+MOODBOARD IMAGINES
On his break, Sirius has a routine, one that involves lighting a cigarette. Usually he would have the decency to step outside but his schedule was stressful for the day and all he really wanted to do was just sit by an open window, slumped into a chair smoking his cigarette until there was nothing left to smoke. Thankfully the rest of the work day wasn't going to be as packed so he could finally start taking it easy.
Grey eyes drifting over to the clock on the wall, Sirius hums thoughtfully. Almost lunch time. He'll need to cut his smoke break short if he wants to have enough time for a decent lunch. It's another ritualistic practice for him to not pack anything for lunch; he was a horrible cook and usually prioritises sleeping in over eating breakfast and preparing a lunch, it's the same for James and Remus too. Thankfully there's a pretty good fish and chip shop down the street. Or maybe he could get a medium pizza for himself at the pizza local place? Maybe get a large pizza for the whole group?
Propping his ankle up onto his opposite knee, Sirius drags a slow breath in and waits a moment before releasing the smoke. He tries to aim the fumes out the window as much as possible but the air is a fickle thing and stubbornly lingered around him. Nevertheless, he takes the time to admire the swirling fumes, artistic and free to take any form they so pleased. It was one of the small pleasures in smoking that he could bask in.
"Siri–!" Sirius promptly snaps out of his daze with your call and the opening of the break room door. One step into the room and you were already having a coughing fit. Hurrying to stand, Sirius smothers his cigarette in an ashtray and reaches for a nearby folder of generic designs to fan the smoke out of the open window.
"You okay there, sweets?" he calls, brows furrowed into a concerned crease as he watches your struggle for air slowly calm.
"I-I'm okay," another slight cough slips past your lips despite the assurance, "sorry for disturbing you," as most of the smoke escapes the room, pliant to Sirius' frenetic fanning, you manage a small smile that he shyly returns, ashamed of his inconsiderate actions. Though he truly didn't anticipate you returning to the shop. His shame doesn't linger for long, however as he keeps the window open and makes his way over with open arms, pulling you into an embrace.
"What a pleasant surprise, what are you doing here, Doll?" he looks down at you, admiring your sweet face as it scrunches up in slight distaste and his heart drops. What's upset his sweetheart?
"Y-you smell like cigarettes..." you utter without a single thought and immediately clasp your hands over your mouth, muffling a gasp of realisation. That was so rude!
"Shit–"
"I-I'm so sorry, Sirius. I didn't mean to be ru–" but your apology was cut short when the tattoo artist steps away and begins pulling his shirt over his head and hurries about the room, looking for something.
"Sorry about that, Princess," he gives up on his search and turns to you with a bashful smile, his toned torso and idiosyncratic tattoos on full display. Your mind goes completely blank as you admire the chiselled contours of his muscles and the beautiful tattoos that decorate his skin.
"U-uhh..."
"I guess I'll have to ask James if he has a spare shirt or something..." muttering to himself, Sirius looks up and finally catches your eye, immediately noticing your admiring gaze. Naturally, a devilish smirk tugs at his lips, "or not~"
He has the face of an angel and the body of a jock with the eyes and lips of a demon.
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Over time, you've come to visit the boys at their parlour more often and the guilt of distracting them from their work has chewed away at you. They were always quick to say that they adore having you around the parlour so your discouragement quickly dissipates. Nevertheless, you wanted to do good by them and started going on snack duties, not only to provide refreshments for them but also for their clients.
As a group and as a business, they agreed it would be a good investment to provide complimentary food and drink for their clients and themselves; getting tattoos was just as exhausting as giving them, especially for the big order clients. Therefore each room was fitted with a mini fridge and basket to host an array of snacks and beverages for anyone to have as they pleased.
The accumulated bill cost a pretty penny but one that the boys were willing to pay, they even managed to strike a deal with the vegan specialty store across the street to provide their best snacks for customers as a form of free advertising. It warmed your heart but it didn't come close to the butterflies you felt when you found that the boys were first attracted to the shop for their regular donations to a local dog shelter.
