a French sporting goods store.

This store has four or five stores in Shanghai. When she went for an interview at first, she was only interested in the branch near the school. Unexpectedly, after she started working, she was transferred internally to a place far away.

When she received the phone call, she hesitated for three seconds, but finally chose to accept it.

So every Sunday morning at five o'clock, she would force herself to get up and take a two-hour bus ride to the store. The only good thing was that the store was near Hongqiao, and 90% of the customers were foreigners, so being a shopping guide was a good way to practice speaking.

However, the store recently received a new batch of sweatpants, which completely shattered this beautiful dream.

In the past few weeks, she was sent directly to the warehouse, mechanically using hangers to clip pants. The biggest problem was that the iron clips were very hard, and the waistband had to be pulled straight to clip. After processing more than 500 pairs of pants, her fingers were swollen.

It was already past one in the afternoon when the manager came to check.

She was so hungry that she came out of the warehouse with a rumbling stomach and ran to the cashier with her hands raised: "Miaomiao, I'm crazy, look at how swollen my fingers are."

"It's too tragic," Miaomiao shook her head, "This is a work-related injury."

She bared her teeth and complained, "Yeah, I can't feel the first three fingers anymore. Do I have to use my ring finger and little finger to hold the chopsticks when I eat?" Miaomiao was about to make a joke, but suddenly she changed her expression to a work one, looked away and said to the person behind her, "Sir, this cashier counter is closed."

"It's okay." A voice behind me answered.

Teacher Gu?

Tong Yan turned around in surprise and saw Gu Pingsheng looking at him.

How coincidental is this?

She saw the American professor beside Gu Pingsheng and the cart that was packed with stuff, and immediately realized that the two were probably going on a self-driving tour. The cart contained either a tent or a fishing rod...

"Your friend?" Miaomiao looked at the two of them, you looked at me, I looked at you, and immediately said, "Come on, pay the bill here, I'll give you an 80% to 90% discount as an internal employee."

After she finished speaking, she immediately took down the closed sign and enthusiastically paid the bill for Gu Pingsheng.

Tong Yan had nothing to do standing aside, so he helped her pack the things into bags one by one. This was a job she was already familiar with, and she soon had four large bags full of things, but hesitated when she was about to pick them up.

It’s so heavy, who should carry it?

Forget it, of course I have to take care of my own teacher.

She calmly handed the two light bags to Gu Pingsheng and the other two to the American professor.

Anyway, you can't tell the difference in size.

Unexpectedly, as soon as she handed over the bag, Miaomiao smiled and whispered, "I'm going to eat, you just have a good meal with this handsome guy. I guess you don't even need to use your ring finger and little finger, just eat a few bites for your own goodness, being full and warm will make you lustful."

Tong Yan screamed, but failed to hold her back, and the girl ran away.

"Let's have dinner together?" Gu Pingsheng asked at the right time.

As a result, Tong Yan inexplicably had lunch with the two university teachers.

Fortunately, it was curry rice, so she could use the easiest spoon to use.

After the three of them ordered their meals, Gu Pingsheng suddenly said to her, "Let me see your fingers."

Tong Yan was stunned. How should he look at it?

She stretched her hand vertically in front of him, and just when she was feeling nervous, he gently grasped her fingertips and pulled her over.

Tong Yan was startled.

Isn't it inappropriate to hold a girl's hand like this in public?

While he was looking, the American professor also looked at it seriously and touched Gu Pingsheng's arm. When Gu Pingsheng turned his head to look at him, he smiled and said, "Tk, the look in your eyes reminds me of when you were studying medicine."

He was stunned for a rare moment, then he let go of her hand with a smile: "Indeed, I have an occupational disease again."

Yes, he used to be a doctor. Doctors have no gender discrimination.

She secretly breathed a sigh of relief, withdrew her hand, and drank the smoothie through the straw.

The hand just now was warm, not as cold as it was many years ago. The bones and flesh were evenly distributed, slender, and flawless.

It's true, the surgeon's hands portrayed in American TV series...

"Will you continue to work like this this afternoon?" He called the waiter, "Please give me some bigger ice cubes."

Tong Yan waited for him to turn his head and confirmed that he could see her lip movements before she replied, "No need in the afternoon. I just need to be a shopping guide in the afternoon."

"Why not find another job?" He thought for a moment, "like tutoring?"

Tong Yan smiled and said, "I am a student of liberal arts. Generally, only students of science and engineering can find tutors. Junior high and high school students hire people to teach math, physics and chemistry, but few people want to teach Chinese."

“There are many jobs you can do without tutoring.”

She smiled and said, "Yes, actually I just want to do something that doesn't involve sitting around writing or drawing, to work hard and experience how hard it is to make money."

The American professor laughed and said, "This is normal. I used to work as a cashier. College students usually sit in the classroom. If they have a part-time job like this, it would be boring."

She nodded hurriedly: "The girl just now graduated from a technical secondary school and has been working for many years. On my first day here, when I was issuing invoices to customers, I found that I couldn't even write the capital 1, 2, 3. It was easy for me to type on the computer, but when I really wrote with a pen, I realized that I was illiterate."

The waiter quickly brought a bucket of ice. He took out a wet tissue from his body, pulled out one and wrapped a piece of ice in the right shape, and handed it to her: "Hold it in your hand, it should feel better in the afternoon."

She took it and held it in her hand, feeling a little embarrassed.

How can you be so arrogant...

When she returned in the afternoon, Miaomiao's eyes were full of rage: "Just now the manager came back and whispered to me that you were holding hands with a man. It was so romantic. I specifically asked if he was Chinese or a foreigner. Fortunately, it was that Chinese man who made people jealous. Hahahaha, tell me the secret of hooking up."

Tong Yan frowned: "That's my university teacher."

Miaomiao was stunned: "Teacher-student love? That's too awesome."

"…He was checking my fingers." She raised her hands and waved them in front of her eyes. "Have you forgotten about my work-related injury?"

Miaomiao continued to be stunned: "Tong Yan, I remember you studied law, right? Your teacher should also teach law, right? At least it must have nothing to do with medicine, right?"

"…He used to be a doctor, and later he taught law."

"...As expected of a teacher from a prestigious school, he is talented and awesome."

The child was speechless and decided to give up explaining. He greeted a foreign couple and started his easy shopping guide job.

Because of the physical labor on Sunday, she managed to sleep until almost class on Monday, and was pulled out of bed by Shen Yao: "Hurry up, get up, today is commercial arbitration, there will be a pop test."

She opened her eyes dazedly and stared at the face in front of her for a long time before she sat up abruptly: "Popular exam?!"

Or international commercial arbitration?

Why is Gu Pingsheng again?

She bit the tip of her pen and looked at the densely packed English words in front of her. Usually, the most annoying thing was the English reading questions. Now, not only did she have to read, but she also had to thoroughly understand the complicated cases, and most importantly, she had to analyze...analyze in English.

It’s not as simple as writing a CET-4 or CET-6 essay.

She didn't even have a chance to copy this kind of case analysis question.

I quickly glanced at the test paper of the class monitor next to me. There was dense English writing in the elegant handwriting. I could hardly understand anything except is, are, here.

"Tong Wuji?" Shen Yao lowered his head and called her name.

Her name is Tong Yan, and Tong Yan is fearless. Another name: Tong Wu Ji.

Shen Yao's voice was not soft, and it was obvious that he was bullying Gu Pingsheng for not being able to hear.

A few chuckles came from somewhere, followed by a few more chuckles and whispers from the front of the classroom. Without exception, everyone was staring at their papers and mumbling to each other, comparing their answers.

Tong Yan glanced guiltily at the person sitting at the classroom door and ignored her.

Shen Yao continued to call her from behind, using all sorts of different voices and making all kinds of weird noises, before finally yelling, "Tong Yan!"

She was so scared that she dropped her pen and looked at Gu Pingsheng guiltily.

A line of sight passed through the crowd and quickly caught her. Tong Yan lowered his head, stared at the paper angrily and asked, "What are you doing?"

Shen Yao's voice was particularly flattering: "Tong Wuji, let me see your paper..."

“…I didn’t write it either.”

"Childish words."

Suddenly a voice was heard, a little cold, like the water in a deep pool.

Tong Yan wanted to cry but had no tears. She stood up silently and looked at Gu Pingsheng: "Teacher Gu."

He looked at her quietly, walked over and picked up the paper on which she had only written two sentences, and looked at her again: "No?"

"...No." Telling lies at this time would be courting death.

The cicadas outside the window were chirping incessantly, and the fan above my head was spinning happily.

But the classroom was extremely quiet. Lady Gu was showing off her power, which was also very scary.

After a long silence, Gu Pingsheng sighed and said, "This is the first class test. You may not be able to adapt to doing case analysis in English. So, Tong Yan, answer a question for me. If you answer it correctly, everyone will take the test paper home today and the score will be counted towards your regular grades."

Everyone was in an uproar and immediately turned to stare at Tong Yan. Their gazes were so hot that they were hotter than the sun.

Only Tong Yan's face turned paler.

"The concept of 'International Commercial Arbitration Law'?" Gu Pingsheng looked at her with a smile.

concept?

"Damn it," someone murmured in a corner, "Tong Wuji, if you can't even answer this, you will be expelled from the class immediately." "Tong Yan, our usual grades." "Mei Rensha is deliberately letting us off, Yanyan."

The child's words are so sad that he can't even cry. Instead of talking about these things... you might as well tell me the answer.

"All of you look up and look at me." Gu Pingsheng said with a smile.

After the words fell, everyone shut up and looked up at the beauty.

"Have you thought it through?" he asked.

Tong Yan was heartbroken, but he still looked at Gu Pingsheng: "'International Commercial Arbitration Law'... is... international, commercial, arbitration... law."

Everyone shed tears.

It is indeed the words of a child without any scruples, without any technical content at all.

0 notes

0-waste · 2 years

Text

three days of a zero waste lifestyle!

The zero-waste movement is an eco-friendly way of living that aims to reduce the amount of waste an individual creates on a daily basis, which worsens climate change and global warming. While I admit that it's quite impossible to achieve completely zero waste at all, its primary purpose still holds its ground and perseveres — a dedication and commitment to sending as little waste to the landfills as possible. By doing so, we act on reducing the harmful impact of humans on our ecosystem.

This journal aims to focus on and record a zero waste lifestyle within the household and the home with all of its members.

Day One:

Refraining from using single-use items.

Instead of using paper and plastic utensils for eating, which always end up in the trash after a single meal is finished, I continue to use the recommended alternatives. They can be washed and dried again and again for them to be utilised more than once. To be specific, there are the metal cutlery (spoon and fork), a cloth napkin, and a water bottle, so that I won't need to buy plastic bottles from stores anymore.

This is all in order to avoid further contributing to the already quickly increasing amount of paper and plastic waste day by day all over the world.

This practice made me remember what I, along with a lot of the Ibarang, already do during breakfast, lunch, and dinner time in the cafeteria in Makiling where we bring our own utensils to eat with and wash them clean afterwards to use again

Repurposing household items.

Most families buy material necessities to provide each of their members’ basic needs and wants. Of course, mine isn’t an exception. That’s why there’s a diverse variety of things stacked away and kept within the shelves and cabinets of our house. It has then become a habit of ours to continuously put them to use and prevent them from just lying around as a means of neatness and organization of our belongings.

For example, in the photos shown, we fill an ice cream container with water, dishwashing soap and a sponge for cleaning purposes. There are also the Eden cheese and dental floss containers where our jewelry and little trinkets reside. Lastly, there are some mason jars that once held jams, sauces and such to store excess oil that we also reuse for cooking the next batches of food.

Day Two:

Giving away or donating items that aren't or won't be of use anymore.

Connecting to the deed yesterday, having bought a lot of stuff over the years, I tend to grow out of these items, having clothes that don’t suit my taste or don’t fit me anymore, and I deem to be no longer useful to me as time goes by.

Rather than just letting them gather cobwebs and dust in our house and throwing them out in the end, our family has been collecting these said objects. We’ll be giving them to Tatay’s family in Capiz, Iloilo when we visit them again in December to celebrate Christmas. It’s similar to that of a little balikbayan box that I hope would be to their liking!

Day Three:

Keeping and reusing tote and grocery bags and gift wrappers.

Similar to what was mentioned before in the previous days, the same goes to gift wrappers from gifts given to us. We make a collection of them, so we can use them again for the presents that we’ll be the ones giving to others this time during celebrations, holidays, and other occasions to our relatives and friends.

Moreover, whenever we go grocery shopping, we always have the same two large tote bags in hand where we place the newly bought food, drinks, and snacks. The remaining bags are also set aside so we have more room and options for storage of different items that we can also bring to different places.

Creating situations wherein the already used papers can serve other purposes.

Both my parents work in offices in educational institutions and environments, and both their children, my younger brother and I, are still at school as well. That’s why we end up producing papers of all sorts. We gather those as well and turn them into scratch papers.

references:

https://www.masterclass.com/articles/zero-waste-lifestyle-explained

https://www.ecofriendlyhabits.com/zero-waste-living/

https://meuresiduo.com/en/blog-en/moving-toward-a-zero-waste-lifestyle/

p.s.: credits to sophie reyes for the icon of this tumblr blog ♡

0 notes

mediterrane-ish · 2 years

Photo

TZATZIKI

In lots of traditional Greek dishes, tzatziki is used as a dip or a sauce. It goes great with a gyro, grilled chicken, lamb chops, or even just toasted pita bread as a dip. In my family, I’ve become the designated person to make the tzatziki whenever we have a dinner that “requires” it. I’ve never really measured my recipe, as I grew up eating it and sort of just know the taste and add ingredients to achieve it. However, I have general amounts that I’ve estimated to be my recipe, and it should be like mine. I usually make a lot so if you want less, you can always cut this recipe in half, but especially if you intend to use this as a dip with pita bread, more is always better.

What You’ll Need:

2-3 cups Greek yogurt

1 cucumber

1-3 cloves of garlic, depending on how large they are

1 1/2 T dill

juice of 1 lemon

This recipe is very simple, but does require a little bit of prep work. First, start with the Greek yogurt. If you’re thinking, “hey, I could just replace this with the sour cream I already have in the fridge. It’s close enough.” Well, you’d be wrong. If you want your tzatziki to be runny and taste wrong, then sure, use sour cream. But you don’t want that at all, so just get the Greek yogurt. I usually buy a huge tub of it at Costco and use about half for this recipe. You can use the other half for breakfast and snacks with some honey and fresh fruit. It’s high in protein and basically everything else that makes yogurt good for you, so if you’re not convinced at this point to use Greek yogurt instead of sour cream, then I don’t know what else to tell you. It’s worth it, that’s all.

So, back to this recipe. I like to make this all in one bowl that I can cover and keep in the fridge, but is large enough that I can mix it all together inside. Once you have that bowl, add your yogurt to it. Then grab a cutting board, a knife, a vegetable peeler, and a spoon. First, peel the cucumber. Then cut it in half (longways) so that you can use the spoon to remove all of the seeds. Then, chop it all up in a food processor and dump it onto a paper towel to squeeze out the extra juice. Once it’s pretty much strained, add the chopped cucumber to the bowl of yogurt. Then, use the food processor again to chop the garlic. In any other recipe, I’d chop the garlic by hand with a knife, but with this you want to make sure there’s no extra large chunks, because it’s not always a great surprise to bite into a chunk of garlic.

