#Sirius smelling like hairspray is so funny to me

[james-sunshine-potter]

What would each Marauder characters smell like in Amortentia:

James: Broom polish, cinnamon, fresh spring air, oranges (like a tangeriney smell) .

Sirius: Hairspray, Ash (the smell of a campfire), vanilla lip balm, basil.

Remus: Black coffee, a brand new book, caramel, whiskey.

Peter: Sunscreen, watermelon (but the artificial smell), mint (fresh, like you’re smelling the herb directly), fresh laundry.

Lily: The sea, strawberries (fresh not artificial), lavender, dewy grass.

Marlene: Broom Polish, cigarettes, rain, apples.

Dorcas: Coconut, Acrylic Paint, Cold Air (it has a fresh scent imo), Cherry Coke.

Mary: The Earl Grey Tea She Drinks, Chocolate Chip Cookies, Sweet Cream, Her Vanilla Purfume.

Regulus: Cold Water, Pine, Musk (it’s in his cologne), Expensive Ink.

Pandora: Seaweed, Limes, Rosemary, Soil.

Barty: Oil (don’t ask why), Cedar, Rain Water, Copper.

Evan: Sandalwood, Coffee (with milk), Coconut Conditioner, Grapefruit.

[bruisedboys]

over the influence — remus lupin x reader

summary: remus lupin is not your boyfriend, but he sure knows how to act like he is.

contains: friends to lovers, friends trying really hard to be lovers, fluff, mutual pining, lovesick oblivious remus, drunk!reader, modern!au, rugby!james cw implied fem!reader, reader wears a skirt, alcohol consumption.

note: um welcome to my first ever remus fic!? if I’m being honest I have no idea if it’s good but I’m posting it anyway yolo

fem!reader 2.9k words

You’re plastered when Remus finds you. Absolutely hammered.

He can tell because you’re giggling madly at one of Sirius’s jokes, which you never do, because Sirius’s jokes are awful and you thankfully have a good sense of humour. But, you’re a giggly drunk, who finds just about anything anyone says absolutely hilarious. It’s adorable, usually. But right now, it’s blowing Sirius’s ego out of the water.

Remus dives in to save you as Sirius roars with laughter at his own joke.

“Dove,” he says, clasping your shoulder. You’re slumped into the sofa, your head lolling against the cushions. “There you are.”

You twist to look who it is, your face all scrunched up as you take him in. You blink very slowly. Then, just as slow, your face lights up.

“Remus!” You gasp happily. “Hi, baby. I was wondering where you went!”

Baby. Remus’s face burns and his heart does a triple backflip. You’re drunk, he reasons. Super drunk.

“Are you okay?” He asks you, bending at the waist so you can hear him better. It’s loud, the music and the people and Sirius, especially.

“I’m perfect,” you say, words all slurry and sticky and ending in a sort of ditzy hiccup.

Well, you’re not wrong about that. Remus takes the seat next to you and your droopy eyes follow him down.

“How much have you had to drink?” Remus asks, trying for curious but coming out a bit concerned. “What did you even drink?”

You shrug and hiccup again. “I don’t know.” Your shoulders drop and so do your lips, a sort of confused frown washing over your features. “Sirius made me some weird concoction … it was kinda gross, Rem.” You look at Remus very seriously, your eyelids low. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

Remus laughs and pretends to zip his lips. “Your secret’s safe with me, babe.”

Chances are it’s not, and Remus will mock Sirius about it endlessly. Not tonight, though. Tonight he’s mainly focused on making sure you don’t touch another cup of anything other than water.

You’re giggling again, though Remus isn’t sure what at. You’re just gazing at him and giggling your head off like a maniac.

“What’s so funny, pretty?” He asks fondly, a grin tugging at his lips. He knows you don’t have a chance of remembering any of this by tomorrow morning. Hence the pet names.

You stop laughing abruptly. It’s alarming and then not, because your big grin stays put. You lean in close, your chest pressing into his side. Remus smells all your smells, your perfume and your hairspray and the mystery drink you’ve definitely had too much of.

“You’re pretty,” you say, completely ignoring his question.

Remus flushes. You’re never this forward. It’s driving him nuts, the way you’re looking at him. How close you are. The way your scents wash over him and make him feel almost as drunk as you are.

“Whatever you say,” he says, brushing off your compliment because what the hell is he supposed to say to that? “I think you need some water.”