You just came back from your trip over to help restock the fridges and snack baskets in each room. Remus was manning the front desk and handling clients and prospective customers. There was a stack of paperwork piled up next to him so he could multitask and stay preoccupied when there was a lull in business.
Meanwhile, Sirius was tending to a client and their massive back tattoo. You remember him telling you that this was just their second session and that he still had one or two more sessions left to go. You managed to slip in and out of the room without distracting him or his client too much; both were very busy, except for the emotional-support friend the client had brought along, who appreciated the restock of snacks and raided the stash even as you were restocking. The two of you giggled at that together as Sirius chuckled under his breath, shouting an appreciative 'thank you' while his client grumbled playfully, apologetic about their glutton of a friend. Their interaction made you giggle while slipping out the door and making your way to James' room - you don't believe he's with a client right now so you weren't as anxious over potentially disturbing his flow. Though he was expecting one to arrive soon, according to his calendar.
"Snacks restock," you call through the door with a knock before stepping inside.
"Thanks, angel," James was in an all-black attire today. Black jeans, heavy leather Doc Martens and a black, compression shirt that accentuated his slim waist, broad shoulders and sculpted muscles. That along with his black latex gloves and the beautiful collage of tattoos weaving up his forearms stops you in place. It's undeniable how attractive these men are but, as James sits in his artist chair, posture relaxed but oozing with confidence, dressed like sin with his boyish grin and adorable round glasses on, an antithesis to his dangerous attire, you stop in your tracks and stutter embarrassingly. It has to be illegal how divine he looks right now...
Using the wheels and mobility of his artist chair, James moves to sit before you as he examines the contents of your bag through the opening at the top and mutters about which ones he's eyeing for himself. However, your stock-still, frozen figure doesn't go unnoticed and he's soon staring up at you. His hazel eyes shine with curiosity and thinly veiled mischief.
"Something wrong, Angel?" the pleasant drawl of his voice draws you from your obvious daydreaming and you're stuttering out a pathetic, incoherent answer as he chuckles quietly, "Have you fallen for me?~"
The fucking tease!
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It's a hot summer day and Remus was sweating buckets up in the office. The heat was torturous and he silently begged for the winter cold to rush back with an icy fever, his desperation for a cool breeze evident in his dishevelled state.
It was common for James and Sirius to go around topless in their shameless, over-confident ways but Remus was stubborn about keeping a shirt on. They had been warned about the rising heat thanks to earlier weather warnings but preparing with a breezy linen button up wasn't enough for Remus to keep to his strict dress code. For once, you were seeing him half-naked (almost) and like you were with Sirius and James the first time they surrendered to the heat, you stood in shock as an additional heat tormented your cheeks.
You didn't know what to expect.
Clearly James was the muscular one of the three, Sirius was skinny but it didn't mean he didn't have any muscle – his arms and abs were especially defined, his thighs too, probably from his motorcycle. Remus was tall so, as the stereotype went, you didn't expect him to have much muscle definition. However, as he laid back in his seat, his linen shirt unbuttoned but still tucked into his trousers and draped over his broad shoulders, you're able to observe significant definition in his chest and the ridges of washboard-abs along his torso. Your eyes almost bulge out when you see the cuts of a V leading into his crotch area.
Remus despaired over feeling like a sweat-drenched dog, foul-smelling and unsightly with clumpy, sweaty hair when, in actuality, he couldn't look better. Ths sweat made his skin glisten and helped keep his hair pushed back in the most attractive way. With his head slumped backward, his adam's apple prominent, his tattoos on full display along the toned expanse of his torso, Remus looked heavenly. Especially with the sun shine pouring in from the open window and showering him in specs of gold.
So caught up in your silent admiration, you don't notice when Remus peeks one eye open and spots you with a soft smile.
"You alright there, Dove?" he asks, chuckling as he sees the exact moment you were brought back to the present, "I see you've gotten my water for me,"
"Oh! Y-yeah," you shyly walk up to him and hand over the chilled bottle of water from the mini fridge downstairs.
