#miserable sod

[taintedarabesque]

on a scale from 0 to Morrisey how miserable are you ?

[uuupart]

my three precious darlings

[bea-beast2007]

I know I said I would post other fandoms + my oc stuff but I had this come to mind earlier

Idk if anybody had this idea before but here’s my idea for Bugbo’s parents

Their names are Arthur and Mildred because I wanted to choose the most British names imaginable

Also Theres Alt Text because my handwriting is terrible

[orcelito]

Made it home safe 👍

Today is not a good day.

[soloisfine]

Just finished episode 4 of the 3rd season of the boys and as an enormous Hughie Campbell stan I find it fucking ironic how he started making the stupidest decisions as soon as he consciously decided to do things Butcher's way.

[thedawner]

Fond of Nilus, the tiefling druid stooge.

[dr-george-ordell]

Not scp x hetalia related but my third attempt at drawing with colour

[ellecdc]

this may be a bit left field from what you were asking but i had this idea in my head for awhile of remus being told he couldn't have children because of the whole werewolf thing and reader gets pregnant and he instantly thinks he's been cheated on and it couldn't be his because of what he was told from a young age (his self esteem and insecurity that he isn't good enough etc. flaring up!! not that he truly believes she would but he's spiralling and it's the only explanation right????) and it takes lily and the marauders to knock some sense into him and realise he's been given a little miracle and a chance at having a family like he's always wanted!!! (i imagine being told he couldn't have children put the whole werewolf thing into perspective and meant he secretly yearned for it as it was another thing it had taken from him)

sorry this was long, if it's rubbish please ignore, it's why i've anonned!!!

poor angsty moony hahahaha. thanks for your request!

Remus Lupin x Black!reader who tells him she's pregnant, and he doesn't respond well [1.7k words]

CW: pregnancy, implied belief of cheating/adultery with a happy ending, background jilypad because I wanted to

“Wait, wait, wait.” James interrupted, holding his hands up from the table as Lily folded her lips over her teeth like she was working over time trying not to laugh. “Hang on. Are you telling me-”

“This is not funny, James.” Sirius hissed, glaring daggers at Remus though his hold on Harry in his arms was as soft as ever.

A giggle escaped Lily’s lips, though she was quick to slap a hand over her mouth when Sirius turned his burning gaze to her. 

“You’re telling me” James continued “that your girlfriend-”

“My sister.” Sirius interrupted.

“- that you love-”

“More than life itself, right.” Remus continued.

“- told you she was pregnant, and you…” James trailed off, clearly waiting for someone else to jump in here. 

“Came here?” Lily tried.

“Ran off like a sod?” Sirius muttered. 

“Told her you…didn’t believe her?” James offered.

“It’s impossible!” Remus argued.

“Do you not fuck your girlfriend, Moons?” James drawled then, causing Sirius to moan very dramatically as he held his son against his face as if he couldn’t even look at Remus right now; Harry, for his part, found that hilarious and started pulling at his papa’s long hair. 

“Sod off, James.” Remus groaned miserably as he ran his hands over his face. “It’s impossible, werewolves cannot procreate.”

It was Lily who asked “Says who?” 

“Just… everyone.”

“Everyone?” James asked, his eyebrows rising over the frames of his glasses.

“Yes, James, everyone.” Remus hissed. “The…healers-”

“Would have told your parents they had ‘no idea what your future holds’.” Lily explained simply. “What lycanthrope have they studied to know if that’s true or not?”

“There has never been any cases of a werewolf successfully procreating, Lily.” Remus explained simply.

“So just because it’s never been bloody written down, you think it could never happen?” Sirius spat then, looking around Harry’s little body who still had a fistfull of his hair to level Remus with a look. “So, what? She’s lying? She’s making it up? She’s cheating on you?”

The room fell quiet as everyone, even Harry, turned to look at Remus as they waited for a response.

“Remus.” Lily breathed out in disbelief when he didn’t provide one.

“You didn’t…” James sighed.

“Remus fucking Lupin, I swear to Merlin if you-”

“What was I supposed to say!?” Remus exploded then. “I- it’s supposed to be impossible. Werewolves cannot or do not procreate, they cannot be parents, they-”

But his excuses sounded feeble, even to his own ears. Lily was right; no studies as such have ever been conducted on lycanthropes. Sirius was right; there was no evidence because it had just never been written down. James was right; Remus does fuck his girlfriend. 

Remus had always assumed this was just one more thing that his lifelong curse had stolen from him; the ability to ever have a family of his own. 

Although, there were a lot of things Remus’ lycanthropy was supposed to have taken from him, yet….

Yet, he had two parents who loved him unconditionally and did everything they could for him, even though there were no rule books or how-to guides on raising a werewolf child. Yet, he had been accepted to attend Hogwarts at age 11, even though he never expected to be able to attend school with his affliction. Yet, he met four boys on the train who turned out to be his roommates, who turned out to be his friends, who turned out to be his pack, even though they didn’t have to be. Yet, he found himself a precious love who loved him in return, even though you were raised to lift your nose at anyone who wasn’t a pureblood, even though you were raised to harbour disdain for creatures and beasts alike, even though you were a Black and he was a Lupin, even though you were a Slytherin and he was a Gryffindor, even though….even though. 

Remus wasn’t supposed to have any of this, yet here he was. And he wasn’t supposed to ever have children of his own, yet…

“Oh Godric.” Remus breathed out as he sat back in his chair; both hands over his mouth in a silent gasp as he stared unseeingly past his three friends. 

“You know Sunny loves you to the stars and back, Remus.” Sirius started earnestly. “And the fact that you think she could have ever betrayed you like that-”

“I didn’t.” Remus hissed. “I don’t.”

“I know, Rem.” Lily offered, even though Sirius didn’t seem all that convinced. “It’s just what you thought made the most sense at the time.” 

But it really didn’t make sense at all. The thought would have absolutely never crossed his mind in a million years if he hadn’t been told his entire life that this was just impossible for him. 

“Have you wanted kids, Rem?” James asked quietly then, and Remus’ eyes came back into focus as he looked at Harry.

Harry, who was the spitting image of James, who had Lily’s eyes, who had Sirius’ mischief. Who was loved beyond measure and loved his parents exactly as they were.

Did he want kids? He certainly liked kids. He loved Harry. He thinks he’d be a good dad… that is, if it weren’t for the lyca-

“I can see where your mind is going, Remus.” Lily interrupted his spiralling then. “We didn’t ask if you should be a dad - which is not even a question, by the way - we asked if you wanted to be.”

“Yes.” Remus whispered; the answer came so easily. 

“Alright then.” Sirius declared, sitting Harry up as if they both meant business. “So let’s pretend - even for a sodding second - that Y/N did end up pregnant by some random imaginary bloke that doesn’t exist. This would mean that she apparently had many options, yet she came running to tell you. She’s pregnant, and she wants to do this with you.” 

And if Remus didn’t feel like an arse before, he certainly felt like one now. He knows you would never do that to him, of course he does. But even if you had the choice of 100 other men to father your child - all of whom would be able to provide for you better, who wouldn’t risk the safety of your child every month, who wouldn’t risk passing that curse down to your child, who wouldn’t make their life harder by simply being the offspring of a werewolf - you wanted it to be him. You wanted Remus. 

The good, the bad, and The Wolf - you wanted him all. 

“I think you need to go talk to your girlfriend, Moons.” James offered with a hopeful smile, and Remus couldn’t agree more. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The flat was quiet when Remus stepped through the floo; the entire space seemed spotless, evidence of your anxious tidying taking over after Remus took off.

Remus tried to tamp down the guilt and shame working its way up his throat as he took off his shoes and jacket, placing them in their designated spots lest he disrupt the perfect kept house you’ve worked on all afternoon (and well into the evening, now that Remus could see that the sun was long gone from the sky). 

He found you in the living room at the desk bent over a book and some papers, and Remus found himself smiling without his consent when he was brought back to late nights in the Hogwarts library; his grades profiting greatly simply because he wanted to find any excuse to be in your company. He’d find out later that you were doing the same. 

You looked over at him expectantly, and Remus felt his heart splinter at the cautious, uncertain expression on your face. It was as though you were afraid of him, like you weren’t sure what he was about to do or say. 

“Dove?” He ventured. “Can we talk?” 

“That’s what I’d been trying to do, Remus.” You merely whispered, and Remus can’t remember the last time he’d ever heard you sound so small.

He made for you immediately, crouching down beside your chair so that he could look up at you. “I’m so sorry, baby, I-”

“And you accused me of whoring around and ran out on me.” You added, and the final fracture split Remus’ heart in two when he saw your eyes well with tears. “Remus, I would never-”

“I know dove, I know.” Remus insisted, reaching up to take your face in both of his, quickly wiping at the tears falling from your lower lashes. “I know you wouldn’t. I know that, I just- I didn’t think it was possible for me, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to have kids.”

