Monbeauloup - Our Tragedy Was Written In The Stars

༻❀. About me .❀༺

Hello, so good to see you here! ♡

Welcome to my blog.

This is my navigation post - feel free to come back to it at all times.

My writing:

𝖂𝖔𝖑𝖋𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗

The Act of Love

The Star’s Soul

Where all the Poets go to die

𝕾𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖚𝖘 𝕭𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖐

The Darkness wept

𝕳𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘

Remus Lupin

Sirius Black

𝕾𝖍𝖎𝖕𝖘

one

two

three

Please know, that i’ll write for the Marauders era only and writing requests are solely for that.

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

My requests are open for:

headcanons

brief oneshots (600-1k words)

drabbles

ships

For ship requests you can give me as much information as you like, but this is what i'll need, if you would like a ship:

a detailed description of your personality (hobby’s, interests, character traits etc.)

preferred gender for the character (if you have a preference)

personality type (your MBTI would be very helpful, but only if you know it)

sun sign (others signs optional)

what do you look like? describe your physical appearance (hair colour, hair style etc.)

If you’re unsure about something you’d like to request, you’re more than welcome to message me or send me an ask.

My Sirius Black Headcanons:

talked to the moon while in azkaban bc he missed remus

actually a huge softie

tough exterior but super sensitive on in inside

at one point the other marauders found out that he could speak french almost fluently and the one who loved it the most was remus

the first time james told him that he loves him and that he was like his brother, he cried bc no one had ever told him that they loved him before

gave remus a notebook, but only so he can read it when remus is asleep

while in azkaban, he would also transform into a dog every full moon. he would lie down and stare at the moon, hoping remus is okay and that makes it safely through the night

biggest drama queen hogwarts has ever seen

sleeps in remus' sweaters

wears a leather jacket instead of his robes and doesn't understand why mcgonagall tells him to “take that thing off”

always likes to hug everyone and his love language is physical contact

would blast muggle music when he was at 12 grimmauld place for the holidays just to piss off his blood prejudiced family

after graduating hogwarts, he finds out about muggle motorcycles and never uses floo again

black suits are his thing, but only when he isn’t wearing his leather jacket or his gryffindor robes

biggest heart. if he cares and loves you, he cares and loves very hard and deeply. when he says, he got you, he got you. literally for anything

Character: Sirius Black Aesthetic

– requested by anonymous — send in requests for aesthetics — photos are not mine, only edits

        She had a way of seeing the beauty in others, even, and perhaps most especially, when that person couldn’t see it in themselves.

                                                                 - Remus Lupin

start here, caitlyn siehl // untitled, fortesa latifi // rien ne va plus, margarita karapanau (trans. karen emmerich) // black iris, leah raeder // the thorn merchant, yusuf komunyakaa // monster movie, nicola maye goldberg // a key to common lethal fungi, marge piercy // give me a god i can relate to, blythe baird // crimson peak, dir. guillermo del torro (2014) // the house of hades, rick riordan.

Naturally,“ said Madame Rosmerta, with a small laugh. “Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here – ooh, how they used to make me laugh. 

Remus: I finished my book

Remus: and I have to wait a week before I can get the next one

Remus: I'm pretty sure this is the worst form of torture ever

Remus: hOw Am I gOiNg To SuRvIvE

Sirius and James: is he ok-

this was.. *chief kiss*

just plain beautiful

vivre d'amour et d'eau fraîche || s.b. x reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: smoking, fluff, me not knowing french

a/n: extra translations at the end

—————

The air was thick was the scent of smoke, the curling of which held your attention. It wisped gently above you, nearly a dance, and your fingertips itched with the urge to mingle with the tainted exhalation. But you were weighed down by the effects of lethargy, slipping in and out of consciousness.

Sirius’ fingers chose indolence as their nature, combing through your hair and trailing down your spine, recurrent actions that lulled you. His free digits were attending to the lit cigarette, his lips spilling comfort from such perfume.

“You still tired, baby?” he murmured, noticing your half-lids. His ministrations paused to help tilt your head up, your chin seating on his chest.

You managed a slight nod. The common room was empty, the students blissfully stuck in classes—exactly where you and your boyfriend were also meant to be.

He made a soft sound, brushing the strands from your forehead. His eyes held adoration—the sort you rarely saw without such privacy. It was pure. He offered you the tobacco, a subtle lift of his wrist, but you declined it, instead turning your head back down and staring into the perfunctory fire.

“How many more exams?” he asked, taking another drag.

You sighed, “Two? Three? I don’t remember.” Your nails drew along the fabric of his button-up, the cotton soft.

Skipping class with Sirius was a common pastime, and it only grew more regular as exams finished. Often, he drew you into the common room, laying across couches and pillows, letting you rest; it was one of the few times you could do so serenely, nights dedicated to studying. The two of you would sleep, or speak, or merely stare into space; there was no pressure, no worries, no intrusions.

“Doing so well, love,” he murmured, stubbing the cigarette out on the nearby ashtray. He left the paper there, letting both arms wrap around you. “I’m proud of you, you know. You work so hard.”

The praise settled any anxiety that prevailed, and you smiled, pressing a spare kiss to his collarbone. “Thank you.”

Sirius’ own lips found the crown of your head, lingering for only a moment, just as his fingers dragged along your side. “Of course, ma vie.”

