#he's just...really...not my cuppa tea

[szappan]

@parsleyroot thank you for the tag!! <3

Rules: Put your playlist on shuffle, list the first five songs that come up and let people vote on which song they like the most.

tagging @thalassiokhtos @sapphic-hobbit @faramircaptainofgender and @armillaryspheres!

[melpcmene-arch]

I can't get the scene of: Percy shooting into the Broker's chest brutally and going: "Your soul is forfeit" and Keyleth just staring to the point where her Anti-Life(?) Shell has just disappeared 'cos she's no longer concentrating.

[korinthiakos]

asthma is being a dick right now

[moonstruckme]

HII I LOVE YOUR WORK SM!! I literally can't stop reading them 😭 I love you so much for making all of them !!

May I ask if we could get more of shy Remus?? As soon as I read the first one I immediately fell in love !

Thank you so much!! 🫶🏽

Hi lovely, thank you! Sorry this took me so long, I've wanted to write it ever since it came into my inbox but it took me forever to come up with an idea </3

cw: very vague implication of smut

shy!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Remus looks surprised when he opens the door, and immediately after that embarrassed. For what, you never know. 

“Hi,” he says, lips curving into a smile as if of their own volition. “Um, I haven’t missed anything, have I?” 

You laugh. “No, you’re fine. I was just nearby and thought I might return your jumper.” 

It’s a half-truth. You’re ambushing him and you know it, but Remus’ reticent disposition means you know next to nothing about his life and after weeks of dating you’re really itching for a peek behind the curtain. You’ve brought chocolate muffins to make up for it. 

“Oh, that’s thoughtful of you.” Remus’ voice is soft as always, that adorable smile still playing on his lips until you both hear footsteps bounding down the stairs inside. He glances behind him, moving a bit more in front of the door. “While you’re here, maybe we could go have coffee or—” 

“Who’s that?” 

The voice seems like a sound of much dread for Remus, if his expression is anything to go off of. He ignores it, speaking only to you. 

“Or there’s a park just down the way—”

“Remus.” It’s a different voice this time, yet the effect upon Remus’ countenance is the same. “Who do you have there?” 

“Hi!” you say over his head, mutinous. 

“A girl?” Remus’ entire body seems to sag in resignation. “Remus Lupin, stop hiding her from us immediately.” 

“Sod off.” He says over his shoulder, as brash as you’ve ever heard him. It’s a bit thrilling. 

“I will not. Reveal your secrets, you dirty dog.” 

You actually do feel quite bad for Remus, a blush spreading all the way up to the tips of his ears, but he lets go of the doorframe, letting himself be wrestled out of the way. 

“Hello.” A dark-haired boy weasels his way into Remus’ place, giving you a salacious up-down. You raise your eyebrows at him, delighted. So this is who Remus associates with when he’s not with you. “My, you’re a pretty thing. And you’re here to see Remus?” 

“I am,” you confirm. “I’m here to bring back his jumper.” 

“Which would lead one to believe, “a second boy appears behind the first, both of them keeping Remus from reclaiming his spot at the door, “that you’ve seen him before.” 

You laugh. “I have. We’ve been dating a few weeks now.” 

“Remus!” The second bellows, eyes blowing comically wide behind his glasses. “Weeks? Weeks, and you haven’t said a word. How could you?” 

“I don’t suppose you have a bit of time on your hands,” the first boy says smoothly. 

“I’ve…” You check the time. “I do, actually.” 

He grins, wolflike. You’re not sure who the prey is. You worry it’s your date. 

“Yes!” The one with the glasses is effervescent, brimming with eagerness. It’s contagious, you find; you’re smiling too. “You have to come in, please.” 

You’re dying to, but you peer past them, locking eyes with Remus. He looks to be wishing for a swift and painless death, but he gives you a soft smile anyways. Nods. 

“Sure,” you say, “I could join you for a bit.” 

Some of the boisterous energy settles as they usher you inside, the need for urgency vanquished now that they’ve got you in their clutches. Begrudgingly, Remus introduces you, and the other two hassle him about taking off your coat and showing you where to put your shoes before he gets a chance to do either. Soon you’re settled comfortably in the armchair they tell you is Remus’ favorite. 

“Can I make you a cuppa?” Remus asks, and James and Sirius both oooh as he rolls his eyes. You nod at him, eyeing the other two amusedly. 

“He must really like you,” James says, “if he’s offering to make you tea.” 

“Hence why you’re not getting any,” Remus says over his shoulder as he stalks for the kitchen. 

“Prick,” Sirius calls after him. “We didn’t want any anyways.” But he crosses his arms, sulking back against the couch cushions. James, on the other hand, leans towards you. 

“So,” he says severely, “what are your intentions with our Remus?” 

A quiet sound of distress comes from the kitchen, but you all ignore it. “Your Remus?” you ask. 

James nods self-assuredly. “We’ve known him since primary school. If you two get married, I’ll be the one giving him away.” 

You raise your eyebrows. Remus’ head pops out of the kitchen, glaring daggers in a way you didn’t know he knew how. “You will not.” 

“What?” James looks gutted. 

“That’s not the point.” Sirius waves both of his friends off, though James looks like he would very much like to continue on the topic. “Tell us about you two, gorgeous. Where did you meet, how long have you been dating, has Remus told you where he hides his chocolates?” 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Remus says, coming back with your tea. He passes it to you carefully, handle out, and both you and James hiss at him for holding the hot part. 

“We haven’t even gotten her to answer anything yet,” Sirius complains. 

“It’s not her fault you haven’t given her the chance.” Remus perches on the armrest of the chair. It's probably so he can avoid sitting next to his nosy friends, but pride swells in your chest anyway at being chosen. You take his hand, and he squeezes your fingers in response. 

Sirius coos. “Only a few weeks of dating and he’s already holding her hand. I’m so proud.” 

You grin up at Remus, knowing what you could say to really shock his friends but not wanting to embarrass him further. He’s already flustered enough that his scars stand out in stark contrast against his flushed skin, but his look softens as he meets your eyes. Something about him eases, a small smile curving his lips. 

You decide it’s permission enough. 

“You’ve been a bit bolder than that, haven’t you, handsome?” 

James and Sirius erupt in hoots and hollers. Remus looks like he might well fall off the edge of the chair for how stiff he’s gotten. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. It’s burning. “I’m not trying to torment you. We can go be alone in your room, if you like.” 

“No-o.” James waggles a finger at you. “Now that we know what you’re up to, you won’t be getting him alone in our house. You’re set on corrupting him!”

[bagofshinyrocks]

Period Comfort

Prompt: How the boys act when their S/O is on their period. [Requested by @weebumochi]

Featuring: TF141 and Los Vaqueros - John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Alejandro Vargas, and Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra (separately) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: reader menstruates, but no mention of genitalia; menstruation discomfort; nothing else i can think of, but lemme know if there's more

John Price

Always gets you water and a fresh cup of tea once your cups looks a little low.

Finds out what meals are best for someone on their period and focuses on making those for the week.

You two would make food with beef, eggs, and fish (if you eat them); spinach, squash, and brussel sprouts. All the nutritious stuff. 

And then he would make treats for you, especially dark chocolate on almonds or walnuts. Bring you bananas, berries, figs. You felt like ancient Mesopotamian royalty. All things that were also good for you, but were more traditional period comfort food of “sweet”. 

If you really needed to eat half a family sized bag of barbeque potato chips, he would fetch them and put them in a bowl for you. No questions asked. No movement in the eyebrows. A loving smile as he asks what movie you two were going to watch.

 But for dinner, he’s making something without so much… sodium.

Does everything he can to make your period easier on you.

Simon Riley

Doesn’t tell you that he knows you’re on your period, but that shit is on the calendar. Doesn’t want to make you feel like he’s all “oh is it that time of the month?”. So he pretends nothing is different.

He’s always so sweet to you, but he’s especially so when you’re on your period.

There are absolutely no gibes or pokes at the tender part of your heart. And whenever you’re most hormonal (which is also on the calendar), he might not tease you at all. Because one time he was a little snarky with you, and normally it would roll right off, but you were just a teensy bit too hormonal. And you got quiet. And your lip quivered. And he didn’t stop apologizing the whole day.

Any shows or movies he normally sighs about (but still sits down and watches… and gets invested in, the lying shit), there is no fussing.

“Alright, lovie, sounds good. Do you want another cuppa while I’m up?”

Need some quiet time by yourself? He has some errands to run, let him know what you want for dinner.

