Also you’re very good at writing. One of the best I’ve come across on this app.
I stumbled across one of your posts and was surprised when it had only 2 notes (though it is true it was posted only half hour ago). I thought it would have hundreds.
So i think a fun prompt would beeee.
Prompt: Sirius, impulsive as he is, tries to cut his own hair at 2 am because he never likes what the hairdressers give him and he’s bored. He messes up quite badly. Remus stumbles across him. Sirius tries to act like its fine and he’s not upset about messing up his hair but he kinda is.
Genre: fluff, humor, comforting Remus, Sirius being his dramatic self.
Thank you so, so much for those sweet words. They mean so much.
This is such a fun prompt! It steered a little more toward the dramatic Sirius than the Sirius trying to pretend he's fine. Forgive me for that. I just love dramatic Sirius so much.
Sirius stares in the mirror. Remus is gone, out somewhere. Maybe for bread or bog rolls or a kebob. Something equally ridiculous. Sirius hadn't been paying much attention when he'd said he was going out, too focused on the way his mouth moved over the words to actually hear them. Regardless, it's two in the morning, Remus is gone, Sirius is wide awake, and he is bored. One of these on their own can lead to many disastrous scenarios, but together, they create a perfect storm all centered around Sirius Black. Nothing good happens after two in the morning, that's what Mrs Potter always says.
So Sirius stands and stares in the mirror. He tugs back the skin of his face, stretching it and distorting it oddly, smirking at himself before his fingers trail to his hair. He yanks on a black strand. It's too long, even for him, drifting over his shoulders choppily when he likes it just there, brushing the line, never beyond. His grey eyes narrow as he studies his reflection, contemplating.
It's not even cut right as it is. The stylist the Potters had set Sirius up with when he'd finally ran to them had stopped working close to a year ago, leaving Sirius the struggle of finding someone else to do it properly, because he is particular about his hair. Who wouldn't be if they had something that looked like his? But so far, no one he'd tried had matched up to his high standards, leaving his hair not a mess, but close, and Sirius hated it with a burning passion. His eyes narrow further as he loops the strand of hair around one of his fingers.
"Don't do it," coughs out the old mirror.
Sirius arches a dark eyebrow. "Who are you to tell me what to do?" he demands to the piece of glass.
The mirror wheezes in front of him. "The one who has to reflect back at you every day. It's good advice. Don't do it."
"No one asked you," snaps Sirius defensively with a scowl. "I can do this. How hard can it be?"
The mirror sputters a ragged sound, but Sirius ignores it as he reaches for a pair of scissors. He grips a section of his hair at the back and pulls it forward, studying it in the soft light of the room. His tongue pokes out from between his teeth as he raises the scissors and begins to cut.
Remus tramples through the front door of the flat, legs stiff from the cold outside, taking away any grace he may have ever possessed, though honestly it hadn't been much to begin with. He strips off his jacket, body shaking of the vestiges of the chill that had settled in while he'd walked the streets outside, the warmth of his home falling over him pleasantly.
He listens to the silence of the flat around him as he drapes his jacket over the stand beside him, eyes shifting around, searching for any sign of Sirius. Finding their sitting room empty, he ventures to the kitchen and pokes his head in, but he sees no sign of the other man. He tromps down toward the bedroom, curious as to whether Sirius has finally fallen asleep, though he doubts it, the man's schedule having fallen into the realms of absurd sometime within the passing months, never settling down until at least five in the morning and sleeping until midday if permitted. Remus has somehow fallen into the same pattern with him slowly, though he still tries to resist it at every turn, pointless as it may be. Sirius Black gets what he wants, always.
The bed is unsurprisingly empty and untouched, still in the same state they'd left it that morning, sheets and blankets rumpled and unmade. Sirius hates a made-up bed, instantly following behind Remus and wrecking it once more whenever he tries to tidy it, trademark, impish grin slotted firmly in place as he always spreads out amongst the chaos he's so happily created.