Remus gets up but you catch his wrist before he’s fully standing, your soft fingers pressing into his skin.

“Wait, don’t leave!” You sound desperate and you look the part, too. Your pretty eyes are blown wide as saucers.

Remus falters. “I’ll be five seconds, dove. M’just getting you a glass of water.”

You pout in such a way that makes Remus want to kiss you silly. “Take me with you, then?”

Remus finds he physically cannot say no to that look. He hauls you up by the forearm and you cling happily to his arm. Remus makes his way to the kitchen with you attached to his arm like a barnacle, your fingers pressing into the crook of his elbow, your thigh brushing his as you walk far too close to him. It’s dizzying, and Remus is surprised he’s managing to walk in a straight line.

In the kitchen, it’s much quieter but you’re not any less drunk. You detach yourself from Remus and skip over to the kitchen island. Before Remus can stop you you’re hauling yourself up onto the bench, so unsteady on your feet that you almost topple right off. Remus catches you by the elbow just before disaster strikes.

“Oops,” you giggle, breathless and totally out of your mind. “Sorry.”

Remus’s heart stops racing with worry and instead races with infatuation with you. Even in your drunken state.

“S’fine,” he says kindly, patiently, because you’re too sweet for your own good. You almost went toppling to your demise and you’re apologizing. “Just be careful. Please.”

You nod and sit pretty while Remus retrieves a glass and fills it with cold water from the fridge. When he turns back you’re making grabby hands for the glass. Remus looks at you, your wobbly state and your clumsy hands, and holds the condensation-ridden glass closer to his chest.

You pout and drop your arms. “Remus.”

“You’ll drop it, honey,” he says, as kindly as he can without sounding like he’s babying you. He is babying you, actually. Not that he’s gonna tell you that. “Let me.”

You let him. He brings one hand to rest at the small of your back, his fingers brushing the strip of skin just shy of your skirt’s waistband. He tries not to think about it as he brings the glass to your lips.

You drink like you’ve been stuck in a desert for six days, gulping like your life depends on it. Remus is grinning fondly until you finish and dip your head backwards. Your neck is bared to the kitchen lights and your chest is heaving dramatically, and Remus feels so lightheaded he actually has to grab the counter.

You notice, because of course you do, even in your tipsy state. You frown and put your hand on Remus’s where it’s gripping the counter for dear life.

“Remus? Are you okay?”

Remus blinks rapidly, hitches a grin onto his face. “I’m fine,” he says, fake grin at work. “Do you want more water?”

You think about it for a second. Then you look at Remus like you’re about to deliver the worst news of his life. “I need to pee,” you say solemnly.

Remus almost laughs. Almost. “Well, c’mon then.” He sets your empty glass down and grabs your forearm. “I’ll get one of the girls to take you.”

“No!” You say desperately. You throw your arms around Remus’s neck and tug him into you, and Remus is so startled he doesn’t have time to think about how close you are. You push your face into his neck. “No,” you say again, quieter this time. “I don’t want them to look after me. I want you.”

Your closeness catches up with Remus in a rush of heat all over his body. Your thighs press into his sides and your arms are like a vice around his neck. His heart thrums and his chest burns and it takes him a while to figure out what he’s saying.

“Dove,” he says gently. He pries himself off of you, albeit reluctantly, and puts his hands over your biceps, squeezing lightly. “I can’t take you to the bathroom.”

You frown. “Why not?”

Remus stutters. “Well, because. I’m- I’m not—”

“Please?” You beg, looking awfully cute when you clasp your hands together between yours and Remus’s chests. “You can just stand outside the door and wait. I’ll be fine.”

Half of Remus thinks it’s a bad idea, you might trip on your own feet and whack your head on the bathtub. The other half of him can’t ever say no to you, not even when what you’re proposing is totally dangerous and an awful idea. He’s not exactly proud of himself when he nods.

“Yeah, alright then,” he says, and you beam. “Come on.”

Remus ends up looking after you for the remainder of the night, you’re so drunk. He drives you home not long after your bathroom break. Sobers you up with some tea which you barely touch, and more cold water which you skull like you’ve been deprived of it for days.

He deposits you in your bed and you’re already half asleep by the time he does it, but you manage a sleepy, “Thank you,” that’s so sweet Remus feels his chest ache. He leaves you fast asleep in the comfort of your bed, ignores the urge to crash on your couch, and double checks he’s locked your doors on the way out.

