#the patches on sirius’ jacket :(

[surelystaggering]

photographer lily & model sirius au [ drwisteria on ig, twt & tt ]

[polaroidcats]

I bought a new jeans jacket today (BIG moment, have been looking for a good new jeans jacket that actually fits me in an oversized way for MONTHS) and now I am going to look for some cool patches to sew on it!! Very very excited abt this

[enbysiriusblack]

the marauders would 100% always wear each other's clothes to the point none of them really have individual clothes. like sometimes remus is wearing £300 school trousers that are very baggy on him, sometimes peter is wearing a quidditch jersey with the name 'potter' on the back, sometimes sirius is wearing the tiniest shorts known to man. sometimes remus is wearing a denim jacket with patches of bands he hates on, sometimes james is wearing blue jeans that are way too short for him, sometimes sirius is wearing a cheap star trek t-shirt. sometimes james is decked in very tight leather, sometimes remus is wearing vests with motor grease on, sometimes peter is black heeled boots that he's shit at walking in. sometimes james is in brown corduroy trousers, sometimes sirius is in homemade knitted jumpers that smell strongly like weed, sometimes peter is wearing a grey farmer's cap.

[milunalupin]

— full moon farms

Part One: Potter's Pumpkins

james potter x reader ★ 795 words

thank you to the lovely @ttulipwritezz for helping me out <3

When Pandora had invited you to come to the farm she worked at, you assumed you would be wandering around the attractions together.

"There's tons to do here, and my shift is only for a few more hours!" your best friend squeezed your hands and smiled apologetically.

You knew it wasn't with mal-intent, having you come by yourself. Having just moved into town, your old dormmate thought it would be a good idea to meet the locals and get out of your flat. You supposed you should stay and look around since you're already here, although the chilly autumn breeze had you wishing you hadn't forgotten your jacket back home.

"Have fun, love you!" she blew you a kiss as her perfectly manicured hands pulled her hair up into a ponytail. You held back a sigh as you watched her blonde curls bounce back to the cafe.

You take it you should start somewhere, so you head the closest attraction, the pumpkin patch. The cobblestone trail was adorned with autumn-colored flags and pumpkin-shaped fairy lights. At the entrance of the patch stood a wooden archway with a hand painted sign reading 'Potter's Pumpkins'.

Multitudes of younger kids ran around, warming your heart as some attempted to pick up the larger pumpkins, or begged their parents for a mini one to take home. To your left were multiple tables that were covered in what looked like the aftermath of a pumpkin massacre.

"Afternoon! Is there anything I can help you with?"

A surprised gasp escaped you as you almost ran into the tall stranger, your hand laid over your chest.

"Oh," your response came late, not wanting to offend the man standing before you by laughing at his stereotypical red flannel and overalls, "No, just walking around, thank you."

He smiled brightly as if he hadn't noticed your hesitancy, his shirt buttons struggling to stay together as he lifted an arm to run a hand through his curls.

“What a shame! You just missed the pumpkin carving contest. Little Christopher carved a wicked design—first prize was a free hayride and a dozen donuts from the café.” Sighing, he nodded toward the chaotic scene of orange pulp you had observed just moments before.

"That's nice, we didn't have anything like this back home." you smiled.

"Well, allow me to give you a little tour then, follow me."

As he walked you around around the patch, James explained explained to you the origins of Full Moon Farms, how it was his friend Remus' uncle's farm and him and his friends grew up on these grounds. Eventually the old man retired, leaving the property to Remus, who then with the help of James and their other friend Sirius made it into a local attraction during the autumn season.

"I really want the kids to have a good time here, so we also do carving contests, painting, and sack races."

James points out your untied shoelace, so you two take a break on a nearby bench. Before you could full sit down he was already on one knee pulling on your laces.

"Not pulling too tight, am I?"

You shook your head no, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. As soon as he finished tying your shoes, he sat beside you on the old bench, jumping into a friendly interrogation. You answered his questions about your background and reasons for moving to this little town happily. In return he gave you great recommendations on shops and restaurants to try in town.

He was very expressive when he spoke, his hands waving anywhere and everywhere, while his bright eyes danced around your face, his smile growing with every positive reaction you gave him. You quietly wonder if it's the autumn chill or the look he's giving you that sends a shiver through you.

Once you circle back to his booth, he reaches behind the counter and pulls out a miniature pumpkin, "Welcome to town, this one's on me."

"Oh I can't," you shook your head, pushing the orange squash back into his hands.

"You can," he grins, putting his larger hands over yours to move his offering back to you, "I insist."

"That's really sweet of you James, thank you so much."

"Well, I'm glad Pandora dragged you out here, it was nice meeting you." his eyes trailed from the pumpkin in your hands up to your face, quickly fixing his posture and moving his gaze as it wasn't very professional to be staring at you this long. "Um, if you're not sure where to go next, I'd recommend the haunted house down this way, left of the popcorn cart."

Cradling your new pumpkin, you thanked and waved goodbye to the bespectacled man and followed the wooden fences to the next attraction.