"Oh no," moans Remus as realization settles. "What have you done? You're only even quiet when you've done something bad, like a guilty toddler or dog. Fuck. Sirius!"
"Moony?" comes the small, weak reply from down the hall.
Remus turns and follows the sound to their small bathroom. The door is closed, but Remus can hear faint movement within. He attempts to open the door but finds it locked, a frown pulling at his mouth.
"Padfoot? What's wrong? Let me in."
Remus hears a small noise from behind the door, like a whimper or a whine. If he didn't know any better, Remus would think it is Padfoot ensconced within the room. But Remus does know better. He can hear the shuffling of nervous, anxious feet, can smell Sirius beyond the sheet of wood, raging with turmoil. Remus begins to panic a little, rattling the knob and pulling his wand with this free hand before he pauses when Sirius' voice reaches his ears again.
"Remus, I fucked up," he says pitifully. "I fucked up so badly. Please help."
The lock clicks and then the door is being pulled from Remus' grasp. Sirius is suddenly standing in front of him, head bowed down, face mostly hidden, though Remus can see the grievous expression filling his features. His eyes shift over the other man, but he looks fine, no injuries present to the naked eye. Nothing's broken or destroyed within the flat that Remus had seen during his search. He stares at Sirius, baffled, until Sirius finally lifts his head and meets Remus' gaze, and then Remus is biting back bubbling laughter, though not very well if Sirius' dark glower is anything to go by.
"Don't laugh!" cries Sirius, tugging at his mangled hair in both hands. A sharp breath of air escapes Remus before he can stop it, the first hints of a laugh trying to overpower him. Sirius' glare deepens, his eyes widening at the same time, looking helpless.
It is bad, admittedly. One side is far longer than the other, the ends chopped to hell. Sirius looks as though he's gone three rounds with a set of dull hedge clippers and has lost spectacularly. Remus thinks he might have even tried to add some layers to fix his mistake, which has only created a worse problem.
"What am I going to do, Remus?" pleads Sirius, still yanking at his miserable looking hair. "I've ruined it. What is wrong with me? Why did I think I could this?" He suddenly rounds to face the mirror over the sink basin, pointing an accusing finger. "Why did you not try harder to talk me out of this, you fucking piece of useless glass?"
If the mirror responds to Sirius' accusations, Remus misses it. His laughter finally escapes him, bending him double, sending his chest heaving from the force of it. He senses Sirius' incensed eyes on him again and Remus tries to calm himself, straightening back up.
"Find this funny, do you?" snaps Sirius, though his voice still sounds more whiny and doleful than actually angry. "My life is over. I can't leave this flat ever again. Enjoy your life with a shut-in, Lupin! You've laughed yourself right in to that one, haven't you?"
Small chuckles still tickle the lining of Remus' throat, but he steps forward, placing both hands on Sirius' shoulders in a calming motion. "For fuck's sake, Pads," he says through mild snickers. "What were you thinking?" Sirius pouts and Remus shakes his head fondly, one hand lifting, fingers pushing into Sirius' mangled hair and threading through. "It's going to be fine. I'll try to fix it for you."
"Yeah?" mumbles Sirius pathetically, though there's tinges of hope in his voice now. Remus smiles at him, his hand dropping to cup his cheek as he leans forward and presses a kiss to his forehead.
"Go sit down," he instructs.
Sirius does as he's told eagerly, sitting sideways on the toilet so that Remus can stand behind him. Remus sizes up the mess the other man has created before finally diving in, scissors working slowly, cautiously at first until Remus gains a bit more confidence in what he's doing. When he's done, he brushes his fingers back through Sirius' hair again and kisses the top of his head.
"Go look," he tells Sirius. The other man stands and steps in front of the mirror hesitantly, his eyes lighting up when he spies his reflection.
"Much better," huffs the mirror.
Sirius glares at it but eventually his eyes meet Remus' through the glass. Remus cuts Sirius' hair after that. No more stylists or over-enthusiastic boyfriends.