Not that anyone’s asking, but he’s maybe just had the best night of his life.

-

Remus gets a call from you the next day and his heart skips. He thinks, stupidly, that maybe you’ve decided you hate him after last night. He picks it up anyway, because he misses you.

“Remus,” you say, as soon as the phone’s on his ear. You sound somewhat anguished. “Was I awful last night?”

He laughs, surprised. “What?”

“Was I awful to look after?” You ask like it’s obvious. “I barely remember anything. James said I was clinging to you for half the night.” You’re moaning like it’s a bad thing. For Remus it wasn’t. “And I’m sure I said some weird shit, I was so loopy off that stupid drink Siri gave me. I—”

Remus saves you before you fall into a self-deprecating waffle.

“Y/N,” he interrupts your rambling. “What’s gotten into you, dove? You were fine. It was fine.” I like looking after you, he doesn’t say.

“But—”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Remus tries not to laugh because you are being ridiculous, but you also really do sound quite worked up about it. “It’s fine. I wasn’t about to leave you to the crows.”

You giggle, thankfully. When you speak again you sound much happier. “‘The crows’ as in Sirius?”

Remus snorts. “Yeah. The crows as in Sirius. I think I’ll have a word with him about the drinks he passes around.”

You huff, and Remus can picture your pout. “Please do. I’m never drinking with him again.”

Remus laughs, a mixture of amusement and fondness and agreement. You’re much more yourself this morning, perky and a little dramatic and a bit of an over-thinker. Though admittedly, Remus didn’t mind loopy you last night.

“Are you going to James’s game tonight?” You ask, a smile evident in your voice.

Remus snaps out of his lovelorness long enough to reply, “Are you?”

“Yeah, why?”

“‘Cos I’m only going if you’re going.”

You laugh loud and the heat in Remus’s cheeks only grows. He loves making you laugh more than he’d like to admit.

“That’s mean, Remus,” you scold, with less heat than a block of ice. “Don’t you want to support your friend?”

“Friend isn’t really the right word,” Remus jokes. He’s happy to make you laugh at James’s expense. He’s sure James can take it.

You laugh again, and Remus knows you know he means it jokingly.

You’re still giggling when you talk again, breathless and adorable. “Alright, well. Would you mind picking me up?”

Remus agrees far too quickly to be normal, with far too much eagerness. He gets off the phone after agreeing on a time to pick you up, and knows he’s a total goner.

-

Remus isn’t your boyfriend. He’s your friend. And yet here you are, sitting very close to him in the stadium stands while you watch James’s rugby game. Only last night, he’d looked after you and driven you home when you got too tipsy. He’d also, at your request, given you a ride here, telling you all the while that you were the only reason he’s coming to the game at all. So maybe he’s closer to being your boyfriend than you think.

You watch James score a try and your row of seats erupts into cheers, Lily’s the loudest. The big screen above the field shows the camera panning to a close up of James. He whoops and pounds his fists in the air and blows a big smacking kiss in the general direction of your group of friends.

“He’s such a show off,” Remus drawls into your ear. You can hear him smiling.

You giggle and twist in your seat so you can look at him. He looks extraordinarily pretty tonight, in dark brown pants and a forest green t-shirt, his dark hair (in need of a cut) windswept and going in every direction possible. You want to kiss him so bad your chest burns. On the way here, he’d had his hand on your thigh for half the drive and you didn’t say a word the entire time. You think maybe you’re unhealthily obsessed with him.

“What?” Remus asks curiously, lips parted, and you realise you’ve been staring too long.

Heat washes over your cheeks. “Nothing,” you say as nonchalantly as you can.

“Have I got something on my face? You’re staring at me like I’ve grown two heads.”

The way he says it is like he knows exactly why you were staring at him. Desperate for an escape, you stand before you even know what you’re doing.

“I’m going to get more popcorn,” you declare to your friends in general. You purposefully avoid looking at Remus, afraid you’ll keel over and die. “Anyone want more?”

You get a few yes’s and one “I’m coming,” from Remus, which completely ruins the point. You’d tell him so but that would mean admitting you’re sickeningly obsessed with him. You allow him to tag along.