[whorediaries-09]

remember how I'd fly to you?💋 another one bc my mind RAN with ideas coquette-y!reader gives siri flowers and he's surprised because she remembered his favorite flower and reader doing lovey-dovey little things (taking care of him when he's drunk, washing his hair softly, giving him massages, making hot cocoa for him) while he stares at her in awe.

okay i kinda like how this one turned out 🎀

lavender haze;

pairing- sirius black x reader warning(s)- mutual pinning, tooth rotting fluff, alcohol. (let me know if i should add more) a/n- i just wanna stay...

the slut club

i feel the lavender haze creepin' up on me

'sirius did you get your helmet?' your startled shout echoes from your house. it's still carries its softness, the healing aura when it falls on sirius' eardrums. he hears your muffled pacing around in the hall. he wonders what you're searching for, sandals or his helmet. he doesn't think you'd like to get your soft bunny slippers dirty.

he bumps his black boot against the gravel of the road, twisting and turning around his motorbike keys. he hears your footsteps echo in your pretty garden as you approach him. his black helmet in your hands, a stark contrast against your pretty pastel colored dress you wore.

'how could forget your helmet sirius!' you scold. but there's no grimace in your tone, or anger. it's pure and raw, honey coated words from your vocal cords. he throws you a lopsided smile. one that makes your heart flutter and do somersaults against your ribcage.

'it ruins my hair,' he says. you knit your eyebrows together, standing on your tiptoes, sliding the helmet across his head. biting your lip, you clasp it under his jaw.

'well you'll have to shave it off if you...' you advise, shaking your head at the horrible thought. his smile softens, as he throws his arm around your neck, pulling you closer. you breathe in his warm scent of cedar and mahogany. his hot breathe fans over your face before he presses a soft peck on your forehead. you close your eyes as heat rushes under your skin.

'i'll be safe from now on, sweetie,' he whispers against your hot blazing skin. your hand crawls over his leather jacket, as you pat him, slowly moving away from his hold. because you're sure that if you don't you'll combust right then and there.

'promise?' you ask. he inserts his key into his bike, turning on the engine. patting his helmet he nods,

'promise.'

the 'just for you' remains silent.

******

you sink your knees into the mud, planting another healthy batch of gloxinias, heathers. daisies and yarrows. your garden isn't very huge, but it's not too small either. it's patched with pretty flower beds and well mowed fresh grass. the abyss of the soft hues of pinks, lavenders and whites melt to form a garden so very like you.

sirius thinks it's endearing how much you take care of flowers. he likes them too, especially the daisies. he wonders how it would feel if you braided them into his hair, but he doesn't want to pick your carefully cultivated flowers.

he doesn't want the flowers on his hair, he thinks. he just wants to feel your fingers running through the locks. and the flowers seem to be an excuse to keep something from you. something like a souvenir. something to keep near him, knowing how much love and effort you put in to grow them.

he sinks his hand into the packet of groceries, pulling out a tray of strawberries.

'hi sweetie,' he says, standing by you. you jump a little, seemingly startled by his sudden appearance. he doesn't blame you. he finds you adorable when you're surprised...well no he finds you adorable all the time. so maybe he'd done it on purpose.

his heart skips a beat as you stand up, wiping your dirty, muddy hands on your apron. your hair is tousled, messy. your eyes reflect the shimmer of the sun, but nothing beats the shine of your smile.

'i brought you strawberries,' he hands you the tray of strawberries. you smile at him, and his heart melts. he's so in love with you, he thinks. it's endearing, how much he wants to kiss your lips, comb your tousled hair, paint your nails with pretty pastel colors, pick out sundresses for you.

'thank you, pretty,' you say. he throws you a lopsided smile. his mind reels with the nickname you used for him...pretty. he's putty in your hands and you don't even know it. he's devoted to you and you don't even know it.

'i'm gonna make it into a jam, would you want some?' you ask.

'i'd love some,'

he doesn't really want you, he loves you.

*****

it was slow. it progressed eventually. when the looks in a crowded room began to wander about solely for him. when you laughed at the silliest jokes by him. when you wore his black leather jacket on a cold day, just to realize you'd like to submerge in his scent forever. when you held his hand for the first time and the sparks crawled under your skin. when the gray skies and beaches only seemed appealing when they were the shade of his eyes.

it took a lot of convincing from lily for you to realize. you didn't really have a crush on sirius. no, you didn't want him.

you loved him.

you'd broken a few flowers from your garden. heathers, yarrows and daisies. you'd tied them together, making a little bouquet. though you weren't sure he'd like it, considering the bouquet looked like a mess. a beautiful mess none the less.

taking in a breath you knocked on his door. you heard shuffling around in his hallway, before the door swung upon, revealing a shirtless sirius. his chest was clad in tattoos, which rather hid under the t-shirts he wore. his gray sweatpants hung low on his narrow hips, revealing his happy trail. fuck, you thought, gulping slowly. you felt the heat crawl under your skin to your neck and ears, your eyes drifting to your shoes.

the sight haunted you, in the best way possible. and even though you could stare at him all day, you were just his friend.

a friend who was hopelessly in love with him.

'hav-have i interrupted something?' you ask, even though no other shoes were visible other than his.

'god, no sweetie, i was hot,'

you are hot, you think wordlessly.

'you can look, i promise,' he says. his voice carries a teasing tone. you're sure you feel your heart burst out from your ribcage and your legs turn shaky when you look at him, leaned against his doorframe, his hand tucked away in his pocket. his smile burns through you, as you hand him the jam and the bouquet of flowers. he's visually speechless. his eyebrows knitted into an unreadable emotion. you wonder what he thinks.

'thanks, love,' he says, nudging his finger against his scrunched up nose. love...he says. he'd never used it before...

you want nothing but to sink into his arms and kiss him.

*****

he wraps his hands around your body. he's sure he smells like whiskey, beer and things you don't like. but you're soft, and he's drunk. he needs you, he needs the one he loves close by. he needs to feel your skin upon his. he needs to submerge himself into your scent.

