#looks handsome in either way ♥w♥

[luveline]

jade, happy new year! id love to request a cute little lunalovegood!reader with sirius. maybe he catches r painting something for him or making him a necklace or something crafty like that

thank you!! sorry this request took some time, I hope you like it | fem!reader ♥︎ 1k

You aren't usually so secretive about your artwork. You aren't especially forward with it either, but when Sirius asks to see what you're working on, whether it be a thumbnail in your sketchbook or the rendering of a huge canvas, you oblige him with one of your funny smiles. 

This one is a different story, evidently. You won't let him see it, citing that it doesn't look perfect yet. 

"My darling," he says, seriously and joking at once, "when has that ever mattered?" To you, between us. 

You tap your nose and duck in for a kiss. Afterward he realises he's been duped, distracted by your bright and shiny lip gloss, your sparkling irises full of promise. He doesn't see the painting for weeks, looking up in the living room to watch your back move as he always does and finding you've closed the door. 

He sits on the sofa with his guitar some nights plucking away at the strings, and other nights he sort of just lies there. He knows how important hobbies are, doesn't deny you your earthly pleasures, but he misses the days where you'd allow him your company. He'd sit on the floor of your small studio for hours if you'd let him, he misses you that much. 

He comes home one night a little earlier than usual, guitar case heavy on his spine, a bag of food shopping in hand. He's gonna make something nice, and he's gonna pry you away from your painting with a crowbar if necessary, and he's going to be honest. I love you and support you but I can't keep on missing you like this, sweet thing. I know your paintings are important to you but I am too, and I need you to make more time for me. 

He has it rehearsed. 

You're humming in the studio (which had been his office, and still houses the majority of his instruments), head bobbing every so slightly. Your hair glows in the afternoon sun, your skin shines. Your shoulders — Sirius swallows. Everytime he sees the back of you he wants to envelope you in a steel-armed hug. To dip his face into the curve of your neck, to breathe in the spritz of your dainty perfume, to fill his hands with your soft abdomen. 

You've left the door open, and when you move to the left to put down your palette on the brown desk he'd gotten for you specifically for moments like this when you need more hands and he's not around, he can see the entirety of your canvas, corner to corner, each lick of oil paint muddied and slick. 

He knows this painting is almost done. There's no first coat of sepia to be seen, no sketchy lines, only full-fleshed shapes and colours. 

It's a painting of him. He admits to thinking he's handsome, but you've made him beautiful. You've painted him in one of his better moments, a real smile playing on otherwise smirking lips, his face 3/4ths  eyelashes thick and pointed leftward, off the canvas. He would guess that he's looking at you. He's never looked at anyone else like that. 

It has emotion like a flood welling inside him, creeping slowly up and up from the core of his aching stomach to his lips. He can't stop himself. 

"Sweetheart," he says, clearing his throat as subtly as he can, "my girl. Why didn't you tell me?"

You're predictable even now, you don't jump in startled shock, or try to close the door between you. You finish squeezing out a blob of cadmium yellow paint and wipe the mouth of the bottle against your palette, paint covered fingers screwing on the cap with a slow precision. He loves the way you move, is enchanted as you lay down the tube of paint and meet his eyes. 

"It's a surprise, Siri. If I tell you, that makes it not a surprise." You smile at him, lifting your chin, and Sirius has no choice but to use the word adorable. You look adorable, eyes shiny and smile soft. "Surprise, sweetheart." 

"It's your best work," he says honestly. 

"I know." You take up your paintbrush, dip it into the small blob of yellow, and bend to start painting again. 

He remembers what he'd wanted to talk to you about and slides his guitar case carefully off of his back, hand extended as he approaches you, placing his warm palm against the small of your back. 

His lips part, the beginning of his speech on the end of his tongue, when you bounce backward and smile. 

"Done," you say. 

He squints at the bottom of the canvas, where you've signed your name over his painted heart. It's an astute place to put it. 

"How much paint do you have on you, my darling?" he asks. 

You flare your lashes and peel out of the cream, paint-dappled apron you'd been wearing. You pour a little of white spirit in your hands to his displeasure and wipe them together, drying the resulting oil on your apron. He wonders how you've survived this long, and wants to harp about spontaneous combustion, but you're weaving your arms around his waist with a heaving sigh, your pert smile, your lovely nose, rubbing into his front indulgently. 

He sighs, satisfied, and kisses your forehead. His arms settle around you familiarly, forearm straight across your shoulders. In his head, he swears he can feel the knot there from your hunched painting stature. He promises to investigate later. 

"I'm so glad you like it," you say. 

"I haven't told you I like it," Sirius says quietly, eyes closed in the bliss of being near you. 

"Oh, sorry," you mumble, not too sorry after all, "just thought, from the hug…" 

You're thinking correctly. Of course you'd read him like that. You don't need words to know how he's feeling, you never have. 

"I love it. Your talent never fails to impress me," he says. 

You peel away from his chest, take his clean face into your sullied palms, and cradle him like water in your hands, heels touching under his chin. Your fingertips dance over his stubble, and you meet his eyes and beam. 