You sucked in a shuddering breath and closed your eyes, clearly trying to will away the onslaught of emotions. Remus felt like scum of the earth. 

“I never imagined I’d ever get a chance like this.” He whispered. 

“Well,” you offered primly, and Remus could tell you were working hard to imbue a certain levity to your words, “I’m not sure that you should, now. Taking off on me like that.” 

Remus knew you were joking, but he sighed at you as he pouted his lips. “M’so sorry, dove.”

“You should be.” You agreed, though you leaned forward to press your forehead against his. 

The two of you sat in silence for some time; you evening out your breathing, and Remus drawing circles with his thumbs where they rested on your arms as his legs started to cramp. 

“Are you really going to have my baby?” He whispered then; the weight of the words finally settling somewhere deep within his soul, though not unpleasantly. 

“Well, yes, but I’m not going to do it on my own.” You responded, sitting up to look at Remus imploringly. “So what do you say, Lupin? Are you in or out?”

In, of course. All the way in; for as long as he lived, for as long as you wanted him, he was in. He was all in.

[emeritusemeritus]

Hi! I love your writings! I’m obsessed with jealous fred weasley so if you could write a one shot with whatever you’d like :)))

(If you hate just ignore pls lol)

Hi love! Thank you so much, this has been a lot of fun to write. I’ve been sat watching Goblet of Fire, took one look at Fred in this scene and knew it just had to be long hair Freddie because it makes me feral. Hope you enjoy! 🖤

Warnings: bit of swearing, mild sexual references. Fred gets jealous and a little possessive. Talks of marriage. Sorry McLaggen I needed a villain.

Word count: 1k

A cold heart and a warm jumper

Jealousy wasn't something Fred Weasley ever felt.

He knew his family weren't rich, that they'd never have the best of anything or anything new in abundance and so from a young age, he'd made peace with it and learned not to envy others. Being one of seven kids and most importantly a twin in a family that was already stretched both financially and emotionally, he'd had to learn to share, virtually from the day he was born. He'd shared clothes, toys, his room, practically his entire life with George, even a uterus and placenta, though he didn't care to think about that.

But now, watching Cormac McLaggen leering over the one thing in his life that he absolutely refused to share, he felt the unfamiliar rise of the green eyed monster throughout his entire body.

Godric he hated that slimy little prick. With his stupid blonde curls and the smug little smile that Fred really wanted to slap off his face right now, regardless of his rich daddy and any consequences that would inevitably follow.

The common room was a blaze with celebration, Harry’s victory in joint first place of the first task had been wildly celebrated by each and every Gryffindor and even Ron had joined in after being such a miserable git for a month. But even with the chaos and jubilant celebration around him, as well as a decent profit they’d made on taking the bets during the task, Fred was not in the mood for a party.

Despite it being the end of November, Fred’s striped jumper and beige overcoat suddenly felt like they were suffocating him as he stared at the corner where McLaggen leaned suggestively ogling his girlfriend, reaching out to touch her arm and shifting ever closer to where she stood. He was getting hotter by the second, burning up with anger and jealousy as he looked in disgust at the slimy sod. Who did he think he was to be stood so close to Fred’s girl? They’d been together years, it was hardly like nobody knew that she was his.

But then he heard your girlish giggle and his blood seemed to run cold. You were openly laughing with him, playing with a strand of your hair and making no move to shut down his advances.

He’d had enough and was just ready to march over and make Cormac choke down a puking pastille when he watched you take off your coat, throwing it over the chair behind you and taking a step back to avoid Cormac’s over familiar hands as they reached out for you again. Fred’s heart pounded as he looked at what you were wearing so proudly, his quidditch jumper with his surname displayed right across the back. He remembered now how you’d complained of being cold just before you left to view the task and he’d nipped up to his dorm to retrieve a warm jumper for you. He knew it wasn’t the nicest sweater, there was a hole in the left armpit that had been stitched back together with a completely different coloured thread and a great big pull in the fabric on the right sleeve but you’d worn it with pride. Your face had lit up when he held it out to you and you’d tried to sneakily smell it with a cute smile before you threw it over your head, tying up your hair so you could show off his surname now displayed across your back.

Watching you now, he realised how wrong he’d been. You were inching away from McLaggen, body turned away and looking for any sign of escape, the fingers in your hair a simple mechanism to block him from reaching out to you.

Fred was on his feet in seconds, almost trampling a load of first years who were sat in the pathway as he stalked over to where you were standing, his eyes fixed upon the letters across your back.

“Weasley,” he whispers in your ear as a greeting, immediately stepping behind you and placing his hand on the curve of your bum. You jump slightly at the sudden intrusion but recover quickly as you realise it’s him behind you. Fred watched as a smirk blossomed across your face as you realised, pressing your hips back just slightly as a form of acknowledgment, backing up into his hand which he squeezed, getting a good grip of your bum.

“This looks very good on you,” he whispers again into your ear, bending down just enough so that only you could hear how deep and breathy his voice had become. He reaches out with his left hand to glide it over your hip to your waist, tugging on the fabric of the jumper just enough that you’d understand exactly what he meant.

“The jumper or the name?” You smirk, earning another squeeze of your bum for your cheekiness, both of you openly ignoring McLaggen who is still trying to talk to you.

“Both,” Fred smirks, the tip of his nose catching on your hair, his lips moving dangerously closely to the smooth skin of your neck.

“If you don’t mind McLaggen, me and the Mrs have business to attend to,” Fred says suddenly, not even looking at Cormac who briefly considers if he does mind or not, mouth opening as if he is about to protest.

Fred doesn’t even give him a chance and simply throws his right arm around your shoulders and pulls you away with a shit eating grin on his face. His hand slips back towards your bum as you’re walking away, his hand slipping into your jeans pocket as he pulls you close to him, asserting his place. He can’t help but smirk as he directs you towards the stairs to the dorms, knowing that Cormac is still watching the pair of you and he takes a sick pleasure in knowing the last thing McLaggen will see of you tonight is Fred’s hand in your jeans as he takes you to his dorm; with his surname plastered in large letters across your back. The same surname that will be yours in just a couple of years, if Fred gets his way.

Maybe he should invite Cormac to the wedding.

[suugarbabe]

omg ok ok ok, I love your Sirius, so, I'm wondering if you could write a sirius x fem!reader who is maybe the grumpy to his sunshine? he's the one who is always super flirty and outgoing and the life of the party, and she would sort of rather die but begrudgingly puts up with it for him? OH but maybe one day she has a bad day and he gets to see a softer side of her 🥹 IDK idk I'm too excited to request this is so bad sorry my love xoxoxoxo kisses for youuuu

I am *living* for this okay. l i v i n g. because Sirius is my sunshine to my grumpy. I am the grumpy reader. okay let’s do this baby. kiss kiss kiss yoooou <3

Opposites attract right? At least that’s what others seemed to deem as the explanation for your relationship. Sirius was in a category all his own as far as you were concerned, but that category was nearly the opposite of where people would place you. Sirius was a people person, it came so easily to him it was like he never even had to try. It annoyed you to no fucking end when you first met him.

Being a descendent of the most noble and ancient House of Black had its advantages. Like incredibly sharp cheekbones, beautiful alabaster skin that contrasted perfectly with onyx locks and eyes so deep and blue you could drown in them. Sirius exuded this energy that seemed to pull people towards him; like he had his own force field. He could walk into a room and everything shifted, like he breathed extra life into the area and everyone was desperate to live.

Most people when asked about you would say you were…short-tempered. Your housemates tended to steer clear of your presence. Which was fine with you because you were easily annoyed by most of them. Ravenclaws were known for being know-it-alls and truthfully you found it rather repugnant. Thankfully you had Pandora as company. Usually her overly sweet demeanor would drive you insane, but you knew more than the rest. Being a Rosier sorted into Ravenclaw essentially meant she was the black sheep of her family. But that seemed to be your soft spot.

Pandora would tease that this was why you started falling for Sirius. Despite your more grumpy demeanor, you were never quite as grumpy when it came to Sirius. Hearing the ins and outs of what was going on over breaks from Pan made you want to take care of him.

The first time Sirius brought you around the rest of the marauders it was not without sideways glances. “Er, Pads, you seemed to have picked up a shadow,” James nodded towards your frame just behind Sirius. “Sod off, Potter,” you’d grumbled, Sirius’s palm big and flat against your back moving in slow circles. “S’alright love, he’s just teasing. Be nice, Prongs or she’ll hex you into next week and I won’t be able to stop her.”

“Not that you’d try to stop her, would ya mate. I’m Remus, but all these miserable gits call me Moony,” Remus gave a small fingered wave as he plopped onto the couch ceremoniously. He would eventually turn into the one that’d help you gang up on Sirius, if ever needed.

On this particular night, though, you were feeling just…down. It wasn’t often you felt like this, despite outward appearances. However when this feeling did hit you, there was only one person that could fully get you out of it. You knew that the Gryffindors were having their annual Halloween party. Which meant if you wanted to find Sirius that’s where he’d be.