Sirius gives you a look as you leave with Remus, eyebrows raised like he knows exactly how much you like his friend. You’re sure he does. He doesn’t miss much, that boy. And he’s been giving you looks ever since you arrived. You flip him off behind Remus’s back.

Once at the popcorn stand, Remus insists on paying. It’s irritating, really, how sweet he is.

“Remus,” you groan, swatting his wallet away. “I can pay for myself.”

“I know you can, dove,” he says. “I’m just trying to be nice.”

And he gives you a smile so staggering that you let him pay for the popcorn. You’re still grumbling about it on the way back to your seats.

“You’re too nice,” you tell him, plonking down in your seat with a frown. “Stop being so nice, I’m sick of it.”

Remus laughs, really laughs, the kind that has you fighting a smile even though you’re annoyed at him. He’s got a lovely laugh.

“Sorry,” he says, sounding the opposite. He’s got a smarmy grin on his mouth, all teeth. You’d pummel him if he wasn’t so pretty. “Do you want me to be mean instead?”

You glare. “You’re mean to everyone else,” you say, which is entirely true and you both know it. He wouldn’t look after a drunk Sirius like he did you if his life depended on it.

To your surprise, Remus flushes. “Well, I—“

He’s interrupted by a yell of his name from Sirius, and then you realise they’re all calling your name, too. Shouts of “Remus!” and “Y/N!” and “Look!”

You twist in your seat, confused.

“What—?”

And then you see it. The kiss cam is on the big screen, colours and words blazing. And just your luck, it’s your face blown up ten times as big on the screen, your eyes wide and your lips parted as you stare back at yourself, caught mid-sentence. You think maybe you’re dreaming, because right next to your face is Remus’s. He’s just as shocked as you.

You turn to look at the real Remus, just as he turns to look at you. Your friends are having a field day, shouting, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

You ignore them.

“I …” You’re not sure what to say, your mouth filling with nothing but silence. You want badly to kiss him. You’ve always wanted to kiss him, and you think everyone but Remus knows it.

“We don’t have to,” he says quickly, mistaking your silence for unwillingness. “It’s just a stupid kiss cam.”

But you do have to, because he’s Remus, and maybe this stupid kiss cam is the only chance you’re ever gonna get. You swallow the nerves that are building up in your throat and ignore the fact that Sirius is practically screaming at the two of you from three seats down.

“I want to,” you say quietly, too quietly, and Remus doesn’t hear you over the hubbub. So you try again. “I want to.”

Remus goes very still, his lips parted and his chest heaving. Suddenly it feels like it’s just the two of you. He stares at you like you’re made of gold and your heart does somersaults.

Then he smiles. “Me too.”

He brings his hand to your jaw and you barely have time to bask in his touch before he’s kissing you. Really kissing you. He tastes like butter and sugar and he smells exactly like he always does. His hands are soft but sure where they cup your face and your chest is on fire, your heart is punching and kicking and you worry you might pass out in his arms you’re so giddy.

Your friends are screaming bloody murder, Sirius the worst of them all, and you’re sure the kiss cam has probably panned away from you by now but you can’t stop kissing him. You kiss him and kiss him and kiss him until you can’t breathe anymore. You’d go on forever but you’re losing breath and you really do think you’re lightheaded now.

You pull away before you pass out from lack of oxygen. Remus looks as frazzled as you feel, pink in the cheeks and his lips all swollen and his eyes are bright and burning and holy shit, you just want to kiss him again.

You almost do, but then Sirius and Frank and Lily appear and clap your backs, shout words you can barely hear and Sirius is so happy he looks like he might burst into tears. You laugh, half-delirious and sick as a dog in love with Remus, and somehow your hands end up tangled with his in his lap and your thigh is crushing his and he’s looking at you like he wants to kiss you again.

Lucky you, he does kiss you again. And many more times after that, no kiss cam needed.

thank you for reading! feedback & reblogs are appreciated 🤍

[luveline]

hi love. if you’re taking any requests could i request rockstar!sirius, or sirius in general, like the start of the relationship when everything is cute funny but they're still not a Couple

rockstar!sirius takes you on a date ♡ fem, 1.2k

“If you're here to antagonise me, you can just go home, Sirius,” you warn. 

Sirius Black gives you a dastardly grin, sliding into the seat across from you in a cloud of expensive cologne and hairspray. You're ashamed to say he smells nice, if a little sharp. 

“Hair explosion?” you ask. 