Those words, the endearment, curled your mouth further; his French was something few were privy to, the side of him he kept hidden—remnants of who he truly was, where he came from. It was all the push you needed, getting the energy to squirm and sit up.

Sirius followed you, pushing to be propped against the armrest, then pulling you to be straddling his lap. You reacclimated, then grinned, smoothing down his hair and playing with his tie. His hands settled on your hips, and his head cocked in question.

“Tell me something in French,” you said, dusting your touch across his shoulders.

But one of your hands was quickly removed, courtesy of his own grip. His other stayed on your torso, thumb rubbing circles on your waist. “Je vois la vie en rose,” Sirius hummed, placing the tips of your fingers to his lips. “À cause de toi.”

He finished with a kiss to the pads, though didn’t move to extract them.

“What?” A soft giggle tumbled out, your index dragging over his cupid’s bow. “Je ne comprends pas.”

He grinned at your poor attempt at the language, leaving one more kiss to your knuckles before dropping the appendage to his chest. His brow raised in amusement. “You’ll just have to learn to find out, then, won’t you?”

Ignoring the taunt, you quickly scooted closer. The sun that filtered in highlighted the scene, nearly picturesque; smoke still rose behind him, and you absently loosened his tie, getting comfortable. “Teach me?”

He considered you for a second, chin raising, then: “What do you want to know?”

You tapped a staccato to the hollow of his throat, thinking. “How do you say…‘I love you’?”

“Really?” he laughed.

Your mouth turned down, a pulled frown, but affection lit his pupils, his head shaking.

“Je t’aime,” he answered.

And this time, it was his fingers that traced your lips. “Je t’aime,” you repeated. When he smiled, you continued, “What about…” you paused once more, “...‘I always think of you’?”

His eyes flickered. “Je pense à toi tout le temps.”

Slowly, you fumbled the words back.

It earned another chuckle. “What else?”

You rolled your eyes, but did melt further into his body as he shifted down the couch. Your lips poised over his left pectoral, the steady beat lying there. “‘You make my heart race.’”

“Tu fais battre mon cœur.”

“Tu fais battre mon cœur,” you echoed, easing your eyes shut, his tenderness too much a balm. “‘I want you.’”

“J’ai envie de toi.”

You murmured it back, voice muffled. After, you remediated, “‘I want to be with you forever.’”

Sirius trailed a thumb along your bottom lip, letting your limbs entangle. He joined you in such relaxation, sunlight and studies draining you both of all energy. One arm curled around your waist, legs slotting, but he kept the hand grazing your face. “Je veux être avec toi pour toujours.”

Your words, whilst slurred, still copied him. “Je veux être avec toi pour toujours.”

Sirius shifted under you, and you looked up, finding his gaze already on you; you, the slope of your nose, the angle of your jaw, the face he would know blind. He gave you a more personal smile, letting your admission ring a few moments more. “Moi aussi, ma chérie. Je veux passer ma vie avec toi.”

Your brow furrowed, mouth heavy with the new phonetics. “What does that mean?”

“Me too, my darling,” he responded, English this time. “I want a lifetime with you.”

You met his smile with one of equal ardor. You adjusted so you could lay on his shoulder, then within the crook of his neck. The smell of smoke wafted off of him, and it reminded you of home. “And that’s what we will have.”

The seconds ticked by, no disruptions. It was only you, him, midday light blooming through the common room. Cigarettes and kisses and mirrored French. Your arms and his legs and the lips that met once, twice, three times.

Lids weighed heavy, dragged down in satisfied fatigue; relaxation you earned. And, as always, you were asleep first, curled against him, later to be found by James, Remus, and entertained smirks.

But before he let go, Sirius let his unfinished sentiment depart, unbeknownst to your half-awake state—the state that caught onto the unfamiliar words. “Tu fais partie de moi,” he breathed, a tongue he hadn’t spoken in so long, “Je t’aimerai pour toujours.”

—————

translations:

ma vie — my life

Je vois la vie en rose. À cause de toi — I see life in rose. Because of you.

Je ne comprends pas — I don't understand

Tu fais partie de moi — You are a part of me

Je t’aimerai pour toujours — I will love you forever

—

tag list: @gingerspicetalks @amourtentiaa @elleofzephyr @randomoutsiders @eunoniaa @glossygranger @thecoffeelover @dracomalfoys-wh0re @inglourious-imagines @sambucky8 @sweeterthansammy @plutosdelacour @spencerreidsimp @wholebigboxofyikes @ambi-doo12 @daisymyangel @nerdishkiwii @90smalfoy @ccnicole02 @skaratjung @14etoiles @yumicloudshp @gxtitobxby @beauty-is-pain-pain-is-beauty @ang9lic @ronsbadidea @gryffindorgirl @dlmmdl @siriuslyslyslytherin @wwandavision @moreloveforluna @maybesandohnos @chaoticbisexualravenclaw @daisyyy2516 @o-rion-sta-r @notthatchhavi @asimpfortheweasleys @ronbrokemyheart @ronsonlywhore @draysslytherclaw @msmb @aetheralist @i-cant-stfu @artemis1orion @kaylieeq @ava-brooke-blog1 @drachoesimp @emmaev @miss-starkov @medalloway-blog @black-like-my-soul @shadesofvelma @faeinorbit @weasleyposts