Just does his best to make sure you never feel crazy when you’re on your period.

Kyle Garrick

When the worst of your period comes in, it becomes the typical night in.

The dumbest movies that you two love. Dessert eaten before dinner. Favorite takeout and all the accoutrement available. A glass of wine or some other treat beverage. Matching pajama sets.

Kyle had almost fallen asleep when you massaged a yummy-smelling hair mask into his scalp, and then pulled a ‘oh I was just resting my eyes’. And then he returned the favor, painting a luxurious facial mask on you. Making hearts on your cheeks, then spreading them out. You were fairly sure he drew boobs on your forehead, but then smeared it out and insisted you were just imagining it.

You give each other manicures, and hand feed the other food whilst their nails dried. Kissing chocolate and strawberries off each others lips and chins.

Once his hair was wrapped up, he’s all snuggled up in your arms. The heat and weight of his body against your abdomen was soothing. And the gentle snoring of the love of your life.

Everything he can to make you feel comfortable and attractive in your own skin.

Johnny MacTavish

He gets up at the ass crack of dawn to go for a run (like a fucking psycho). Once you wake up, he wants to go to the gym with you. Whether or not you work out, or just poke his butt because it’s funny, he wants you there. But not today. Your cramps, or just the general yuckiness of menstruating, makes you want to not leave the house.

So he hops on the internet, and finds the workouts, stretches, and yoga poses that would help you feel better.

The most gentle workout he’s had in his life. Stretching with the speed of tai chi, leaning against your back and chatting quietly.

Kisses wherever he can reach as you two figure out the yoga poses. Sticks his ass out as far as he can so you’ll poke it. Whistles whenever you begin a pose that’s even marginally suggestive. Waggles his eyebrows and maybe even cops a feel.

Double checks that you aren’t overexerting yourself. Stops for water (and kiss) breaks and asks how you’re feeling. What’s helping, what’s not helping? Time to stop, or keep going?

Helping with the physical and visceral symptoms so you’re more comfortable.

Alejandro Vargas

If he can, he’s clearing the schedule for the worst day of the week. Does grocery shopping and laundry before, so there is essentially nothing to do that day when Mother Nature is curb-stomping you.

Spoils you with a long lie-in. The sun has long since come up by the time you wake up to massages and kisses.

You join him for breakfast and a quick rinse off shower, and then you two crawl right back into bed. Leaning against him as he kneads the skin and muscles of your abdomen or back, a movie or the radio as ambient noise.

Maybe you fall back asleep. Maybe you watch an entire TV show. Maybe you putter about and do some light home-making. The goal is that you are fully rested.

I bet science says that you can’t “catch up on sleep”, but it’s still nice to have a day where you sleep for most of it. Especially when it’s curled up in bed with your sweet lover. His hands on you for the entire day, closely followed by his lips.

His whole body squeezing you tight when you try to leave, and wrapping around you again once you return.

Just physically reminding you of how much he loves you.

Rodolfo Parra

Once he sees a menstrual product wrapper in the bathroom trash can, he’s off to make the most professional grocery run you’ve ever seen.

Knows exactly which products you use, and checks which are low. Buys the right medications or products. The snacks that you love (that won’t betray you later with a stomach ache), and the little drink treat that’s for special occasions. 

You swear that he hears the crinkle of a wrapper in the bathroom and marches to the store.

Puts the groceries away while you’re finishing up the breakfast dishes and then offers you the little beverage and maybe a treat.

He guides you to the couch or back to bed, sidling up next to or behind you and kisses you deeply. Arms roaming and then settling in a way that keeps you as close as possible. Pressing against you as if you could become one.

Cuddles in the way that is most comfortable, whether you’re in his lap or laying down. Kisses you all over. Hand feeds you until you’re giggling too hard.

He never wants you to run out of the supplies you need, or feel any less sexy while menstruating. Because you are always so sexy to him.

Posted: 2024 January 7

[avocado-writing]

home

pairing: 14th doctor x reader & 10th doctor x reader

rating: E

notes: no gender or age given for reader, just that you last saw the doctor fifteen years ago. thank you to @mcganns for being my beta!!

This too shall pass.

It was a sentiment that you had to cling onto when he left, because fuck knows it was the most painful thing you’d ever felt. And you’d run away from actual explosions before. Big ones, in space! Supernovas which could eat entire planets while you hung onto the side of a little blue box. 

And yet none of it even begins to compare to when he fucking left you. 

He said it wouldn’t be forever. Well, he shouted it at you as you fell out of the TARDIS. There was a time explosion, and you got rocketed back to your little flat in the middle of Hackney, on Earth only a few days from when he’d picked you up — but in your reality months of adventure had passed. 

You’d not really settled back in, certain that he was going to come and rescue you. But then days turned into weeks into months and you finally accepted that the Doctor had abandoned you. 

So you went back to it all. Your mundane little existence before a mad, brilliant man had whisked you away. Your boss was a bit miffed that you’d gone AWOL but you were their best employee so they couldn’t afford to let you go, all you got was a slap on the wrist and a command not to let it happen again. The people you loved didn’t really seem to notice your absence that much, which stung; you couldn’t blame them though. You’d probably not miss you much either. 

The Doctor. He made you feel special in a way nobody had before. Like you were the centre of a whole, giant, fantastic universe, and he adored you for it. 

Still. 

No point mulling that over again, is there?

Fifteen years. Things did get better. You moved on eventually. But you still find your thoughts drifting back to him every once in a while, and that fragment of time you spent totally utterly in love with each other. When you think about the way he kissed you, without realising it you end up touching your lips.

No. No. Stop. 

The singing of the kettle snaps you back into reality, and you pour yourself a hot cuppa. Ah, tea. The antidote to everything. You go to turn the radio on for some company as you shift into your morning routine when you hear a knock at the door. 

Probably the postie. He’s a bit early today, you think, but make no more of it as you undo the latch and open the door. 

Your heart stops. 

Because there he is, of course. 

Older. Weathered. Not the young man you once knew but a grownup version of him, as exhausted by life as you are. 

You drop your mug. Quick as a flash the Doctor grabs it out of midair. The tea sloshes onto the floor but at least nothing gets shattered. 

He goes to look up at you, but his attention is drawn back to his hand. 

“I bought you this mug years ago,” he says, utterly amazed. 

You shut the door in his face. 

Well, you try to, anyway. But he sticks a foot in between the door and the frame, with one of those stupid Converse he always wears.

“I know you’re angry, I know. But please let me come in.”

It’s such an absurd statement you find yourself laughing, a high and desperate noise. 

“Absolutely not!” Actually, no. That’s not enough. “How dare you. Why are you even here?!”

“Because I wanted— I needed to see you.”

You still want to slam the door on him, but there’s a desperation to his voice that gives you pause. And when he looks at you with those sad, puppy-dog eyes? Those eyes as lined with age as you are?

Fuck. You’re so weak. 

So that’s how you find the Doctor sitting at your kitchen table with a cup of tea in front of him. You lean against the counter, defences still up, eyeing him from over the top of your mug. He drums his fingers against the tablecloth. 

“I like your house. Your calendar is nice, I enjoy the kitten motif.”

“Don’t,” you spit, slamming the mug down and sloshing tea onto the floor, “don’t you dare. You don’t get to waltz back here and start telling me ‘oh, I enjoy your furnishings, haven’t you made a nice little life for yourself since I abandoned you!’ I let you in to speak your piece, though god knows why. Say it and be done.”

The Doctor looks deflated. His shoulders sag, mouth falls. You take a moment to properly look at him. He seems… tired. Tired in a way you never knew him to be when you went on your adventures. Part of you wants to offer comfort, but the other part of you wants to withhold it maliciously. Anything to make him feel the way you felt. 

“I looked for you,” is what he settles on, heavily. You didn’t expect that, and it knocks you. 

“What?”

“I did. After the explosion, I tried searching all over the galaxy for you. I didn’t know where - when - you’d ended up. I scanned and scanned but something stopped you from appearing on the TARDIS’s sensors. I think… the amount of artron energy emitted during the blast somehow cloaked you.”

You say nothing, your silence an invitation for him to continue his explanation. 

“It took years. Literal years, for me. Every spare moment I had, I dedicated to looking for you. Head buried in the circuitry of the TARDIS, trying to fix whatever was hiding you, gave myself a couple of nasty shocks too. And, when I finally tracked you down, I’d regenerated.”

You blink. Right. Yes. He’d explained that, but you’d never seen it with your own eyes. The same person, a different face. 