'pretty, you're drunk,' your house smells so homely. he wants to sink in your cave and presence for an everlasting period. he wants to coat his eardrums into your honey weaved voice forever.

'i knowww,' he slurs. he hears you locking the door. you house smells of vanilla and sugar. he wonders whether he had interrupted your baking session. he wonders whether you're angry at him for drinking. but your beautiful eyes speak nothing. he knits his eyebrows, tucking your head under his jaw. he presses your head against his chest.

'did i interrupt something?'

'no,' you chuckle. he thinks it's the most beautiful melody he's heard.

'sirius, you should take a bath...i'll draw you one yeah?'

he blinks as you separate yourself from him. you guide him to your couch, telling him to sit down and open his shoes. he unbuckles the belt of his boots, before he hears the splashing of water against ceramic.

'sweetie, will you wash my hair?' he says, when he sees you waddle back into the hall. you play with your fingers clumsily, not quite meeting his gaze.

'you're sure?' you whisper.

'yeah,' he nods. his heart somersaults when you agree. so he walks into your washroom. the bubbles in the bathtub shimmer under the moonlight that enter through the window. your bath smells of watermelons and strawberries. he strips himself off his clothes, sinking under the hot water.

'love, you can come in,' he shouts. you slowly walk into your bathroom. he's thrilled, to say the least. to be soaked in your scent. to finally feel your fingers against his scalp. his heart flutters, when you kneel down beside him, grabbing the bottle of shampoo.

the silence is comforting, soaked in an effervescent of pure bliss and innocence. neither of you speak, afraid to jinx the moment. because it feels unreal, a haze. but it's real, your eyes boring into his, your fingers rubbing into his scalp. it's real, his hot breath fanning over your face. it's real, how he feels so close yet so far away. it's real, when he finally breaks the silence.

'i love you, sweetie,'

'you're drunk,'

'in love,'

*****

the smell of hot chocolate mixes with your spritz of cherries. you feel the hot gaze of sirius burn your back through you. he thinks there's nothing not to love about you. he's not drunk from alcohol anymore, but he remembers confessing. he remembers being drunk in love.

because he is, right now. and he wants to be all the time, if it's you he loves.

and he doesn't regret it, no. the poems he'd written about you would never compare to the ethereal love he feels for you. the paints melting on canvas could never capture your beauty. they could never capture how you made him feel. they could never capture the softness of your voice. they could never capture the feeling of your hair against his fingers. they could never capture the feeling of your body pressed against his. they could never capture the random scribbles of your fingers on his back. they could never capture the beauty of your eyes. they could never capture your sunny smile. they could never capture the taste of your jams or cookies. they could never capture the taste of your lips against his.

they could never capture you.

not when your lips melted with his, when you hand him the cup of hot cocoa.

[my-castles-crumbling]

Pssst! Sirius Black has a patch on his leather jacket that says MILF.

[star-liit]

Regulus I write down my brother's appointments because god knows he won't remember them Black Sirius I dilute my mother's perfume because the smell overwhelms my brother Black Regulus I pretend I want to hold my brother's hand because he's too proud to admit he can't stop fidgeting Black Sirius I coach my brother to recognise social cues Black Regulus I learned through painstaking observation that my hypocrite brother lacks tact Black Sirius I sleep in t-shirts because my brother overheats in his long sleeves at night and gets overstimulated by sudden temperature changes Black Regulus I learned not to take offence to being interrupted mid-sentence at a very young age for some reason Black Sirius I wear the same jacket even in the height of summer because my brother likes the texture Black Regulus I proofread my brother's homework for careless errors and resent the fact he can knock out a brilliant essay without a lick of formal research Black Sirius I can't stick to a schedule to save my life, but I know exactly what time my brother will want an excuse to leave the dinner table to start his night routine Black Regulus I got really good at patching up minor wounds as a child because my brother took approximately eight stupid risks a day Black Sirius I have to remind my brother to take regular study breaks or he'll sit in the same position for six hours and whine about his neck hurting later Black Regulus I once had to start over five times when I tried to draw my brother as an adult because he couldn't decide what he wanted to be when he grew up Black Sirius my brother is neurodivergent, is that coming across Black Regulus and what the fuck are you Black Sirius I kept my brother's room organised exactly as he liked it long after he died because I know how much it mattered to him Black

[familyvideostevie]

october fourth

day four: sirius black sirius watches you garden | early relationship, fluff | 1k

Your phone rings when you’ve got one hand in dirt up to your wrist. You manage to pull it from your pocket with your free hand and answer, glancing at the name and smiling when you realize who it is.

“Hi, Sirius,” you chirp.

“Sweetheart,” he says. “Why does it sound like you’re a million miles away?”

The pet names are new. You’ve been together for just over a month now and you love it. He’s tough on the outside, this leather-clad boyfriend of yours, but he’s really a bit of a clown and a very sweet one at that.

“You’re on speaker,” you tell him. “I’m in the garden.”

It’s a lovely fall day, sun high in the sky and not too windy, so you’ve decided it’s the perfect time to sort out the plants for the spring. You’re almost done with your trays of crocuses and you’ve yet to start on the lilies. The garden is small, sure, but you love how colorful it gets once things start to bloom. You’re considering making room for a vegetable patch, too.

“It’s cold!” Sirius sounds offended that you’d be outside when such a thing is true.

“I know,” you say. “But it’s not that bad. And I really do need to get these bulbs in.”

“These…what?” You’ve explained gardening to him maybe a hundred times but his brain is a bit sieve-like. You adore him.