You had of course agreed to come to the party ages ago; much to do with Sirius begging and pouting his pretty pink lips and sucking you in with his pretty blue eyes. Sirius had insisted that costumes were required, “Even for an angel like yourself” which earned him a particularly large eye roll. Thus, you threw on some fishnet tights and a black minidress with your signature black boots. Atop your head a small pair of black cat ears, thanks to Pandoras charm work.

She was dressed as an actual angel, charmed halo floating above her nearly white blonde locks. Any muggle would think they were truly hallucinating if they would have seen her. You greeted the fat lady with the password, “Hiddlypunks,” and she swung open. Within the first few steps one would be none the wiser. But two steps into the commonroom and the barrier was broken, music and singing and murmuring filling the room.

“Drinks yes? Please yes,” you nodded at Pandora who found her way to to the drink table to create what you were hoping were very strong concoctions. You didn’t need to look around in order to find him. That magnetic pull leading you closer and closer until you heard the boisterous laugh of Sirius Black. You were quiet in your approach, not drawing any attention to yourself on purpose. Even though you yearned for his touch you knew how much he enjoyed entertaining and didn’t want to interrupt.

Remus spots you of course, the observant bastard. He throws a playful wink in your direction; you responding with a middle finger and a forced smile. Sirius is in the middle of recalling “a truly amazing play, great play” from the last quidditch match, but Remus’s low chuckle from your display of affection towards him causes your boyfriend to turn around in search of who could have possibly pulled attention away from him.

His furrowed brows disperse as you catch his sights and smile lights his face, “Well, hello there, Kitten.” You give a weak smile in response, “Hi Siri.” His brows are furrowed once more. The others try to greet you but immediately you’re swept away to a farther corner of the room. Sirius swirls his wand around you both, muttering a quick muffliato, coating you both in silence. “Okay, out with it what’s wrong?” Sirius’s hands were laid gently on your waist, head dipped down to force your avoidant eyes to keep contact with his. “Come now, pet. You know I can’t do anything without knowing what’s wrong,” he urged, giving your waist a small squeeze.

You met his eyes and yours immediately began to brim with tears. In an instant Sirius has engulfed you, one hand grasping your head and holding you close to his chest while the other wraps around your back, squeezing you as close to him as possible and hoping the pressure of his pull is soothing. His heart breaks ever so slightly at the muffled sobs against him. Your emotions seem to be everywhere but embarrassment is toping the list as you begin to pull away, aggressively wiping your face with the heel of your palms, hoping no one but Sirius is noticing you in this state.

"I-I'm sorry Siri, 've just..." you trailed off, choked breaths causing your intake of air to stutter. Sirius's touch has yet to cease, one hand cupping your cheek gently while the other finds solace in the dip of your waist, "Rough day, love?" You nod once, looking to the ceiling and willing any tears to fall back into your head instead of trailing down your face. "Alright, let's go," his head tilts towards the spiral staircase that would lead to his dorm.

You sniffle quickly, shaking your head, "N-no, I'll be okay. I'm not going to take you away from the party, Siri. Not gonna steal you from your friends like that." Sirius can't help but scoff, "Fuck my friends." You laugh a little at his brashness and the sound makes Sirius grin again, "There you are, love." He takes a quick peek over his shoulder, "Now. Let's just go tell the others we're going up, Remus will make sure we're left alone for a good few hours then, hmm?"

You nod, agreeing, knowing that there's no use in arguing with Sirius when he's made up his mind. His fingers laced with yours and the cool feeling of his rings are such a contrast the the heat in your body that it's calming. He gives your hand an extra squeeze as you approach the group. You decide to try and stay hidden behind Sirius, almost burying your face against his shoulder blade, barely peeking one eye out to see the others.

Sirius explains that he's feeling tired and wants to go back to the room with you. James does not look convinced in the slightest. He looks even more confused by your seemingly shy and reserved demeanor. He doesn't think he's ever seen you look so...vulnerable. Remus is the only person you make eye contact with and he gives you a simple wink and a nod. The reassurance from the smallest action making you sigh in relief.

It's almost like Sirius can feel you relax slightly, turning to you and asking if you're ready to go. You give a feeble nod and a shy wave to the others, most of which look a little skeptical but say no protests in return.

When you make it to his dorm Sirius immediately goes to his trunk, pulling out his favorite concert tee and handing it to you. You take off your outfit slowly, pulling his shirt over your head and letting it consume you, the additional scent of Sirius now enveloping your body and adding to your relief. Sirius changes himself and then pulls back the duvet, "In you go, pet."

You oblige, going and getting comfortable on your back. Sirius climbs in after you, crawling over your form and placing two soft kisses on either apple of your cheek before giving you the most gentle yet firm kiss. He rests his head against yours, asking you almost in a whisper, "D'you wanna talk about it?"

"No," your response so soft it would've been missed had it not been only you two in the room, "Will you just...lay on me?" Sirius kissed you softly once more, scooching down just enough to lay his head on your chest. He wrapped his arms around you, relaxing himself and allowing his full weight to now lay on top of you. The weight of your boyfriend was the grounding you needed, your breathing now finally able to even out.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Kindling

16/12: Fireplace and Face Fucking - Tom Bennett Word Count: 2.1k~ | Warnings: oral (m receiving), face fucking, slight hair pulling

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

A/N: Can be read as a standalone or a little continuation of Postcards.

She didn’t know it was going to be the most difficult time of year until it was. 

Christmas was always dear to her. Granda used to make a huge show of it, decorating the post office to the nth degree, gaudy and if not a little overboard for just the local. But it was one of the few things that miserable old sod put any effort into, and seemingly enjoyed. Although the job of shovelling the snow and chipping ice off the front steps was always down to her, to her dismay.

It would be the first year without him.

Since he passed away, even when Tom came around sometimes to cheer her up when he had a spare moment, it was too quiet. The radio seemed to be perpetually on the last few weeks, and in between seeing off the postman at the door with his usual round and greeting the regulars, she’d find herself just wandering in circles, kicking her pumps on the floorboards, wondering what she could do to spruce the place up. Make it feel less like a funeral home and more like it did when Granda was alive.

She was counting the till, counting in tens in her head when the unmistakable bell prompted her to lift her eyes to the entrance. The sharp winter wind rattled the old glass window, and in stepped Tom Bennett, his frame filling the small post office like he’d never left.

He stood there, looking quite pleased with himself as he held the smallest christmas tree she’d ever seen in one hand. She had to press her lips together, not wanting to offend him.

“Bit small, isn’t it?”

Tom grinned, the sort that had once made her weak in the knees when he strolled into the post office in his navy blues. Now, bundled in a thick wool coat with a scarf looped haphazardly around his neck, he looked less like the gallant sailor and more like a man who’d just wrestled a tree out of the back of a van.

“Compact. Excuse you,” he corrected, stepping further in. Snowflakes clung to his hair, and his cheeks were ruddy from the cold. He leaned the poor looking tree against the front desk, bracing it then with both hands, ungloved she noted.

“It’ll look nice in the corner. Once we’ve decorated,” she smiled.

He raised an eyebrow at her, his lips quirking into a grin. “That’s the spirit, postie.”

“And what exactly was your plan if I said no?” she asked, organising the coins she had counted away.

“Would’ve camped out here until you gave in,” he said without missing a beat. “Might’ve sung a carol or two to win you over.”

She rolled her eyes in good fun, watching as he shrugged out of his coat and hung it over the back of the chair behind her. The room immediately felt smaller, warmer, as if his presence had filled all the empty corners. She felt him move in behind her, his chest brushing her back, his warmth, the faint scent of the cold clinging to him.

“What are you—” she began, but her words were cut off with a sharp gasp as his cold hands slipped inside the back of her blouse, pressing against the curve of her waist. “Tom Bennett! Your hands are freezing!” she exclaimed, jolting forward with a laugh, half outraged, half delighted.

He laughed and tightened his hold to keep her from wriggling away. “And you’re so warm,” he quipped, as if that justified his antics. His chest pressed against her back, solid and familiar, and she could feel the low rumble of his laughter against her spine.

She half-heartedly tugged his hands away, shifting in his hold to face him. Despite his behaviour, she couldn’t help the warm tug at her heart whenever she saw him this close, face to face. The softening of his blue eyes, the dark blonde hair that was styled from his face. She slung her arms over his shoulders, giving him a mocking stern expression.

“If you’re that cold, go sit in front of the fire like a normal person.”

Tom’s grin turned boyish, a spark of mischief lighting his eyes. “Oh, I could,” he drawled, leaning in just enough to close the space between them. “But then I wouldn’t get to steal all your warmth, now would I?”

“Hmm,” she hummed, feigning indifference, but even she couldn’t keep it up. She leaned down to take his icy hand, dragging him to the back room where the fireplace was lit. “Come on, before you turn into a block of ice.”