“I didn’t know if you’d want to see me if I didn’t look like me. But I had to try anyway, didn’t I? So I came here. To your house. I got myself all ready for it, knocked on your door… and found that you were married.”

Your fingers grip the counter. 

“Oh.”

“He seemed nice. Loved you a lot, as you deserved. And I couldn’t tell you I was back, could I? I saw you pottering around in the kitchen, making the tea - you were always the best at making tea - and you were happy. How could I ask you to leave that all, uproot the life you’d made for yourself, just to jump back in the TARDIS with me? How could I be so cruel? I couldn’t, could I. So I left again. Tried to move on. Like you did.”

You’re crying now. You can feel hot tears slide down your face and soak into your jumper. 

“Oh, Doctor,” you manage. You want to tell him so much. It feels like it might burst out of you. But instead you settle on:

“Why now?”

He smiles thinly. 

“Because somehow I got this face back, and I wanted to see you. I wanted to be selfish for once.”

You find yourself at the table, on the wonky chair opposite him, sliding your hand over to cover his. It’s rough and warm. Just like you remember. He says your name with reverence, but like it pains him. 

“I never stopped loving you. Ever. Through it all, every adventure, I knew it wasn’t complete because you weren’t there. It just wasn’t the same without wonderful, brilliant you,” he admits. He sounds defeated. It breaks your heart — or, actually, it might just put it back together again. 

A beat passes. His confession lingers in the air, heavy, thick and choking like smoke from an untameable fire. 

“His name was Simon. He was a baker. He was lovely, actually… and we got divorced two years ago.”

The Doctor’s brow furrows. 

“You… what… why?”

“Because he knew there was someone else I never really let go of. Someone else who, despite everything, I still loved.”

He looks you in the eyes, and you see something glimmer there that you long since gave up on. 

Hope. 

And then, suddenly, you’re kissing. 

It’s like nothing has changed. His lips are still rough and searching on yours, a hint of tongue giving away into more the deeper you entangle. He sits you up on the table and steps into the space left by your spread legs, and between each kiss he says your name. It’s full of adoration but lined with desperation, too. 

Like the kisses he gave you the first night you laid together, on a bed in his spaceship floating across the galaxy. When he buried himself inside you and you felt his two hearts beat in rhythm with your own. 

“Doctor…” you manage. 

Fuck. You need him. You didn’t realise how badly you needed him. You didn’t realise a piece of your soul has been missing this whole time, fucking torn out of you and leaving a jagged hole in its wake. And him, back, telling you he loves you and always has? You’re patched together like kintsugi. 

Your Doctor is the molten gold you need. 

“Please. I need to…” he’s so desperate he can barely get the words out, but you nod; he’s undoing the belt buckle of your jeans and pulling them off like they’re silk. When his thin waist meets yours you cross your ankles behind him and lock him into place, and his hands - a little fumbling, a little nervous to be mapping out the plain of you again - begin to trace your chest. You lean into his touch to let him know yes. This is okay. I want this. Make me whole again. 

His warm, rough palms slide under the hem of your shirt and lift it easily over your head, the only break in a while you take from your kiss. You let yourself grab his tie to bring him closer. He’s fully dressed still and you’re almost naked; you remember how he used to like that, enjoy feeling a bit more put together than you. Cheeky blighter. Still though, as his suit scratches your skin, you can’t say you don’t agree. 

However. In this instance he has far too many clothes. 

You tug at his jacket and he knows what you need, letting it fall to the floor with his tie and waistcoat following it. He ruts against you as he unbuttons his shirt a bit, not the whole way, but just enough for you to feel the warmth of his chest. He’s so skinny. You’ve always been a bit worried that, on one of your rougher days, you might snap him in half. You still are now, actually. 

Cupping his face in your hands you let your thumbs caress his cheekbones. Your Doctor. Older but the same. Just like you. 

You can feel him more than half-hard against your leg. No more time wasting. You need him. You need him, you need him, you need him. 

It doesn’t take long to undo his fly and have him in your hand. You’ll always be glad he chose this human anatomy. Though you’d love him no matter how he looks, there’s something wonderful about his cock as it is here. He lets his head fall forward onto your shoulder with a moan if your name. 

“Oh… you’re…”

“Mmm hmm,” you agree, a genuine smile passing your face for the first time in god knows how long. He’s just the right length and on the thick side, and you know what a delicious stretch he is when he pushes inside of you. You can’t wait to feel it again. A couple of pumps and he’s ready, dripping precome and a ruddy red. Another time you’d bend down and taste him, remind yourself what a Time Lord’s cock is like. But now today. Well, not now. 

You lay back, readjusting yourself so he can push your underwear to the side and find your entrance. A couple of fingers - those long, delicate, clever and cunning fingers - press inside you and test you out. You’re ready for him. He makes a choked noise in the back of his throat as he realises and you laugh, properly, throwing your head back. 

“Come on, Doctor. Show me that you’ve missed me.”

He used to never shut up. And now he’s stunned into a desperate silence, lining up with you and pushing in as he does his best to make you feel what he’s been feeling too. 

A loneliness is fixed. He slides home inside you and your hips meet, the both of you letting out a long and ragged breath. You sit there for a moment, locked in the most intimate embrace, and just feel each other. You fist your hands in his shirt. He’s here. He’s real. You feel him trace his palm up your back as if you assure himself of the same thing. 

Slowly he begins to move. It is a long and lovely drag, his cock hitting all the points you missed being touched, and when he feels you gasp he goes harder. The Doctor nuzzles into the skin of your neck, nestling to the warmth of you there, and you hear him repeat a mantra both of your name and “I love you”.

Over and over. As if the two phrases are inextricably linked. 

You’re so full. You’re so light. Everything feels perfect in this moment. And when he reaches between your bodies to touch your sex, push you to the edge, you know you’ll climax for him embarrassingly fast. 

When you come you see stars light up behind your eyes. The sky, the unfiltered and untamed sky takes you over. The Doctor says your name one final fine and releases inside you, his hips riding it out as if to savour every second in the sweet grip of you. 

He can’t look at your face when he asks you. He says it from the safety of your shoulder where his face is buried, because if you say no you know his heart will shatter. 

“Come with me, in the TARDIS again. I know I shouldn’t ask you to leave your home but… you complete me, you know. Always have.”

“Leave my home?! Doctor, don’t be daft. This is just a house in bloody Hackney. You’re my home.”

You pull back to meet his gaze. He’s tired, but bright. His eyes twinkle. And there’s the Doctor you know. 

“And of course,” you continue. And, as the smile engulfs his face and he lights up, “it’s not like I’m doing anything else, am I?”

This time, when you go AWOL from your job, you never come back. 

[lovifie]

My Neighbour

Fluff | 530 words | Back to Masterlist

@the-californicationist please accept this as my humble offering to your nameless challenge, sorry I went a bit over the limit 😬 And thank you for arranging the challenge, it was really fun to write hehe 🩷🩷🩷

Your neighbour is a bit of a curious man. 

You have never talked to him, nothing further than “Good morning” or a “Good to see you.”

He seems nice, kind smile and a mischievous speck on his eyes that always makes you smile back.

There have been times when just right after you opened your door, his would unlock, a bit too fast to be a casualty, and smile at you as if he was surprised to see you.  

He doesn't talk to you until one day when it is pouring outside. You decided that today was the best day to buy groceries, most of them getting soaked on your way home. Horrible, horrible and exhausting day, you just want to get home and go straight to sleep. 

But only if the damned elevator door would open.

You punch the metal door, the throbbing pain of your hand only souring your mood more. 

“You gotta hit it harder than that to make it move.”

A deep voice comments behind you, and before you can turn around, a big hand slams against the elevator door hard enough to make it shake and once it stops, it slowly opens as if anything. 

You sigh, bending to grab your groceries, before you feel a hand on the lower part of your back making you bounce back. 

“Sorry, love. Didn't mean to spook you, I just… You look like you could do with a cuppa.” He says, as he bends down and picks up the bag with ease. “Or something stronger.”

You rub your face with your hand as you walk after him into the elevator. “Yeah, something stronger.”

Your neighbour leaves your bags at your kitchen counter, unpacking them and making you sit down. You should help him but at the same time… it’s so nice to just sit down. 

At the end, he spends the whole evening at your house, chatting with you and gifting you some precious boyish smiles that have you feeling butterflies in your stomach. 

You talk a lot more to your neighbour after that, little small talk in the hall and sometimes going over to the other flat for tea. Until he's gone. 