“Flowers, Sirius.”

“Oh,” he says. The phone makes a shuffling sound like he’s moved you to his other shoulder. “I was imagining you planting light bulbs for a second there.”

You hum. Maybe the garden shop will have alliums you can get in at the corner of the raised bed.

“Do you want help?” he asks, bringing you back to the phone call.

You laugh and picture him scowling. “We both know you’re not going to kneel in the dirt with me, Sirius,” you tell him. He huffs. “But you can come keep me company if you like.”

“Oh, so you’ve inviting me to watch? How sexy.”

You pull your hand from the dirt and look down at yourself. “Yeah, real sexy. I’m a bit sweaty and I’ve got dirt under all of my fingernails.”

“Filthy girl,” he coos. “Tell me more.”

You laugh. “I’m going to hang up now.”

“I’ll be there in 15, you green thumb, you.”

You tuck you phone back into your chest pocket and keep at it. Gardening is something you’ve taken up in recent years as an attempt to find a hobby that soothes you. You love working with the ground, love seeing how you can plant things that encourage the birds and the bugs. You love picking flowers for your friends from your own garden.

Sirius finds the whole thing endearing. He’s not really an outdoor boy, though he has no problem getting into whatever sports match he and his friends decide to fool around with at the park or the beach. He likes to take you on dates to movies and down winding roads on his bike to see nice things. He’s a mystery you’re really enjoying unraveling.

You whistle a tune as you work, not paying much mind to the sputtering of the bike you know to be his come down the street. He’ll find you.

“If you told me you were wearing those, I’d have been here much faster.” You turn around and see Sirius stood on your lawn, hands in his pockets, smirking. You’re wearing overalls that are way past due for a wash and frankly make you look like a gnome but he’s always loved them.

“Oh, please,” you say. “You’re just a flirt.”

He walks over to you and stands so that the sun doesn’t shine in your eyes. He’s clad in his usual all black and leather jacket, hair wild around his shoulders from his helmet. “You look…” he starts, chewing on his lip.

“Dirty?”

“Pretty,” he says. He fishes a bandana from his back pocket and crouches to your level, a hand held out for your face. You tilt your chin up for him and he cups it, wiping what must be dirt from your cheek with the cloth before leaning in to kiss you.

“Hello,” he says when he pulls away.

“Hello.” You feel like a flower around him, blooming brighter and bigger than anything else in your garden.

“Tell me what you’re planting?”

“I’ve just finished,” so say, “so good timing. Help me up?” He stands and holds his hands out for you. You wipe them on your overalls as best you can before he hauls you to your feet. He’s been here quite a few times but you give him the tour of your small garden, telling him all the things you’ve got planned. Flowers and herbs and even vegetables, bird houses and a little bench and a tiny scarecrow in a few weeks. You lose yourself a bit as you explain. Something you like about Sirius, something you noticed immedietly, is he’s game to be excited about anything you’re excited about even if it’s not his thing. Flowers aren’t very punk rock but he’s never told you he isn’t interested.

Right now, however, he’s not looking at any of the things you’re pointing at. “Sirius,” you scold. “Appreciate my garden.”

He’s looking at you. “I’m appreciating the most beautiful flower in the garden, love.”

You laugh, tilting your face up to the sun. “That was awful.”

Sirius grins and his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Yeah, it was,” he says. “Not one of my best. Still true, though!”

“Yes, well, let’s see if it’s true come spring,” you say. “The flowers are really going to be quite lovely.” You don’t realize until after you’ve said it that you’ve implied that you’ll still be together come spring. But Sirius seems pleased. He tucks his hand into the gap in your overalls so he can touch the exposed skin of your hip where your top has rucked up.

“Don’t hold your breath,” he says. “I know beauty when I see it.”

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

[euripidestrousers]

The Bridget Jones Wolfstar AU that No One Asked For

Dear Diary, 

Even writing those words makes me physically ill so I’d like to start this off by disclosing that getting a diary was not my idea. 

You see, my best friend, James - excellent, wonderful best friend who has recently become a family man by choice, and has therefore become one of the most insufferable people on earth - gave me this diary and said it’s either this or he’s buying me therapy because one more rubbish one-week relationship of mine is going to kill him.

And I don’t need a fucking therapist, so here you are, and here I am. I feel better already.

(haha)

Dear Diary, 

James might be onto something. Today I found myself smoking my third morning cigarette while drinking my coffee and muttering that the drive to work is going to be hell because of the rain. 

I’ve become my father. 

Of course, I asked James if he ever looks in the mirror and sees Monty staring back and if it makes him want to buy a motorbike and he replied, ‘Uh, I’m literally his son, we look alike. Are you okay?’

My thirty third birthday is coming up. 

Please don’t let this be a mid-life crisis. I’m not in a relationship because I don’t want one, and haven’t had one in over ten years because the men in London either want to meet you in the park or meet your parents. It’s the last hour of the buffet and all that’s left is the salad. And I don’t need a relationship either. James and Lily are a match made in heaven since the first time he told her ugly friend he was ugly (rightfully so, the man is still hideous and a complete prick), and she told him to watch his fucking mouth. Made for each other.

But the last time I met a guy that made me laugh and was any sort of attractive and not a complete knob about being attractive, was over three years ago. 

Ie, it’s not for me. End of story.

I bought a motorbike

Dear Diary, 

I’m going to do away with the whole ‘dear diary’ thing, it makes me feel like a schoolgirl and if James ever finds you when we’re drunk he’s going to read out at least one embarrassing entry at me. They’re all embarrassing. 