"You really are an angel," he accepts the bottle and kisses the knuckles of your hand in thanks before taking a thirsty gulp. His sweet action of gratitude makes you want to squeal out loud but you bite your lip, not wanting to expose yourself. It was already embarrassing enough having to be caught staring.
It was then, however, that you took notice of a small, faded tattoo that didn't match the gallery of inky art collaging Remus' torso, "That tattoo looks different," you say without thinking as you point towards the slightly faded crescent moon on Remus' chest.
"Oh!" Remus chuckles and caresses his inked skin gently, fondness swimming in his chocolate-pool eyes, "This one is quite special actually,"
"Really?"
He nods and launches into the story when observing the curious look in your eyes, "When the guys and I finally graduated secondary school, we all got drunk off our asses and went to a hole-in-the-wall tattoo parlour to commemorate the occasion," you both share a laugh at their reckless but typical behaviour as teenagers, "each of us got a silly little tattoo and the next day, when we were hungover, half-naked in James' room – James on the floor, Sirius in the bathtub of his ensuite and me leaning against his bookcase, nobody on the bed –" you both laugh again, "we all found out we got different tattoos and from that, came our nicknames,"
You brows raise in interest, "You mean–"
"I have a moon so I'm 'Moony'," Remus confirms as your eyes sparkle with delight, a sight that Remus adores more than he'd ever admit aloud, "Sirius got a dog paw–"
"So that's why you call him 'Padfoot', makes sense. What about James?"
"A stag head so he's–"
"Prongs!" you cheer and giggle at finally discovering the reason behind their peculiar nicknames. It all made so much more sense now!
"My Angel calls for me?~" James' voice sings through the door before he's sauntering in and opening his arms, expecting you to fall willingly into them. It was tempting, considering he was shirtless and you'd love nothing more than to be held against his muscles but today was already swelteringly hot so you politely decline, to which smug expression James' drops into that of a pitiful puppy's.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
It's not a secret that the boys adore you, not only were you kind and sweet and the prettiest little thing they've ever laid their eyes on but you also cook like an absolute angel and they can never get enough, especially when compared to their own mediocre cooking skills. After being spoiled by you so often, they can no longer fathom eating their own inferior cuisine. They've expressed this to you multiple times so, whenever you could, you would cook dinner for them and you'd all eat together at their flat. It usually happened over the weekend and they always offered to pay for the ingredients needed.
Tonight, you had something special in mind to cook for them but weren't well stocked on ingredients so it was agreed that Sirius would pick you up on his bike when you were finished shopping at the store. You made sure to text the tattooist a predicted time for when you would be finished with your shopping, remaining faithful to your shopping list so that you didn't keep him waiting too long out in the overcast, chilly weather. Typical England.
Hurrying to get past self check out, you smile at the singular bag of ingredients you held in your hand, excited to spoil the boys with another night of good food. You aren't shy in admitting how attractive Sirius was but it was unfair how sultry he looked when on his bike, wearing his all-black, leather outfit, his huge helmet and fingerless gloves. The many eyes eating him up were evidence enough of his ethereal beauty. And with his helmet on too. Perhaps it was the mystery of who he was behind the mask that these strangers fawned over him so much. You couldn't fault them though, you would be the same in their shoes.
Having made this trip multiple times already, you recognised him and his bike in an instant.. Behind the visor of his helmet, Sirius suppresses an affectionate coo over how you visibly perk up when your eyes land on him. There was no need for sun when Sirius had your smile to light up his day.
"You good, Doll?" Sirius' voice comes out muffled by his helmet as he dismounts his bike and opens up the storage compartment under the seat. He exchanges the spare helmet stored in the hidden compartment for the bag of groceries in your hand, "You got everything?"
"Yeah, thanks for waiting, Siri!"