“You're very, very cruel to me, angel. I shouldn't call you that.” The toe of his converse hits yours. He leans forward, covering the pages of your novel with a hand adorned in silver jewellery. “It's no longer accurate.” 

“So mean,” you sigh, imbuing it with as much gutted patheticness as possible.

“Hey, I'm kidding.” He pushed his foot between yours. “How long have you been here? Did you wait long?” 

You close your book, put it flat out of reach, and fix him with a genuine smile. “No, not long.” 

Sirius leans over to kiss your cheek. You'll feel it for the next half an hour, a tingling, crescent moon of contact. “Well, good. Should we go and order? Know what you want?” He shakes his head. “I know what you want. Stay here.” 

He pops up and away as quick as he'd arrived. You panic. Cool and collected you may have seemed, but internally you're a storm of nerves, hands shaking ever so slightly as you take the compact mirror from your pocket and check over your features. You're worried you look like you've tried as hard as you have, all your complicated skincare and makeup, sheer shimmers and invisible concealer.  

Sirius met you without a lick of makeup and he still acted like you were the best thing since sliced bread. You remember it all in vivid detail, the way he'd looked at you, the double-take, the subsequent flirting. Sirius doesn't neg, but it was hard at first to know if he was being real with you. And what, he'd drawled, unblinking, dark lashes and kohl rings emphasised by his stillness, is a thing like you doing in a place like this? 

Thing? you'd asked softly, confused and intimidated by his attention. You'd recognised him immediately. 

Girl, he'd corrected himself. Then, with a strange smile, Angel. You're an angel, huh? Must be.

It wasn't some world-bending line but it didn't need to be, his demeanour did the hard work for him. And his appearance didn't hurt. 

Even now as he walks back towards you, your heart skips a quick beat. He looks more casual than he has the last few times he's seen you, a leather jacket swapped for ragged black denim, and tight pants replaced with jeans that hug his thighs. You can't believe a thing like him would ever be interested in you, but he most assuredly is. 

“Here,” he says, putting a drink down in front of you, and again leaning down to kiss your other cheek. “You look so pretty.” He says it like it’s nothing, doesn't cost him a thing, not a shred of doubt nor bravery. Then he adds, “You're fucking perfect. Can't believe you walk around like this for free.” 

“Stop it,” you say with a laugh, pushing him away. You can't bring yourself to be mean about it. Sirius hasn't ever been mean to you, not once, despite the things people have told you since you met. Be careful with that one. Guys like him want one thing. 

After three dates and two evenings spent watching films together on his ragtag sofa (and enjoying the laziest, softest kisses a girl may ever have been given), you've yet to find out what he wants. To adore you, apparently. 

He runs his pinky down your cheek and under your chin. “Can I kiss you?” he asks. 

You lift your chin invitingly. 

Sirius laughs into your lips, suddenly kissing you, close and heavy-handed. You rise off of your seat to meet him, only an inch or so but enough to pull a deep sound from the back of his throat. You've never been kissed like this; his hand is steady on your cheek, reluctant to let you go, and he presses down hard with his lips. Nearly too much, never quite there. He rounds it out with a softer one and pulls back to gaze at you fondly. 

“I missed you,” he says, sneaking back in to kiss the slight curve of your laugh line. “Not cool, this whole sleeping at your own flat business.” 

He isn't your boyfriend, yet. Hasn't asked. So he isn't staying at yours nor you at his. But he has to ask soon, right? Who kisses people like that without intentions of some sort of commitment? 

Rockstars, your brain supplies cruelly. Infamous players. 

“Well, where else would I be staying?” you ask as he sits back in his seat. 

“Good question, beautiful.” He ignores it, anyhow. “I've ordered a few too many things. Don't be mad.” 

“I won't be.” You take your purse from your coat. “So long as it doesn't cost more than sixty two pounds and eight p, that is.” 

“Shut up, as if you're paying. You're fucking childish–” 

“You're childish, I'm trying to keep things fair and you won't let me!” 

“Quite right. Look at the state of you,” he says, eyes roving across your face pleasantly, “you think you deserve to pay for dinner? No. I asked you, and I've ordered, and it'll cost a bit more than what you have anyways.” He drops the act just enough to see a sliver of doubt. “Please, let me take care of it. I want to buy you dinner, sweetheart. It's the least I want to do for you.” 