I went on a blind date today.

“Long black for… Sirish?”

What? Oh. That vague jumble of mush must have been his name. Sirius grabs the takeaway cup and makes for the door briskly. He has the Binkley case to catch up on and write a piece on by the end of the week and he’s still not clear who the man is. A football star perhaps? He’s still being sidelined into the sports area of the paper because he did football for a year. Nevermind that he has an interest in politics and would very much like to report on where the country will be in ten years if it keeps going-

J: You busy after work?

Sirius grins, flopping his jacket over one arm to type back to James Potter, best friend and inarguably lesser half of Lily Potter. 

S: drinks?

J: I have a one year old

S: too early for him to start?

S: kidding. Don’t tell Lily. She’s already started making him take his helmet every time I take him for a day. 

J: It’s not for drinks. Lily has a friend who’s just come to town. I thought maybe you could show him around.

S: Worst lie ever. 

J: I haven’t had coffee yet.

J: It’s actually true though. He just came to town and doesn’t know anyone other than Lily, and Harry has a cold so we’re both staying home.

J: He’s quite attractive I’m told. Lily told me to say ‘tall Martin Freeman’, and that you’d know what it means

S: Potter, if I was so desperate that I would open to a blind date, I definitely wouldn’t start with any of Lily’s friends, they’re all college professors and about 50 years old. 

J: He’s 37

S: He has elbow patches. Guaranteed. Bet he says ‘but the Torries are actually not as conservative as they’re made out to be.’

S: Bet he has a mahogany desk and wanks to Aristotle

J: Jesus christ

J: Photo sent

Sirius glances down uninterestedly and sees a photo of a man. But instead of the expected stuffy looking balding man with a sour face, as most of Lily’s fellow professors are to be fair, instead he’s looking at a tall, brown haired man with flecks of grey at the temples and smiling softly at the camera, and he’s well, he’s not not handsome. Tall Martin Freeman is actually quite right. Hello.

He brings the phone closer to examine the photo as he blindly barges into the office building with the large Get Up, Britain sign gaudy and bright above him. 

The man is younger on second glance, although he is wearing a suit jacket with elbow patches (told you, Jamie), and standing a little awkwardly, like he’s not used to photos being taken of him, and it’s entirely likely that he’s more accustomed to being nose deep in a book ninety percent of the time. 

He’s shagged worse. 

S: I was right about the elbow patches

J: I really tried to find one without them too

J: But he sounds nice. Funny. Lily likes him, she talks about him all the time. They were prefects together in school and used to bunk off and smoke behind the bins

One the one hand: prefect. Disgusting. Hall monitors. Pigs-to-be, snooty, law-abiding to the most irritating degree (Lily being the exception, of course). On the other hand: smoking behind the bins is more his style. Speaking of, he’d love one right now-

J: I really think you’d like him. Even just friends. Moving cities is lonely and he sounds alright. He likes Manchester U?

S: Fine, I’m free after 6

S: Don’t yell at me if I shag him, work has been shit.

So that’s how Sirius finds himself, half past six, swearing up a storm and running with his tote bag over his head in the pouring rain, late for his blind date (or something).

He slams into the restaurant door, shaking himself off like a wet dog, his casual Friday jeans and black t-shirt soaking wet, his shoulder length, black hair is dripping around his face, hoping his laptop has survived, and shivering like a chihuahua at a children’s party. 

“Uh, I’m here for uh-” he consults his phone again and reads the name to the maitre d, “Reh-mus?”

“It’s Remus, actually”, comes a soft voice from his left. 

Sirius turns quickly and immediately drenches the man standing at his elbow in droplets of water from his hair and coat. Tall Martin Freeman indeed - he has one of those faces that’s even better in person, where the way he stoops his shoulders and holds himself makes him look soft and welcoming, and the warm lighting gives him that attractive, cozy professor look, rather than an uptight old man.

“Oh”, Sirius grins quickly, hoping his dazzling smile will make up for their flimsy introduction, “Right, Sirius. Are you still waiting for a table-?”

“I er, well, I was about to leave actually”, Remus says, glancing at the maitre d awkwardly, “You’re quite late.”

Sirius’ smile freezes. Well, then. 

“Got caught up at work”, he replies stiffly, brushing his hair back and letting his eyes go cold, “If you’d prefer we don’t-”

“No, no, of course not”, Remus appears to snap back, as if remembering his manners and seeming oddly distracted, “Please, let’s sit. You look like you could use a drink.”

Sirius runs his tongue along his bottom lip as he follows Remus to the table and wonders if that was a slight about him looking like a drowned rat. He notices the man has worn an absolutely hideous brown jumper that wouldn’t be out of place in an aged care home, so he doesn’t really have the right to judge Sirius’ appearance. 

“Wine?” The waiter offers politely. It’s a nice place - James said Lily had picked it because she thought Remus would like it. It is a little stuffy, honestly. Something his parents might have stopped by and deemed adequate, which is to say, the beer is fucking overpriced, Jesus-

“I’ll have the Stout again, please”, Remus answers briskly, nodding at Sirius to order his.

“Uh, yeah, Stout. Cheers”, Sirius adds, dumping his bag beneath the table and trying to surreptitiously dry his hair in the napkin. Remus looks away as if embarrassed by him. Swot.

“So, you know Lily through school?” Sirius starts, unable to keep the boredom completely out of his voice. 

“Yes. I take it you know James through yours”, Remus answers, very politely but also sounding just as bored. 

“Yeah, grew up together”, Sirius nods. 