Once you have the chopped cucumber and garlic added to the yogurt, mix it all together to make sure it’s evenly distributed. Then, add the dill and lemon juice and stir it all together again. Some recipes add olive oil to this, but that’s something no one in my family has ever done, so neither have I. I don’t know if it would add a ton of flavor, but I generally don’t like how olive oil separates from foods when refrigerated, and since I tend to make larger batches of tzatziki and refrigerate them to eat later, I don’t think it would work for me. After I mix together all of my ingredients, I like to refrigerate the mixture for a few hours before eating it, to let all of the flavors marinate. It makes for a much stronger flavor, but be warned that after a few more days, it will definitely get more garlicky as it sits in the fridge!

#recipes

0 notes

rreyie · 3 years

Text

𝙖𝙤𝙩 𝙢𝙚𝙣 𝙗𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙨/𝙤 𝙝𝙘𝙨

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: none. pure fluff :)

𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚: headcanons/fluff

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨: eren yeager, armin arlert, jean kirstein, bertholdt hoover, reiner braun, porco galliard, colt grice

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: so basically today i was baking some brownies and i thought... what if i make headcanons for the aot guys and baking? well here i am, straying away from my usual nsfw posts!

also, the ask box is open! questions? comments? suggestions? need someone to vent to? i’m here!

——————————————————————————

⚔️ EREN YEAGER ⚔️

i can see him being a brownie person

big chocolate lover

he would complain if you wanted to make them homemade, he doesn’t really like to bake or cook

if you persuade him though? he will do it, only for you.

gets the measurements wrong.

very very wrong

“here’s that half a cup of oil-“

“eren that’s a cup and a half”

“same thing”

after that you do all the measuring while he stirs, and he keeps eating the batter

you literally have to swat his hand away from the batter

but that precious smile that he gives when he’s licking that batter off of his fingers...

it’s literally adorable, so you give him the spoon to lick off

chaotic but so fun

⚔️ ARMIN ARLERT ⚔️

would for sure bake oatmeal raisin cookies

he’s the one who suggests baking, he genuinely likes to do it

thinks you look so damn cute in the apron you’re wearing

volunteers to tie your hair back, does a very good job actually

unlike eren, he gets the measurements EXACTLY

makes the cookies in large batches so he can give some to his friends and family

when i say these are the best cookies you’ve ever eaten, i mean it. they’re soft, sweet and smell like heaven

another thing he would do is bring them on beach picnics

he would probably pack some cheese, some miscellaneous meats, grapes and his famous cookies

⚔️ JEAN KIRSTEIN ⚔️

settles for the classics, wants to bake chocolate chip cookies

got the recipe from his mom

he doesn’t actually do any of the work, he just watches you as you do it all

only said yes because he wanted cookies after

he plays with the ingredients

slaps a hand full of flour on your ass

the whole thing is just really funny

after, his mom expects him to take a photo of you, jean and the cookies

literally the best chocolate chip cookies ever, his mom is a great cook after all

⚔️ BERTHOLDT HOOVER ⚔️

cake pops!!

half vanilla half chocolate

actually very good at baking and loves to bake

this gentle giant is pretty good with measurements, only goes off the recipe if it’s decoration

bakes all the time, he’s baked everything from cookies to full blown three tier cakes

wants to decorate the cookies with baby blue and white icing

decoration is his favorite part, he has a lot of creativity and wants to use it

decorates them with little polka dots and swirls

you feed them to each other afterwards 🥺

⚔️ REINER BRAUN ⚔️

if he’s going to bake, he’s going to make a day out of it

he’s baking a whole ass cake, two tiers

probably a standard vanilla cake with chocolate buttercream in the middle

he gets so IMPATIENT with baking >:(

literally is yelling at the oven to finish baking

loves the outcome tho

even though he might be a big, buff man, he’s a softie with a sweet tooth inside

no literally, imagine you feeding a hunky, grown man a little piece of cake and his little smile

once the cake is done, he sets up a nice little date like scene for you and him

pours some wine and slices the cake for you

he’s such a romantic omg i cant

⚔️ PORCO GALLIARD ⚔️

i’m sorry but i can’t see him liking baking at all

if you really nagged and begged him, he would

red velvet cupcakes.

he’s wrapping you in a hug from behind while you’re trying to measure and mix

dips his finger into the batter, pleasantly surprised with the outcome

“baby are they done yet? i’m hungry”

“pock they still need to bake”

“i don’t care”

probably goes off into another room in the meantime, but once he starts to smell the cupcakes, he BOLTS into the kitchen

he wants to help frost them since he thinks the icing being piped is very visually pleasing

when he takes a bite, you see the cutest little smile form around his lips

⚔️ COLT GRICE ⚔️

never bakes, mainly because he just isn’t good at it

but you’ll let him help this time

a simple man when it comes to food, vanilla cupcakes with vanilla frosting and rainbow sprinkles

he goes out and buys you all the ingredients

standing by your side so that one day he could do the same for you

his favorite part is when he gets to put the sprinkles on, thinks that they make them more colorful

right as you’re about to take your first bite, falco walks in with udo, zofia, and gabi

“it smells good in here, what are you making?”

“cupcakes, but you’ve gotta have dinner before dessert”, colt says

PUPPY EYES FROM ALL OF THEM.

“fine. take one.”

they each grab a cupcake and have little smiles as they’re eating them 🥺🥺

173 notes · View notes

mqgriett · 3 years

Text

Echo- Dinner

Requested by the lovely @alexisinorbit ! I hope you enjoy <3

Prompt: “Are you alright?” “I will be.”

Pairings: Echo X reader

Warnings: none

Summary: staying inside of a coruscant penthouse is weird when you’ve only ever stayed on a ship, and dinner proves to be another challenge.

Notes: this was my fav so far to write

It was odd to be staying in an actual apartment, and even more odd that you had an actual kitchen now. The elite Clone Force 99 were guests inside of the Senate building until General Kenobi gave the “okay” for them to join the 212th on their mission to Felucia, but it proved to be a little… difficult when it came to using all of the fancy appliances. The Bad Batch was used to the cramped space of the Havoc Marauder, not a huge penthouse inside of the upper levels of Coruscant.

Crosshair had given up trying to use the phone to call for room service, and Wrecker was about to smash the device to pieces after only his second try. Hunter was using the downtime to sleep on the king-sized bed and catch up on rest, which you ultimately had to yell at him to do. Tech was toying with the large television in the massive living room, but even a person with his skills couldn’t get it to turn on. Which left you and Echo to try and cook something edible for the rest of the boys.

“Okay, good news and bad news. Which do ya want first?” Echo asked once he returned to the kitchen. He had changed into just a pair of black sleeping pants since his ribs were no longer visible and he felt comfortable enough around you to be shirtless.

You leaned an elbow on the shiny granite counter, “Good news please.” You blew a stream of air up towards your forehead, pushing aside a few stray hairs.

“Hunter’s asleep.” he replied, crossing his arms while smiling proudly.

Raising an eyebrow, you tipped your chin down, “Hunter’s been asleep.”

Your boyfriend nodded, “I know. But there wasn't actually any good news so I had to think fast.”

You tried your best to contain your laughter, but after five seconds of silence you let out a loud giggle while shaking your head, “so what’s the bad news?”

“Wrecker broke another vase.” he sighed, voice dropping to a whisper almost as if to not let the universe hear it. “That makes three.”

From the living room, a harsh crash echoed into the kitchen. You squinted and turned your head slightly to the side, flinching from the noise- Echo did the same. A few seconds later came Wrecker’s apologetic voice, “sorry! I didn’t see that one.”

Echo let out a frustrated groan, “Scratch that, four.” He changed the subject, trying his best to ignore the sound of Crosshair telling Wrecker off for breaking another piece of expensive glass, “what’s the food status?”

“I could make a few Mygeeto burritos. They seem to have all the ingredients.” you responded, leading him to the massive walk-in refrigerator.

He gently wedged his arm in between your waist and elbow, holding you close just because he wanted to. You smiled, leaning towards him for a kiss- but the tender moment was rudely interrupted by Wrecker shouting, “I don’t want no Mygeeto Burritos!”

You rolled your eyes and let your head hang down for a few moments. A raspberry escaped your lips as you searched for something else to make the large clone. He would eat anything, besides Mygeeto Burritos that is. Tech had fed him a chunk of grass during a mission one time, and he ate it like it was actual food.

“There’s some frozen gorg, he’ll have to eat that.” Echo said, unraveling his arm from your side and reaching onto the top shelf. He pulled down a plastic-sealed package of gorg, examining the nutritional facts of the meat to see if it was still good.

“I’ll make the burritos and you make the gorg.” Just the sight of the dead animal made you nauseous and you held your palm to your mouth, gagging at the thought of eating it.

Echo shook the package in front of your face, “are you alright?” he shoved it closer to you as you backed up, “afraid it might jump out at ya?”

You stuck your arms in front of you, pushing his face to the side, “I will be,” your eyes tried their best to avert contact with the frozen creature, “once you get that osik’la thing out of my face.”

He snickered, the two of you walking out of the fridge and back to the kitchen with all of your produce.

The next hour was filled with you two cooking side by side and you frequently asking Echo to taste the food you made.

You cupped your left hand underneath the wooden spoon in your right, humming for your boyfriend to pay attention to you, “try this and tell me what it needs.”

He placed his lips to the utensil, taking a small sip of the broth you made. “Add some salt.” he stated.

Nodding, you replied, “I thought so but wasn’t sure.” You sprinkled in a little more salt, then asking him to taste again.

“Delicious.” he smiled, kissing his finger tips.

You bumped his hip with your own and he returned the gesture. For a moment everything felt perfect, like there was no war at all. In that second it was just you and the love of your life, cooking dinner for your found-family.

Echo walked behind you, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek before reaching up to grab some plates and bowls. He carefully balanced the bowls on his forearms while carrying the plates in his left hand.

Over the past few months that Echo had joined the Bad Batch, he had developed quite the knack for cooking. Maybe it’s because it reminded him of life before the Citadel, when he used to make dinner for Domino Squad if the night watch got boring. You knew him before that awful mission, because just like most of Clone Force 99, you didn’t know your place in all of this until you met them. Most of your time was spent helping General Skywalker and General Kenobi, which is how you had first come into contact with the small clone squad. They were a tight-knit family, something you had always longed for. It tore your heart to pieces when you found out about Fives and Echo, but in war you had to learn to let go of certain things.

But now there was no way you could let go of Echo again, he was too important then and he still is. Your relationship formed quickly, but it came naturally.

You set your utensils down and just hugged him, your thoughts were starting to consume you- but he made it all feel better. That’s what you had always adored about Echo, his ability to make anyone feel safe.

He didn’t question your hug and happily returned the embrace. Once you retracted you placed a gentle kiss on his lips, still tasting some of the broth you made on his mouth. It made you laugh, “let’s bring this out before Crosshair throws more things at Tech.”

Echo nodded, picking up Wrecker’s large plate of deep-fried gorg that he had stuffed with a few vegetables. You carried five other platters, two in each hand, two on your forearms, and one on your head.

Wrecker had reluctantly set the table and then gone to wake up Hunter. For the first time since you had known him, sarg looked well-rested. He scratched the top of his head, yawning loudly before sniffing the air. “Did you make Mygeeto Burritos?” he asked, taking his spot at the table.

You proudly nodded after removing the plate from your head and setting it in front of you.

Everyone immediately devoured their food, practically licking the dishes clean.

And Wrecker didn’t even notice the vegetables in his food.

#clone trooper echo #clone trooper wrecker #clone trooper crosshair #clone trooper tech #clone trooper hunter #echo x reader #bad batch #the bad batch #bad batch x reader

100 notes · View notes

greaterawarness · 3 years

Text

Brothers ch. 1 The Farm Life For Me

(This is a story based on if the Clone Wars ended on Geonosis during the first battle. There is no age acceleration so each clone ages normally. This follows Fives and his brothers as they try to find their place in the galaxy.)

It seemed like the war ended as quickly as it began. At first glance the Clone Wars appeared to be set up to be fought over the span of years. Instead, it died with Count Dooku on Geonosis. Before being beheaded by the Chosen One and his Jedi Master, he revealed the true Sith Lord to be Chancellor Palpatine. The Jedi lost many of their own in the battle against the Sith but in the end the Jedi were triumphant. The galaxy shared a collective sigh knowing there could be peace once more. That is until a question was asked by the Senator from Naboo. What will become of the clones now that the war has ended? Everyone looked to the Jedi for the answer. Afterall it was a Jedi who requested for the clone army. That question would divide the Jedi Temple and shake it to its very core.

Half of the Jedi believed that having a clone army to begin with was wrong and that they should take responsibility for the clones. The other half claim the Jedi should have no further dealings with the clone army. Even with the war ending so quickly they could sense the attachments the Jedi had with their clone commanders. They suggested the Senate take responsibility instead. A civil war broke out between both the Jedi and the clone army. Most clones went along with their own Jedi General when deciding on which side to fight in. Some clones defected all together and disappeared deciding that no one will ever have power over their lives again.

In the aftermath of the civil war the Jedi that fought for the clones left the Temple for good. With the Jedi numbers dwindled down so low it felt like a shadow was cast over the Temple. The people lost faith in the Jedi after that. With the Jedi seen as incompetent this left the Senate to decide the fate of the clones. Most clones who fought in the war were given a small payment to start a life. Most went on the become bounty hunters or mercenaries. Others who were unable to adapt to civilian life became homeless and forgotten. And then there were the clones that hadn’t yet grown from adolescence. The Senate chose to put the young clones in foster care and in orphanages in hopes they would live a normal life.

***

Fives trips over a rock and manages to land in what he hoped was just mud. After a groan and whiff of the sludge he gags. Definitely not mud. A laugh pulls his attention to his brother.

“Should’ve named you clutz!” Hevy snorts with his laughs shaking the bundle of wheat above his shoulder. Fives climbs to his feat while trying to shake the manure off. Hevy grabs another bundle of wheat and starts walking back towards the barn. Fives carefully picks up two bundles for himself and follows after his brother, being more careful where he stepped this time. When he reaches the barn, his other brothers are already done with their chores.

“Oof!” Cutup winces while pinching his nose. “Someone go rolling around in shit again?”

“Shut up Cutup.” Fives throws his bundles on the pile they’ve created from working all day. Echo hands him a towel.

“I’d hose off before coming back inside if I were you.” Echo says after taking a few steps away from him. Fives starts for the hose before leaning over and rubbing his shoulder against Cutup making sure to spread the manure on his shirt. Fives dashes for the hose before Cutup can catch him. While Fives tries to wash to filth off, he notices a ship leaving the planets atmosphere. He stares after the ship even when it’s out of sight. Fives still remembers life on Kamino. He and his batchmates were young when the war ended but he still remembered what it was like to be trained as a soldier. You live and die for the Republic! Is what they told them. He remembers staying up late to clean the training blasters with his brothers.

“I’m going to be an ARC Trooper one day!” Hevy had said so eagerly.

“Oh yeah? After what I saw today, I don’t think you’ll be fit enough to mop the training rooms floor!” Cutup had laughed.