Tom followed willingly, his larger hand engulfing hers as they moved towards it. The fire crackled softly, their shadows large behind them dancing gently. She guided him to sit on the rug in front of the fireplace, and he settled himself down with a satisfied groan, stretching his long legs out in front of him and leaning back on his hands.

“Better?” she asked, kneeling down beside him.

“Much,” he replied, tilting his head to look at her with that easy grin.

Her eyes flicked, almost unbidden, to the sofa behind them. It sat in the corner of the room, its upholstery a little more worn than she remembered. And yet, it was impossible to forget that night, Tom’s first leave in months, the unanswered letters, the deep, burning need…

Her blush deepened, and she quickly turned back to the fire, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

But Tom, of course, noticed everything. His grin turned sly, his head tilting slightly as he followed her gaze. When his eyes landed on the sofa, realisation dawned, and his smile grew wicked.

“Well, well,” he drawled, leaning closer to her. “I was wondering why you went all rosy just now. Taking a little trip down memory lane, are we?”

“Don’t you dare.”

“It's alright, love. It's one of my favourite memories too. If not my favourite,” he winked, and she could no longer blame the heat in her stomach on being sat in front of the fire. 

“Stop it,” she smiled bashfully.

“It's definitely seen better days,” he joked, “do you reckon we broke it last time?” he asked, getting up and dragging himself over to the battered old thing.

“Tom, don't—”

He settled onto the sofa with a satisfied sigh, looking up at her. "Reckon it's taken a beating from us both," he teased, settling back against the cushions.

She shook her head, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. She was about to call him an idiot when the cheeky glint in his eyes caught her attention. His gaze slid down her body, pausing with a knowing flicker as he leaned forward.

“You know, you look good from this angle.”

“Tom.”

“What?” he asked innocently, though the slow, smug smile spreading across his face was anything but.

“Don’t you ‘what’ me,” she said, trying to sound stern, though the warmth spreading through her chest made it difficult. She shifted across the floorboards, her hands sliding up his calves as she rested her cheek against his knee, looking up at him through her lashes.

Tom’s smirk faltered, his shoulders stiffening ever so slightly as he sat up straighter. She could see the moment her boldness caught him off guard, his breath hitching just enough for her to notice.

All the same, his hands were restless as they always were. And his hand slid over his leg to cup her face in his palm, his thumb running across her lower lip. She could tell by that look, that signature look, like a thought he had yet to speak aloud. The look he gave her when the rest of the world fell away.

“You know what you’re doing,” he murmured, his voice quieter. His thumb lingered, brushing over her lip again as his eyes searched hers.

“Do I?” she replied softly, her tone teasing despite the way her own breath had turned shallow. 

She righted to kneel between his legs, gently nudging them apart to sit between them, her hands sliding up to his thighs, the fabric of his trousers rough against her fingertips, feeling the muscles flex under her touch the closer she came to where he needed her most.

Tom's eyes darkened, watching. “You have a talent for this, love. Driving me mad, that is.”

She smirked, reaching for the buckle of his belt sat snug in his trousers loops. His hips shifted to aid her as she pulled the leather loose, slow, annoyingly unhurried.

Her fingers paused, her eyes flicking up to his as she tilted her head. “You sound awfully sure of yourself for a man about to beg,” she teased, her voice soft but dripping with mock innocence.

His laugh was low, rumbling in his chest. “Beg? Me? Sweetheart—”

Whatever witty remark he was about to make disappeared the moment her hand slid lower, grazing him through the fabric of his trousers. His words faltered, his breath catching in a way that sent a ripple of satisfaction through her.

“That’s what I thought,” she said softly, her tone still playful as she worked the buttons of his trousers, enough to free him into her palm. Her lips ghosted over him in tiny, barely-there kisses, each one deliberate, maddeningly light. She could feel the heat of him, the slight shudder in his thighs, and it sent a thrill through her.

She'd never tire of his scent. How much he needed her. Evident by the fact that merely five minutes of teasing had him rock hard and ready.

“Love,” he rasped, “you’re killing me.”

“Good,” she murmured, her voice feather-light, teasing, before laying another soft kiss along his length. Her tongue darted out between her lips, trailing a line from the base of him to the sensitive tip, before her lips parted to take him in.

Whatever quip he had died in his throat, replaced by a guttural sound that sent heat spiraling low in her belly. His fingers slid into her hair, and his grip tightened, his hips jerking slightly as she moved, her rhythm slow and deliberate, savouring the way he unravelled under her.

“Christ,” Tom hissed, his head tipping back as his free hand gripped the armrest of the battered sofa, knuckles white.

She glanced up at him through her lashes, her gaze locking with his. The sight of him undone, his flushed cheeks, his parted lips, his eyes heavy with desire. This was her favourite Tom Bennett, she decided.

She whined around him, feeling his grip in her hair unyielding, his hand guiding her mouth on him faster than her pace originally allowed.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice strained, but his hips pushed forward, seeking more. She let him, her hands steadying herself against his thighs as he took over, his control slipping entirely.

His restraint unravelled with every thrust of his hips. His breaths were short, ragged, each one punctuated by a deep. Her throat worked to take him, her nails curling into his legs as the force of him overwhelmed her, but she didn’t pull away.

When he climaxed, it was with a low, broken growl of her name, his grip tightening briefly before he stilled, his body trembling as he released into her mouth. She stayed with him, taking everything he gave, her touch softening as his tension melted away.

As she finally pulled back, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, Tom slumped against the sofa, his head falling back as he caught his breath. But after a moment, his gaze shifted to hers, his expression softening.

“I got a bit carried away there. Didn’t mean to, you know, throttle you or anything,” his voice low and hoarse, his hand reaching out to touch her cheek.

She huffed a laugh, her lips quirking into a smile as she tilted her head into his touch. “You’re saying this now?” she teased.

His lips twitched into a small grin, though he still looked a bit sheepish. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

She smiled reassuringly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his lips as she straddled his lap where he sat. “No, Tom. You didn’t hurt me.”

Tom raised an eyebrow, a cheeky spark lighting up in his gaze as he leaned back against the sofa. “Well, in that case,” he said with a smirk, his hand sliding around her waist to pull her closer, “how about we give this sofa another run for its money? I don't think you've warmed me up enough yet.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, though she couldn't deny that the same feeling was pulsing low in her stomach, forming a damp patch in her knickers.

“Fine. But if we break it this time, you're fixing it.”

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[slowd1ving]

Hey I could request for a Daniel Park who has a crush on Male! Reader ( fluff please )

27,000 WON ゜・DANIEL PARK

Armed with nothing but a headache and the fit of a wayward uncle, it's perhaps not your proudest moment. But it's a moment nonetheless: one the cashier in this stupid convenience store locks away in his pounding heart. aka first meetings with this guy /// anon this is more crack than fluff I'm sorry ..my idea of fluff is getting a free umbrella from a fumbling cashier because it's raining, I swear it sounded better and fluffier planned pairing: daniel park + male student reader warnings: mentions of alcohol, convenience store weirdo #1 + #2, tiny bit of violence, not a warning but shy daniel (in both bodies), more reader-centric than anything, pre training arc wc: 2.2k

LOOKISM MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Without an umbrella, Seoul was a miserable place tonight. Anyone else might’ve appreciated the dense shimmer of rain streaked neon with this fluorescent city, but your head throbbed miserably with the urban cacophony. Fuck. It was pointless stumbling out onto the grey asphalt when you were in such a shit mood. People swarmed and jostled, and you might’ve stepped on a foot or two as you leaned against the rough, corrugated shutters of a closed shop: barely holding on to both your sanity and your consciousness. 

Ironically, it was the detestable luminescent rods that saved you, beckoning your damp body towards a 24-hour convenience store. Warily, you peered at the cold lights—and they winked back. Winked, for their clinical flickering suggested sentience, or at least, some sort of quest window that was your beacon for safety from the downpour. 

Located on the very corner overlooking an alleyway, it really wasn’t very surprising that it was a magnet for trouble too—if you objectively looked back on the situation. Dark, dingy, smelly—all were generous, polite adjectives you’d use to describe the surroundings. 

You dodged the businessman puking up his guts on the off-white wall with a strained smile and a pained twitch in your eye. An abandoned soju bottle sloshed onto your shoes from his wobbling, and your day (night) became worse. Immediately. Biblically, your irritation surged to such unprecedented levels that he might’ve turned into a pillar of salt had you even an ounce of psychic talent.

Still, you stepped across the threshold smelling faintly of pollution and alcohol, but you were finally in one of Korea’s sanctuaries. Albeit soaked, shivering, and possibly seething with annoyance. The triple S threat of all bad days. 

“Shit,” you cursed as your phone rang in your pocket. Desperately juggling the two bottles of barley tea and a lychee ice cream onto the top of a freshly polished shelf, you scrambled for the device and swiped it multiple times with wet fingers. Stupid, stupid phone, you thought as it creaked in your incensed grasp. Answer the fucking call, damn it. 