You don't see it but he smiles happily at the sound of your twinkling voice, "No worries, Doll," he mounts the bike once more and takes it off it's stand, "hop on,"
At this point, he expected you to be able to put your helmet on by yourself but he doesn't account for the slight delay as you make sure it's fitted over your head properly. Unable to help himself, Sirius waits leaning forward with his hand propping his head up as his elbow rests on the body of his bike. The stance makes him look as though he was admiring you like some lovestruck, teenage boy. When you catch sight of him after finally getting your helmet on, you laugh and throw your head back with the movement but end with placing your hands on your hips - scolding his actions, almost, although it was all in good fun. His response was to blow you a kiss by, first, touching his fingers to the front of his helmet and then laying his hand flat towards you.
You clutch at your stomach to contain the giggles as your shoulders shake before finally deciding to play along and return the gesture, imitating a flying kiss that he catches and holds to his chest. Whenever the helmet was put on, the two of you always got into the habit of exaggerating your movements seeing as your facial expressions were obscured. But that mask gives you two such confidence that you're more comfortable with being flirtatious with each other.
You don't complain but it makes your heart thump with want and a desire you were too afraid to fulfil.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
"Sirius loves his bike," Remus explains, "and James loves his car," both men were too distracted taking maintenance of their respective vehicles to listen to Remus' explanation of their attentiveness. It was the weekend and you had arranged to have Remus keep you accountable for completing your upcoming essay. At some point, you two join James and Sirius in the garage as they do the regular checks of their beloved 'rides'. Their vigilant focus as they mill about the engines and operations of their car and bike were a great motivator for completing your essay and now that you've finished, you observe them in their element.
Both men had their muscular, tattooed arms on full display, clad in only their tight tank tops, ones that already had stains to begin with so they didn't mind staining more as their fingers blackened with motor residue.
"What do you love, Remus?" you ponder, needing a distraction from the beguiling display before you but also curious. Did Remus have a secret love for a particular motor vehicle like the other two as well? You were beyond curious, although you couldn't think of any other motor vehicle he would likely obsess over.
"Can't say," the tall brunette shrugs, subtly peering down at you from his higher vantage point, "I'm pretty sure those two love it just as much as I do so it won't count," his answer leaves you curious but he doesn't elaborate further. Was he talking about a motor vehicle or something else entirely?
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Giggling beside Remus, you watch the exchange unfold before you with amused eyes and a warm smile hidden behind your fingers. Seeing James and/or Sirius become whiny and pouty wasn't an everyday occurrence but it happened often enough that you were used to their shenanigans and didn't give in as easily as you used to, especially with Remus at your side to keep the boys in check. Such as right now. If it weren't for Remus, you're sure James and Sirius would have continued to whine and throw a strop until their clients got impatient, left and then proceeded to write a very passionate review about the lack of service. Thankfully, the piercer shooed them away as efficiently as always, reminding the two of their responsibilities and scheduled patrons.
"Stupid Moony," James mutters under his breath as he walks away with Sirius, "...always getting Angel all to himself..."
As soon as the two are out of sight, Remus takes his usual seat behind the front desk and pulls out a small paperback book to keep him occupied. With warm eyes directed at you, he smiles and asks, "would you like to join me for a good read, Dove?" as he speaks, he brings his hand down to rest on his thigh and, with your reeling mind, you mistake the gesture for an invitation that you couldn't refuse.
Remus never expected you to look so adorable when approaching to sit with him for a read at the register but, other than that, he never expected you to sit on his thigh. You didn't meet his eyes at first so you didn't see his shocked state or the creeping grin tugging up the corners of his lips.
It was embarrassing but this isn't the first time the boys had you sit in their laps. This was just the first time you were made to sit on your own accord. You don't think your embarrassment could get any more drastic, however, until you finally look up to see the surprised look on Remus' face and finally realise your mistake.
"Oh god! I'm so sorry!"
He laughs at how adorable you are and winds his strong arm around your waist before you could even attempt to hop off his thigh.
"Don't worry about it, sweetheart," unable to resist, Remus presses a soft kiss against your temple and pulls you even closer to him, "you're welcome to use me as a seat anytime," he smiles adoringly at your bashful demeanour, "in fact, I encourage it,"