"I love when you make that face," you say. 

He looks exactly like the painting. Stupidly in love. 

#sirius x you #sirius orion black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius x reader fluff #sirius black imagine #marauders era #marauders #sirius black drabble #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fanfiction #the marauders #sirius black #sirius black x fem!reader

[blackestnight]

1/17/18. ALL THE KIDS. I MUST EAT. also [makes squishy motions at hanamis face] t w e n t y s i x

C O N S U M E

♥ Do they seek out love or let it find them? Are they even interested in romance?

Rhela’a, who is already dressed in his Valentione’s best, is nearly glowing. “Romance is fantastic! Love stories never get old, are you kidding? Some of the greatest epics of the sixth astral era were just, like, especially long, bloody love-at-first-sight tales between forbidden factions--okay, I know the poacher-guard thing is a little overdone, but it’s classic. Love has inspired the most beautiful soliloquies to ever grace an Eorzean stage--”

“We were meant to be discussing your personal romantic prospects,” Sjanna cuts in, swirling a spoonful of honey into her tea. “Not love as a literary theme.”

“Oh. Yes, right. Well...I guess I’m just waiting to meet the right person?” He looks perplexed, as though the concept of separation between love poems and real-world romance hasn’t quite clicked. “I mean, Menphina guides lovers to each other, or at least that’s what my aunt taught me. So I just have to keep my eyes peeled!”   

Sjanna takes a perfunctory sip from her cup. “I am married to my research. I would not say I am immune to infatuation, merely...slow on the uptake, as it were. By the time my prospective suitors had made themselves clear in the past, I had already recruited them as colleagues. I doubt I could ever be involved with someone in my field. If they had half the necessary passion to interest me, we would simply ignore each other.”

Elysa, in contrast to Rhela’a’s enthusiasm and Sjanna’s straightforwardness, seems to want to melt through the floor. “I, um, I’m not...looking? I think love is nice and all, but I’m...no. I don’t really want to find anyone. I’m good. Thanks.”

♥ What sort of characteristics or quirks draw them to someone?

Rhela’a begins to tick off a list on his fingers. “Funny, adventurous, someone who’s just, like, super passionate about something, handsome, good huggers--oh, and I guess being a good cook is a bonus, but I also like cooking, so maybe just someone who appreciates food? Ha, kinda sounds like Elysa, actually.”

“I--no.” Elysa seems to be equal parts stunned and offended, the embarrassment falling away. “Rhalgr’s snowy--no. Eugh. No offense, I mean, you’re a nice guy, but...”

“What? I wasn’t saying I’d date you. Did I say I’d date her?” Rhela’a looks to Sjanna for confirmation, who sighs and shakes her head. “Anyway, what gets you interested in someone?”

Elysa leans forward, picking at a chunk of bread on her plate. “Someone smarter than me, for sure. More careful. I can get kind of...reckless? Way too caught up in the moment. I kinda need someone to take the long view. Prob’ly not fair to ask that, though, cleaning up my messes and all.”

Rhela’a looks ready to protest, but Sjanna cuts in with a hum. “I would not be so sure. As for me...certainly no one as exuberant as either of you. A fellow champion of history, perhaps. Someone unwilling to let valued skills die out for want of the willingness to master them.”

♥ Do they have a ‘type’?

“I don’t think so.” Elysa continues to pulverize her bread into ever-smaller piles of crumbs. “I mean, I don’t think I can have a type, I’ve only ever been interested in like one person, but even if you took like every good part of her and put them in someone else I don’t think--” Her brain seems to catch up to her mouth, finally, and she silences herself with a heaping spoonful of stew. She swallows, quickly, and places her hands in her lap. “Nah, I don’t.”

“Well I do.” Rhela’a gives a firm nod, disproportionately serious. “People with a passion! That’s a type, right? That’s gotta be a type.”

“You are so dramatic.” Sjanna finishes her tea, setting it back on the saucer with a firm click. “I suppose I would have to say ‘studious,’ if I must choose a single concept.”

aaaand for hanami!

♥ What do they love most about their significant other?

“This again?” She leans forward, bracing her temple on her palm in order to obscure her face. “Fine. ...the stupid nickname. It is ridiculous and sentimental, but no matter where I am I am up with the sunrise, and--it is a nice reminder, first thing in the morning. Good memories to wake to.”

#ask #ask meme #carmeladansen #final fantasy xiv #oc: hanami hagane #oc: rhela'a tayuun #oc: sjanna eldfalk #oc: elysa cordwyk #s: a minor justice #s: thinking of you wherever you are #THANK YOU CARMELA...[HANDS YOU A PLATTER OF HEADCANONS] #asking elysa about crushes is the fastest way in recorded history to cause spontaneous combustion #she's got it. so bad. for addie. please you have Feelings everyone knows you have them #i hope my disaster lesbians remove their heads from their asses someday #anyway eventually sjanna is gonna meet nashimiera and there will be HEARTS IN HER EYES #also rhela'a is just. so ridiculous. he's a puppy in a catboy suit. #why do i feel like i've written a pitch for an otome game