The caller ID was as followed: stupid sod. The person on the other end? Well. 

“Where’d you go? The weather was supposed to be rainy all through the night, and you really went for a walk?” The voice on the other end of the line was just as irritating as ever. Nasally, too, like if a short dog suddenly started barking with a French accent. Your head throbbed just trying to imagine it, but you did suppose your younger sister was a migraine and a half. 

“Hungry,” you muttered. The brick-red plastic basket at the entrance clattered against the linoleum floor as you pulled it out single-handedly, but still you tried to keep your voice down during these witching hours. Those two barley teas bounced against crimson when you swiped the goods into your mode of carrying, and you thoughtfully threw two blue, cardboard packets of paracetamol into there too. Now, you were just missing some yellow to complete the haphazard primary colour wheel you cradled. 

“What? Can’t hear you.” Your eye twitched at her admission, and you just knew she was squinting at her phone with an open mouth as if she could simply inhale the frequencies instead. 

“—yeah I don’t have my ID, but you could let it slide, right?”

“Hungry,” you enunciated, clearly, for the dear sister struggling to hear a single word. “You happy? I’ll be back in twenty so just don’t burn the house down. And clean out your ears—I don’t want to give the poor guy working the graveyard shift a headache by talking loudly, especially since you’re a banshee on speaker.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she dismissed. “Get me those chips—those ketchup ones—and those peach candies. The knockoff ones, you know which ones.”

“With whose money? Get them yourself, you lazy bum,” you sighed exasperatedly. You were on, what, your last twenty thousand won? In this economy, too.  

“—what do you mean you can’t just let it slide? Hey! I look over 21, don’t I? C’mon man, don’t make this difficult.” There were snippets of conversation threading along into the spool of your own, and your eyes flicked upwards. One poor cashier in his green vest, hands clasped like God would possibly rescue him from this situation if he was pious enough. The other had an obnoxiously fake leather jacket draped over him—a wannabe thug if you ever saw one. 

“I sent you some, you broke shit. Like, you literally have a job, so there’s no need to be so stingy. Get me some lemon tea too,” she groaned. Her syllables dragged out abrasively, but you were more focused on the conversation unfolding in reality rather than how much you hated her voice. 

“I’m sorry, I really—I legally can’t sell you these products if you don’t produce a valid ID.” The clerk had guts, you had to admit. His voice cracked just twice in his answer, and though he was about half the size of the guy blocking the lottery ticket view, his shaking fists clenched and unclenched. You liked the look in his eyes: determined to stand on principle, even if it was just to some guy high off a power trip. 

“Okay, sure. Uhh, I might be back in forty. I just need to do something.” Words, as fickle as they were, drifted into nothingness while your eyes communicated your intentions. It was a pity you didn’t want to see her irritating face—you would’ve pressed the video call on Kakaotalk just so she could get front row seats to a beatdown. To be clear, the harrasser’s beatdown, not the harrassee’s. 

“Hey. What’s that supposed to mean? Hyung? Fuck, not this— don’t you dare hang up, we’ve literally got our first day tom—”

“Gross.” You made a face as you finally pressed the red button; she should’ve known you’d simply leave the call sooner if she used that term. Cooties. Idiot cooties. Dropping the phone into your pocket and her cavity-inducing requests (plus some cup noodles for your grumbling stomach), you set the basket a safe distance away before eyeing the cashier. 

You were quite the expert in miming and clownish arts, if you said so yourself. His face turned everything from unsettled to confused to hesitant in the span of two and a half seconds: pointing first at yourself emphatically; then to the man’s back as he stood waving his arms about; and finally making a fist and clenching it, all to really emphasise your point. Me. Him. I punch. 

You don’t know if he took it as a joke. You hoped he didn’t, but his eyebrows crinkled and uncrinkled like he was trying to figure you out. 

However, he didn’t exactly have the luxury of piecing together the implications. Not when the man became dangerously more incensed as he was asked to leave, and certainly not when he was about to grab the poor employee’s vest with those nasty hands of his. 

Gross. 

There was no time to hesitate and plead the heavens for forgiveness. 

“Hey man, there’s no need to be a dick to workers,” you gritted out, gripping both his arms in an ironclad grip that miraculously relieved some of your tension headache. Like some damn stress ball, except this was not satisfying at all as you felt the hair on his forearms shift together. Ew. Ewww. 

“Who the fuck are you?” His words sounded garbled, temples throbbing while you glared down at him. Get out. It was enough of a pain to move fast, let alone come up with an answer that didn’t sound corny. In a soaked hoodie, slippers and tracksuit bottoms, there was little you could say that wouldn’t make you stay up at night in embarrassment later on. 

“Shut up,” you instead bade, since you looked like an uncle in this particular outfit. Might as well give out life advice. “Don’t give yourself liver and lung problems, kid.”

The cashier’s lips might’ve twitched in that moment, and your own suppressed the agonising grimace that convulsed through your face. Fuck. Why was a high school student giving life advice to this dropout?

“Who the fuck do you think you are, huh?” He began rocking his body to build momentum and twist free—and twist he did. Through the air and right into shiny, slippery linoleum after he canted his hips sideways for a weak punch. And you threw him, plain and simple: collar grasped tight in your aching fists. 

Success. You did not hit anyone! And neither did you accidentally wreck any of these painstaking displays! You would not get chewed out with a slipper curve-balling straight at your head tomorrow!

“Are you—” the cashier began, but you gestured ‘wait’ with a splayed hand as you stared down at the half-conscious man at your feet sheepishly. Was he… alright? Any more of a brain shake and he could end up more stupid than he was five minutes ago, because how the hell would some random shopkeeper join the National Assembly and change the law? Just so this buffoon could buy drinks without an ID. 

“Hold on,” you muttered with a dented pride and some shame. “Let me just—”

You hoisted the guy’s cheap leather-jacketed arm around your shoulder and dragged his wobbling body out, too repulsed by the stench emanating from him to pay heed to his nonsensical babble. There. Now the businessman holed up outside by the bin would have a buddy for company. For good measure, you tossed a powerful mango body spray into the red basket to douse yourself with promptly. 

Awkwardly, you placed the miscellany onto the little table the thug had bracketed off—only this time the cashier’s opponent was some guy trying desperately to not wilt away on his feet. 

“Um. Sorry about that—” The apology was muffled through your hand dragging across your face—peeking through your middle and index finger at the guy in front of you. Pinned to his vest was a nametag you hadn’t spotted earlier: Daniel Park, noted in size 15 Latin characters and rounded hangul alike. “—Daniel Park.”

Gosh, you even bowed. “Please forget what I said to that guy, for my dignity.”

“Sure.” Once his voice had stopped shaking, it really was quite pleasant to the ears—though it currently shook with barely suppressed laughter. He scanned your items with a tiny, tiny smile. “Thanks for that. I might’ve gotten punched if you hadn’t been there.”

“Real pricks out here,” you grumbled. “No sense of shame or anything.”

“Ah,” he quivered for a brief moment, and you felt your ears heat with just how much you sounded like an ahjussi. 

“Forget I said that too,” you muttered mournfully: five stages of grief beginning and ending within you. “I promise I’m not that old.”

Plastic rustled as he pushed the bag towards you: “Twenty-seven thousand won.” And with it, a cheap polka-dot folding umbrella was also pushed your way with a self-conscious smile. You froze, and he floundered. 

“As a thank—as a thank you,” he waved, panicked. 

“Well, thanks.” You honestly were a little dumbfounded at this sudden good fortune. Maybe you’d get struck by lightning on the way home—you were tall enough that it could probably serve as a conducting rod if you tried hard enough. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

Just like that you were gone. Back into the neon rain of Seoul you walked, though this time it wasn’t as bad with a pattern over your head and acerbic ice wedged between a sheepish pout. 

・゜・

With a barely suppressed yawn, you stood loudly and proudly (silently and exhaustedly) before your new class. They looked like any other crowd of teenagers: gum surreptitiously being chewed, sneakers squeaking right against vinyl flooring, and a barrage of interesting fashion choices as befitted this department. Back to your own name, you introduced yourself while thinking of about a million other things you could’ve been doing. 

Speaking of your new classmates, they may have been looking at you with curiosity, but there was one particular guy who looked like he’d seen a ghost. Another pretty-boy you’d never done business with, but somehow—for some damn reason—he was staring like you’d shot a horse in front of him. Staring like he was the shot horse. Seriously. Paracetamol was limited in how far it could cure a headache. 

Your gaze met his, and he flinched. Who’s this guy?

Fuck. 

Daniel Park was done for. As you looked at him, he could feel his heart threaten to explode and spatter this whole classroom with veins and sanguine matter. Still wearing that same hoodie, still grinning lazily, and still sporting that confident expression like you could handle anything. His pen creaked in his tight grasp. 