He disappears one day, no notice, no goodbye. You assume it must be a family emergency or something for his work, but you still knock on his door every couple of days. 

In the end, you end up slipping a note under his door asking if he wants to do something for your birthday, trying to force him to come out even by guilt.

But he doesn't, your birthday is almost over by now, getting ready to go to bed, sad about your neighbour's sudden change. 

But then… there is a knock at the door.

And when you open the door, there he is.

Out of breath and beaten.

Like he just run a marathon on his gear.

“It's still your day, right? I couldn't get you a present, but I got you this.”

His hands cup your face, and you are sure he must have the softest lips a human can have when you feel them dance against yours.

Definitely your best gift this year.

[benedictscanvas]

Your Remus x reader fics have melted my cold, cold heart and now I’m a mess. They’re so soft! And I’m so soft for gentleness! Please write more if you feel like it. Maybe something where reader is exhausted mentally and a wee bit teary, and Remus is his lovely, comforting self. Regardless, all the air kisses for you!!

thank you so so much lovely!! this is one of the most beautiful asks i’ve had in a while. i hope this is what you were looking for, so many air kisses back at you!! this is a continuation of this and this but doesn’t have to be! || remus lupin x fem!reader, 1.4k words, cw pet names and a teary, tired reader

- - -

Remus is not having a good day because it’s abundantly clear to him that you’re not having a good day.

He’s spending the day working at yours, because his wifi is fucked and for once it isn’t just an excuse to spend time with you. Although he supposes he could have turned to Sirius who lives far closer to him than you do, so it’s a bit of an excuse to see you after all.

His wifi is fucked though.

So he sits at your tiny dining room table that can only fit two chairs and spends the day trying not to look at you too much opposite him. He fails miserably, and it’s not usually miserable to look at you but each time he does, you look thoroughly despondent.

“Another cuppa, lovely?”

You startle as you look at him over your laptop like you’d forgotten he was there. You have to blink from your screen and back to him a couple of times before you can finally process what he’d said to you.

“Thank you.”

He slips away to the kitchen, socked feet quiet on wooden floors because now he’s terrified of startling you. It’s 3pm in the afternoon and the third cuppa he’s made you today, but he wonders if he should have made you more. He begged you to stop for lunch multiple times but you very gently argued that you’d just got too much to do today, that he could take whatever he wanted from the fridge.

He should have just made you a sandwich without asking. Now he’ll interfere with your dinner if he does. He’s really struggling to know what to do here. As he carries two fresh cups of tea back to the dining room table, he feels a little bit breathless.

”Tea for the pretty lady,” he flirts, because it usually makes you smile this bashful smile that he really likes. But as he places the cup next to you, he notices your watery eyes just as you turn away to hide them.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, all scratchy. Remus feels like he’s about to cry just looking at you, so he makes an effort to pull himself together as he crouches next to your chair.

”Dove?”

You’re still staring at the wall rather than him. He isn’t going to rush you, though, or force you to look at him if you don’t want to. He’ll stay hovering by your side for as long as you’ll let him, but he places a tentative hand on your shin after a few seconds so you know he’s with you.

When you turn to face him, sniffling, the first tear has fallen. You were clearly holding them in, and it feels like a physical ache in his chest.

”Sorry,” you say through an empty laugh as more tears fall and you hurry to wipe them away. He squeezes your shin for lack of what to do. He is totally helpless, but there’s also this instinct deep within him that kicks in and tells him to do whatever it takes to fix this.

”It’s okay,” he assures gently, “You want to talk about it?”

”I hate crying,” you say instead, looking upwards to try to stop the tears falling again. He takes a second to kneel down rather than crouch, however much his knees hate it, so that he can reach up and wipe your tears himself. The pads of his thumbs swipe across your cheeks and he hopes you feel at least a little loved.

”I know, lovely.”

He doesn’t say much else, because he’s invited you to speak and you will, when you’re ready. He really really doesn’t want to rush you. Another swipe of his thumb removes another traitorous tear. He keeps his other hand as a steady pressure on your shin even though he doesn’t know if that’s even helpful.

”I don’t even know why I’m crying,” you say, another halfhearted laugh accompanied by more tears, “Nothing’s happened. I’ve just got so much on, and so many emails and texts I haven’t replied to and I saw another one pop up on my phone and I just…”

He nods sympathetically as you trail off and immediately bury your face in your hands as the real sobs start. It’s instinct once again that takes over as he strains upwards to put his arms around you as best he can, one over your shoulders and the other bringing your head to his chest. You go willingly.

He presses his forehead to the top of your head and murmurs into your ear.

”Oh, my girl. You’re alright. I’ve got you, you can cry.”

His words seem to make you cry harder and it only makes him pull you in closer, as close as he can.

You apologise yet again after a few minutes and he just strokes your hair and says nothing. He thinks it helps. You begin to calm down after a little while longer, he can feel you try to pull away and he lets you go easily, shifting until he’s kneeling beside you again.

”God, what a mess I’ve made,” you laugh again, a defence mechanism if he’s ever seen one. You wipe the wet patch you’ve left on his shirt in vain and he catches your hand in his. Brave, he thinks.

”None of that,” he insists softly, “This shirt’s all special now. The day you finally let me see you cry, immortalised in the fabric.”

Your laugh is far more genuine this time and he’s very proud of himself.

“Been wanting to see me cry for a while, have you?”

”All my life, dove. I was beginning to think I’d just have to mean to you and get it over with.”

You gasp dramatically, but it’s all for show.

”I don’t think you have it in you, Remus.”

”Maybe not,” he hums wistfully, “Seeing you cry has just now made the top five of things that make me cry. But I’m glad you trusted me with it.

You soften, visibly, he can see it in your eyes as you tilt your head at him. You press your lips together and wipe your eyes again, but there’s no more tears to be found.

”I suppose if I had to cry, I’m glad you were here for it too,” you say with a small grin and it isn’t like your usual one, but it’s a start. Your face grows a lot more serious as you say, “You make pretty much everything a bit better.”

And he doesn’t know what to do with that at all. If you’d said that to him back when the two of you were sixteen, he might have told you he was in love with you then and there. But he’s not sixteen anymore, and he has enough sense to know this is far from the time for that. So he hopes he isn’t blushing too much and goes back to what he knows.

”Only a bit better?”

You shove him, and he’s on his knees, so he’s quick to lose his balance and go toppling to the floor. It finally brings out your real laugh, loud and giggly, as you wriggle about in your chair.

His knees hurt but all he can feel is delighted.

Soon enough, he heaves himself to standing, pretending to glare at you as he returns to his chair and you’re still giggling.

”Your tea will go cold. I made that for you ages ago, you know.”

”I was crying!”

”I know. It was very annoying,” he says, grinning at you so you know he doesn’t mean a word. You laugh yet again, which is exactly what he was going for, “Seriously, lovely. Please say something when you’re feeling overwhelmed, I can’t bear for all that to be happening in your pretty little head without me knowing.”

He sees you react to the word pretty this time; you preen.

”I don’t want you feeling left out,” you agree teasingly, with a little sigh, “Alright, I’ll tell you. Only if you reply to all my texts for me.

”If you order Chinese for dinner, we can sit on the sofa and reply to them together?”

You look like you could run round the table and hug him again, and he considers his job complete. That little instinct that urged him to fix it calms down and the big instinct he usually has to kiss you senseless returns full force. He sips his tea instead of listening to it, for now.

- - -

if you have a request of your own (esp for more of this universe or more soft!marauders, i would love to hear from you sunflower <3

[finelinevogue]

love her stupid

summary - you are jealous of harry’s new bandmate, when you really don’t need to be

word count - ~1k

pairing - nonfamous!harry x reader

You didn’t think you really ever got jealous.

Not like this.

Sitting in your boyfriend’s room, alone whilst your boyfriend and his bandmates practiced downstairs, you never thought you’d be jealous of their new lead vocalist.

Your boyfriends band - Last Day on Earth - were in need of a female voice to better their music, and after many interviews for someone they came across Shana. She was a brilliant singer with just the right love for this kind of music - indie rock.

She was also out, most definitely, for your boyfriend.

You had come straight from the library to Harry’s house, hoping to spend the evening with your boyfriend.

When you arrived you heard them before you saw them. Harry and the band often practiced in his mum’s basement, as long as they were finished up by 10PM.

“Hello, love!” Anne had coddled you on the way in, taking your jacket from you and hanging it up in her under-stairs cupboard like you were part of the family.

“How are you, Anne?” You asked.