“I just want to see all the different planets out there.” Echo had added. “Worlds not just made of water and clean pristine buildings. Can you imagine?”

It may be odd, but they were excited for battle. Battle meant leaving Kamino. It meant doing something worth doing. Now look at them. They’ve been working on this farm ever since the war ended. Fives can’t complain though. They had it good compared to what some clones got stuck with. Not everyone was happy about military trained soldiers being let loose into civilization.

“Fives, dinner!” Droidbait calls from the kitchen window. Fives finishes up and heads inside. The smell of stew and the soft glow of candles made the small house feel warm. Cutup and Hevy set the table while Droidbait and Echo finished preparing dinner. Fives starts for the table when a frail hand lands on his shoulder.

“Go on and wash up. I’ll make them wait for ya.” 99 says with a soft smile. 99 is a clone just like them. Except he didn’t come out normal. His back is hunched, and he walks with a limp. Unfit for battle the Kaminoans put 99 to work in sanitation. But he always looked after the younger cadets. Their batch especially. When the war ended 99 was the only who had any real talents that could move on to civilian work. He decided to take their batch in and has raised them since they were boys.

“Thanks, 99.” Fives says before heading for the one bathroom. He showered quickly but scrubbed at his skin being sure to wash all the manure off. When he’s dried off and dressed, he walks back to the main room to find everyone waiting on him. He takes his seat beside Echo.

“Alright everyone, dig in!” 99 says. The house is filled with the sounds of slurping and chewing.

“I got word that the seeds for next harvest came in. Do you want us to pick it up tonight?” Hevy asks. Cutup reaches for the bread on Droidbait’s plate before Droidbait stabs his fork at Cutup’s hand.

“No, that can wait till tomorrow.” 99 says before eating a spoonful.

“We can’t pick it up tomorrow. The post office will be closed and won’t open again for another week.” Echo says while getting another bowl of stew. 99 leans back in his chair thinking.

“I suppose you should go tonight. One of you has to stay here and help do the dishes though.” 99 says while waving his spoon at them.

“Rancor, Jedi, blaster for it?” Hevy asks. Droidbait ends up losing to all four of them and gets stuck with the dishes.

“You have the worst luck, mate.” Cutup nudges him once everyone’s done eating. They pull on their coats and boots preparing for the long walk to town. 99 hands Hevy a pouch of credits.

“Now, don’t forget to tip the postman.” 99 says as they begin walking out the door. “And don’t go down into the canyon!”

“Don’t worry 99!” Fives calls back while they walk down their long drive. Hevy leads the group while Echo messes with his datapad and Cutup hums a song to himself. Fives can’t keep his eyes from looking up at the stars. The sun is setting and it’s easier to make out the starships. While watching one ship go lightspeed he walks right into Hevy’s back.

“Looks like we’re going the long way boys.” Hevy says while staring at the destroyed bridge. They start for the path leading down into the canyon.

“99 specifically said not…” Echo starts before Cutup gives him a shove.

“We know what 99 said. Don’t worry. I’ll hold your hand if you’re scared.” Cutup grins. Echo only walks ahead of him. “You think they did that just because of us?”

“We’re not the only ones living on this side of the bridge, Cutup.” Fives says as they walk deeper into the canyon.

“True but we are the only ones who can’t afford a speeder. Most people can just fly over the canyon.” Echo says not bothering to look up from his datapad.

“Hey, cut the chatter! I thought I heard something.” Hevy says stopping again. They look out at the dark canyon. The sound of air whooshing echoes around them.

“What is that?” Fives asks.

“Don’t forget about those giant eels.” Hevy warns. Fives rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve never seen one…” Fives starts but stops when a loud growl turns his blood cold. Cutup screams as a giant blur knocks him off the ledge.

“Cutup!” Fives yells. Cutup lands on what he hopes is soft dirt.

“What the hell was that?” Hevy yells.

“Uh, that was an eel.” Echo says plainly. “Now that’s why 99 has the rule not to go down in the canyon.”

“We have to get Cutup!” Fives says before they start running down the path. When they reach Cutup, Fives lowers his ear to his chest. “He’s alive!”

“Good, we have to get him back home.” Hevy starts while helping Fives pull the unconscious Cutup off the canyon floor.

“Great,” Fives grumbles. “Can’t wait to explain this to 99.”

Fives carries Cutup on his back with Hevy in the front and Echo keeping watch at the rear. Cutup gives a groan.

“Hevy, I think Cutup needs a doctor.” Fives says. Hevy stops and stares at him worriedly.

“I think you’re right.” He says after a pause. Hevy starts walking towards the path leading out of the canyon towards town. While walking Fives begins to get an uneasy feeling. He glances over at Echo who seems to feel the same. He starts to say something to Hevy when movement ahead stops them. A group of trandoshans walk out from behind the large boulders scattered about the canyon floor. A short yellow trandoshan walks out appearing to be the leader.

“You thought you could get away from us huh?” he asks as his goons surround them.

“What are you talking about?” Hevy asks. They stand closer together.

“You can’t think I’m that stupid?” The trandoshan snorts. “You think you can take your helmets and armor off and think I’ll fall for this act?”

“Again, what are you talking about?” Fives yells. He stares at the blasters pointed at them. His heart rings in his ears. He struggles to remember what little training he had from Kamino.

“You’ve got the wrong clones!” Hevy yells with his arms outstretched to try and shield Fives and Echo as much as possible.

“Oh, I think we do.” The trandoshan laughs to himself. Fives feels his legs go limp when they raise their blasters. They were going to die.

“Ready, aim, fi—” the trandoshan starts before a canister falls on his head. He winces making his men hesitate. They watch the leader bend down to examine the silver cylinder. “Huh?”

Electricity bursts from one end stunning the leader just as a Mandalorian swings from a wire taking out one of the goons pointing a blaster at Fives and his brothers. Three more Mandalorians drop from the sky firing at the trandoshans. One lands in front of Fives and his brothers shooting with two blaster pistols.

“Take cover!” he yells over his shoulder. Hevy shoves Fives and the Echo towards a boulder. Fives carefully puts Cutup down before popping his head out from the side along with Hevy and Echo to watch the Mandalorians kick the trandoshan asses.

Blaster fire lights up the dark canyon. The first Mando is a solid hitter. His shots hit their mark and when two trandoshans charge at him he’s able to subdue them with ease. The second is quick on his feet and is hard to keep up with. He moves so fast that one trandoshan didn’t even notice the Mando tying a wire around his wrist before it was to late. The Mando shoots into the air with his jetpack stringing the trandoshan with him. He knocks him into the side of the canyon before cutting him loose when he is above the canyon mouth. The third Mando is loud and liked a fight. He throws grenades and fires relentlessly before ultimately getting bored and charging right into a trandoshan and throwing him at one of his buddies. They were all impressive, but nothing compared to the last one. The last one stood calm and confident in front of a group of five trandoshans. He drew his two blasters and hit each of their weapons but leaving the trandoshans unscathed. He moved his left foot back before motioning for them to come at him.

Fives leaned forward completely entranced by the Mando’s fighting skills. The trandoshans let out loud roars before charging. The Mando dodged each of their attacks with small simple movements. He was making taking down five trandoshans at once look easy. When he did start to hit back, he hit back hard. Hevy, Fives, and Echo all winced and went “Ooo!” in sync while watching the Mando break limbs and give punches so hard teeth flew. While he was occupied with his five, Fives notices a stray trandoshan creeping up behind him from the dark. Fives feels his body freeze. A blaster that one of the trandoshans dropped wasn’t to far from him. He stares from the blaster to the sneaking trandoshan.

Move Fives!

He swallows, mustering his courage before starting to step towards the dropped blaster, but not before Hevy runs past him making him freeze again. Hevy grabs the blaster and fires at the trandoshan. The Mando looks back at him before delivering the final blow to the last trandoshan left.

“Report.” He says. The three other Mandalorians walk up to him.

“Hardcase may have lost a few of his last remaining braincells but other then that we’re unscathed.” One says making another Mando start walking towards him before the last one grabs his collar keeping him still.

“Good.” The one that seems to be the leader says. He starts to turn towards Hevy when rumbling shakes the ground. A giant eel shoots out from one of their holes. Fives feels his body freeze up again. In a split second the Mando leader draws one of his blasters and fires a single shot taking the eel down.

“Nice shot.” Hevy says while watching the Mando kneel down to inspect the beast. Fives and Echo slowly walk out from their hiding place. The other Mandos lift their helmets up showing their faces for the first time.

“You’re all clones!” Echo says shocked. The Mando clones grin at each other while the leader stands rubbing the blue blood of the eel between his fingers.

“The names Rex,” The leader Mando says as he takes his helmet off. He has short blonde dyed hair. He was an older clone. Probably actually fought in the war. He walks over and places the hand covered in blue eel blood on Echo’s chest leaving a blue handprint. “Sorry to get you boys mixed up in all this.”

“Are you kidding? This was the most action we’ve ever seen!” Hevy says gesturing to the bodies of the trandoshans.

“That’s a good thing.” The clone with the Republic symbol tattooed on the side of his head says.

“Speak for yourself.” The one next to him chuckles making the last clone with detailed tattoos around his head roll his eyes.

“Are you boys alright?” Rex asks. Fives dashes to Cutup’s side remembering his wounded brother.

“Cutup!” He says checking to make sure he was still alive. One of the Mando clones walks over and sets a bag down next to him.

“Easy, kid. I was a medic in the war.” The clone says. Fives gets out of his way so he can treat Cutup.

“So, what are your names?” Rex asks while they wait.

“I’m Hevy. We call him Fives, and this is Echo.” Hevy says gesturing to each of them. Rex gives a small smile.

“I’m surprised to see a whole batch of you this far out in the system.” He says.

“We got lucky.” Echo shrugs. “We have another brother, Droidbait. But he’s back at the house.”

“Droidbait? You must really hate him.” The clone with the Republic tattoo snorts.

“This is Jesse and Hardcase. Our medic is Kix.” Rex says moving the subject right along. When Kix stands Fives, Echo, and Hevy hold their breath.

“He’ll be fine. No serious injuries. Just needs so rest but he’ll be sore for a couple of days.” Kix explains. Fives and his brothers share a sigh of relief.

“You boys need help getting home?” Rex asks while crossing his arms.

“We got it from here.” Hevy says. Fives starts to pull Cutup on his back again. Hardcase and Jesse walk towards the stunned trandoshan leader.

“Then we’ll be off.” Rex says before putting his helmet back on. This close Fives can make out jaig eyes drawn on the helmet. Once Hardcase and Jesse have a hold of the stunned trandoshan they shoot up out of the canyon on their jetpacks.

They stare after them for a long time before finally starting home. Adrenaline was running through their veins. They couldn’t believe what they just witnessed. When they get back to the farm, they burst through the door startling 99 and Droidbait.

“What’s going on? What happened to Cutup?” 99 asks as Fives sets his brother down on the couch. They tell them everything.

By the time their done talking about the clone Mandos they watch 99 stare at the floor in deep thought. Fives exchanges a look with Echo.

“Are you boys… happy here?” 99 asks throwing them off guard.

“Of course, 99!” Echo says but even as he says it, they all knew it was a lie. It wasn’t that they weren’t grateful for 99 taking them in, it was more of a longing to see more. Do more. 99 looks over at the unconscious Cutup and pats his leg.

“You were bred for war after all. I can’t expect you to be happy with a life of farming.” He sighs. Fives felt a weird pang of guilt. 99 stands and shuffles towards his room. They all exchange looks with each other before 99 returns with a large pouch.

“What’s this?” Hevy asks when 99 hands it to him.

“Credits.” 99 grunts when he takes his seat on the couch across from them.

“99, this is a lot of credits! How did you…?” Fives trails off.

“Call it a trust fund. I knew one day you would all want to leave the farm to start a life for yourself. Like all kids when they grow up. I can see it in each of your eyes. It’s time to go and find what type of life you want to live.” 99 starts. “Seeing those clones in action… it called to you. I know it did because it did to me too all those years ago. Except… well I wasn’t really cut out to be a fighter. You boys are lucky enough to have a choice. I want to make sure you have a chance to make that choice.”

“99…” Hevy starts but stops when 99 holds up a hand.

“Go to Coruscant. A lot of clones chose to stay there after the war. There you might be able to find a clan of your own.” He says giving them smiles. “And if you ever decide that that’s not the life for you then I’ll be here with open arms!”

“99, how can we repay you?” Hevy asks.

“You already have.” 99 says. All at once Fives, Hevy, Echo, and Droidbait leap forward to wrap their arms around 99. 99 lets out a laugh and pats their back. “Go on and get some sleep. You’ll have a lot to tell Cutup when he wakes up in the morning.”

Fives, Echo, Droidbait, and Hevy wouldn’t sleep that night. Each would lie awake staring out their window up at the stars imagining what their life would be like. In a way it was like their life was just starting.

24 notes · View notes

breitzbachbea · 3 years

Text

Day 3: Culture [TurGre]

My second entry for @aphrarepairweek2021! Some embers don't warm you, but they still burn.

Ship: Turkey/Greece (Sadık Adnan/Herakles Karpuzi) Set in a Human/Organized Crime AU Read it here on ao3

The Turkish words are translated at the bottom - I marked the words in red, so that you can easily find where you left off if you jump to the translations!

The Iraqui kid that Sadık mentions in one of his memories is supposed to be APH Iraq. However, since I didn't have the time to look at Iraq OCs so far, they sadly have neither gender nor name as of right now. Or you could interpret it as them being non-binary. Whatever suits you. From what I could gather after a brief look at Iraq's history, I'd interpret them to be younger than Sadık in the same way Herakles is younger than him.

Much thanks once more to @amber-isnt-a-precious-stone for betareading this oneshot!

Küllerinden

The last rays of sun, not yet obscured by the taller mountains, fell through the trees’ leaves.

Sadık pinched his eyes shut and pulled a face. He wished he would have brought sunglasses with him.

Herakles yawned. The next moment, Sadık heard the old patio couch creak and the shuffle of the cushions. A warm, but heavy weight came down on his thigh and he opened his eyes to look down.

“Get off my lap,” he buzzed. “I’ve gotta make coffee.”

“Thought you were still waiting for the sand to heat up.” Herakles hadn’t even opened his eyes.

Sadık brushed a streak of hair out of Herakles’ face. “Should be ready any moment now.”

He’d been itching to do something since this afternoon. Herakles had made them dinner hours earlier – chicken gyros, so that it’d be halal.

At first, Sadık had enjoyed to kick back on the couch while Herakles cooked. Had indulged in the sounds that came from the kitchen and the feeling that had made his heart feel lighter with every beat.

But the feeling had worn off over time. The book he had been reading wasn’t very interesting. One of these stray cats that Herakles let in and out of his house as if they owned it had glared at him from the armchair. He had grown restless.

He enjoyed cooking, after all, even more so for other people.

“Herakles?” He had called from the living room.

“What?”

“Do you need any help?”

“No.”

Sadık had grunted to himself with brows furrowed. He glared back at the cat.

At one point, he had gotten up and strolled into the kitchen.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

Herakles had looked up from the rice he’d been washing and glared at him. “Yes. Just go back and take a nap or something.”