By all heavens, this man was flushed red as soon as your unimpressed gaze met his—pink and suppressing the urge to hide his steaming face in his hands. 

Shit, shit, shit. 

・゜・

“Daniel, why the hell is your face so red?”

‘Are you sick?’

“He’s basically the healthiest out of all of us. Can’t be illness.”

“Okay so you agree it’s unusual then?”

“How odd. Maybe he’s come down with a fever.”

[silverameco]

Secret Relationship - @wolfstarmicrofic - 746 words

What Sirius didn't forseen, is that a secret relationship implied a secret break-up. Hidden love meant hidden sadness when it was all over. To be completely honest, he never thought it would end at all. He should have known, though, that he would find a way to ruin everything.

It had been a week. A week since Remus said I can't keep doing this. I don't want to be your secret anymore. A week since Sirius was stuck with the secret tears he shed every night, and the awful knowledge than the boy he loved was so close all the time - across the bedroom, the classroom or the dinner table - and yet so far away.

He didn't know what to do. They were so good together. Like friends, but better. All those secret meetings, passionate kisses behind closed doors and heated moments in the intimacy of silencing spells, all of it made Sirius feel more alive than ever. And now it was all over, because of him.

Nobody knew about them. Because he was so scared. Of the world, of himself. So scared he couldn't let himself take Remus' hand in an empty corridor, he couldn't show all the love he felt, couldn't tell the world about how amazing Remus was. But he wanted to. He really wanted to. He didn't even realize Remus drifted away from him, until it was too late. And now he didn't know what to do to fix it. He couldn't tell anyone about it, because nobody knew about them. Because it was like it never existed at all, even though it felt like the only real thing Sirius ever lived.

Well, it was without one James Potter to count on. He was cornered in the dorm one evening, before they went down to dinner. Sirius was sitting on his bed, James joined him and began talking before he could think about fleeing.

"Oi you wanker, what's up with you and Moony ?"

"Um, nothing ?" he felt himself flush with the blatant lie.

"Sirius. You've both been looking like miserable sods for days, and you're barely talking to each other."

Sirius didn't answer, and kept his eyes fixated on his hands, playing with a loose thread from his bedsheets. He didn't know what to say that wasn't a lie. It didn't deter James.

"You've both been so happy these past months. I thought-"

At that, Sirius raised his head to look at James, eyes wide and beseeching. Maybe he wanted someone to know, after all. "You thought ?"

"Well, that you were together."

He said it with a soft voice and a kind smile. Like maybe, it was all okay. Except it wasn't, because they weren't together anymore. He felt the tears welled in his eyes.

"Oh, Pads. What happened ?"

Next thing he knew, he was pulled into a hug, and Sirius was sobbing into James' chest.

"I- I ruined everything. Because I w-was so- so scared. And now he d-doesn't want me any- anymore."

"Padfoot, listen to me. I don't know what happened exactly, but I know that Remus has been looking at you like a lovesick idiot for years. You can't ruin that. I'm sure it's fixable, okay ?"

Before Sirius could answer, the door opened on no other than Remus himself. Sirius straightened himself, hastily wiping his tears.

"Er- sorry, I-"

But then their eyes met, and it was like Remus didn't know what he was going to say anymore. He seemed lost, looking at Sirius' teary face like it was hurting him. Sirius noticed that the circles under his eyes were darker than usual. He wanted to erase them. Before he could think about what he was doing, he got up and stepped in front of Remus.

"Moony." he said in a small, tentative voice, that he barely recognized as his own.

"Yeah ?"

Sirius took a deep breath. "I love you. I want to be with you. I'm sorry I made you feel like I didn't. I'm not sure I'm ready to tell everyone yet, but I don't want us to be a secret either. So, if by any chance, you still want me-"

And then, Remus' lips were on his, just like that. Like they've never been apart in the first place, because they shouldn't be. James was cheering obnoxiously behind them and it felt right, because they were too good together, loved each other too much to be a secret.

[empress-simps]

Tulips & Moony

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem! Reader CW: Sirius and Remus' banter and language (around 700 words) Summary: Remus tries to crochet you a tulip. Note: Hi darlings! I hope you like this mini fic; I love to crochet so why not make a fic out of it, right? Also, my uni's third term is about to end so I'll have more time to finish my WIPs! Hope you enjoy!

Remus loves knitted things— he considers the “unfashionable” grandpa sweaters that Sirius always complains about to be his prized possessions, not forgetting to mention how he’s got every neutral and earthy tones of cardigans arranged neatly in his trunk.

Yes, Remus is an avid fan of those things, but he doesn't really express any interest in making them from scratch.

So, imagine Sirius' surprise walking in on Remus who’s red in the face as he fumbles with a ball of yarn.

“Now Moony, when did you suddenly become a grandma?” Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow at the poor bloke who’s struggling looping a yarn.

“Since he learned Y/n loves to crochet.” James quipped from his bed, eating a chocolate frog that he most likely stole from Remus’ stash who was too busy to notice.

“He’s been at it for a good hm… three hours or so?” Peter shrugs, working on his charms essay in the corner of the room and trying to block out the strings of curses Remus grumbles out every now and then.

“Can you all be quiet? I’m trying to concentrate, you sods.” The werewolf grumbled, furrowing his brows and sticking his tongue out the side of his mouth in concentration. The sight was quite amusing. James lets out a laugh, getting off his bed. “Alright then, I’m getting quite tired watching you fail miserably,” Remus grunted, “Yeah, go bother someone else.”

Sirius plopped next to Remus, looking closely at his creation. “That’s a nice square you got there, Moony.” He hummed, nodding in approval at the wonky shape.

“It’s a bloody circle, you git.”

Sirius didn’t even try to stifle his laugh, “What are you trying to make anyway?”

“A tulip.”

“Doesn’t look like one though.”

“Thanks Pads, really. You’re such a great friend.” Remus rolled his eyes, sarcasm dripping from his tone as he repeats a certain stitch a couple of times. “Geez Moony, that’s alright now.”

“No, it’s not, the stitch looks weird and much looser than the others,” Remus complained.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, “You call that a stitch? Doesn’t look like it.”

"Yeah, the next time you'll see Poppy is because of the stitches you're gonna get because of me-"

Safe to say they both were kicked out to the common room by a very annoyed Wormtail.

It took about a week full of wonky, weirdly shaped tulips, and sleepless nights for Remus to successfully make a single red tulip.

Remus gripped the wrapped tulip tightly, the familiar feeling of nervousness eating up his system seeing you with your friend hanging out in the corner of the common room. He was pulled out of his thoughts by James showing him lightly.

“Look, now’s your chance, Moony.”

Sure enough, your friend left you on one of the couches to go Godric knows where, Remus didn’t really care that much if he’s honest. He even silently thanked your friend as his feet lead him to where you’re sitting. “Oh, Remus!” You looked up to see his tall frame, standing quickly as you could and offering him a smile. “Hi.” He grinned nervously before stretching his arm out that’s holding the crocheted Tulip to you, albeit a bit awkwardly but you on the other hand, find it endearing. “Erm… Is it for me?” You asked, chuckling nervously. “Ah, yeah! I made it, I heard you like to crochet so…” He trails off, scratching the back of his neck as blush dusted his cheeks. He saw how your eyes lit up, and your smile widening as you gently took it from his hand. “Woah…” You let out a soft gasp, examining the flower carefully. “Since when did you learn how to crochet?” “Just last week,” “Just last week?! Remus, you are gifted. I couldn’t even make something remotely similar when I was a month in crocheting.” You told him, hugging it close to your cheeks. “Thank you, Remus.” You smiled shyly, going on your tippy toes to place a kiss on his cheek before waving shyly to him and heading off to girls’ dormitory, leaving Remus who was still trying to process what just happened.

“Another one? I’ve already told you leather is much better!” Sirius threw his hands up in the air, entering their room to see Remus smiling to himself as he wore the cardigan you crocheted for him. “I wouldn’t say that if I were you, Pads.” Peter looked up from his and James’ game of exploding snap. “Why? It’s not fashionable!” “It’s made by Y/N, you wanker. Now shut your mouth before I hex you out of this room.”

[moonstruckme]

Mae rambles;

Hello love! First of all congratulations! I was thinking about reader baking a chocolate cake for Remus when he is feeling down. Maybe he hasn't told reader he is a werewolf and she just knows he likes chocolate and sees that he is not himself. I imagine he wouldn't want to share it at all lol.