“Doing alright, love, yeah. You?” She pointed towards the kettle. “Cuppa?”

“Oh, no thanks. Just gonna see H if that’s okay?”

“Of course. He’s downstairs with Mitch, Tyler, Pauli and Shana.”

“S-Shana?” You questioned, pulling the sleeves of Harry’s sweatshirt over your hands and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yes. She’s the bands new lead singer. Bit pitchy if you ask me, but it’s not my band.” Anne shrugged her shoulder and continued making herself a tea.

“Is Sarah here?”

“Yes, she is actually. Mitch is giving her a ride home I think.” Anne said, because apparently she was more clued up on your friends than you were.

“Okay.” You nodded, smiling. “Think I’m just gonna go to Harry’s room for a bit. If that’s okay?”

“Do what you want, Y/N. This house is as much yours as it is ours.”

You thanked Anne and walked up to Harry’s room.

Harry’s room was very stereotypical for a guy going through college. He had his bed with blur bedsheets and duvet. His posters on his walls from famous movies and concerts he liked. His bookshelf filled with Tolkein and Pratchett. His drum set in the corner of the room and his desk in another.

You threw your tote bag to the floor by the door and jumped onto his bed, before laying down.

His whole room smelt of him, obviously, and you absolutely loved it. He smelt so warm and musky. He smelt homely and comforting.

And after a long day studying, that was just what you needed.

You took out your phone and pulled up your text messages.

To Harry: in your room xx

To Harry: just going to lay here for a bit, then i’ll come say hi to you and the band xx

It took you a while to build up the energy to speak to people, especially after a long day studying. Your social battery took a long time to charge up and then drained almost instantly after one use, much like your old(ish) iphone.

You pulled out Harry’s Nintendo Switch and loaded up a new Mario Kart game.

Even though it was Harry’s Switch, you used it much more than he did. Harry much rather prefers his PC for gaming. A lot of the time he’ll game whilst you read, both of your sitting in comfortable silence as you enjoy being in each others presence.

Your phone pinged when you finished scrolling through Instagram.

From Harry: I’ll be up in 5 x

You didn’t expect Harry to stop practicing with his band, especially not for you, but it made your heart swell knowing he cared about you so much as to stop band practice for a little bit so he could see you.

A day apart from each other was too long. You had even packed your toothbrush today with the hope Harry would be okay with you staying over.

You pulled out Harry’s plaid pyjama bottoms from underneath his pillow, stepped out of your uncomfortable jeans and put on his pyjamas. It was a sigh of relief and comfort when you put them on.

You won your game on the Switch with a whispered cheer just as Harry walked into his room.

“Hey, you.” He smiled.

“Harry!” You cheered, dropping the Switch to greet him.

You sat up on his bed, coming to kneel at the edge of his bed with your arms out. He walked over to you and into your awaiting arms, linking his own around your neck and giving the top of your head a couple of kisses.

You hummed in comfort as you took in his homely smell.

You squeezed him a little tighter before letting him go. You moved back just a bit rested your chin on his chest, looking up at him from an unflattering angle.

“You okay?” He smiled down at you, double chins only making him look prettier.

“Mhm.” You tiredly smiled.

“How was the library?”

“Boring. Missed my study buddy.”

“Oh, I’m sorry baby.”

“Kiss? To make it up to me?”

Harry laughed, “Of course.”

He leant down slowly and you tilted your head to the side to let him have room. You captured his lips with yours, softly. It was a slow and soft kiss. Intimate and loving.

You pulled away, only for Harry to chase your lips back to his kissing you again. You smiled into the kiss, before giving him what he was clearly craving; You.

You reached up a hand from around him to bring up to his cheeks and squish them, so his lips could break away from yours.

“Oi, piss off.” Harry sounded silly at he spoke with your fingers squishing his cheeks.

You giggled, letting him go completely, before sitting back on your heels and smiling up at him.

Harry ended up resting his palms on the bed either side of you, bending down to your head height to speak to you.

“Come watch us play?” He asked politely, kissing your cheek.

“But Shana’s there.” You looked down, suddenly finding your fingers far more interesting. You messed with the ring on your finger that was actually Harry’s. The one he’d given to you one random night together, to show you how much he loved you.

“She is.”

“Yeah.” You said, not knowing how to articulate what you meant.

“She’s nice.” Harry added.

“I bet she is.” You huffed, when you had no reason to.

“She’s a good vocalist too, which is the only reason she’s here.”

“How good?” You looked up at him.

“Good enough that her girlfriend recommended her to us.” Harry smirked, knowing he got you there.

“Oh. Cool.”

Harry quickly kissed your forehead before standing up to normal height. “C’mon Little Miss Jealous.”

He held out a hand for you. You took it and he helped to pull you off the bed. He pulled you close to him so you chest hit his with a soft collision.

“Hey.” He spoke to get your attention. You tilted your head up to look at him through starry eyes.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

You smiled, “Love you too.”

“Who loves me?” He asked for you to be clearer.

“I do.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want you to be anyone else.”

Harry always knew what to say, even when you were being unnecessarily mardy. There was no reason for you to be jealous for Shana, but sometimes you got in your own head too much.

Harry was always there to coax you out of your head though, working through your jealousy until you knew there was no reason.

He always validated you, but he also always reassured you.

“Okay. We can go now.” You nodded more confidently.

“Ready to watch me with heart eyes, baby?” Harry smirked.

“Always do, baby. Can you play ��Love Her Stupid’?” You gave him puppy eyes.

“Think that’s a great idea, love.”

••••

(bonus)

You made it downstairs with Harry.

You found yourself walking in behind Harry, who went straight to the cookie cupboard.

His mum hit his hand before he could grab the whole packet.

“You can have one, mister. Dinner will be ready soon.” Anne said.

You laughed as Harry groaned and tilted his head back in frustration. His craving for biscuits was a serious one. One that you joked about with him all the time.

“Y/N, tell him he needs to cut down on the biscuits.” Anne tapped Harry’s stomach.

Harry was toned, don’t get anyone wrong, but he also had a little bit of chub there when he wanted. You loved how he didn’t take his body too seriously, but also didn’t neglect himself.

“I do tell him. He just doesn’t listen.”

“Listen to your girlfriend H, otherwise you’ll bloody lose her.” Anne lectured him.

“Lose her?” Harry scoffed. “Y/N’s obsessed with me.”

“In your dreams.” You rolled your eyes, but realistically what he said was the truth. You were obsessed and you were okay with that.

[thenerdyselfinsert]

Simon Riley x Stressed! College Student! Reader

I started writing this when I was really stressed about classes, so here you go.

Pairing: Simon Riley x College Student! Stressed! Reader

Tags: Fluff, established relationships

Word Count: 1602

As the door clicked, Simon raised an eyebrow as he said, "You're 'ome early."

His eyes didn't leave the telly as he listened to you shuffle in. He assumed it was just another day, but as soon as he heard a sniffle leave your mouth, his eyes were on you. You dropped your bag by the door, kicking your shoes off as you turned to face Simon. Tears brimmed your eyes and your eyebrows were furrowed.

In moments, he was off the couch and had you wrapped in his strong arms. Tears started to stream down your face as your wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. He gently kiss the top of your head, rubbing your back.

"Who's teeth do I gotta knock in?" Simon asked, his harsh words a stark contrast to his soft demeanor. You shook your head, letting out a sob.

"Tough day at class, love?" he asked softly, to which you nodded. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him impossibly closer.

"I have so much to do," you sobbed, fingers digging into his broad shoulders. He nodded softly, kissing the top of your head.

"I know love, I know," he said, rubbing your back gently, "you keep busy."

"I'm so tired," you said, "I'm exhausted, Simon."

He leaned back, lifting your chin to look up at him, "Then why don't you take a break-"

"I can't!" you sobbed, abruptly cutting him off. He frowned at this, his thumb stroking your face.

"And why not?" he asked.

"All- all of my deadlines are approaching so fast and- and I don't know what to do!" you sobbed. His honeyed eyes stared down at you, a worried look on his face. He gently caressed your cheek, kissing your forehead.

"An hour won't mat-" he tried to say, but you cut him off again.

"Yes it will!" you sob, "I have a paper due-"

He gently covered your mouth, repeating softly, "An hour won't matter, okay?" Before you could argue, he picked you up off the floor, carrying you over to the couch before wrapping you in one of the throw blankets.

"Now you stay 'ere," he said, "I'm gonna make you a cuppa tea." With a kiss to the top of your head, he heads into the kitchen. You don't sit on the couch for very long, deciding to get up and follow him into the kitchen.