You look at him through your lashes, face angled down at the ebony wooden table. “Yeah, alright. I don't mind.” 

“Good, because you didn't really have a choice. How can I expect you to say yes if I don't pay for dinner first?” 

“Say yes to what?” you ask, frowning gently. He's confused you. 

Sirius offers both hands across the table. You place yours softly in his, letting him brush the pads of his thumbs against your knuckles. 

“To being official,” he says, a hopeful smile playing on his lovely mouth. “What do you think? Is it too soon to ask?” 

You shake your head minutely. 

He drops his head a little, meeting your eyes. “Do you want to be together?” 

“I'll be your girlfriend?” you confirm. 

“Do you want to be?” His lips part but he doesn't add anything more, though he might want to. You understand that vulnerability won't be instantaneous between you both. You can wait. If this is even a hint of the man he is, you want to be together more than anything. 

You nod, forcing your smile into a line that soon wobbles. 

He leans across the table for another kiss. This one chaste. Perfect. 

“Thank you,” he says. When he sits back, he's practically glowing with smugness. “Fuck. I thought that would be harder.” 

“I can make it worse for you if you want to ask me again."

“Would you? Let's take it from the top, angel. I didn't suffer half as much as I should've.” 

[nah-she-didnt]

Afterparty

“So, despite the size and circumstances, that certainly wasn’t the most depressing wedding I’ve ever attended,” Sirius declared from his perch on the kitchen island. It was impressive that he could express this thought at all considering the huge piece of chocolate cake that was currently stuffed into his mouth. 

“Cheers,” James laughed and threw a leftover pink almond at him, “so what was the most depressing wedding?” 

Sirius considered for a moment. “The Bulstrode-Selwyn wedding of ‘68,” he said finally, “the bride turned 17 the day before, but her husband was 50.” 

“Eugh,” Lily pulled a face, “that’s horrid.” 

“Yeah. So, Lily, I guess you’re lucky after all, considering your husband is at least your own age. You’re still stuck with him for the rest of your life, though, so my condolences there.” 

The whole kitchen laughed at this. Lily sat on James’ lap, feeding him bits of cake from her plastic fork. Remus, who had elected to stay sober to watch baby Harry, stood in the doorway bouncing and rocking the child as he slept soundly. Peter, Mary, Dorcas, and Dorcas’ girlfriend Marlene had been playing some sort of rowdy drinking game. No one was quite sure of the rules to the game, except that Peter was losing. Badly. 

“That’s you again, mate,” Marlene said triumphantly. 

Peter sighed and took another swig from his glass. “Fuck you, McKinnon,” 

“Now, Wormtail,” chastized James, “I’ll have none of that talk on my wedding night, thank you very much.” 

“Speaking of your wedding night,” Mary grinned, “what are the Honeymoon plans again? Paris? Rome?” 

“The guest bedroom,” Lily winked, “thank god for you two,” she looked from Sirius and Remus, “if you didn’t agree to watch Harry we would never have the time.” 

Remus grimaced. “You’re welcome, but I don’t want to hear about your kinky wedding night sex, thanks.” 

“Who said anything about kinky?” said Lily, pretending to look aghast, “No, it’s missionary all the way tonight. We are married now, after all, I’m pretty sure it’s the law.” 

James jabbed her in the ribs and she laughed, dropping her slice of cake onto his chest. “Whoops! Oh, come on, that was your fault. You shouldn’t have tickled me!” 

“Damn,” James laughed as he scraped icing off his tie, “my best suit. Now what will I wear to all the elegant social engagements clogging up my calendar?” 

The room at large laughed again. James and Lily were currently in their sixth month of hiding. The protective charms held just until the property line, but no further. That meant six long months of doing laps around the garden with baby Harry in the world’s most useless pram. 

The wedding had been a small affair. Just the bride and groom, Sirius as best man, Mary as maid of honor, Remus to give away the bride, and Peter, Dorcas, and Marlene as wedding guests. 

Somehow, they managed to convince Professor McGonagall to officiate, but she had declined their offer to stay for the after-party. “I think I’ve seen you lot inebriated on enough occasions for one lifetime thank you,” she had said primly, but her smile gave her away. James was grateful.  McGonagall had been the closest thing to a parental figure while they were in school, so it was only fitting that she had been there today. He knew how much Lily missed her dad, and he could think of nothing but his parents all day. His parents, who would never meet his son.