Thanks 🤍

No you're so right !

the only person he'll share with is you, and he cuts you out a big slice and then (because he's feeling poorly) eats the rest of it himself with just a fork

he doesn't really have the energy to shower you in compliments and he's not prone to verbalising that stuff anyway, so while he does tell you it's great when he first bites into it, he makes sure you know the rest of the time by just obviously, thoroughly enjoying it

bless his heart he tries but there are crumbs all over the couch

sirius and james come over to check on him and they're like "what've you got there" and he's like "the best chocolate cake i've ever had in my miserable life. sod off" and then he won't let them near it

thanks you at seemingly random times throughout the next week, just because he keeps thinking about it and feeling overwhelming gratitude and affection

is too embarassed/guilty to ask for it again during the next full moon but he does call you to let you know he's feeling poorly and when you ask if he'd like some chocolate cake again he's like "yes!...um, only if it's convenient. but yes please"

[amaranthineghost]

ahh!! i think i speak on behalf of a lot of people when i say i need a part two, because that was so amazing and so beautifully written 🫶🏻🫶🏻

| I CAN'T NOT HAVE YOU, I'LL TRAVEL THE SOLAR SYSTEM TO MEND OUR STARS ( lando norris. ) |

ꕥ pairings: lando x reader

ꕥ parts: 1

ꕥ tagging: @gulphulp

ꕥ summary: they hadn't seen each other in months after their breakup, which left them in more misery than they thought. because now they'll do anything to make it work.

ꕥ authors note: I've been planning this in my head while writing the first part to this and i really like how this came out! going to work on christmas imagines and also finish up a request that I've been meaning to write!

ꕥ warnings: smut (at the end if you don't want to read that part), heavy angst (wanted to break some hearts), mentions of alcohol abuse and heavy drinking, mentions of eating struggles. not proofread the end.

IT'D BEEN MONTHS. months since he last abandoned her in their old apartment. since he drove off in his mclaren, punched the rearview mirror because he couldn't take it. to this day, he regretted it with every fiber of his being. he tried to convince himself for days on end, it was for the better. but was it really?

he was struggling. he couldn't sleep properly, staring at the dark ceiling, feeling beside him in the bed for another warm body, breaking his heart more every time he reminded himself that she wasn't here. it was cold.

it was cold despite the blistering summer heat of monaco, windows open to let in the heat. max swore at him every time because despite being rich, he was letting out cool air. but lando couldn't stand the cold. without her, his heart was frigid.

it worsened as the months grew colder and races passed him by. he was peforming fine, for now, but he'd reach his limit soon enough.

he hated when the air got bitterly frozen because this year, he wouldn't have her. he wouldn't have the heat that radiated off her to keep him warm.

he'd waste himself away with alcohol to forget the memory of leaving her. it turned his stomach in knots everytime to think of her watching him leave because they didn't know what to do to fix them. he wish he knew, he should've.

more often than not, he'd spent his nights on bathroom floors of the club, puking his guts out into the toilet, or sitting on the kitchen floor belonging his temporary roommate, max fewtrell. he sat against the tiled floor and wooden cabinets with a half-emptied bottle in his hands, tears on his face.

he'd sit there for hours, wasting away with every sip burning at his throat. he hated alcohol, but it was the only way to cope because he didn't want to remember any moment without her.

when he was nearly passed out on the floor, max would drag him up by his arms, forcing more than a few glasses of water down his throat. he'd grown familiar with his friend's new sulking.

max threw him on the guest room bed he didn't bother to make because he was miserable. he made it everyone's problem then. he'd leave his passed out friend a concoction of medicines to help with the hangover, he'd gotten used to this routine for the past couple of months.

when lando would stumble his way down the stairs, hands wrapped in his curls with a splitting pain through his head and a grimace on his face, all max would comment is "well, aren't you a pitiful sod."

lando rolled his eyes, groaning at the pain as he did so, sitting on a chair at the table across from his best friend, cringing at the resemblance of dinners with his girl—who wasn't even his anymore.

"jesus, mate, maybe you do need an intervention." he'd push his bowl of oatmeal towards lando, watching the expression on his face closely.

"I'm fine."

"clearly not," max scoffed, "mate, it's great havin' you here, but y'need to sober up."

"I will."

"you've said that last month, and the month before that, and the month before that." he shook his head, "I don't even get why you guys broke up."

lando groaned, rubbing his fingertips to his temple and chugging the water before he spoke, "it wasn't working out, 'ts for the best."

"for the best? are you kidding me?" he scoffed his friend's words, he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

to max, breaking up was for the worst. he could tell lando was in misery, and he'd guess she was the same, maybe worse. maybe he didn't know much, but he knew enough to know that they were meant for each other.

"I'm not kidding," he muttered, pushing the oatmeal around the bowl, his spoon clinking against the sides, "besides, we tried to fix it, 'n it didn't work."

he paused, "fix it 'ow?"

lando rolled his eyes, feeling the consequences of his actions through his head, mumbling under his breath, "we went out to eat."

"you're jokin' me?" he leaned forward, a look of disbelief and disappointment on his face, "you went out to eat? how's that goin' to solve anything?"

lando shrugged again, refusing to look max in the eye as he pushed the mush around in his bowl, picking out the bits of fruit throughout.

"you're a real geezer, y'know that?" he sighed deeply, leaning back into the stool as he sat looking at his idiotic friend, "it was a perfectly salvageable relationship, mate, and you just threw it away." he shook his head, his arms crossed against his chest as he leaned his head on one hand.

"you gonn' call me a muppet next?" he aggressively bit into the small strawberry.

"might as well because you're acting like one. now why did you break up with her?"

"she broke up with me." he quietly corrected him, though it didn't seem to shed light on the fact that they didn't try as much as they thought they did.

"then fight for your relationship!" max exclaimed, throwing his hands up in response, "did you ever talk about what was wrong?"

"we didn' have time to," lando admitted, "and we didn't know what to do." he pushed aside the bowl, having barely touched the food residing in it. it's gone cold now, just like him.

"make the time!" he suggested, jabbing his finger into the counter to make a point, "when was the last time you were alone together?"

"when we had dinner together."

max groaned, shoving his face into his hands, rubbing his closed eyes on his palms. lando was starting to give him a headache, "when was the last time you were alone together, no people, no cameras, no fans, just you and her doing something?"

"i 'ont know."

"jesus, man." his voice muffled into his skin as his face remained in his palms because of the idiocracy of his friend.

"well, what do you suggest i do then, max?" lando's tone got seemingly more aggressive and annoyed, the volume of his voice raising slightly.

"actually spend time with her! take her on holiday!" he suggested, matching energies.

"mate, I can't just ask her after months of not speakin'," lando's stool pushed against the floor as he stood up, he was agrivated. he harshly grabbed the bowl with the cold food and shoved it in the sink.

max turned in his seat, "right, so just give up and go back to drinkin' then?"

lando ignored the comment, it infuriated him because max was right. if he didn't find the solution to his problem, he probably would go back to getting blackout drunk. all in hopes that'd help forget his misery

he leaned against the sink with his arms, his head hung between his inner biceps with his eyes closed, taking deep breaths before asking, "how should I ask her then?"

"you truly are a muppet."

"christ, just help m'out here!" lando pleaded because he couldn't take it anymore. he'd been losing himself to however many bottles of alcohol that'd stacked in the bin and the amount of over-the-counter drugs he'd force down his burned throat. all to forget what seemed like an impossible fix, but all he needed was another person. just because they didn't know what to do doesn't mean others wouldn't.

and of course max would help. he just had to give lando a hard time for screwing up so badly because he would've never expected him to show up at his front door midday, stumbling drunk and muttering slurred phrases about her.

his first thought when he saw his disoriented friend was to wonder if something had happened, the obvious answer being, obviously. because lando barely drank. max knew how much he couldn't stand the taste and chasing burn so it wasn't often you'd catch him drunk, much less to this extent.

he knew it had to involve his girlfriend by the here-and-there words he could decipher from the rest, but he couldn't expect to get the full story from the utter nonsense his friend spewed.

it wasn't till morning max discovered the extent of lando's stupidity.

" 'ts your relationship," max sighed, "and you realize she might not be so accepting to see you."

it hurt to think about. he didn't know what was worse, for her to be in such misery like himself or for her to not want him back. his stomach tied itself in knots to even think about, but he was the one who left her in the first place.

"yeah, I know."

he was lost without her. everything seemed so meaningless without her by his side, though she hadn't been for months, even when they were together. but the idea of her presence somewhere in his vicinity was all he needed.

she was like a drug he tried so hard to quit because it seemed to be getting him no where. but he was addicted. all he thought about when he wasn't drunk was her. every single dollar wasted on booze was drank to forget her. the lack of her in his life.

so when he showed up at her doorstep, it was more than just a shock. she'd opened the door, the last thing she expected was to see him, standing with an expression that seemingly matched hers. the smell of booze wafting from his clothes and the bittersweet smell of his cologne she had long forgotten about. smelling it again brought back everything she tried to learn to forget about him.

she wanted to be mad, to push and kick him away, but she'd been waiting for months for him to reappear into her life. for him to come back to her, the anticipation built in her body every time the door bell echoed off the walls, or knocks that pounded against the door.

but instead she slammed the door almost immediately, and he didn't blame her. how could he when he'd been the one to leave. because on the other side of that door, her heart was pounding.

she'd been wanting to see him for so long, so badly wanted him back in her life, but what if they made the same mistakes? she couldn't take losing him a second time because she'd already lost most of herself when he drove away the first time.

because she'd watched her future slip through her fingertips and there wasn't anything she knew that would make her catch it.

she knew she was to blame for breaking them up. it was for the best, she told her guilty conscience, but it didn't change the heart-wrenching want to have him back.

she'd spent months in the cocoon she made of their cold bed, ultimately settling on his side to feel closer to him. but what was the point? he hadn't slept in that bed in months, the sheets that reeked of him faded, and even more so when he left her, for at the time she thought, forever.