Remus doesn’t say anything to that, just hums and sips some water. 

It’s fucking awkward. Normally, Sirius would give him an ultimatum - ‘look, do you want to liven it up a bit and turn this into a fun one-night thing? Because otherwise, I’m not feeling it and I’ve got work to do.’

But Lily knows this guy, they have mutual friends, and if this isn’t what makes blind dates the most excruciating, hellish thing on earth, worse than job interviews, worse than-

“I don’t really do blind dates”, Remus says suddenly, and then blinks as if he hadn’t meant to say anything at all.

“Right”, Sirius says, bewildered. 

“I, er, the dating scene. Not really my thing”, he says quietly, still not looking Sirius in the eye, “But I just moved here from Wales and I don’t know anyone, so this doesn’t have to be… anything. Just-”

“Oh- oh yeah. Fine with me”, Sirius finds himself swallowing down a touch of regret, offended really, because he’s not used to someone not immediately being ready to come home with him. “I’m not really looking for anything and blind dates are, well - eugh, you know? Like, thanks, my friends think I can’t get laid on my own or something so they set me up with whoever they think isn’t a serial killer, like any gay dude will do-”

“Yes, well”, Remus says tightly, taking another sip, “I rather thought Lily knew me better than that.”

His tone is rather pointed and Sirius realises he’s let his mouth run. Well… to be fair, the guy is kind of a snob. What was Lily thinking anyway?

“Yeah”, he agrees through his teeth, crossing his arms and legs and sitting back in his chair to wait for his beer. Maybe he can make an excuse after one drink. He can’t be friends with someone who doesn’t have a sense of humour and if this bloke doesn’t want to be a one-night stand, then he’d much rather be home. Alone.

“Is there anything around here you’d recommend?” Remus tries, voice clipped and still sounding slightly offended, “Restaurants? More importantly, ones you don’t recommend?”

“There’s a place that does turkey curry. It’s awful.”

“What? What curry?” The tightness in Remus’ face slips momentarily and he looks genuinely bewildered. He’s actually not a bad looker when he’s not frowning. 

“Turkey. It’s as bad as it sounds. Actually it’s worse, like eating a lamb burrito, it’s just not right. Shittest fucking curry and it’s as bad going in as it is bad going ou-”

“Two Stouts.”

The waiter delivers their beers and they fade off into silence as they drink. 

Remus sips delicately, in a way that’s completely inappropriate for a beer, and says awkwardly, “Yes well, thank you for the tip. I’ll rest easy never knowing what turkey curry tastes like.”

“Yeah, I mean, if you can avoid it then I guess this date wasn’t a waste after all.”

Remus blinks, expression dropping. 

Oh. Oh fuck. Double fuck. He hadn’t meant to say that.

“I’ve got to go to the bathroom”, Remus says abruptly and stands. He stalks away quickly and leaves Sirius gnawing at his lip and furious at both himself and this infuriating man who seems to loathe him, minutes after meeting him and who Lily apparently thinks is nice. 

He’s got other shit to be getting on with, he decides. And this bloke probably shags like a limp fish anyway, an Oxford type that thinks poetry is foreplay and once a month sex is scandalously frequent.

He drains his beer and half of Remus’ for good measure, and heads to the bathroom so he can catch Remus on his way out, only to hear his own name hissed furiously. He sees Remus standing out the front of the restaurant, shoulders raised against the cold and holding the phone to his ear. He steps closer and half opens the door to tell him he’s going to head off when he hears the conversation.

“... how did you think someone like Sirius would be good for me? After the hell I’ve had in the last year? Going on a date with someone like him? He showed up thirty minutes late, dressed like he’s going to a bar playing exclusively Metallica, and insulted me immediately. I told you, I don’t mind being alone for a while, especially after the divorce. I certainly don’t want to be shown around London by a rude, arrogant berk who dresses like a teenager and doesn’t seem to have a filter between his brain and his mouth. He probably thinks the bar scene is-oh”

Remus catches sight of him out of the corner of his eye and he spins. They stare at each other for a few excruciation moments, Remus still holding the phone to his ear. 

Sirius breaks the tension with a forced laugh, “Right. I’m definitely going home.”

“Wait, shit, I’ll call you back”, Remus mutters into the phone and hangs up, stepping forward but Sirius pushes past him, temper steadily rising into a roaring bonfire within his chest.

“Sirius, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“You’re absolutely right, I wouldn’t know the first thing about showing a bloke like you around London”, he turns and says loudly so it carries over the sounds of the cars driving by on the busy street, “You’d be more comfortable in a fucking graveyard, honestly. There’s one ten minutes that way-” he turns his back and points over to the left, calling back over his shoulder, “You’ll find someone much more your speed there, Remus.”

Blind date disastrous as expected. 

Remus fucking Lupin, a professor extraordinaire who wouldn’t be able to find his funny bone if it conked him on the fucking head, is not an exception to the blind date rule, even though he’s easy on the eyes at first glance. At second glance, he is a miserable, dried up academic whose own self-importance has completely consumed him despite dressing like his grandfather for Halloween. 

If this is what my friends think of me, I need to sort my fucking shit out. 

I should have asked him to shag before he opened his stupid fucking mouth. 

[lilacella]

TRICK OR TREAT!!! 🧡

Hello almost 6ft tall pallas cat! Glad to have you on my porch!🎃🦥🥰

I would never leave you without a treat!