He pushed the thoughts out of his head. He had too much to be thankful for to be depressed when the night was so young.  

“Oi,” he called to Remus, gently nudging his wife off his lap, “give me the kid. I’ll put him down, then we can really get this party started, yeah?” 

Remus frowned. “Five more minutes, please? He’s warm and he smells so good.” 

“We can’t keep him, Moony,” Sirius laughed, “though I think we’d run into trouble trying to make one of our own.” 

“Don’t,” said Lily darkly, “wait as long as you can. I mean, don’t get me wrong,” she smiled down at her son, “I love him more than life itself, but I haven’t had a proper night’s sleep in months.” 

“Fitting that you won’t be getting any sleep tonight either, then.” James winked at her. He gestured to Remus to hand him the baby. “Come on, Moony, you deserve a break. You’ll have plenty more quality time when he wakes you in a few hours, believe me.” 

Remus handed the baby over reluctantly. James took Harry and grabbed Lily’s hand. “Come on,” he cooed to the sleeping baby, “let’s get you to bed.” 

They walked through the house and into the living room. Harry’s cot stood pushed up against the far wall. James had conjured a large mattress for Sirius and Remus to share in the sitting room that night. They had agreed to watch the baby that night in order to give the newlyweds some well-deserved alone time upstairs, but only after James promised that he would cast a strong silencing charm. 

“Good,” Sirius had grumbled, “I’m happy to help, but please let’s not repeat the moaning incident of 1978.” 

James had gone red. “I’ve told you a hundred times, we thought we put a silencing charm on the four-poster.” 

“Well, you didn’t.” 

James gingerly placed the bundle of blankets into the cot. Miraculously, Harry stayed fast asleep. His dark eyelashes fluttered against his smooth cheeks as he settled into his new position. 

“It’s funny,” he whispered, still looking down at the baby, “we just declared our undying love in front of family and friends, but we’ll still never do anything better than him.”

“I know,” Lily beamed, “we certainly peaked.” 

James draped his arm across her shoulders and spun her into his chest. He breathed in the smell of her perfume and hairspray. “I can’t believe this gets to be my life,” he sighed into her hair. 

She gripped his back even tighter. “Believe it. You’re stuck with me now.” 

James laughed and pulled back so he could look into her face. “You say that like I should be worried.” 

“Oh, you should be,” she grinned wickedly. 

James laughed and opened his mouth to retort, when all of a sudden the sound of breaking china filled the air. 

Lily glanced towards the kitchen. “Sounds like they started without us.” 

James placed a final kiss on her forehead then gestured to the hall. “Shall we?” 

Lily took James’ arm in her own. “Absolutely. I need a damn drink.” 

[astrangeevent2002]

Nightmare Neighbour (Young!Sirius Black x Reader) Chapter 4

A/N: Kinda domestic and stuff but I like it.

Word Count: 1164

Warnings: Weed, sex mentions.

Requested: No but y’all seem to like it.

Your POV:

"Open up! My dear sugar and spice and all things nice! It's the platonic love of your life! Open up!" Sirius yelled while pounding on Andy's door.

You rolled your eyes.

"Are you sure she's even home?" you asked.

"She's always home. She's either asleep or high off her ass."

"Welcome loser!" the door opened to reveal a short, chubby girl with bright yellow hair that tapered off into a neon green ombre at the very split ends just above her shoulders.

"Or both," Sirius nodded.

"Losers? Who's the company, my little star?"

It took all your will-power to not cringe at the nicknames even if they were most likely ironic, from what you could tell.

"This is my f-"

"If you say anything other than ex-schoolmate right now I will punch you in that painfully bruised nose," you threatened.

"Is it really bruised?" Sirius muttered, slightly worried.

"Ooh! She's spicy! I'm adopting her!" Andy called out loudly.

"Good. Because you're keeping her overnight," Sirius motioned with one hand while the other continued to poke at his nose for any sign of bruising.

"Well. My casa is your casa or whatever," Andy motioned for you to enter her flat.

Moving the beaded curtains out of the way you stepped in.

Sirius' POV:

He watched casually as you barely took half a step in before you came rushing back out again in a fit of coughing and choking.

"What. The. Fuck!" you said, still coughing a bit.

"Weed," Andy responded casually with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Want some?" Sirius asked.