"love, please," he pleaded against the door, his forehead against the cold metal, "I screwed up, but please, let me fix this, us."

she hesitated. she knew she was the type to let people who hurt her back into her life so easily, as if nothing happened, but she was the one who forced him out. she knew that.

so when the door creaked open, he pushed himself away from the door as fast as lightning. her doe eyes peaking around, staring at his chest before they found their way to his face. he'd changed. he looked tired, unkept. she'd be lying if she said she looked the same as she did months ago because she honestly looked worse than him.

because being apart brought out their worst qualities in themselves that they'd helped the other through, but it resurfaced.

when he'd gotten a good look at her, he realized she definitely wasn't the same girl she was months ago. he'd notice the dark circles under her eyes, half-lidded and puffy, begging for sleep. the oversized hoodie he left her, though surprisingly clean, was well-worn by her. through the baggy cloth, he could tell her physique was slimmer, he felt nauseous.

she couldn't stand the silence between them even when they lived the last months of their relationship filled with it. they were both hurting and they both knew it, but they'd assume the other would be the one to patch it up. that's where they messed up, they seem to do it a lot.

"so why now are you here?" she'd cut through the silence with a butter knife, sawing back and forth as she stumbled where she stood. she struggled to keep her balance, lack of energy will do that to you.

"I realized how much of an idiot I was," he stepped closer, bringing his hand to hers, pressing her fingers between his. he trailed the pads of his fingertips down her hand and to her wrist. he'd latch on, caressing the soft skin, he'd remember the feeling.

"but I was the one who broke you with you."

he didn't mean it like that, to insinuate that she was the idiot for breaking them up because in no way did he blame her. he put the blame all on him for not fighting for them.

" 'nd I was the one who left."

she stared up at him, her big eyes doing things to him, he shouldn't feel it in a moment like this, but he did. he just wanted her back, to feel her lips on his, her smooth skin under his soft but callused hands.

her lips parted when she'd realize the feeling of warmth against her face, his hand running along her jaw to her chin. though she was already looking up at him, he pushed her head up further, but so softly.

his voice was raspy and deep, pleading, "please, darlin'." she couldn't say no even if the voice inside her head and the feeling in her heart told her to.

"just don't leave again."

he could never, not after the misery he'd been through without her, blackout nights to forget everything that had led up to their break up. he couldn't imagine the anguish he put her through.

and at those words, he couldn't hold back anymore, his lips colliding with hers so desperately, like he needed her to survive. he kind of did. he tasted faintly of alcohol and fruit, she tasted like mint. her lips moved softly against his passionate kiss because he was acting like she was his oxygen, his water, his everything because she was.

his hand tangled in her hair, the sounds of their breaths between their lips, the heavy heat that surrounded the air as they separated.

"let's go somewhere," he'd suggest, his chest rising and falling more noticeably now.

her lips became a swollen pink as she looked up at him, dazed as her eyes flickered between his green eyes, "where?"

he shook his head, smiling. god, she missed that smile. he spoke so softly now, "anywhere, you pick. it'll jus' be us."

money didn't matter to him. if she wanted to travel to the moon and back, he'd make it happen because he wanted to make things right. he wanted to show her he was all in now because he would never take another step out ever again.

so they'd travel across the world. he'd rent out hotels, restaurants, amusement parks, anything she'd want. like max said, he wanted this between the two of them. no cameras, no fans, no public. just them enjoying their time together and alone at the most beautiful places she could think of.

she'd end up on an island with him, the only other people being the employees of the resorts he'd rent out. he did everything with her.

they went on yachts around the crystal waters and coral reefs surrounding the beaches that they'd later lay and tan on. they'd talk as they bathed in the sunlight. snorkeling while holding hands and pointing out various species that inhabited the waters.

candle-lit dinners sitting across from each other, though their hands never left each other. they'd been offered fancy wines, lando ultimately opting out. she understood. they tried the exotic foods and other virgin drinks the resort had to offer.

they had long runs along the beach, heavy makeout sessions on stranded towels where they couldn't take their hands off the other, deciding to take the trip back to their hut over the waters.

when they'd make it back, he wasted no time because he missed her, the feeling of her around him, the taste of her.

as soon as the hut door slammed shut, his veined hand would be pressured on her neck, pushing at the skin under his fingertips to pull her into his lips. he was desperate, she knew that.

his lips were harshly against hers, she could feel the vibrations of his groans against her flesh, feeling his working hands across her chest, having left her neck temporarily to undo her tied bikini top. it was discarded onto the wooden floors with no further regard. they'd separate, foreheads pushed together and their noses clashing as their breaths mixed in the middle.

his head dipped below her jaw, biting at the skin of her neck. whimpers left her lips and she felt his smirk on her skin while she grasped at his curls. he slowly pushed their bodies towards the open laid bed behind her, her calf's meeting the mattress. he tugged at the elastic of her beach shorts, though deciding to take his time, which made it all the more agonizing for her, she needed him.

his lips trailed her body, leaving trails of his saliva and marks where he nipped at her skin, from her neck down to her chest. he groped her tits, earning a low groan from her as his tongue swirled her areola. she tugged his hair, his curls between each of her fingers as she bit back the sounds that forced through her throat. he was starved of her, which only turned her on more. she felt the heat between her thighs.

he'd kneel on his knees in front of her as he'd continue to leave a string of dark hickeys down her skin as he'd continue to her stomach, and just above her panty line, pulling the elastic of her shorts down. she'd almost just rip them off because she couldn't take how slow he'd move compared to when they first ended up in this situation.

his finger wrapped around the band, slowly pulling the material over the curves of her body, but he'd left her panties, which infuriated her. he did it all while looking straight up into her eyes, the glint in his eyes filled of lust and mischief. he'd lift her leg with his hand wrapped around the back of her knee, helping her kick off the clothing.

he'd kiss the skin just above the side of her knee, his lips glued to her skin as they traveled higher up her thighs, as well as his hands, sliding under the side of her panties. his nose brushed against the cloth of her cunt, ghostly stimulating her clit. it provoked a reaction out of her as she whined, and he'd continue to kiss along the line of her undergarment.

he may have started off desperate, but now he was taking his sweet time to take care of her. she wanted to badly for him to just hurry it along, wanting to feel him, but he'd rather enjoy the moment he had with her, like it was his last.

he pushed aside the cloth barrier, licking his lips as he eyed the wet patch caused by him, his warm breath panned across her cunt and she pleaded, "lan, please." god, he loved to hear her beg, it was music to his ears, but her moans were a symphony.

his two fingers slowly parted her folds, feeling her pulse under him as she moaned against the contact, he 'tsk'd at her reaction, "so wet for me, darling." his voice was raspy, deep and she cursed under her breath as she watched him lick her off his fingers.

the taste of her brought him back, he'd savor it because he hadn't before, not when he didn't realize it could've been the last. she was sweet, her skin smelling of vanilla as his nose brushed against her.

he'd had enough teasing for now, and gently he'd pull down her panties. she'd be fully exposed, but he was still dressed, his clothes feeling tighter around his body, specifically his swim shorts.

he didn't care. he'd thrown one of her legs over his shoulder as he flattened his tongue across her, feeling the tremble in her standing leg. he'd bury his lips in her cunt, vigorously tasting her like he hadnt eaten in weeks. his tongue lapped at her heat and she let out strings of curses interrupted by moans as she'd tug him closer to her by his hair.

vibrations of his groans stimulated her clit as he softly nipped at the sensitive flesh. he'd lapped at her cunt for not long before it became overwhelming, her moans growing high and squeaked as her legs nearly buckled.

he kept going, looking up at her with massively dilated eyes, half-lidded and seductive. her jaw went slack as she stared into his eyes, she felt the crescendo of her high and she'd nearly scream out his name as she came on his tongue. he'd lick up any remaining juice of hers.

his tongue left one long trail over her cunt, pressuring on her sensitive before pulling away, a trail of saliva connecting to his mouth and her slick glistened on his lips and chins. she panted heavily, he watched the rise and fall of her chest, felt the shaking of her knees as they nearly gave out under her.

he'd smile up at her, his goofy grin greeted her after her hazed high calmed. she'd roll her eyes at his light-heartedness after she'd just came on his tongue.

but it was moments like those that'd bring back the spark of youth and naivety to their relationship. because it was what they'd needed all along. all they needed was each other.