I present you with a new fic idea: (this will be lengthy, more under cut)

I want to write a wolfstarbucks flatmate AU, where Remus is a broke uni student moving to the big city and is desperately looking for a place to stay after his university accommodation turned out to be covered in mould - which is not good for his asthma!!

So he looks for flat listings and people looking for roomates but he has little money and cannot afford the rent of most of them. Either that or he is incredibly uncomfortable with the people.

You can imagine his delight when he sees some guy named James looking for a flatmate in a nice part of town, only asking for 214£ per month! Even better, when they meet up it turns out he is a hot engineering student going to Remus' uni and he is really nice! Remus feels immediately comfortable with him. James tells him that the rent is so cheap because it's basically just utilities since the building belongs to his dad (rich boy has a landlord dad, oh no! Remus is a little concerned he might be a lib but is placated when he sees the fridge covered in FCK NZS stickers and pictures of Karl [optinal subplot]). James' former flatmate moved out and he is feeling a little lonely.

He first doesn't expect James to let him move in, because why would someone this cool want to live with him? But he hears back the next day and soon moves in.

James and Remus get along swimmingly. James is so nice and so good looking and Remus falls a little more for him everyday. And is James flirting back with him? Can't be! Or can it?

Weeks pass and one morning there is a loud knock at the door. James is out for rugby training so Remus shuffles out of his room in his pajamas and opens the door, thinking maybe it's a parcel, and is faced by a breathtakingly handsome stranger with long black hair, wearing heavy boots and a denim jacket covered in patches. The stranger, while handsome, looks a bit deranged and smells of smoke - which makes Remus cough badly as an introduction. He doesn't introduce himself, instead just steps past him, kicking off his boots asking for James.

When the confused Remus tells him he's at training, and who is he??, he basically ignores him and stomps straight into James' room, closing the door behind him.

Remus is quite alarmed but doesn't dare to confront the stranger. But he also doesn't feel very safe staying alone in the apartment with him. So he sends a text to James and hastily flees to the uni library.

When he returns a few hours later, James is back. The boots are still there, though now neatly placed in the shoe rack. He hears voices coming from James' room.

He gathers his courage and knocks. When he looks into the room, James is sitting his bed with the stranger. Or rather, James is sitting and the stranger is lounging on his lap, casually playing with James' hand while he talks.

James introduces the stranger as Sirius, his former flatmate. Sirius apologises for his rude entry with a charming smile that makes Remus forgets any offenses he has suffered immediately. However he is a bit concerned with what that means for him. Does Sirius want his room back?

(I have more plot but this is too long already and I don't want to bore/overwhelm you 😅 if you want more feel free to inquire though!)

fic writer trick or treat!

[marauders-fandom-confessions]

The marauders fandom consistently seems to get being punk wrong. Punk was created in the mid-seventies (by POC!! Which is also forgotten!) and if fanon's version of a punk!Sirius met an actual, period-accurate punk he would be called a poser. I don’t mean that music is the end-all-be-all of the subculture today (though if you call yourself punk at least try? There’s a lot of different genres), but only listening to Queen and Bowie in the 70s is not punk, especially when people forget to include how radical being punk was, and still kind of is, because the subculture was born with roots in anarchism!! 

(Also. As an aside. A plain leather jacket is not punk. Can people give him patches? Or studs, at least?)

…

[asmo-d3us]

Sirius Black Headcannons

gay

gender-fluid

french speaking — no accent

animagus is a black dog

second-shortest marauder (much to his chagrin)

has excellent posture as a result (because if he slouches he’s the same height as peter, but it’s also bc of his family)

long black hair, grey eyes, regal/sharp features

has a leather jacket that he picked up at a juggle consignment store when he was 14. it’s worn and covered in patches, and when his mother finds it in his closet his father uses the cruciatus on him

speaks excellent french, a side effect of toujours pur

always paints his nails black or gray. when they chip, he paints over them, so it’s just layers and layers of paint

starts to grow his hair out in the summer before his third year. keeps it roughly shoulder length, and trims it himself after he had marlene teach him how

incidentally, the summer before his third year is when he stopped believing he could ever make amends with his parents. the only reason he went home after that was for reg

wants to live in london and work in a muggle garage

is very smart, but doesn’t try. can ace every test though

is particularly gifted at CoMC

smokes way more than he should

gets his first tattoo (a lion, what else) in knockturn alley when he was 15. it paces and roars depending on his mood, and is on his ribcage, protecting his heart because he’s so afraid that one day he won’t be able to protect his heart from his parents ideology

realized he was gay (and in love with remus) in the start of their 5th year

was so terrified of the fact that he went on a year-long dating extravaganza, in which he dated and snogged every girl he could get to agree to go out with him (which was, of course, almost all of them) in an attempt to find someone he liked better than remus, it failed.

ran away from home for good after a particularly brutal beating between 5th and 6th year

cried for days when he heard about reg getting marked

hates snape because snape doesn’t have the shackles of a pureblood fundamentalist family, but actively seeks that lifestyle, while he would give anything to be free of it.

sirius hates taylor swift

he chews his nails when he’s nervous

he makes your mom jokes and no one finds it funny anymore

she knocks people over by hugging them

sirius would’ve loved stalking on ao3

he’s smart but also VERY stupid

he’s great with kids he just had a fear of being exactly like his parents.

sirius does not know how to read. he does, but he just can’t??