"I think I'm good," you groaned. "Don't think I can stay in there though. No offence, Andy."

"None taken."

Sirius chuckled dryly and turned to you with a smile.

"Why are you grinning like the Cheshire cat?" you asked.

"Because, sweetie-pie, we are exactly back where we started so pick again. My bed or the stairs?"

"There is no way on this Earth that I'll sleep in the same flat as you," you crossed your arms.

"And there's no way in hell that I'll let you stay out here where someone could straight up stab you, babe."

Sirius grabbed both your shoulders from behind and pushed you in the direction of his flat.

"Goodnight Andy!"

"'Night Sirius."

Your POV:

So you may have argued about it a little but with no other clear option you didn't put up much of a fight and settled for letting yourself get dragged towards Sirius' apartment.

Either way, it would probably be better than getting stabbed or chocking on the stench of weed.

"So this is probably gonna be some messy bachelor pad where you bring all your girls and have random crap all over the walls right?" you picked at a hangnail.

"Sure, hun!" He finished unlocking his door. "Welcome to my humble abode!"

You grabbed the box of stuff and entered the flat. You walked down the short hallway, flipped on the light and damn near almost dropped your box of crap.

It was almost spotless with a neatly made bed and not a single item of clothing or a dirty dish in sight. The air smelled clean although that could've been the disappearance of the pee smell that was very prominent in the staircase.

"You might want to pick your jaw up off the floor," Sirius chuckled.

"Tell me you cleaned specifically coz you were planning on getting laid tonight," you said, in total awe of the utter state of cleanliness in his flat.

"There's usually some dishes in the sink but it normally looks like this," Sirius shrugged, "I guess my bitch of a mother actually taught me something."

You nodded and placed the box on the dinner table.

"Although, just for your information, it's usually their place, not mine."

"Ew," you grimaced, "You disgust me!"

"Do you want to take a shower first?"

You shook your head, "I think you need it a bit more after your little fall on the steps."

He chuckled and headed over to the bathroom.

In the meantime, you thought you'd take a moment to snoop around.

You heard the shower running and you looked through a few of the drawers in Sirius' wardrobe. Clothes. Clothes. More clothes.

You decided to check out his bedside table drawers.

You opened the top drawer and found a travel pack of tissues, some takeaway menus and other notes scribbled on pieces of paper and post-its and, obviously, condoms.

The second drawer was more interesting from the looks of it. It had a few photos and old sketches of maps and plans for pranks. It still wasn't anything special or unexpected so you settled for sitting on the edge of the bed until Sirius finished showering.

It didn't take long.

"You're up next, sugar!" Sirius shouted to you as a towel hit the back of your head.

He walked out of the bathroom fully dressed because unlike books and fanfiction, in the real world people got dressed before they left the bathroom.

"Alright."

You walked into the bathroom and had just clipped your hair up and taken your top off when you realised you didn't know how to work the shower.

You poked your head out the door and while trying to keep your chest covered by the door, you asked, "Hey Black! How do I work the shower?"

"Flick the switch and press the big blue button and then adjust the dial for temperature!" he yelled back from the little kitchenette area.

"Thanks!"

You did exactly as he said and turned the shower on before stripping down and getting in.

You very quickly realised that the dial was completely opposite so hot was cold and cold was hot.

Hot also wasn't particularly hot so you got out after your luke-warm shower smelling very manly after having no choice but to use Sirius' 17-in-1 shower gel, shampoo, conditioner, hairspray, hair gel, motor oil, petrol, window cleaner, bleach and Godrick knows what else.

"Umm...Sirius."

"Yes, cutie-pie?"

"Can I borrow some clothes?"

"Sure but you're gonna have to come and get them!"

You rolled your eyes.

"Very funny, Black! Just give them."

The door opened a tiny crack and Sirius' arm came through holding a bundle of clothes.

"Take them."

You did as he said and slipped on the boxers and T-shirt that he passed you. You opted for no shorts as the shorts he gave you reached to the middle of your calf.

You quickly hand washed your tights and panties in the sink so they'd be clean for tomorrow and walked out of the bathroom.

"Here dork!" you chucked Sirius' shorts at his head and went over to the radiator, "You don't mind if I hang some shit up to dry do you?"

He simply just shook his head.

You went over to the bed that he was lying on and collapsed next to him, face first into the pillow he was leaning his elbow on.

"I'm so tired."

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