Sadık had surveyed the ingredients that laid around, half chopped up at times. “I ain’t sleepy.” A cat had jumped onto one of the kitchen chairs. “Maybe you need someone to keep the cats from eating our dinner.”

“I don’t. You really don’t need to be here,” Herakles had insisted. The cat had jumped onto the table.

Sadık had been kicked out of the kitchen after an argument and being hit in the face with a spoon. The fucking cat had been allowed to stay.

Now most of the cats were gone. Out on the town to wreak havoc. Hunt mice. Serenade each other.

“C’mon, off me now,” Sadık told Herakles. The sun had finally disappeared behind the mountains and stopped poking his eyes out.

Herakles lifted his head and Sadık stood up.

They had to improvise a little, but managed to find a large enough cast-iron pan and a bag of sand. Sadık picked up the long handle of the coffee pot and twirled it twice in his hands.

When he had been a child and travelled all around the Levant with his parents, Sadık had been delighted to see the same thing in every place. Especially because at first, the ritual had seemed like magic to him. The cezve – or ibrik or kanaka or any of the thousand other names it went by – that glided so effortlessly through the smooth hot sand. The foam that bubbled after a few minutes, that threatened to spill but never did.

Mohamed had done it for him the first time he had visited Egypt alone, after his mother’s death. He’d been a grown man by then and his heart had beaten slower since Funda had died, his head heavy with all the shit she’d left him to deal with.

But for this brief evening, he had watched Mohamed slide the kanaka through the hot sand and felt again as if he was seeing magic being worked.

After he had slid the pot through the sand to see if it’d work and then held his hand close to the bottom to see if it had been hot enough, he picked up the coffee grinder. He had an electrical one at home, both in Istanbul and Ankara, and so did Herakles, but using it tonight had rubbed both of them the wrong way. To leave the garden and have the loud mechanic shredding cut through the birds chirping and the dull sound of the city. So Sadık did it by hand, as he did every time he visited his father.

It was probably the best use he had for his strength that had been made necessary by the life he was living. A life his father had no interest in partaking in anymore ever since his wife had died and a life Sadık had little interest in telling him about either. Alaattin had made the right call by moving into the countryside and now using all the time in the world to grind his coffee by hand and light up a charcoal fire to make sand coffee in the evening.

Sadık finally put the coffee grinder down and poured some water into the pot.

There was the distinct sound of heavy fabric rubbing against each other behind his back and he looked over his shoulder.

Herakles had shifted on the couch and watched him with eyes half–lidded.

“Do you want to do that now, too?” Sadık asked him.

“No. I think it’s good that you’ve finally got something to busy yourself with,” Herakles replied and Sadık chortled.

He wondered if Herakles would struggle with the sand. He still remembered when he had been a teen, his parents had just met with their Iraqi partners, who had brought their kid along. When he had dragged them out into the city at night, Sadık had seen the same spark of recognition in the kid’s eyes when they saw the pans filled with hot sand.

He hadn’t expected that spark in Herakles’ eyes when he had told him about it a few weeks later during a visit to Athens.

“Oh, we do that, too. But not with sand.”

“Then what do you use?”

“There’s a shop in town that’s got a fire going to roast nuts and stuff and when they’re about to close, they make coffee in the ashes. I can show it to you, if your … parents would allow it.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it, I’ll find an excuse.”

Sadık slowly moved the pot along the sand. He lifted it and did it a second time, but quickly pulled it out when too much vapor rose from it. He dropped a few spoons of ground coffee into it and one of sugar. Herakles sometimes liked his coffee toothrottingly sweet, but Sadık wasn’t going to do that with the first batch.

“You’re not doing it the Greek way,” Herakles remarked.

“Why would I?” Sadık replied, focused on the task at hand. He ran the pot through the sand, lifted it and began the movement anew. “It’s similar enough, besides, you like it my way just fine.”

Herakles replied nothing. Some car drove through the neighbourhood. The birds had shut up. The embers of the charcoal fire and a few, distant streetlamps, all in different directions, were the only light.

He heard the couch creak. Herakles feet slapped onto the tiles, before he reached the grass and the ground swallowed the sound. He lit the electric lanterns in the garden.

“I thought of when I first told you about Turkish sand coffee,” Sadık said and laughed. “Can’t believe I was surprised to learn that you Greeks did it, too. Shoulda seen that one coming, Greece isn’t so different from the rest of what used to be Ottoman territory.”

Herakles turned the last lantern on.

“Hm,” he said and walked back to the couch. “We also share a lot of culture with the Balkans.”

Like that pork that I don’t eat. Dinner had been good, Herakles knew how to cook after all. He tried to concentrate on the warm, satisfying feeling of fullness. Not the twinge that Herakles’ words had caused for some reason.

“And I bet that some of that is also due to Ottoman rule,” Sadık said with a grin. “You know, like those spas in Hungary.” He lifted the pot from the sand, since the coffee was almost done anyways, and turned to look at Herakles.

Herakles was sitting up, one foot propped onto the couch and hands clasped together over his knee. “I suppose that’s part of it,” he replied and his voice is as soft as the face that’s framed by locks of brown hair and warm orange light. Sadık allowed himself to stare for a moment. “Is the coffee done?”

“Almost.” He got back to swiping it across the sand. “You know, it’s a pity, if you think about it. We’ve got so much in common, Turks and Greeks, and yet, we can’t get along. Wonder why.”

He shouldn’t have said that. Sadık knew he should not have said that.

Herakles couldn’t keep his voice low and soft, no matter how hard he surely tried. There was an edge to the words: “Probably because you people always act like you own everything.”

Sadık turned to look at him and saw the slightest furrow between Herakles’ brows.

A deeper one settled between his own. “That’s because you people can’t see further than your own nose,” he replied. “If you could get your head out of your own ass, maybe you wouldn’t think everyone’s out to get yours when they just try to be closer.”

Something hissed. Sadık whirled around.

The coffee had spilled over and one drop had hit the sand, which now sizzled as it congealed.

“Siktir!” he shouted and took the pot off the sand. He slammed it down so hard on the tablet he feared it might break and looked at the pan. He turned back to the tablet, grabbed a spoon and scooped the wet sand out of the pan. He flung it to the ground, where it disappeared between blades of grass.

His chest heaved. He felt his heartbeat thrum in his throat. He closed his eyes, but it didn’t help the dizziness that unfolded in his skull.

“Are you alright?” Herakles asked. His voice was soft and flat again. Because there was too much to be said, but nothing that they hadn’t yelled at each other before.

“Yeah,” Sadık said. He swallowed. He picked up the pot and peered inside. There were splashes of coffee on its rim from when he had slammed it down.

Again, the shuffle of fabric and Herakles’ steps. “I’ll throw it away,” he said. A moment later, he put his hand around the handle. His fingers overlapped with Sadık’s.

Sadık didn’t dare to look up at him, lest he did something he’d regret.

“I’ll make some again,” he said and let Herakles take the pot from him.

“Mhm.” That was the only response. Herakles’ steps receded and disappeared into the house.

Sadık dared to lift his head and to breathe, before he staggered back. Away from the coal’s heat that had been lapping at his thighs and arms the whole time. He sat down in the grass and took deep breaths to get the adrenaline out of his system.

Because the backdoor was still open, as was the kitchen window, he could hear Herakles rinse the pot.

You ruined the coffee. He closed his eyes and his head throbbed, because he knew that was what Herakles had wanted to say instead of Are you alright?

He hadn’t said it, because he didn’t want another fight. Or maybe because he hadn’t thought it at all, he tried to remind himself, because Sadık didn’t want another fight either.

He wanted a cup of coffee and Herakles next to him. He wanted talks about philosophy. He wanted to hang onto the other’s lips when they told about mythology and he wanted him to hang onto his own when he recited poetry. More than anything, he wanted to kiss those lips and taste all the godforsaken sugar that Herakles would’ve made him put into their third cup of coffee and have his tongue explore his mouth as if to lick every single last grain of it away himself.

“Tired?”

Sadık jumped when Herakles’ spoke up next to him.

“Lord, one would think you’re a fucking cat yourself with how you sneak up on me.”

“I didn’t sneak up on you. You just were somewhere else.” Herakles looked down on him, with eyes half lidded, and held the pot out so casually that it almost slipped from his fingers.

Yeah, in a far better place than the one we ended up in.

Sadık got to his feet and took it from him.

“Thanks, canım,” he said, voice soft and flat but exhausted, because he was worse at pretending without his mask. He brushed Herakles’ cheek with the back of his knuckles.

Herakles didn’t look at him. He wrapped his own fingers around his hand for a second.

The second passed and Herakles walked back to the couch. Sadık’s fingers felt even colder than before.

He twirled the handle twice. He’d make some coffee and it’d be delicious and if they kept their mouths shut, maybe he’d get to taste it on Herakles’ tongue.

~*~

"Siktir!" = Fuck! (A little bit more accurately: Get fucked!) "Canım" = My heart; My soul. Term of endearment.

#aphrarepairweek2021 #aph #hetalia #hws #aph greece #hws greece #aph turkey #hws turkey #aph turgre #hws turgre #I've done nothing but read and reread sadlygrove's turgre fanfics for the past week does it show #mohamed is egypt if that isn't obvious #storie nostre #hera #sadik

16 notes · View notes

lasting-inkpressions · 3 years

Text

I Put A Spell On You (Because You’re Mine) [5/11]

Summary: Denali is in love with her very much straight best friend, but a break up later and one drunken night together changes everything.

Note: Again, this is definitely NSFW. (:

Prefer reading it on AO3?

It was the morning of their second day at the lake house when Rosé rolled out of the bed she had been sleeping in, rubbing her eyes as she squinted at how bright the room was from the sunlight pouring in. She looked over to the bed next to her and noticed that it was empty, meaning that Denali was already up and about.

Yawning, she grabbed her toiletries and headed to the ensuite bathroom to freshen up for the day. 20 minutes later, she was out of the room, trying to gauge where everyone was. She had already figured out that Mik and Symone were outside with Kandy, from the sounds of Kandy hollering instructions at the two on what they needed to load into the boat that they were going to be taking out later that day. Checking the clock on the wall as she walked past it, she saw that it was just past 9am, meaning that the rest were probably up as well, and even if they weren’t, Kandy’s voice would have woken them up. Her nose twitched as she smelled the scent of bacon and toast, the smell leading her to the kitchen where she saw Denali wielding a pan in one hand and a spatula in the other, her dark hair up in a messy bun and an apron tied around her waist. Rosé smiled at the domestic scene and walked over to Denali.

“Good morning, angel.”

Denali whirled around, grinning when she spotted the older girl. “Good morning sleepyhead! Sorry I didn’t wake you earlier, figured you’d appreciate the sleep.”

Rosé smiled appreciatively at Denali. “Thanks. Do you need any help that doesn’t involve me burning the place down?” Denali laughed, clearly remembering the time when Rosé had somehow managed to scorch a pot of water. “Yes please! Could you help me set up eight plates on the table and distribute that plate of toast over there? I’m almost done with the bacon, and just have the eggs left do.”

“That I can do.”

Rosé busied herself with grabbing the plates from the cupboard and placing them on the table, then distributed the pile of toast, two per person. She moved back over to Denali who passed her the finished bacon while she started cracking a dozen eggs into a large bowl and whisking them. After making sure every plate had an even amount of bacon, she hopped onto the countertop and watched as Denali added milk and shredded cheese to the eggs.

Watching the other girl cook was one of her favourite things to do. Denali always had this little crease between her brows when she was cooking, her tongue poking out as she concentrated with the task at hand. She always put so much love and care into whatever she did, which was how her food always ended up tasting so good. Rosé remembered that one time when she had moaned about wanting to eat chicken pot pie after seeing it on her Instagram feed and that same evening, Denali had whipped up a batch for their dinner. Despite Denali saying that it was her first time baking the dish, it had been so good that they had somehow managed to finish it all, not leaving behind a single crumb.

That was the thing with Denali, she was someone that was so big hearted and loving, always giving and never asking for anything in return. It was the thing that Rosé loved the most about her, and also something that made her protective of her best friend. She had seen her fair share of Denali having her heart broken after she had given too much to her partners, only to have been taken advantage of and tossed aside once they were done with her.

At that very thought, Rosé felt her insides clench with shame, thinking back to the nights when she had slept with Denali.

Rosé didn’t want to admit that there was anything going on between the two of them. She knew that the sex had made their friendship more complicated than it needed to be. Each night when she slept, each time she woke up from those dreams about her best friend, she felt the guilt in her growing stronger and stronger, slowly eating away at her. Their sexual chemistry was mind-blowing, and Denali was always so willing and pliant under her. She had always been such a loving and kind person, so affectionate and filled with life and love. She knew that the younger woman always found it hard to say no to anyone, and that was what was killing Rosé, the fact that Denali never seemed to say no to her.

Rosé knew that she had taken advantage of that aspect of her giving nature, and that she was just taking and taking and taking, but she couldn’t help herself.

And she didn’t want to stop long enough to ask herself why.

She felt a finger poke her cheek, and shook herself out of her thoughts, meeting Denali’s laughing eyes.

“You looked like you were a million miles away.”

“Oh sorry, did you say something?” Denali held up a spoon of eggs to Rosé. “Taste this and let me know if it needs more salt?” The older girl nodded, and was about to taste it when Denali pulled the spoon back. “Hold on, let me cool it for you.” Denali blew at the spoonful of eggs, and Rosé couldn’t help but stare at Denali’s pursed lips with a lump in her throat.

The urge to kiss Denali then was strong.

Satisfied with the eggs being cooled enough, Denali held the spoon out to Rosé again, who stiffly took a bite. She nodded in approval at the taste, giving Denali a thumbs up, who grinned in response.

“Great! I’ll just add the chives, and it’s done! Can you help me round up the rest while I dish out the eggs?”

Not trusting herself to speak, Rosé nodded again and began looking for the rest after Denali had pointed out where everyone was. Minutes later, the dining table was filled with the sound of everyone eating and chattering away.

Rosé was sitting across from Denali, subtly watching her as she ate her toast, the younger girl nodding and smiling to whatever Symone was telling her, who was next to Denali sitting closer than necessary. Rosé didn’t know what it was, but she knew that she didn’t like the way that Symone had been eyeing Denali since yesterday morning at the diner.

She took a bite of her eggs, watching the way Denali was blushing at something Symone said, and she scowled down at her plate.

No, Rosé didn’t like it at all.

———————

It was close to noon when the boat was finally anchored. Kandy had commandeered the boat closer to the shore opposite of the lake house where there was nothing but lush greenery and, from what she had heard from her family, a waterfall that was a short walk away.

As soon as they were safely anchored, Mik had been the first to strip down to his trunks and jump into the water with a shout, followed closely by Olivia, Utica, Joey then Kandy. Symone, Denali and Rosé had watched them in amusement and chose to stay on the boat instead of getting into the water.

Denali was sitting at the edge of the boat, swinging her legs back and forth as she watched the others laughing and splashing about in the water. They had beckoned at her to join them in the water, but she declined, not really wanting to take off the shirt that she was wearing. She was a little conscious of the fact that Olivia had pointed out the faint marks that Rosé had left on her, and she didn’t really want to risk the others asking her questions if they saw them, especially with the older girl in their presence.

Leaning her chin on the railing, she heard footsteps and a familiar pair of legs slid into her view as Symone sat next to her.

