#cherished mutuals please feel free to lend a thought or two into my situation here

[moony-marvuders]

Hey, I was wondering if you could do a young Sirius Black x Booknerd! Ravenclaw! reader where he wants her to like him so he reads all her favorite books and it’s fluffy and cute please 🥺 No pressure if you don’t want to though, just to let you know I love your writing

yes I absolutely love this idea sm 🥺 sorry it too so long

pairing : young!sirius x fem!reader 

warnings: teeth rotting fluff, mention of war though, and death.

The astronomy tower was freezing cold this late, especially in the middle of December. White, sparkling crystals falling from the sky, settling themselves upon the ground below, covering everything within a sheet of white, frigidness. The cold had seemed to work its way up to the tower walls, possibly the only tower un-enchanted by a warmth charm, or perhaps a fireplace.

Despite the cold nipping upon your already shivering form, you knew that within moments, he would be there to warm you. Heat will rise to your cheeks upon setting your eyes on his; this thought comforts your ice cold body. Even thinking about it makes you warmer, more comfortable. 

It had been like this for months, secret meetings between Sirius and You. It had been forbidden to be seeing each other in such light, let alone being friends. You were a muggle-born Ravenclaw, he was the Son of the most notable blood elitist families. It had to be hidden, here; within the tower, within the hidden corners of Hogsmead, hidden in the shrieking shack. Always hidden. 

Though you weren’t dating, the mutual pining had been evident to everyone around you, and yet remarkably ignored by the two of you. Too scared to love, as it was too dangerous to even do what had been happening. Though seemingly innocent, if anyone had found out it would ruin everything you had worked so hard for to keep and cherish. 

Finally after waiting for what seemed like ages, the boy with the long, black wavy hair made his way up the stairs, notably, at a slugs pace, which was quite unusual for the usually hyper Padfoot. As much energy as a dog he had. 

“ You’re late.” You wanted to sound stern, perhaps mean but it had been impossible, you were smiling to much at the sight of him, even if he looked absolutely exhausted. He stopped once reaching the top of the tower, collapsing onto the floor, his back against a railing.

“ Sorry love. I had to convince Prongs that I needed the map again- I think he’s catching on, cause he tends to interrogate me everytime.”

You sighed, walking over to the spot in which Sirius had situated himself, plopping yourself down beside him.

“He’s probably just worried about you. We’re admist a war Sirius- Any day now, their going to try and recruit you, blood traitor or not. The deatheaters need an army.” SIrius sighs, his gaze to the floor, your words sinking in, so truthful, honest. He knows your right, but he won’t ever speak of it aloud, his sigh is enough conformation.

You reach your left hand hand over to his right knee, its a comforting gesture, and yet so subtle it could be completely ignored. He doesn’t ignore it, if anything he yearns to be touched by you. He thinks about melting into your skin often. 

But you quickly pull away after a moment, instantly regretting your affectionate  actions, changing the subject instantly. 

“ Did you read the new book I lent you? Did you like it?” You beam up at him, waiting for his response. Sirius thinks fondly of the past week, reading another new book suggestion from you. It had been a routine now, you two would meet in secret, and you would lend him your many ‘muggle’ books. He had read everything from Dracula to Sense and Sensibility. Though this time around had been; Jane Austens, ‘Pride and Prejudice.’  

You had suggested it on accident, not entirely thinking about the confession you had made through this book. Almost as if it outlined the two different worlds Sirius and You had come from, and yet how much you two loved one another. He had so much pride, and yet he had learned not to care for it much anymore, all he wanted was you. 

“ Is it about the books anymore?” He ask’s, a matter of factly, no hesitation nor stutter within sight. That’s the way he is, he’s so dangerously upfront and honest, it scares you. You almost believe there’s not a bone in his damaged body that feels fear, but this is a lie. Everyone feels fear, and when you look at him, confusion settling upon your face from his impulse of words, he feels it. A different fear than what his parents put upon him, maybe even more powerful. 

“I- what- are you-” You stutter getting up from your spot, towering before him, before he mimics you. You step back from his frame, fearing any sort of closeness at this particular moment. For someone who usually knows what to say and how to say it, you’re speechless and at that, slightly clueless to his advances. 

“ I don’t read y/n. I had barely read my textbooks before I met you.” He walked closer to you, his eyes settling upon yours, he could see the fear in your eyes, it was if had burst into flames, holding heat within. 

“ But for some reason, I feel ardently compelled to read these silly love stories you suggest to me. Why is that?” He grabs the book from behind him, hidden somewhere underneath his robes, slowly holding it out for you to grab. You reach your hand out to grab it, but instead of doing so, your hand falls gently upon his, the book falling to the ground from both of your grasps. He had you were he wanted you, close to him, touching, yearning.

You stare up into his eyes, as if it’s the last thing you’ll ever see. 

            “ I can’t lie to myself anymore y/n.” Your heart pounds out of your chest, your breathe is caught in your throat. You feel as if the weight of the world is on your shoulders, waiting to be shed off, only being set free by his impending words.  “ I-I-I” it gets caught trying to come out of his throat, he never imagined feeling such a way about anyone before. All his life, he had known suffering, pain, death and abuse. He was never shown much love, only that of his closest dearest friends, and even then he felt like a burden to his found family. He’s afraid he’s not good enough, not smart enough. He yields no power against anybody, and yet he knows he holds some over you. Perhaps that’s why it’s so easy for him to blurt out the rest of his sentence. 

     “ I love you.”