He didn't turn his head, didn't look at you, didn't even acknowledge your existence. He just stood at the stove, turning the burner on.

You watched him, waiting for him to say anything.

"Don't follow directions well, do you love?" he teased, his eyes glancing your way. You nodded, stepping into the kitchen and approaching him.

Your arms wrapped around his waist as you buried your face between his shoulder blades, "I wanna be close to you." He chuckled, gently pulling you away so that he could turn around and hold you properly. He pressed soft kisses to the top of your head, gently rubbing your back.

"I feel like I'm drowning," you muttered softly. He nods silently, kissing the top of your head.

"And it feels like everything is just piling up," you said, "and there's nothing I can do to stop it..." He looks at you with a frown before kissing your cheek.

"You wanna know what your problem is love?" He asks. You stare at him, eyes full of tears as you wait to be hit with the brutal truth.

"You care too much," he said, "you do so much, and you care about all of it. But baby, you can't. It's not human."

"But- but-" you try to say, but he cups your face. He looks you directly in your eyes, his deep brown irises holding so much care and wisdom.

With a shake of his head, he said, "No, love. There's no buts here. You can't give 110% to every single thing that you do. You shouldn't even be giving 100% to everything you do. You don't have the energy to do that, and if you keep trying to, you're not even going to be able to give 10% to anything." Hearing that just adds to the stress, and your breath becomes shaky before Simon calls your attention back to him.

"Hey, hey now," he said, his voice gentle and steady, "don't go hyperventilating on me now. Breath, love." You bite your lip, unable to hold back more tears as they threatened to fall. Seeing this, he pulls you back into a tight hug, rubbing your back.

As he held you close, his voice was soft, his gravelly tone familiar and grounding, "I've got you doll. I've got you."

Tears spill from your eyes as he holds you. The two of you stand like that for a long moment, just until you can calm down enough to listen to him.

"Listen lovey," Simon said softly, as if he was trying to upset or scare you, "I'm sorry to this say, but you're not going to be able to do it all. Can't you ask for an extension?"

You shook your head.

"And why not?" he asked, "If you're worried that your professors or whatever are going to be mad, they're not. You're a good student, you're just having a rough time mentally. It's no problem, I'm sure they see it every day."

You shook your head. "It's not that," you sniffled, "I-- I'm sure they would let me have an extension, at least on some of the projects, but that's not the point."

He raised an eyebrow, not in a judging way, just in a confused one, "Then what is the point, baby?"

"College is supposed to be preparing me for being a professional," you explained, "And professionals make their deadlines. If I can't even handle this now, how am I supposed to handle it when I graduate?"

He let out a laugh at that, "Love, are you kidding me?"

A beat passed and you looked up at him with a wide, confused gaze. Before he could explain, the kettle began whistling and he let go of you to turn off the stove. When he turned back to you, he cupped your face in his hands.

"You," he said, "Are holding yourself to a standard you will never be able to meet. Do you understand that? You are telling yourself you will never be able to make a mistake because-- I, I don't even know why you're doing this, I just know you are. And you're gonna stop, or you're gonna end up really hurting yourself in the long run."

"But-"

"No," he said firmly, "You will never be able to meet every single deadline all of the time. You can meet a lot of them, even most of them, but you will never be able to meet all of them."

Your eyebrows furrowed at this as tears gathered in your eyes. He didn't make a move to comfort you or to pull you in and hug you. This was something you needed to hear, and he wasn't going to stop until you heard it.

"And that's okay my love," he said, "that is perfectly fine. No one except you expects you to do everything."

"But-"

"Love," he said sternly. You stopped your rebuttal.

"LIsten," he said, "I don't know about all of that college stuff. I don't get it. I don't know what it looks like in your professional world. But as someone who is a professional, I gotta tell ya, I am not meeting every deadline like you do."

Your eyebrows furrowed, "What?"

"I'm not," he explained, "I have deadlines for paperwork and presentations and things I gotta do for Price, but i don't meet them all. And you want to know why?"

He gazed into your eyes, searching within them to see if you knew deep down what he was going to say. And you did.

"Because some of it doesn't matter," you said softly.

He nodded, "Some of it doesn't matter. There's a lot of it that does, don't get me wrong, but for some of those things, who gives a shit? I could give a fuck less if some paper work gets filed if it means I'm focusing on the important things."

He pressed another kiss to your forehead, saying, "And you know what? One of those important things is my health and well-being, because if I'm not doing okay mentally or physically, then how am I gonna spend time with you sweetheart?"

You looked away from him, understanding what he was saying.

The rough callouses of his thumbs pressed into your cheeks as he said, "I hate seeing you torn up like this about some stupid deadlines, lovey. So here's what we're gonna do, you have anything due tonight?"

You paused before shaking your head. He smiled, "Good. Then all of that shite, we're gonna do it tomorrow, alright? Tonight is just for you and me sweetheart, and we're gonna watch your favorite movie, and cuddle, and drink tea, and do everything we can to make you feel better. Alright?"

You wanted to argue, to fight and tell him that you should be working. But you didn't. Instead, you simply nodded and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you Si," you said.

He nodded, "Of course lovey. Now sit your ass down while I make you some tea, okay?"

And that's how you spent your night. Talking and watching movies, drinking tea and forgetting about deadlines. Because that's what you deserved, especially after the semester you've had.

A/N: I hope you guys liked this, let me know if you want to read more!

[theresthesnitch]

Sirius woke up to the sound of heavy footsteps running up the stairs. He smiled, realizing it meant Harry was home, but it took Remus shifting in his arms to remember exactly what position they were about to be found in.

Remus lifted his head and seemed to realize what they were hearing a moment after Sirius, but Harry's footsteps were on the landing. They hadn't talked about what they were, much less what they were going to tell Harry, and he was about to find them naked in bed together. Sirius panicked and pushed Remus onto the floor on the far side of the bed just before Harry opened the door.

“Sirius!” Sirius turned around and pat the bed next to him. Harry hopped up and leaned into Sirius’s hug. “Sleeping in?”

“Um, yeah.” Sirius pulled the blanket tighter around his hips. “Remus and I were up late last night.” He hoped Harry didn’t ask questions about it.

Instead, Harry blushed. “Yeah, uh. I was too.”

Sirius laughed. “Oh, were you? Want to tell me about it?”

Harry smiled. “Sure, but can we wait for Remus too? Where is he? He wasn’t in his room.”

Sirius was sure that Harry would be able to tell that Remus was in the room by the way his heart rate changed. “Uh, maybe he is in the bathroom?”

"No, it was open."

"The kitchen?"

Harry shook his head. "I flooed into the kitchen."

Sirius pressed his lips together, thinking fast. "Maybe he went to pick up breakfast?"

Harry pulled back from the hug to look up at Sirius in confusion. "You think Remus woke up early to go get breakfast after you both were up late? Remus?"

"He knew you were coming!" Sirius covered quickly. "He might have set an alarm."

Harry stopped to consider that for a moment, then looked excited. "Do you think he's getting donuts? Cause I could really go for one now."

Sirius laughed. "You know, he might be!"

Harry scooted to the edge of the bed. "I'm going to go put my bag away and then make tea. I bet he'll want a cuppa by the time he gets here."

"You're probably right. Make me one too, Haz? I'm probably going to shower real quick."

Harry looked back with a smile. "Of course. I wouldn't forget you." Harry turned and walked out of the room.

Sirius scrambled to the far edge of the bed. “Remus? Oh Merlin, I’m so sorry.”

Remus peaked out from under the bed. “You know, I’ve had some pretty bad experiences the morning after hooking up with a guy, but I think shoved out of bed and forced into buying breakfast just might top all the rest.”

Sirius swallowed hard. “Sorry, it was just he was coming in, and I panicked. We hadn’t talked about us or what to tell Harry and–”

“And now I’m going out to get breakfast.” Remus slid out from under the bed fully now, and moved to start putting on clothes.

“I’m so sorry about that.” Sirius sat on the edge of the bed. “I’ll go if you want me to instead. You don’t have to.”

“And what, do you have some polyjuice sitting around so I can be you for the next hour?” Remus shook his head and pulled his trousers up. “It’s fine.”

Sirius bit his lip as he watched Remus dress. “I know we just talked last night about me fighting for you, but this is not me not fighting for you. It’s just–it’s Harry, and I’m–”

“Harry is your priority.” Remus looked at him with a smile, and Sirius felt his pulse settle a bit. “I’m not mad. He should be your priority. It was also kind of funny listening to you scramble for an explanation. I’ll go out and get breakfast now. Donuts, apparently.”