“Hey beautiful.”

Denali stifled a laugh. She wasn’t sure why, but Symone had been showering her with compliments lately. It was odd, but Denali had thought nothing of it, chalking it up to just Symone being Symone.

“Hey pretty girl, why aren’t you down there?” The other girl shrugged, scooting closer to her as she replied. “Well, maybe because you’re up here and not down there.”

“Oh.” Denali frowned, feeling bad that she was possibly holding Symone back. “Are you alright? I thought you were looking forward to swimming in the lake.” Symone asked, tapping her fingers on the railing.

“I was! I mean, I am. I just- Maybe later.”

Symone quirked a brow. “You sure? You know, if you’re afraid of drowning, I’ll make sure to save you. I’d even give you a little mouth to mouth resuscitation. Heck, we can practice it now if you don’t believe me.”

Denali stared at Symone, stunned at her bold advances, before coughing, her cheeks flushing a bright red. “It’s okay, I believe you.” Symone laughed at Denali’s expression and poked at her cheek. “I’m kidding babe. Well, half kidding.”

“And which half are you kidding about?”

“Whichever half you want to believe.” Symone winked before getting up. “Listen doll, I’m going to head into the water. Just come in whenever you want to, okay?” Denali smiled at Symone and shooed her off, giggling as the ebony girl blew a kiss in her direction before jumping into the water to join the rest.

Denali huffed and stood up, fanning herself in the heat. Deciding that it was safe enough to take her shirt off, she pulled it off and tossed it to the side, leaving her in just her white string bikini. Denali sighed in relief, feeling the soft breeze on her skin as turned to join Rosé. She froze for a bit when she saw the older girl looking at her from the other side, an unreadable expression on her face.

“What?”

Rosé shrugged, silent as she looked away.

Denali frowned. Rosé had been acting weird all morning since breakfast. She had been cold and quiet, not really engaging with anyone, as if she was on autopilot, and Denali was worried. Rosé was usually only quiet when something was bothering her. She took a step closer to her, reaching out to her wrap fingers around her wrist in an attempt to connect with her.

“Rosie?”

There was a flash of a predatory look in her eyes that disappeared after a second, and Denali blinked. It was probably just the sun playing tricks on her. Rosé smiled innocently at her, then without warning picked Denali up in her arms, causing the younger girl to squeal.

“ROSIE! What are you dong? Put me down!”

Rosé grinned as she walked over to the edge of the boat, towards their friends in the water. “Are you sure you want me to put you down?” Rosé asked innocently. Gasping Denali narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t dare. If you drop me, I swear that I will never ever bake those stupid butterscotch blondies that you love so much ever again.” Rosé stopped just a few steps away from the edge of the boat. “Fine, I won’t drop you then.”

Denali smiled triumphantly at Rosé, thinking she had won, but realised her mistake as soon as Rosé took another step towards the edge.

“No, don’t you even think about it.”

“Think about what?” Rosé said innocently, taking another big step.

“Rosé McCorkell, if you take one more step, I will scream.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time I made you scream.” Denali sputtered, her face turning red.

“Not another step!”

“Fine, then I’ll just have to jump.” Denali’s eyes widened at that, before she could say anything Rosé jumped forwards with Denali held tightly in her arms, and they both ended up in the water with a huge splash, much to the delight of their friends. In the chaos of it, Denali broke through the surface, spitting out water as she gasped for air. She turned towards the sound of familiar laughter and splashed in the direction where she hoped Rosé was while trying to wipe the water from her eyes.

“You’re an idiot Rosé.” Rosé had simply smiled back at her and smacked a wet kiss against Denali’s cheek.

“That’s why you love me.” Denali’s heart thumped at that as she bit the inside of her cheek.

Rosé had no idea.

———————

Hours later, the group had made their way to the opposite shore. Half of them choosing to sunbathe on their towels while Symone, Mik, Rosé and Denali attempted to play a game of frisbee, attempting being the keyword.

Rosé couldn’t stop glaring at Symone every time the ebony girl moved closer to Denali, which was happening more and more over the course of the day. It irked her how Symone was constantly flirting with the other girl, and instead of walking away or rebuffing her, Denali had just played along with an adorable blush on her face.

Why was Denali even blushing?

“Baby that’s not how you throw a frisbee. Come here, let me show you how it’s done.” Rosé’s jaw clenched when she heard Denali’s giggle in response and watched as the other girl went over to Denali and proceeded to show her how.

Rosé had to force herself not to shove her way between the two of them or pull the Alaskan girl away from Symone as she watched Symone guiding Denali with the frisbee in an attempt to show her how to throw it. The touching was completely unnecessary too with how Symone was lined up close to Denali, especially when the girl had left her shirt discarded on the boat, leaving Denali in just her bikini. Symone was arm to arm with her as she held on to Denali’s wrist to show her how to “flick it like so”.

“Careful Rosé, you don’t want the others to get the wrong idea with how you’re glaring at them, do you?”

Rosé was jerked out of her thoughts and she turned to face Mik, who was watching her with a knowing look in his eye.

“The wrong idea? What do you mean?”

“That you’re acting like a jealous girlfriend.”

Rosé stilled at that comment. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“I know.”

“I don’t even like girls.”

“Okay.”

“And besides, she’s just my best friend.”

“Got it. Denali’s just your female best friend that you do not have the hots for.”

Rosé glared at Mik, who was looking back at her, a smirk on his face. After a moment Mik sighed, the smirk falling off his face and was replaced with a careful one. “Rosé, there’s nothing wrong if you do happen to have feelings for Denali, you know that right?” Choosing to remain silent, Rosé turned away and walked off, not wanting to hear another word from Mik, nor did she want to even look at Denali or Symone right now.

Not if she wanted to maintain her composure and avoid doing something that she knew she would ultimately regret.

———————

“Rosé!”

Denali frowned and looked over when she heard Mik yelling and caught sight of Rosé’s retreating back.

Where on earth was she going?

Excusing herself from Symone, she approached Mik, wanting to figure out what was wrong with her best friend. “Mik, what happened? Where’s Rosé going?” She grew suspicious when Mik stiffened. “Nothing. She just wanted to go for a walk?”

Denali looked at Mik, noticing how he was fidgeting under her stare. “Are you asking me or are you telling me?”

“I’m just saying. Look, why don’t you go after her? Maybe she’ll need the company.” She stared at Mik for another beat, making the boy fidget even more under her gaze, before turning and jogging after the older girl, not noticing how Mik had let out a sigh of relief. She pushed past the trees and bushes, trying to make out the pink hair that was quickly disappearing from view.

“Rosie, wait for me! Where are you going?”

Denali picked up the pace, chasing after her, ignoring the little nicks that her bare legs surely bore now from the low hanging branches before emerging before a small spring with a waterfall. She gasped in awe at the sight, taking it in. She knew that Kandy mentioned that there was a waterfall somewhere, but she didn’t think that she’d see it today. It looks so peaceful and tranquil, the perfect thinking spot.

Suddenly remembering Rosé, she looked around trying to locate her and spotted her sitting on one of the large rocks near the lip of the body of water. The older looked upset, her face drawn into a frown, and Denali didn’t like to see her like that. It worried her to see Rosé upset and not know what the cause was. She cautiously walked over and sat next to the older girl.

“Hey, what’s up? You got out of there pretty quick.”

Rosé turned to look at her, her face guarded. Denali didn’t like it. Usually Rosé was open with her, though the past few weeks hadn’t really been the case.

“Nothing, just a little tired out from earlier.”

“Don’t lie to me Rosé. You may be able to convince everyone else, but I can see right through you.”

Rosé drew her knees to her chin as she kept her eyes trained on the waterfall, not wanting to reply Denali. The younger girl sighed, not really sure of what to do. There wasn’t anything that she could do if Rosé didn’t want to open up to her, and a small part of her felt hurt at that. She just knew that she couldn’t leave the other girl alone. Tapping an off beat rhythm on her knee, she was stopped when Rosé rested her hand on top of hers. She looked at Rosé’s hand, then looked back up at the girl. This time, she had a look of determination on her face, as if she had figured something out.

“Denali, can I try something with you?”

Denali blinked, then nodded. She wasn’t sure what Rosé wanted to try, but she trusted the other girl. She knew Rosé wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.

The older girl scooted closer to Denali and cupped her face with both hands, thumbs softly stroking her cheeks. Denali stopped breathing, not really sure what was happening.

“...Rosé?”

The older girl’s thumbs stilled, eyes sweeping across Denali’s face, from her wide brown eyes to her sun kissed cheeks, then landing on her full lips. Staring at her lips for a brief moment, Rosé finally pulled the girl towards her, pressing their lips together.

For Denali, it was like time had stopped and she couldn’t move. Her mind blanked out, and all she could register was the sounds of splashing water, the smell of vanilla and the feel of plush lips against her own.

What was happening? Why was Rosé kissing her when there was no alcohol involved at all?

Pulling away in surprise, Denali squeaked when Rosé pulled her back in for a deeper kiss, and this time she couldn’t help the moan that she let out. She felt Rosé’s tongue sweep into her mouth, causing tingles to run up her spine. Not wanting to question it anymore, Denali let herself fall into it, felt Rosé’s hands slide from her cheeks down to her waist, pulling her even closer. She shivered as the pads of Rosé’s thumbs circled her skin and Denali tangled her fingers into the older girl’s pastel pink hair, her nails scratching her scalp, causing Rosé to groan in response.

The older girl pulled away and started to nip at her jaw, down the length of her neck and all the while all Denali could do was breathe in a daze, getting lost in the sensation of Rosé’s mouth drawing lazy patterns across her skin. There was a faint thought that the rest would notice the fresh marks that Rosé was leaving behind, but that disappeared once she felt a tug at her bikini top. She looked down, and the sight of Rosé with the undone strap of her top between her teeth caused her to whimper.

Rosé pushed Denali down onto the rock, careful not to let the younger girl get hurt in the process, and began to tug her top off of her. Before Denali could even protest, Rosé pulled a nipple into her mouth, both hands holding herself steady as she began to tease Denali.

It was happening again, and this time there was no alcohol involved, no excuses to hide behind, and Denali couldn’t think. All she could do was feel. Feel the way Rosé was showering her chest with attention, felt the way her tongue traced patterns and gasp when she nipped at her sensitive buds. Denali knew she was getting wetter and feeling hotter by the second. So lost was she in the physical sensations that she didn’t realise how one of Rosé’s hands had snuck down till it was pressed against her heated core.

Without warning, she felt a finger enter her, and she hissed at the sudden intrusion, reaching down immediately in a bid to stop Rosé’s wandering hand, but was stopped by the older girl’s heated gaze. Her pupils were blown, and Denali was sure that hers were too, lips parted as she dove back in, swallowing Denali’s moans as she inserted a second finger, stroking her walls, twisting and curling her digits inside her. She cried out when she felt the fingers scissor inside her, the sensation causing her to buck her hips against Rosé’s and she heard the older girl moan in response.

Pulling away, Rosé continued to suck bruises into the skin of Denali’s collarbone as she continued to stroke the younger woman with her fingers, intermittently circling the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs, seeming to savour every gasp and moan that she pulled from her. It wasn’t long before Denali reached her peak, gasping as she felt her climax take over her and Rosé kissed her through it, holding her body tightly to hers as Denali whimpered, feeling spent and exhausted. Rolling over, Rosé tugged Denali’s body to hers, holding her in the cradle of her arms.

After a few moments of letting the younger woman recover from her climax, Rosé carefully picked her up and carried her over to the water. There she washed any traces of their love making from Denali’s skin, fingers lingering on the fresh love bites across her chest. Undoubtedly, there would be questions about those if the others saw them. Without hesitation, Rosé took off the shirt that she was wearing and after securing Denali’s discarded bikini top back on her, she pulled her shirt over Denali to hide most of the bruises on her skin.

The younger woman, still in a daze, let herself be piggybacked back to the boat, faintly registering familiar voices of concern and Rosé reassuring them that Denali was just tired, before she found herself back on the boat and bundled onto Rosé’s lap. Sighing as she felt familiar hands carding their fingers through her hair, Denali felt herself drifting off to the sound of Rosé humming her to sleep.

———————

Clearly there must be something wrong with my mind. This chapter got away from me and kind of went off script, but not so much that it derailed the whole plan. But yeah, we're at just about the halfway point, and it's gonna get interesting.

#rosenali #rpdr fic #i put a spell on you fic #inkpression writes

18 notes · View notes

somesillypig · 3 years

Text

modern cultivators AU cont

First part.

Some parts edited and reposted below

_________

The Jiang siblings are a well-oiled, dumpling making machine. Everything is made from scratch, and Xichen has already unintentionally offered insult. His contribution of premade dumpling skins was met with the most polite “absolutely not” face he’s ever seen, and the rudest, derisive face he’s ever been given.

Instead, Wei Wuxian is kneading and rolling out rested dough before cutting precise lumps that he passes to Jiang Yanli, who deftly rolls them into perfect circles with thin edges and places them onto the clean, floured butcher block.

Jiang Wanyin is seated on the far end of the table, accompanied by several large bowls and spoons, expertly filling and pleating dumplings that he places in neat rows on lined baking trays before covering them with damp towels. When he finishes up the latest batch of skins, he looks up and crooks an eyebrow.

“Zewu-jun. Hanguang-jun. It’s a dumpling party. That means you have to sit and make dumplings.”

And that is how Xichen and Wangji find themselves learning to fold vegetable dumplings, because Jiang Yanli is a gracious and prepared hostess, even if one of her brothers is a discourteous (asshole) person and her other brother is as thoughtlessly improper as he is brilliant. Jiang Wanyin has clearly taken some pity on them though, having them fold and press the vegetable dumplings in half instead of doing pleats. When Xichen asks why, Jiang Cheng gives him a penetrating, assessing look.

"These will be sui jiao, or tang jiao if you want them in the soup. Pleats are for fried dumplings, and you don't look like you're well enough to eat fried foods, Zewu-jun."

Xichen winces. He almost misses conversations that dance around the topic of his indisposition, instead of heading straight-on. "Please, no titles. Lan Xichen is fine."

"Yeah," Wei Wuxian chimes in. "And we'll be family soon! You should call him Xichen-ge!"

"Who's going to be family?!" Jiang Wanyin snaps back. "I haven't given my approval yet!"

Wei Wuxian let out an enraged gasp. "Who says we need your approval?! You're my didi!"

"You need your sect leader's permission." Jiang Wanyin raises an eyebrow and curls his lip. "Sect leader Jiang is unconvinced."

"No pulling rank at sibling meals! We AGREED!"

"Then who called me didi?!"

Lan Xichen watches with bemusement as the argument devolves into airings of childhood grievances and more current, irrelevant grudges, while his unmoved brother steadily folds the rest of their dumplings. A small cough makes him turn to Jiang Yanli, who nods at filled trays and gestures for him to follow her.

They take the trays to an empty freezer and load them onto shelves after removing the towels. After the freezer door is firmly shut, she smiles at him. "Let me show you some things before we eat.”

They walk to the circular dinner table, already laid with dining ware and a few appetizers.