[enbysiriusblack]

marauders' average outfit- modern/muggle au version:

sirius- black ripped jeans with a silver chain, black docs, rock band tshirt, leather jacket, friendship bracelet, several silver earrings, silver rings

james- grey joggers, running trainers, football shirt, hoodie of a band he doesn't know that he stole from sirius, friendship bracelet, small gold hoop earring

remus- beige corduroy trousers, brown converse, yellow shirt, green knitted jumper with elbow patches he made himself, friendship bracelet, tweed flat cap

peter- blue jeans with a carabiner for his keys, black boots that used to be his mums, pop culture related tshirt, black bomber jacket, friendship bracelet

lily- long skirt, doc marten shoes, baby tee with some kind of slogan, corduroy jacket, lots of random thrifted necklaces, bracelets, and rings, old brown leather watch that her dad gave her

[moonytoasted]

ermm something something sirius black in a jacket with patches on it slowly falling for remus the nerd in the grandpa patterned jumpers

[rudamaruda520]

The way your oversized sweater peeks out from under your leather jacket is so Sirius borrowing clothes from Remus coded,

the way you gently lift the corner of your mouth while glancing at your phone as the sun rays reflect off your glasses is so James coded,

and the patches on your rag bag are sooo Marlene coded,

but I can't tell you that, random girl on the bus, 'cause you'll think I'm a psycho, but you're so so sooo pleasant to look at...

[maladaptivedaydr3amer]

I did it I finished the Valkyries description.

So hear it is.

The Valkyries.

Lily Evans:

Basics:

Name: Lily Mea Evans

Middle Name: Mea

Nicknames: Lils

Age: 17

Gender: female

Sexuality: bisexual

Birthday: January 30th 1960

Physical description:

Skin-tone(+descriptors of skin): pale, rosy and freckled

Eye-color+shape:green, almond

Hair-color+texture: copper hair, straight hair but curly when styled

Height: 5’3

Weight: 161.2lbs

Body build: chubby, curvy

Voice: sweet, bubbly

Distinguishing marks: she has dimples, she has very rosy cheeks and her nails are painted green and pink, and she has very straight teeth.

Overall attractiveness: 7.5/10

What would they rate themselves: she would rate herself a 6.2/10, she knows she’s pretty but she’s just kind of insecure

Tattoos and piercings: she wouldn’t have any tattoos, she does have little gold earrings that she’s always wearing.

Everyday outfits: a long flowy skirts and a shirt with some sort of of pattern on it, a cardigan and with one of those old news paper boy hat and a pair of Mary Jane’s with ruffle socks, another outfit a pair of jeans and when she was dating James he would give her his quidditch jersey.

Make-up: not much but she usual just wears some lip-gloss and mascara and maybe some blush. And on party nights she wears green eyeshadow with pink lipstick.

Personality: she is very outgoing and kind person, and also very smart and wise(she also always smiling)

•<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>•

Mary Macdonald:

Basics:

Name: Mary Elise Macdonald

Middle Name: Elise

Nick Name: none

Age: 17

Gender: female

Sexuality: sapphic

Birthday: February 14th 1960.

Character description:

Skin-tone(+descriptors of skin): mixed, smooth and a few moles.

Eye-color+shape: brown, and up-turned

Hair color+texture: brown and very curly(sometimes a bit frizzy)

Height: 5’2(5’5 in heels)

Weight: 148.3lbs

Body build: mid size and very curvy.

Voice: she had a very loud and appealing voice.

Distinguishing marks: very long eyelashes, a mole on her upper lip and stretch marks on her thighs and stomach

Overall attractiveness: 8.9/10

What would they rate themselves: she is very confident and loves everything about her self sooo she would say 10/10

Tattoos and piercings: a heart tattoo above her collarbone, she has a nose piercing and a piercing on her ear lobe

Everyday outfit: she’s very girly, a lacy tank top(any color, besides dark colors;she doesn’t like dark colors), a pair of jeans with some sort of pattern on the back pockets and a pair of boots.

Make-up:she’s always wearing mascara(you can’t catch her without mascara), and pink tinted lip-gloss and a light pink eye shadow

Personality: she’s a total girls girl(kind of girl to always have period products on her or like extra chocolate ect.), she’s confident and sweet, outgoing and popular. Everyone either loves her or hates her.

•<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>•

Marlene McKinnon.

Basics:

Name: Marlene Isabella McKinnon

Middle name: Isabella

Nick names: Marls, Leney

Age: 17

Sexuality: LESBAIN

Gender: female

Birthday: August 13th 1960

Characters description:

Skin tone(+ descriptors of skin): ivory, lights freckles and dimples.

Eye color: a type of hazel with blue, deep set.

Hair color+ texture: dirty blonde, a lot of layers.

Height: 5’7

Weight: 126.8lbs

Body build: some what muscular for playing quidditch, lean.

Voice: loud & bold at times a bit snarky.

Distinguishing marks: she has a scar above her right eyebrow from when she was 3, very thick eyebrows, chipped red nail polish.

Overall attractiveness: probably about a 7.6/10

What they rate themselves: she would rate herself a 8.4/10.

Tattoo and piercings: she has a few tattoos, like a rose and other things, she has a bunch of piercings all of her ears are pierced and a septum piercing.(Sirius has done all her tattoos and piercings)

Everyday outfit: a band shirt(like the run-aways, Blondie, Queen) and a pair of ripped jeans, a leather jacket with patches on it and combat boots. And other outfits a red tank-top with her quidditch jersey over it and a Jean skirt with red-pair of converses.

Make-up: heavy eye-liner, mascara and sometimes a red lip.

Personality: she’s a very bold and confident person, and if you say something rude to her or her friends she with (verbally) fight you. She’s also very loud and sometimes a little snarky, she says what’s on her mind.