“I’ll pay for them. You can get some money out of my wallet.”

Remus snorted. “You’re damn right, you’re paying. I’m getting myself a coffee too.”

“Whatever you want. A breakfast roll, too. Or an extra donut.” Sirius grabbed his hand. “Are we alright?”

Remus stepped closer, legs pressed against Sirius’s knees over the edge of the bed. He cupped Sirius’s face, stroking his thumb over his cheekbone. “You still like me?”

Sirius bit back the retort that Remus used the wrong L word, and merely answered, “Yes.”

Remus leaned forward and brushed his lips against Sirius’s. “Then yes, we’re alright. We’ll talk about it later, when Harry is busy or whatever.”

“I’d really like that.”

[moonstruckme]

hi mae! i’ve recently become obsessed with herbal teas and i noticed you have mentioned chamomile and jasmine tea in your fics lol. i am wondering if you would be interested in writing a remus or poly!marauders fic with an american reader who loves herbal teas and they kinda tease her about it (in a loving way of course)? i love your fics and i hope you have a lovely day whenever you read this <3

I love herbal teas! I fully support this obsession honey. Thank you for requesting!

cw: british slander, i love y'all but i'm besmirching your brand <3 (based largely on my own experiences lol, so perhaps not fully accurate)

Remus Lupin x american!reader ♡ 614 words

“This is so disappointing,” you sigh at the sight of Remus’ cabinet. 

“What?” he asks from the couch. 

“You told me you had tea.” 

“I do have tea.” 

“No, you only have this.” You take the box of Yorkshire Tea out of the cabinet, brandishing it where Remus can see. “This shit is nasty. Rubbish, as your folk say.” 

“Oh,” he laughs, “so you sail all the way across the ocean, take our teas with you, denounce our government, and then come back here to criticize, is that it?” 

You look at him darkly. “This is what the Boston tea party was really about. I get it now.” 

Remus beckons you toward the couch. You go, abandoning the boiling kettle since apparently there’s no point in searching the kitchen for anything good to drink. It’s only once you sit down on the couch and he takes your hand into his lap that you realize your mistake. 

Remus has a mollifying effect on you. It’s tragic, really. All it takes is a look, a shift in his tone, a small touch like this, and you’re pliant and boneless for him. 

“What sort of teas do you prefer?” he asks you softly, tracing the lines of your palm.

“I usually keep a variety,” you tell him, matching his tone. “Like cinnamon, or passionflower, or rooibos…have you heard of any of those?” 

Remus smiles, slow and sweet. “I have. Would you like whipped cream and sprinkles on those as well?” 

You laugh, rolling your eyes. You try to take your hand back, but Remus holds fast (you don’t make it hard for him), grinning at you. 

“That is so not fair. Just because y’all like your tea bland—”

“Say that one more time for me? Who all?” 

“—doesn’t mean my tastes are somehow unrefined.” You fix him with a hard stare, though your smile is untamable. “You’re being posh.”

Remus looks amused. “Never been accused of that one before,” he says. 

“Have you ever tried jasmine tea with a little bit of sweet creamer in it?” You raise your eyebrows at him. “Remus, you’re really missing out.” 

“Alright.” He stands, taking your hand with him and giving it a tug when you don’t follow. “C’mon, up.” 

“Where are we going?”

“To make you a cuppa.” 

You giggle. “I can’t take you seriously when you call it that.” 

“Once you stop saying dude, we can talk about my diction.” 

“So mean,” you tsk, letting him pull you over in front of the kitchen counter. He pours the hot water from the kettle into a mug, placing a tea bag in it. 

“We’ll get this drinkable for you, love, don’t worry,” Remus murmurs, waiting until the tea is a deep brown before going to the fridge. He pours in heaps of milk and sugar, stirring with a look of mild distaste in his expression. “Alright, try.” 

You take the mug off the counter warily, blowing on it before putting it to your lips. 

You hum, and Remus lifts an eyebrow. 

“It’s…better.” 

“I’ve done my best,” he chuckles, taking it from you. “I’ve thrown all my principles and better sense out the window, and it’s still not up to your standards, hm?” 

“No, it’s not bad.” You steal the mug back, taking another sip and smacking your tongue against the roof of your mouth experimentally. “It’ll do.” 

Remus gives you an indulgent look. “I’m sure we can find you some jasmine tea if that’s what you want,” he offers. 

You shrug. “I was just at the grocery store, and I didn’t see any.” 

He tilts his head skyward, blowing out a long-suffering breath. “I think you mean the grocery, sweetheart.”

[magiccath]

Weirdly specific headcanons Pt. 2 (Tenth Doctor x Reader)

a/n: finals fried my brain again, have some headcanons (new fics coming soon, I promise)

Says stuff like “2+2=5” with such confidence that you almost believe him

Secretly likes it when you and Donna call him “spaceman”

His favorite Earth snack is Goldfish (especially the colored ones)

Insufferable to watch movies with because he corrects everything

Traces words in circular Gallifreyan on your skin, usually on the back of your hand

Things like “I love you” and various nicknames he has for you

Often times when he fixes the TARDIS it doesn’t really need it, he just likes having something to do

Similarly, the TARDIS creates issues so he has to fix them

His love language is quality time, he just wants to be with you

Having you sit in the room while he fixes the TARDIS, showing you every single part of the universe, laying in bed on lazy days, etc

Needs constant reassurance and love

Cuddles too

Might not remember things like your birthday without reminders from the TARDIS

However, he knows exactly how you like your tea, your favorite color, and every single nervous tic you have

900+-year-old toddler 

Requires constant supervision or he will cause harm to himself and/or others

Is absolute rubbish at cooking. Something always ends up burnt 

Makes a mean cuppa though

He loves all kinds of cuddles but he really likes it when the two of you fall asleep spooning

Big fan of wrapping his entire body around you and tangling his limbs with yours

Also goes crazy for a good hug

Maybe his love language is also touch

He likes sitting on the floor for some reason, especially the TARDIS floor

Sits in chairs really weird too. Practically drapes himself across them with his long limbs sticking out and over the chair.

Has boundless amounts of energy. Is it a Time Lord thing or ADHD? We’ll never know (It’s both)

Knows enough random stuff to win Jepordy, but he would epically fail at it

Would correct every single answer and argue that he was right, not the answer sheet.

“Mount Rainier isn’t a volcano, fire aliens were just living under it.”

Loves ABBA and Queen. Can be often caught singing their songs to himself, especially when getting ready

Has a little troll doll collection in his room, among other strange 90s toys and random objects he likes

[sim0nril3y]

hii, I LOVEE your Simon x civilian! reader series!

I was thinking maybe of Simon finding readers scketchbook and discovering that it s pretty much filled with him? maybe reader has some drawings of a favourite picture of the both of them that s also colored with little hearts?

please and thank you! <3

Thank you thank this is actually so CUTE! I absolutely LOVE the thought of this, like I’ve actually be dreaming about it!

There would be times when Simon would catch you watching him. Like, he would be making a tea, putting the dishes away or sharing out the take-away you’d ordered between a couple plates when he’d feel that eery sense of being watched. Glancing over his shoulder he’d spot you just observing him with great interest, sketchpad in your lap and the moment Simon was aware your eyes would dart away and continue to focus on your pencil against the page.

You had been so happy to show him so much of your art, but that sketchbook in particular was on that you had very clearly kept to yourself. Each time he would pick it up you were overly protective and practically snatched it back, hiding it behind the sofa or throwing it into a drawer. “You hiding something from me?” He quirked a brow and you pressed a soft hand to your chest and replied. “Not at all. Cuppa?” You always seemed to pull his attention away quick enough that he’d drop it.

It was a few nights later that Simon spotted that sketchbook again left vulnerably on your coffee table whilst snoozed, cutely curled up on the sofa beside him, head resting on the arm of the chair whilst your feet rest happily in his lap. His eyes flicked from the football game, back to the book and then back to the game. Fuck it. He leaned forward and snatched it from the table, carefully beginning to flick through the first couple of pages.

It was as he had expected, just a few innocent sketches of flowers, all different types that he certainly couldn’t name. He almost placed the book back down before turning to the next page and feeling his face becoming very warm. Your interests for sketching had changed away from pretty flowers to sketches of him. They were all him doing very mundane and candid things. There was one of him sipping tea from a rather fancy cup, then another of him lifting his heavy dumbbells, another of him running his hands through his hair Simon noticed you’d taken great detail to sketch his hands, another small sketch of him pulling off his shirt and somehow, you’d manage to capture every little scar that littered his body.