Jiang Yanli’s face is very serious when she looks at him. “Very important, Lan Xichen. These are dishes for you and your brother,” she said, gesturing at pickled vegetables with no chilis, smashed cucumber salad, and jellyfish salad. “And those with chilis are for the Jiangs. Don’t eat them. This is a-Xian’s special chili sauce; don’t eat that either.

"And absolutely do not let a-Xian give you food, or take food from your dishes with his chopsticks."

__________

The Yunmeng Shuangjie squabble concludes by not actually concluding, and finishing with mutual headslaps just in time to help their sister finish cooking. They refuse the Lans' offers of help and chivvy them to seats at the kitchen island. Yanli gives them a smile and a dish of lightly salted peanuts, encouraging them to eat. Xichen is careful to eat a few nuts under Wangji’s watchful eyes.

When they sit to eat, the table is laden with food. There's a pile of flakey fried onion pancakes, and cubed tofu dressed with sauce and topped with century eggs in addition to platters of fried or boiled dumplings, and tureens of plump dumplings floating in soup.

Xichen carefully plates a little of each vegetable dish onto his plate before ladling soup and dumplings into his bowl. He eyes the fragrant onion pancakes before deciding not to chance it, even for politeness' sake. When he looks up, he sees Jiang Wanyin to his right, watching him and frowning. Annoyed, Xichen looks him straight in the eye and starts to reach for a pancake.

Jiang Wanyin whisks the plate away from him with a tsk. "No. Zewu-jun, do you eat fish?"

Xichen doesn't respond and just looks at him.

Jiang Wanyin rolls his eyes. "Lan Xichen, do you eat fish?"

Feeling vaguely guilty about his petty satisfaction, Xichen nods. Wanyin grabs a clean pair of chopsticks, reaches out, and places a boiled dumpling on his plate.

"Eat this instead. Jie's fish dumplings can't be matched."

No one has put food on his plate for him since his mother died. Taken aback, Xichen looks from the dumpling to Jiang Wanyin, who pulls back looking annoyed and puts down the chopsticks in his hand with an audible clack.

"Does it bother you? I'm not left-handed; I use both. Don’t look so put-out.”

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli turn to look at them with worried expressions. "Cheng-cheng, I'm sure that's not it."

Panicking at the deepening glower on Wanyin's face, Xichen hurried picks up the dumpling and takes a bite. It...it is deliciously tender and smooth in the mouth, with the perfect amount of juice. He takes another bite and chews more slowly, tasting the delicate flavors. It’s satisfying without feeling sickening, and he eats every last bit. When he looks up, everyone is watching him with varying levels of relief and satisfaction.

Jiang Wanyin picks up another fish dumpling, this time with his right hand. “Would you like another, Lan Xichen.?”

Lan Xichen would.

______________________________________________

I think I have a plot. But it’s hard to tell under the piles of food I want to wax poetic about.

fuuuuuck how do I paste italics in this thing.

#xicheng #xicheng urban fantasy #xicheng fic #I lied to myself and wrote more #I miss fish dumplings #somesillypig writes #xicheng modern cultivators au

23 notes · View notes

hes-writer · 4 years

Text

Soup and Salutations

Summary: Harry helps Y/N cook a meal

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 754 words

Harry walked into the kitchen with a pout, searching for Y/N to give him some kisses after a long day at home. The city was in lockdown and both Harry and Y/N have yet to change from their cozy grey sweatpants since they had risen this morning.

It was nearing dinner time and Y/N had to take it upon herself to cook their meal, fully knowing that Harry was craving some tamarind soup for the past couple days. Now, Y/N wouldn’t say that she was a chef, but her skills proved to be just enough that whatever she cooked up in the kitchen always turned up to be something edible.

“Hi lover,” Harry greeted, obnoxiously sniffing to get a whiff of fumes from the boiling out. The sound of bubbles filling his ears and along with the aroma making his tummy growl in hunger.

Y/N smiled to herself, kissing his cheek from his positions with his chin on her shoulder. She added the pre-cut radish and washed spinach from earlier, adding color to the hazy hue of the soup.

“Could you pass the salt, please?” Y/N asked, tilting her head to the direction of the cabinet the seasoning was in.

“Sure thing, cutie” Harry walked two paces away, reaching for the box of table salt and giving it to Y/N’s outstretched hand, the other one busy was mixing the ingredients together. “Are you making what I think you’re making?”

His green eyes were wide in wonder, eyebrows perched high in hopes of finally satisfying his craving. His tongue peeks out between his lips, almost salivating at the thought, waiting for his girlfriend to answer.

Placing the salt down, Y/N nodded, “Yup! Making some pork sinigang for dinner,”

Harry pumped his fists in the air in an exaggerated celebration, whispering a silent ‘yes’, making Y/N’s body quake with incoming laughter from his humour and excitement.

“This will be done in about twenty minutes,” Y/N informed, making Harry clap his large hands enthusiastically. She really does not get how a 26-year old man can get this hyped up about soup. “Do you mind cooking the rice?”

Harry chuckled from his spot on the center table, shoulders moving briefly while his arms crossed in front of his chest, watching Y/N begin to put away the things she didn’t need.

“Ahh, how could I forget,” His dimples making an appearance, “You eat everything with rice,”

He leaned down to take out the mini rice cooker, rinsing the pot with water. Harry nudged Y/N in a teasing manner while she washed the few dishes cluttered in the sink.

“You can’t just eat it by itself,” Y/N shook her head in disbelief, casting a glance up to Harry who was currently leveling the rice grains from the measuring cup.

He once made the rice too dry and received about half an hour of the silent treatment from Y/N, at least until the new batch was finished cooking. Needless to say, he spent a good amount of time researching the proper way to cook rice--in an instant rice cooker at least.

---

The rice was cooked and the soup was finished.

Harry had taken initiative to set the table while Y/N used a ladle to scoop a hefty amount of soup and rice in a serving bowl for them to share.

Setting it down, Harry took a sear beside Y/N--a habit that they’ve quickly developed early in their relationship. Y/N muttered grace quickly, closing her eyes and clasping her hands together.

Harry salivated from the steam evaporating from the pork sinigang, wanting to taste the delicious tangy flavour immediately.

Harry filled his plate with three spoonfuls of rice before passing it to Y/N.

“What’s this called again?”

“Sinigang,” Y/N answered, passing Harry the bowl of soup in return to his previous actions.

Suddenly, Harry froze in his place, eyelids peeling back as if he just realized something important.

“Hey Y/N,” He began through slight giggles.

Y/N rolled her eyes, already knowing that he was about to say something stupidly funny. “Yes, Harry?”

“H-have you ever,” His nose twitched in anticipation, finger running through the tip in habitual action, “seen-a-gang before?”

His tightly pressed lips were proof that he was trying to muffle burst of laughter.

“Yeah, why?” Her pressing tone caused him to stare at her blankly, daring him to continue.

“Oh, I didn’t think I would get this far…”

---------

okay so the ending sucks

366 notes · View notes

iforgotmypreviousaccountlol · 4 years

Text

Chat: Lemme See Your Homework!

This is based on the chat “Lemme See Your Homework” from Mammon on day 4. <3

I’m in the library in the House of Lamentation when a chat box popped on my phone.

Mammoney: Hey, MC, lemme see your Devildom Law homework, would ya?

Mammoney: You know, the one with the warnings about contracts, and the examples of how to deal with any problems that may come up durin’ ‘em!

I finished that homework last night and spent a good chunk of my time researching for it. I had a hard time with it because it’s not like I had courses like that back in the human world, unlike Mathematics or Science. I actually had to borrow a Latin Dictionary from Satan to answer some of the questions.

While I stayed up until dawn, Mammon went off to devil-knows-where right after dinner. He didn’t even answer his phone when I tried to call him. I had to ask his brothers if they’d seen him and Beel said he saw him dash off the house when Lucifer left for Diavolo’s office.

I typed in a reply.

Me:

A chat bubble appeared.

Mammoney: Please, you gotta help me, MC!

Mammoney: If I don’t turn it in by today, Teach’s gonna fail me—hold me back a year for my own good or some crap like that.

Mammoney: Where are you anyway?

I didn’t reply. Hah. Let him roam around the house and try to find me. My phone chimed.

Mammoney: Never mind, Asmo said he saw you enter the library.

Mammoney: My back’s against the wall, here. So I’m headin’ over right now to copy your homework.

Mammoney: You’d better not go snitchin’ to Lucifer!

Mammoney: Promise me, MC!

Mammoney: <Sticker – flying kiss>

Ugh, Asmodeus!!!

I put down my phone and concentrated on my work. I still have to copy and memorize the compounds needed to transmute chalk into a metal. Not that I could do it, but still, my curriculum included Alchemy in it. I don’t even know how it will be useful to me. This feels like studying Algebra, I’m always left wondering when I will ever use it in real life.

The door opened and from the corner of my eye, I saw Mammon’s head pop in. He looked around and when he saw me, he entered and closed the door behind him.

He took the seat in front of me. I didn’t look at him and continued writing. Mammon slumped on the table and looked at me with pleading eyes. “Ya gotta work with me here, MC!!! I can’t fail a subject. Lucifer’ll kill me!”

He put his palm together and closed an eye. “Please!”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why do you even have to study and go to school? Aren’t you like, I don’t know, thousands of years old or something?”

“I know, right! Studying and goin’ to class is useless, that’s what I kept telling ‘em but they don’t listen! I don’t know why, it has somethin’ to do with coping with changin’ times and all that.”

“What?”

“Don’t ask me anymore about it. Ask someone else. I don’t agree with it in the first place!”

I finished writing and put down my pen. I crossed my arms and stretched my neck. “Ahhh, my shoulders hurt from hunching in a desk too much…”

He stood up and rushed behind me. He placed his hands on my shoulders and started massaging them. “Where? Here? Lemme rub it for you, MC.”

“Wow, you’re really desperate, huh?”

“I am!”

I signaled him to pause and tied my in a low ponytail. He resumed with the massage. Without my hair in the way, I felt Mammon’s hands directly rubbing against my shoulders. I was still in my house clothes so I was just wearing a tank top paired with sweatpants.

His hands stopped massaging my shoulders. I looked back and saw him staring.

“Why’d you stop?” I asked.

“Wh… huh?” He quickly removed his hands and sat back.

“Hey! I was just starting to relax! Give me some more massages.”

“Enough, I have to copy you homework, don’t I?”

I pouted at him but he can’t look straight at me. His ears are also a bit red. I extended my homework, “Fine, here!” He was about to grab it but I pulled it away.

“What now, MC?”

“Help me with dinner later, I’ll let you copy.”

Wednesdays and weekends are usually help yourself days in the House of Lamentation. We usually have cooks to prepare the meals and we just help with the cleaning and setting the table. But on Wednesdays, Saturday and Sunday, we have to cook our own meals. One person is assigned for breakfast and another for dinner, almost no one eats lunch here in the dorms anyway so there’s no need to assign someone to cook. The assignment is done in rotation.

Beel usually helps me in cooking when it’s my turn, but he eats the ingredients before I even cook them so I stopped asking him for help.

“Okay, deal! Now lemme see your homework.”

I gave it to him and he proceeded to copy it. He hummed while writing.

“Change it up a little, Mammon! Don’t be too obvious.”

“All right, all right. I’ll even miss some questions so we don’t get the same score.”

I rested my chin my arm on the table and watched him write.

“Why’re ya staring at me, MC?”

“Hmm?”

“I said s-s-top staring at m-me.”

“I’m not staring.”

“Yes, you are! It’s makin’ me real uncomfortable!” He placed his non-writing hand over my eyes.

I swatted it away. “Fine.”

I played with my phone and felt my eyelids grow heavy…

I awoke with the sensation of someone touching my ear. My cracked my eyes open. Mammon was seating beside me, trailing soft touches on my face.

“What are you doing?” I mumbled, voice raspy from sleep.

Mammon jumped back and pulled his hand away. He turned his head away. “You’re drooling!”

I raised my head and swiped at my cheek, “No, I’m not!”

“Tch. Whatever, we’re gonna be late if ya don’t get your ass up and change right now!”

I rubbed my eyes. He gathered my things and his and lazily dragged me to my room. He closed the door and yelled for me to get changed.

I languidly put on my uniform. I was in the middle of fixing my hair in a braid when the door opened.

“You done?” Mammon said.

“Yeah, just a sec.” I glanced at him then went back to braiding my hair.

He entered my room and stood beside me. He has his hands in his pockets and was whistling a tune.

“What?” I asked.

“Hurry up! I’m hungry! Treat me to lunch. I’m cravin’ some hell sauce ramen from Hell’s Kitchen.”

“I don’t have money!”

“Then… I’ll treat you.” He muttered.

“Oooh that’s rare! Okay, I’m almost done!” I grinned.

“Don’t look so happy! You face is givin’ me the creepers!” He fake shivered. He walked out the door, and yelled, “I’ll wait for you at the gate!”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Later that night, Mammon and I brought the ingredients we needed for tonight’s dinner on the kitchen. We had the ingredients delivered to the House because we didn’t have enough time to run to the grocery.

We decided to cook curry, since it’s easy to make and we can do large servings at once considering half of it would easily go to Beel’s black hole of a stomach.

I grabbed a cookbook from one of the drawers and placed it in a book stand.

“All right, let’s do this. Take out the potatoes and carrots, wash them and peel half, I’ll do the other half.”

“Man, this is heavy!” He said while he hauled the sack of potatoes. He did what he was told.

I started on chopping up the onions.

“Here, done!” Mammon said and placed a basin containing the potatoes in front of me.

“That was suspiciously fast—” I looked at his work. I slammed the knife on the chopping board. “Mammon!!!!!”

“What is it?! Why’re ya yellin’?”

“You peeled the potatoes halfway!”

“You said to peel half! I did what ya said! I don’t get what’re ya getting’ upset for.” He clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“Mammoooooon! I meant half of them! Like half the numbers! Not literally just half of each potato!!!” I yelled.

He laughed and ran to the other side of the kitchen island. I chased him and tripped on the sack of carrots.

He laughed harder. I felt blood rush to my face. I grabbed some carrots and threw it at his face. He was able to dodge the first batch but I was ready for the next throw and caught him off guard.

Mammon grabbed a colander and used it as a shield.

I stood up, grabbed a spatula and started attacking him. He snatched a wooden spoon and the whole thing soon ensued into a full on sword fight with kitchen utensils.

“You dare fight me, mortal?” Mammon declared in a low voice.

“Today, in the bleak mid-winter, you’ll face a fate worse than death.” I avowed. I assumed a stance and landed a strike.

“Winter ain’t even started yet!”

He was laughing while trying to parry my strikes and in the middle of it, I started to laugh too because of the ridiculousness of it all.

Our legendary sword fight ended sans victor when Lucifer arrived and chased us both out of the kitchen, which now looked like a battlefield strewn with curry ingredients.

#obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me fanfic #obey me #obey me mammon #obey me x mc #obey me x reader

54 notes · View notes

fanfictionaries · 4 years

Note

Giiiiirl, I am CRAVING some baking with Bucky. Like some good old recipe from his mom or sisters, eating half the batter, being all innocent and goofy. Maybe Reader introducing him to the world of cupcakes with a second batch of batter they make. Just a sweeeet baking day ❤️

I made myself happy sad with this one. XD

Might be a little more angsty than you were looking for, but all the sweet fluff is there as well!