As he continued to explore the book Simon noticed that there were some sketches of the two of you. He remembered when you had forced him to take a photo together on a woodland walk, the first picture taken of him for years but he was willing to do it to make you happy. You had taken time sketching that photo, taking in every little detail, even the disdain on his face. He should have given you a smile that day, but instead he just looked pissed whilst you beamed at the camera. His little ray of sunshine. God, he fucking loved you.

“What are you doing?” From beside him your voice was full of surprise before quickly attempting to steal the book from him but he held it up from your reach. “I was looking at your sketches, love.” He mentioned, laughing as you clambered onto his lap attempting to grab it from his greedy hands. “You wanna explain them to me?”

A quiet sigh of embarrassment fell from your lips before you stopped trying to snatch the book from him and just sunk into his body, burying your face in his throat whilst he rubbed your back comfortingly. “I like them.” He whispered into your ear. “I’m not mad, love.” He assured you softly, rubbing small circles into your face. “I just like drawing you, Si.” You whispered into his throat and he chuckled. “You’re so handsome.” He felt heat rising on his cheeks then. “And so strong… I see you doing all these really normal things and… and I just need to put it on paper… I don’t know…”

“My sweet girl…” He chuckled rubbing your back and placing the sketchbook beside him. “Don’t hide things like this from me, love…” He placed a few small kisses to the side of your face. “You don’t think I’m some obsessed weirdo?” You whined softly and he chuckled and shook his head. “I love that you’re obsessed.” He growled, quickly moving you to be flat back on the sofa with him looming above you. “Now, let me show you how much more I’m obsessed with you~”

Masterlist | Ask | 08-09-2023

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

One thing I truly love about Ed and Stede's adorable and iconic "tea with seven sugars" bit is that...Ed does not like tea. He obviously cannot STAND tea.

I know this because I like tea, and one time I tried making a cup with seven sugars and a dash of milk just to see what it would be like. My friends, that concoction was no longer tea. The sugar could not entirely dissolve in a nice big mug, let alone the dainty teacup Ed was drinking from. The milk combined with the high sugar content made the drinking experience like a very, very gritty milkshake. The unincorporated sugar grains started to kind of hurt my tongue. I have a low tolerance for very sweet things and I could only manage a couple sips.

So that paints such a picture of what happened here. Has Ed been the kind of person who could really indulge in a nice warm cuppa before? Probably not. So Stede is teaching him about the aristocratic lifestyle, and they Simply Must have tea because tea parties and coming round for a cuppa are such a core aspect of upper-crust social life. Stede invites Ed to make it how he likes, and...

Well, Ed can't stand the stuff. It's bitter and thin and the tea dregs are unappealing to him. So he just keeps adding sugar until he can stand it, and he winds up with seven. Plus a dash of milk, to tie everything together. And THEN, Ed can understand why this is a nice indulgence.

And what does Stede do? He doesn't remark on it. He remembers how Ed likes it. Ed hates tea, he just likes sugar, but Stede's not going to tell him that, because Ed enjoys having tea with him. He'd never dream of making fun of Ed for this. And that's what love is all about, really.

[simonrileysfavteacup]

Peace

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gf!reader

Word count: 1K ish?

Warnings: skinny dipping, simon being fine while he chops would, manly muscles, manly tasks, simon who works all the time

Summary: With Simon, vacations were always rare, so you soaked up every chance you got.

(This is the lake I imagined, the one from The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Snakes and Songbirds, this includes the cabin where Coryo finds the gun)

Vacations with Simon were always hard. 

He’d always be working. All the time. He’d come home from a mission just to go on another one the next day. If he wasn’t on a mission, he’d be writing reports or working out in your home gym. Never gets a break. 

So when you invited Price and his wife over to dinner, you secretly begged for a leave for Simon to take him on a vacation. Price, being the good dude he is, obviously says yes and sends Simon off on a vacation for three weeks with you. 

And here’s a lil headcannon, Simon hates sand. And heat. So no tropical areas. :( No bahamas trip for you.

More so, you settled for a little cabin, deep in the woods, in British Columbia, Canada. And yeah, it sounds lame, but it was perfect for you and Simon. 

One bedroom cabin, a fireplace in the living room, and a cozy bed with the best duvet. It featured a little tiny shower that you and Simon shrunk into every morning, mostly just to be close to each other because the shower was half the size of Simon. And one of Simon’s favourite additions, an axe for wood chopping. The cabin faces out to a large lake. Everything was concealed by trees, leaving just you and Simon alone. There were no distractions, just the very-much-needed break. 

Simon would wake up every morning to chop wood, his way of working out. His exact statement was that the woods were peaceful and the swinging with the axe was good for his arms. And he did it shirtless, of course, just as he did when he worked out at home. 

Toned chest, glistening with sweat in the early morning of the hours, hands gripping the axe he grew to love in the last week, grunting every time he brought the axe down. 

You stood at the entrance of the cabin, leaning against the doorframe, coffee mug in hand as you stare at him, practically eye-fucking him. He was panting, a pile of wood sitting next him, fully chopped. You had no purpose for it but the fireplace, which you kept lit every evening as you two ate dinner. Simon’s grunts were reaching every nerve of your body. He looks too damn good for it to be 6 A.M. in the morning. 

“Do you want tea?” You speak up, breaking his focus on the wood. Your eyes stay on his abs as he looks up, chuckling softly. 

“Would love a cuppa, lovie,” he looks back down at the wood. “Admirin’ the view, hm?”

“You look really good, honey,” you bite your lip to hold back a giggle. 

“Bet I do,” he moves back to chopping his wood. 

“Don’t we have enough fireplace wood?” you tilt your head, still staring at him. 

“Just havin’ fun with it now, lovie,” he shrugs. “Helps me stay in shape, migh’ as well.”

“You don’t need any help staying in shape, honey. You look fine to me,” you giggle. 

He chuckles softly, “Ya keep feedin’ me them deserts and I’ll end up bigger than the lake.”

“You love my deserts,” you giggle. 

“Damn righ’, I do,” he looks up at you and smirks. 

“When you’re done, lumberjack, come inside. I’ll make breakfast, ‘kay?” you smile. He nods and continues his chopping. 

You head back inside, pulling a pan out from one of the cabinets, preparing a batch of scrambled eggs. You make Simon a cup of tea as well, setting it aside for him. He comes in moments later, sighing as he stretches. He grabs a plate of the eggs, taking his cup and sitting down on the couch before patting the spot next to him. 

You sit down next to him. “You wanna go for a dip in the lake after this?”

“Always,” he smiles. 

The two of you eat in silence, taking in the environment around you. The soft rustling of the trees, the chirping of birds, the smell of fresh air, and the sight of the sunlight filtering through the windows. Staying in a cabin in the middle of the forest wasn’t ideal, but it was perfect to you. The quiet solitude of nature and the fresh air provide a peaceful refuge to recharge and rejuvenate. The sounds of nature, from the songs of birds to the gentle whispering of the wind, create a harmonious cacophony that calms the mind and spirit. 

It was truly perfect to the two of you. 

You left both your dirty dishes in the sink to worry about later, heading outside to join Simon, who’s already stripped down to his boxers. He jumps off the dock and into the lake, making the loud splash of the water echo through the empty forest. You follow him, stripping off your dress, jumping into the lake in just a bra and panties. 

 The satisfying splash as you break the surface and the sensation of cool water against your skin, followed by the refreshing feeling of weightlessness as you glide through the water. The taste of salt on your lips and the sensation of the sun's warmth upon your face as you emerge from the water, breathless and invigorated. Simon’s arms wrap around you, holding you flush against his chest, smiling. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you whisper back, biting back a giggle as he pulls you underwater with him again. 

The two of you spend at least an hour in the water, giggling and splashing each other with water, suppressing loud laughs. When you finally decide to get out, Simon pulls you in for a kiss, heading into the cabin to grab a blanket and a towel. He dries you off before drying himself, motioning for you to lie down on the blanke the laid out like a picnic. He lays down on his side, pulling you in to lie your head on his stomach. He intertwines your hands, kissing your temple. 

“Thank you for forcing me to come on this trip,” he smiles. 

“Thank you for putting up with my bullshit and always doing whatever I say,” you giggle. 

“Always will, lovie,” he kisses your temple again. You look back up at the sky, squeezing his hand. 

This.

This was what peace felt like.