Inspired by my own great great grandmother’s recipe.

Orange Rolls

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Words: 3k

Warnings: None, just the fluffiest fluff you can imagine; slight angst.

Author’s Note: I loved doing this, so please people. Send me more requests! ALSO this is an actual family recipe of mine. I recommend trying it!

I recommend listening to this song while reading this: https://open.spotify.com/track/7pR7yPgbYcipmTUHT5g68p?si=nQZeCOmoTcm43qOI1YRPNA

***

Step 1. Dissolve 2 yeast cakes in ¼ cup warm water.

The room was alight in the glow of soft warm sun. Nestled in your blankets, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and yawned widely, stretching and turning to snuggle into the familiar warmth of Bucky. Firm muscle, soft skin, ticklish arm hair – all missing. Instead only cool sheets, drawn back on his side of the bed. You didn’t have to check the time to know it was early, but you rolled over to the bedside table to check your phone anyways. Five AM. Much too early to be up on a Sunday morning, even for your early bird of a super soldier. Rolling onto your back, you stayed quiet, attempting to hear any signs of life in the small apartment. Perhaps he’d only gotten up to use the bathroom. The sound of heavy items falling and a string of curses coming from the kitchen brushed away the thought. Jumping out of bed, you pulled one of Bucky’s large sweatshirts over your head and stepped into your slippers.

When you rounded the corner, the first thing you noticed was the expanse of your pantry laid out onto the floor. The second thing you noticed was Bucky, sat cross-legged in the middle of the array of flours, sugars, and spices, head in his hands. You knew this look. This crumpled, defeated look that so few had the privilege to witness. Everyone saw the stoic, cold Winter Soldier. So little saw Bucky Barnes, a kid from Brooklyn. Tiptoeing around the spilled bags of sugar, flour, and sprinkles, you stood beside him, leaning over and placing a gentle hand to his back, rubbing soft, slow circles.

“Nightmares?” you asked, moving your hand up to thread through his freshly cropped hair, scraping your fingernails against his scalp. Bucky tilted his head back, leaning into your touch like a cat leaving its scent. You could see the telltale signs; red rimmed eyes, pink tipped nose, raw bitten lips.

“No, no nightmares. I uh…I had a dream about my mom,” Bucky answered, the end of his sentence biting off in a short, harsh laugh. You held your breath. It flattered you that Bucky felt comfortable enough with you to share the gory, ugly details of his past – the things that kept him up at night. The things he thought you couldn’t love him for. But never had he talked about his family. The only memories of his past life you ever heard were the ones Steve brought up, the rowdy stories of two young men up to no good in 40’s Brooklyn. Yet on his own, Bucky remained silent about his life before the war. You never pushed him. It would be cruel of you to press a subject that was most likely too painful for him to think about. Now, the waver in his voice and the tears that welled in his eyes told you that that assumption had been correct.

“I was sittin’ in my old kitchen and uh—” he sniffed, taking a moment to clear his throat “—it was Easter. I know it was Easter ‘cause ma made orange rolls. She only ever made them on Easter. And it—it was the best damn orange roll I’ve ever had. I woke up and I remembered Steve brought over some boxes of my family’s old things, stuff Rebecca left behind I guess, and I found this.”

In his hand he held an aged recipe card, stained from years of use. The yellowed card stock was bent and torn, but the writing still held clear, thick and messy in some places as if it had been traced over multiple times. It was well used. Well loved. At the top, clearly labeled in large looped font, were the words ‘Orange Rolls’.

“I couldn’t get the taste out of my mouth. I figured I’d try to make them, but I wasn’t much for the kitchen back then, let alone now. And—and you don’t have any yeast cakes. I can’t make them without yeast cakes (Y/N). It’s the first ingredient and I can’t—” The words broke off, catching in the back of his throat. He wrapped his arms around your legs, clinging to them like a broken child. Rolling off of him in waves, the permeating sadness and longing washed over you, breaking your heart with each hit.

“I don’t think they make yeast cakes anymore Bucky—” you spoke slowly, choosing your words carefully. At the statement, you felt his arms tighten in a panic. You were quick to placate him “—but I have some dry active yeast that I think should work. Why don’t we clean this up and then see what we can do, yea?”

Step 2. Warm 1 cup milk, add ½ cup sugar, 3 Tbsp shortening, 2 tsp salt.

Turns out, a single yeast cake is equal to approximately 4 and ½ tsps of dry active yeast. After this joyous announcement and your internal praise to Google’s ever living library of knowledge, Bucky was up on his feet, standing in front of the stove over a saucepan of milk.

“How do you know when it’s warm?” he asked, looking curiously down at the pan of milk in front of him.

“Stick your finger in it, if it feels warm, then it’s probably warm,” you answered sarcastically, reaching into the depths of your pantry for the Crisco. A rarely used, but very important staple for any kitchen.

“What? I’m not sticking my finger in it,” said Bucky, watching with rapt horror as you walked up beside him and dipped the tip of your pointer finger into the warm, white liquid.

“I think it’s warm enough to put the sugar in. What?” you asked him when you saw the look of exasperation on your boyfriend’s face.

“You put your finger in the milk.”

“And? My hands are clean. You watched me wash them. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of catching cooties. Cause I hate to break it to you but, you probably already have them.” Lifting on your toes, you placed a sweet, soft kiss to his lips. Catching you around the waist before you could drop back down, Bucky kissed you back with slow purpose.

“Is that right?” he asked teasingly, breaking away from your lips ever so slightly.

“Afraid so,” you murmured against the soft, heat of his mouth.

Step 3. Beat in 3 eggs, 2 cups flour, and add dissolved yeast. Let rise for 1 hour.

The wet dough sat on the counter; a kitchen towel draped lightly over it. By this time, the sun had fully crested over the city skyline, pouring blinding light into the small space of your kitchen. The two of you sat at the kitchen island, sipping your coffee as you waited for the dough to rise. Your bare feet sat, propped in Bucky’s lap, the thumb of his metal hand absentmindedly rubbing the arch of your right foot as he spoke animatedly.

“You should have seen her. Becca was so mad; I thought her head was going to spin all the way around!” laughed Bucky, the creases at the corners of his eyes making a warm and welcome appearance as he regaled a story that you had never heard before.

“Well that’s what she got for touching your stuff,” you said, taking Bucky’s side in the long forgotten sibling argument.

“Thank you! See, you get it. I wish I could say the same for my parents. My pa gave me such a lickin’ and then ma sent me off to bed with no dinner. All for putting worms in her bed!”

“Did she get in trouble for letting your pet frog loose?” you asked, enraptured by the story.

“No! Do you know how hard it was to find a frog in Brooklyn?”

“Impossible. I don’t even know how you did it.”

“Well, really it was Steve that found him—”

“Him? Did he have a name?” you interrupted him with a cheeky smile.

Bucky scratched the back of his head, a light pinkness appearing on his cheeks, “He might of…”

“Aaaand?” you pressed, wanting to know the name even more at the prospect of it being embarrassing.

“I don’t know if I wanna’ tell you. I think you’re just gonna laugh.”

“I won’t! I promise!” you exclaimed, drawing an invisible cross over you heart.

Bucky looked at you skeptically, a raised eye trained on you before answering, “Fine. It was Mr. Ribbits.”

You tried your hardest, really you did. But a snort escaped your nose before you could stop it and then Bucky was playfully pushing your legs off of his lap and turning away from you, “See! I knew you’d laugh. You’re such a bad liar!”

“I’m sorry!” You reached for him, still attempting to stifle your giggles as you pulled at Bucky’s arm, turning him back towards you. “Really, I am. I think Mr. Ribbits is a respectable name.”

“Thank you. It is.” His tone was resolute, but it didn’t take a trained eye to spot the small smile working its way onto the corner of his lips. “But no, Becca didn’t get in trouble. In fact, my pa said I was too old to be picking up animals off the street anyways.”

“How old were you?”

“I think I was about ten.”

Step 4. Add 3 cups flour and beat in with spoon. Let raise 1 and ½ hours.

“We have to wait again?!”

“Yea, we have to let the dough rise, otherwise the rolls will be tough and there won’t be enough to roll out,” you explained, placing the towel over the bowl once again and reaching for your empty coffee cups.

“But I thought we just did that,” said Bucky in confusion. You tried not to smile at him, but the cute little scrunch of his eyebrows made you a weak and gooey fool.

“Baking is more of an art in patience than skill. Especially any kind of bread, babe. Don’t worry, once they’re done, they’ll be more than worth the wait,” you reassured him, patting his cheek gently.

“Well…can we make something else while we wait? What’s your favorite thing to bake?” Bucky asked, his innocent tone making him sound like a wide-eyed child.

You smiled, big and happy, and walked over to the recipe box that sat atop the fridge. Taking it down and setting in on the counter in front of you, you dug into the baking section and produced a handful of recipe cards.

“Take your pick soldier.��

Step 5. Roll out dough and spread on icing – 2 cups sugar, 1 orange: rind grated and juiced, 6 Tbsp melted butter. Roll, cut, and place in muffin tin. Cover and let raise 20 mins.

“Stop eating all the batter!” you scolded, whacking the back of Bucky’s hand with a spatula. The impact had no effect, the sneaking man having had the forethought to use his metal hand.

“If I wasn’t supposed to eat it this way, then why is it so delicious?” he argued, sneaking another finger into the chocolate concoction and bringing it to his mouth.

“Because it’s five pounds of sugar and fat,” you laughed, grabbing hold of his wrist and bringing the chocolate covered finger to your mouth instead. “Also – how is it gross for me to dip my finger into the milk but you can have these grubby little paws buried deep in my brownie batter?”

The question caught Bucky off guard. Raising his hand up, he wiggled the vibranium fingers in your face, “Metal arm – they’re, uh, sterile.”

You guffawed, absolutely tickled by the lame response, “Sterile. Okay. Well, preheat the oven Mr. Sterile.”

Using the spatula, you scraped the double chocolate chip brownie batter into the greased pan. Strong arms wrapped around your waist and a head came to rest on your shoulder, watching you scrape the sides of the bowl. Nuzzling his face into your neck, he placed a gentle kiss just below your ear.

“You know, you’re getting pretty mouthy these days. I have half a mind to take you over my knee,” Bucky growled playfully.

Before your brain could connect with what your body was doing, the spatula had already lifted away from the bowl and made contact with the side of his face. The wet splat of batter to skin sounded plainly through the kitchen. Releasing you from his hold, Bucky stepped back, his expression vacant and shell-shocked. Dropping the spatula back into the bowl, you covered your face with your hands as you tried not to lose it. He looked positively ridiculous. Chocolate covered the left side of his face, dripping down from his brow bone to his chin. You watched as he brought a hand up slowly, touching his face and bringing it back down to examine it. He stared at the chocolate proof on his fingertips for a few moments as you waited with horrific anticipation.

“Oh, that’s it, doll. You better run.”

The menacing words sent your heart rate soaring. A playful shriek escaped your lungs as you bolted from the kitchen, Bucky on your heel with a growl in the back of his throat.

Step 6. Place in the oven at 375 for 10-15 minutes. Makes around 3 dozen.

The brownies, already baked and cooling on the counter, were long forgotten as Bucky sat in front of the oven. Arms wrapped around his bent legs, he watched as the orange rolls slowly rose in their muffin tins.

“When are they gonna be done?” he asked you, staring into the depths of the oven like a fortune teller stares into their crystal ball. Like if he looked hard enough, he’d find all the answers to the universe.

“About five more minutes.” You sat down beside him, leaning into his side as the two of you watched his long-forgotten memories rise. You were excited to try the rolls. It was a recipe you had never heard of, which was a rare thing. But most importantly you were excited to try a little piece of Bucky’s life. A piece of the man, the boy, that he used to be before life happened. It felt special and intimate.

“What if they’re not as good as I remember?” The words were soft and honest. You could feel the same sadness and apprehension as earlier that morning drift from him to you. Leaning against him firmer, you took his hand into yours. Threading the warm flesh into your own, you continued to stare into the heat of the oven.

“They will be.”

Step 7. Enjoy.

The rolls were a beautiful sight. Small, golden brown swirls in a neat, compact shape. The sugar filling had melted down into the bottom of the pan, creating and thick and chewy caramel layer at the bottom of each one. A delicious detail that Bucky said was supposed to happen, but also made it incredibly difficult to pry them from their tins. Still, with the help of a butter knife and a lot of patience, the two of you were able to get most of them out unscathed. A buttery orange scent swirled through the air, causing your mouth to salivate as they sat atop of the wire cooling rack. The two of you sat at the kitchen island, staring at the rolls in silence – you with a look of anticipation, Bucky with a look of confusion.

“What is it?” you asked, wondering if he still doubted that they would hold up to his dream.

“I’m pretty sure they had frosting.”

While the recipe didn’t call for it, Bucky insisted that they always had a frosting on them. After a few minutes of questioning about what kind of frosting it was, or at least what it looked and tasted like, you came to the conclusion that it was most likely a simple glaze. A few minutes later, you each had a plate in front of you with a single, gooey, glistening orange roll sat pristinely on it.

You were starving. You’d been up for nearly five hours and you hadn’t eaten anything yet. But you didn’t dare dig in until Bucky had his first bite. Reaching out tentatively, he picked up the roll, twisting and turning it, inspecting it with a warry expression. Holding your breath, you watched as he brought the baked good to his lips and took a generous bite. He chewed, and chewed, and chewed – each second leaving you with more consternation than the last. When he finally swallowed, he set the rest of the roll down onto his plate and heaved a heavy sigh. Your heart dropped.

“No good?” you asked, fearing you already knew the answer from the way his shoulders bunched over the counter.

Looking to you, tears once again welling in his eyes, Bucky did something unexpected. He kissed you. A firm, chaste kiss that lasted only a moment but formed butterflies in your stomach before he pulled back.

“They’re even better than I remember.”

The proclamation sent your heart soaring. You let out the breath you’d been holding, feeling your own tears of relief and joy begin to well. Blinking them back, you smiled at him, blinded by the dazzling smile you received in turn.

“Well then, let’s eat them all because I am famished,” you replied, picking up your own orange roll and taking a giant bite. The mix of soft, warm bread, zesty orange, chewy caramel, and sweet frosting set your taste buds alight. As you chewed, you envisioned a ten year old Bucky sitting in his mother’s kitchen on Easter morning. Curly brown hair, all teeth and dimples in his Sunday best and as happy as a kid could be. Why?

Because this was the best damn orange roll you’d ever had.

Marvel Taglist:

@caffiend-queen

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

#requests #fan fiction #fanfic #fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #memories #baking #angst

194 notes · View notes

bush-viper-cutie · 4 years

Text

“Easter Holiday Break” || YEAR 3 – Ch.31 (HP au)

Chapter List

<-- Last Chapter Next Chapter -->

Day posted: 11/10/2020

Word count: 3, 260

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

-----

A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

-----

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

Heather was deep asleep early morning when her whole bed started shaking violently. Someone was banging on the girl’s dormitory door yelling her name. She sat up and groaned, remembering what Draco had said the night before. She leapt out of bed and dug in her trunk for her Quidditch uniform, hugging everything to her chest ready to run to the bathroom when she saw her stolen library books had become dislodged and fallen to the floor.

She picked them up quickly and shoved them in her trunk, locking it closed. No one else was awake, the violently shaking bed hardly made nose thumping around in its spot, and so she figured it was safe to continue getting dressed. Ten minutes later she was out in the common room with half the team waiting with Marcus as everyone else slowly came out.

“Hurry up! This is practice time you’re cutting into!” Marcus yelled into the boy’s dormitories and slammed the door.

Heather had never seen him so unraveled. He was pacing the common room, shoving furniture and pillows out of his way as his pacing circle widened. Finally, Draco and the Keeper, Miles Bletchley, came out with messy hair and half-lidded eyes, ready to leave.

They walked down to the Quidditch pitch and Heather and Draco broke off from the rest to get their brooms out of the shed. By the time they walked in, Marcus, the Keeper, and the two beaters were doing pull ups on their brooms which stayed suspended in the air, unmoving, as they raised themselves.

“What is this?” Draco motioned at the sweaty faces of Peregrine Derrick and Lucian Bole. “I’m a Seeker. I don’t need to do this, do I?”

Marcus jumped down from his perfect pull up and pointed at the empty spot next to him. “Both of you.”

“B-b-but – ”

Heather groaned and pulled a stuttering Draco along beside her. She placed her broom on the ground and held up her hand. “Up.” The broom lifted, following the motion of her hand and let her guide it up above her head until her outstretched arm could no longer guide it and it froze in place. She jumped and grabbed onto the broom, dangling from it and looked over at Draco who had done the same.

“One.” She nodded at Draco and together they heaved up. She closed her eyes and groaned, willing her tired arms to pull her up as high as they could. She felt the top of her head hit her broom and opened her eyes. “Just a bit more!” she whispered, trying to get her chin over the handle. Her arms shook and she glanced over at Draco, who was still dangling, arms fully extended, with a face as red as a tomato. She dropped down and covered her smile so Draco wouldn’t see in case he ever stopped squeezing his eyes so hard.

The cold blue morning turned warmer and pink as the sun started to rise just beyond the trees. Her arms were pounding and sore and her uniform was already soaked with sweat when Marcus started drills. They hopped on their brooms and practiced double the amounts they normally did. They went through play after play and every possible situation they could get into.

Heather was rolling, flipping, twirling, and diving all over the place until Marcus was assured she wouldn’t mess up any moves with the Quaffle under her arm. Peregrine and Lucian, whose drills normally consisted of aiming the Bludgers at apples and oranges that Marcus got from the kitchens, was now them aiming the Bludgers at each other and occasionally at Heather and Graham.

After Marcus blew the whistle, Heather touched down hard on the ground and fell off her broom landing on the wet grass like a dead fly swatted out of the sky. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t even feel her arms. At one point her braids had gone loose, probably during the diving roll where she dodged Lucian’s Bludger and almost lost her head and joined Nearly Headless nick.

“Careful!” She screamed as Draco fell down beside her and almost smacked her head with his broom.

“If it weren’t for your brother, we’d still be asleep!” He winced and groaned as he sat up. “You should have taken the broom and thrown it into the fire.” His hair dangled over his eyes as he glared at her. Whatever slicking gel he used for his hair had come off completely with his sweat.

“Practice tonight after Gryffindor’s. After dinner meet in the locker room and DON’T be late.” Marcus looked at everyone, making sure they all heard, and headed out.

Heather sat up now that she could feel her arms again and stretched as best she could. “So how’re you going to even up with Harry? The drills you were doing only help you fly steady and cut corners faster… You have to anticipate where he goes – ”

“Flint and I have it under control.” Draco pushed his hair back and looked up at Peregrine who had made his way over.

“I heard McGonagall suspended one of her Prefects from competing in the National Gobstone Championship last year for getting into a fight over what color the nose plugs should be.” Peregrine stared at Draco and raised his brow. “It’d be a shame if… Potter ended up not playing this match.”

“A real shame.” A wicked grin spread across Draco’s face. He turned to her and raised his brow. “Wouldn’t it, Potter?”

Heather looked at Peregrine to Draco and nodded reluctantly. She stood and left the Quidditch pitch, put away her broom and headed to breakfast. Her spoon shook, spilling half its contents of milk and granola oats before reaching her mouth. It took twice as long to eat and by the time she was done, Harry, Ron, and for a brief second Hermione, had arrived for breakfast.

“We’ll be at the Library,” Ron told her as she left the great hall.

She peeled off her uniform and threw it in her dorm room’s assigned hamper and took as fast a shower as possible, remembering all the essays they had been assigned over Easter break. She had one from Divination, one from Care of Magical creatures – about dragons even though all term they’d only been caring for Salamanders; two half ones from Herbology about two different sentient carnivorous plants, one long one from Transfigurations with tie-ins to Charms – Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick had decided to team up to ruin their break this time; three four-inch ones from History of Magic about the three most controversial laws the Ministry had threatened to pass should the Puddlemere United Quidditch team not change their colors from moss green to mud brown in the late eighteen-hundreds, and one from Potions. The only teacher who hadn’t assigned anything was Professor Lupin.

She should be glad that she didn’t have an essay on cursed socks or hexed pet collars to complete on top of all the other assignments, but now that she had decided Defense Against the Dark Arts was her favorite class and that Professor Lupin was her new favorite teacher, she really wished he’d give out more work than just ‘read the next chapter if you’d like’. How could she improve if all that was normally required was reading ahead and writing short essays on creatures they should be learning about in Care of Magical Creatures?

She picked up her bag and headed down the main corridor towards the library when Neville came running down at full speed towards her.

“It’s happening!” he yelled, his arms flailing behind him as he pointed and ran. “H-hurry!”

“Already? But it’s only been two months!” Heather stopped Neville in his tracks by bracing herself as best she could for Neville to knock into her. She caught his shoulders and steadied him.

“Thanks. I thought I’d keep running until I tripped or something.” Neville’s eyes brightened and he pulled out a green leaf that was slowly turning purple in his hands. “Professor Sprout says it must have been a good batch!”

“Let’s go!” Heather took Neville arm and forced him back into a run towards the third green house.

As they ran they were joined by five other students of different years who had all also heard the great news. Two months ago Professor Sprout had let several eager students help plant several chilled seeds of various living death plants from the same family. They didn’t know which seeds they had gotten to plant, but Heather guessed she had gotten the Freezing Shudder plant by the feint spidery grey veins it had. If she guessed correctly, she’d earn five more points for Slytherin, putting them one-hundred and sixty points in the lead above Gryffindors for the House Cup.

They arrived at the green house and entered to see ten different large plants ready to bloom all lined up against the windows. At the center, sitting at the tables, were twenty or so other students. She stopped Neville from sitting at the first table and pulled him along to the last where Fred and George sat whispering to themselves.

“Why are you two here?” Heather sat across from them, suspicious and amused.

Fred and George smiled at her and crossed their arms.

“We like Herbology like everyone else here.” Fred poked at the table with his finger several times, “and you can’t prove otherwise.”

George leaned in. “And we especially love that plant right there.”

Heather turned to see the one she had planted. “The Frozen Shudder?”

It had the shortest of all the stems but the thickest by a good one or two inches. The green was slowly draining from its leaves and trunk-y stem as it died, replaced by a dark velvety purple. The buds on the very top looked swollen and ready to explode with all the other buds, like a balloon stretched to the max.

“Yeah. And you’re not the only one with a charmed pot.” George wiggled his eyebrows. “Hermione told us.”

Neville turned to her surprised. “Oh! What d’you have growing! Which charms does it have? I tried making one myself with an old pot from home, but everything I plant in it catches fire or grows a single grape.”

“I haven’t grown anything yet,” she lied. “I’m waiting for something good. What’s the point in growing grass or squirting Astrophytum Asterias if it’d be just as easy in a normal pot?” She avoided looking at Fred and George who were holding back smiles as Neville nodded.

Fred mouthed ‘for shame’ at her. “What a marvelous point you have. Which is why we’re going to grow our very own Frozen Shudder.”

Heather tilted her head at them. She was curious as to why they wanted it. It isn’t deadly, it’s most common as a show plant for winning ribbons and medals, and it wasn’t used for any potions she knew of. In fact, to use it at all, a saw is needed to cut off any part of the stem which is completely frozen.

“Oh my! So many here. Alright, I have the list here of everyone’s guesses. I hope you’re all ready – and cover your eyes when it happens!” Professor Sprout shut the green house door and took her seat, taking out a ceramic plate from under her desk and held it up like a shield.

Almost on cue, a feint whistling noise started from all the buds. They harmonized for about a minute, and just as everyone eagerly looked around at the plants, the buds exploded thick juicy petals, pelting everyone in the face and back. Everyone cheered as the last petals fell off the plants and Fred and George dove under the table to collect as many Freezing Shudder petals as they could. Heather looked down at them as they stuffed them into their robe pockets and took a few extra petals at random.

“There’s nothing to be worried about technically, but I am.” Neville looked around the room again as if double checking that the only plants to have exploded were only the non-deadly ones. “I mean its Fred and George isn’t it?”

Heather laughed and shrugged.

“Well. That seems to be the last of them.” Professor Sprout went by checking the plants and awarded five points to Slytherin for Heather’s correct guess and almost forty to Hufflepuff for all of their correct guesses as well.

Professor Sprout made everyone leave so she could clean up and Heather walked back to the castle with Neville, Fred, and George. Neville guessed why they’d want to grow Frozen Shudders the whole way but he either never guessed correctly or they refused to let them in on it.

Heather yawned as she pulled the library door open and quickly found Harry and Ron at a table in the back talking to a large pile of books. She approached and sat down. “Hello Hermione, how’s the studying?”

“Will everyone PLEASE stop distracting me?”

Ron shook his head. “She’s been like this since we got here. Harry, help me make another pile of books over here, they might be friendlier than this one.”

Heather laughed and took out all her sheets of parchment and her potions book. She stared at it and frowned, shoving it back in her bag and took out her transfigurations and charms ones.

“Oh can we copy!” Ron shuffled his papers around and flattened out his started essay with one sentence on it. He had his quill ready to write as he leaned over to see what she’d already written.

“I HOPE you’re joking, Ron.”

Harry rolled his eyes and moved Heather’s started essay for him and Ron to read.

“I’m not hearing a yes.”

Ron groaned. “Oh quiet, ‘Ancient Runes Made Easy’. And tell ‘Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles’ to mind her own business.”

“Humph.”

Heather wiped the smile off her face with the back of her wrist and turned to Harry. “You have practice today, don’t you? You should tell Wood that Derrick and Malfoy are planning to get you kicked off Quidditch.”

“Kicked off?”

“At least for just this match.”

Harry looked to Ron amused. “And how would they?”

“McGonagall would sooner set fire to her office than kick Harry off and lose the Quidditch Cup.” Ron leaned in. “I think she’ll lose her mind this year. Heard Snape mention it’d be seven years of winning and she almost hexed his pants off. He burst out of the staff room with singed robes.”

Heather snorted. “Well then, when we win I hope she does.” There was a pang of uneasiness in her chest but she ignored it. It was weird to hear that kind of talk come from her own lips and not Harry’s. It made it worse that Ron and Harry were looking at her slightly shocked. “Anyways. They think she’ll kick you out if they can get you in a fight. She let the Gobstone club lose their best player over a dumb fight.”

“Yeah but… That’s Gobstones…” Harry drummed his fingers and shrugged. “No one cares about Gobstones.”

Ron nodded. “Not even McGonagall. So you’ll be fine. I’ll be your second and there’s no way you’ll lose whatever fight – ”

Hermione stood over her stack of books and glared down at Ron. “Ronald! The point is for Harry NOT to get into a fight. Not to win it! Harry if you lose to Slytherin I’ll – I’ll – I don’t know WHAT I’ll do! I’ll get expelled for hexing Malfoy’s stupid face so DON’T get in a fight!”

“Alright!” Harry put up his hands. “I never said I would. Can we all go back to studying and not talk about how at any moment between now and the match I could get cornered by a pack of giant Slytherins?”

They all nodded and Hermione sat back down behind her books. They studied and wrote all day – although Ron and Harry left several times to use the ‘bathroom’ and they always came back half an hour later with smeared chocolate on their lips – and ate lunch in the courtyard on a stone bench just to breath in fresh air.

“How’s Hermione doing it? She hasn’t eaten all day since breakfast.” Harry motioned at the empty seat next to them. “I’d be starving but she says she’ll keep this up all break.”

“Maybe I should bring her a muffin or something. If she passes out and messes up her schedule, we’ll never hear the end of it.” Ron stood and left in the direction of the great hall.

Harry pinched off muffin crumbs and popped them into his mouth. “What would you do… If Sirius Black was knocked out on the ground in front of you? Wandless.”

What would she do? She’d tell a teacher of course… But that wasn’t really Harry’s question. “I wouldn’t kill him… If that’s what you’re wondering. He deserves to go back to prison. A more suitable prison for him. One that won’t lose their most dangerous prisoner.”

Harry nodded.

She looked at him, staring at his muffin, and wondered what Harry would do. He’d say he’d kill him… and she wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t.

“He betrayed them,” Harry whispered. “He took them from us. He took our lives from us. We could have lived as wizards. Already known… EVERYTHING. We wouldn’t be staring at our friends dumbly every time they say something we didn’t already know.”

She thought about what it would have been like to live in a village like Hogsmeade somewhere. Already immersed in wizard culture and learning about muggles from their mother… She felt a hole rip open in her heart and fill with sadness. She wasn’t hungry anymore, and yet she felt starved.

“I’d make him pay.” Harry finished his muffin and stood.

Heather nodded and stood with him, punching his shoulder lightly. “And like always, I’ll stop you from doing something stupid.”

They headed back into the library and after several more hours – and at least three finished essays later – Harry left for his Quidditch practice. Ron had copied several of Hermione’s essays that she kept stacking on top of her pile of books and Ron kept sneaking and by the time it was dinner, Ron had finished two more essays.

Heather sat with her team and ate a roasted chicken leg, mashed peas, a bowl of potato soup, and left early to nap in her dorm until it was time for Quidditch practice again. She met everyone by the lockers and noticed Draco whispering to Peregrine. Marcus didn’t make them do anymore pull ups but they had to sit for at least an hour and listen to Marcus go over strategies again – which revolved around brute strength for Peregrine, Lucian, and Graham, and borderline cheating-but-not-quite from Heather and Draco. Miles Bletchley’s younger brother was there too, who had agreed to help signal Draco if he spotted the Snitch since it wasn’t cheating for the crowd to yell if they saw it before the players.

After practice, Heather dragged her feet down to the girl’s bathrooms and got ready for bed, throwing her uniform in the hamper again and didn’t bother showering. In the common room she had seen Marcus get all of Slytherin’s attention about something but she didn’t have the energy to stay and listen. She fell into bed and closed her eyes, ready to open them up soon to start the day practically all over again until Easter break ended.

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

Chapter List

<-- Last chapter Next chapter -->

-----

@lokilover-39

@halcyonrogers

@krazykatkay456

@lady-of-black-roses

@writingmi

@joscelyn02 (welcome to the taglist :D !)

-----

#harry potter #heather potter #pro snape #severus snape x oc #severus x oc #snape x oc #severus snape x reader #severus x reader #snape x reader #snape fanfic #snape fan fiction #snape fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction

23 notes · View notes