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moonstruckme · 1 month

Note

hello luv!! i really enjoy reading ur work, especially with a whimsical reader, could u write something with sirius or remus? (both if its too hard to choose,( jk, or not)) and gn reader if its not a bother.

thats all, i hope u have a lovely day!! 💞

Thank you for requesting my love, hope you have a lovely day as well!!

cw: reader is gn but it is implied that they’re good with eye makeup, do with that what you will

modern au

Sirius Black x gn!reader ♡ 1.1k words

“Baby?” Sirius’ voice rises over the screeching of guitar, and you look up from your book.

“Yeah?”

“Get in here.”

You sigh and put your book facedown on the bed, rolling off your stomach. Your boyfriend’s music gets louder as you go into the bathroom, echoing off the walls.

“What’s up?”

“I need you to show me how you do the glitter in your corners again.” Sirius turns towards you from the mirror, and you have to swallow a laugh. “I’ve fucked it up.”

“It’s not…awful.” You can’t help a tiny giggle, and he glowers at you. The effect is diminished by the fact that his eyes and half his nose are covered in silver glitter. “It sort of looks like…like somehow, a star spit on you.”

“Fuck, come here.” He grabs for your hips. You laugh but don’t resist as he hauls you towards him. Sirius hops up on the counter and passes you a wipe. “Fix it, please.”

“So demanding,” you murmur, but do. You reach over to turn down his music and start swiping at the side of his nose, where it appears he’s tried to correct some initial error by simply expanding the glittery area until it got entirely out of hand. “I think it just needs to be cleaned up a bit.”

“Good. If I had to take it all off, I’d cry.”

You smile a little, and Sirius squeezes your hip lovingly. You don’t blame him for wanting to salvage the rest of his eye makeup. He’s done his eyeliner so it looks like little stars sprouting out of the outer corner of his eye and twinkling around his lashes. It had to have taken forever.

“It looks cute,” you say.

Sirius’ grin is sharp-edged, and you have a sense of dread even before he opens his mouth. “You like that, do you?”

You scoff. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what, darling?” His hands rake up to your waist, bunching the loose material of your shirt. “I’m just asking you a question. You do like it, yeah?”

You take a second to steel yourself, and when your eyes turn up to Sirius’ they’re soft and sincere. “Yeah, I do,” you say quietly. “You look really pretty, Siri.”

He looks for a second like he might choke on air, his grip on your sides loosening, and you hope your smile looks adoring instead of self-congratulatory. He hasn’t yet figured out the little ways in which you’ve been practicing flustering him.

As it turns out, what flusters Sirius isn’t the same brand of droopy-eyed flirting he torments you with (and good thing, because you can only work up the courage to manage that for five seconds at a time anyway). No, all it takes is you saying exactly what’s going through your head while letting him see exactly how you feel on your face. Who knew?

“Thanks, baby.” His voice comes out almost as soft as yours. “So do you, you know.”

You feel yourself smile, holding his face still with one hand while you swipe concentratedly at the still slightly too-big splotch of glitter next to his left eye. “I haven’t started getting ready yet.”

“And yet the statement holds true.”

You huff a laugh through your nose but don’t comment. Sirius lets you get away with it, though his hands tighten around your waist, one thumb brushing your ribs as if to remind you that he’s there. He loves you.

For a minute, it’s only the sound of your breathing, Sirius’ syncing to yours as you keep each other steady against the bathroom counter. When you think you finally have the glitter down to a reasonable amount, you step back to survey your work and notice his outfit for the first time.

“Is that what you’re wearing to Regulus’?”

Sirius cocks an eyebrow at your tone, but there’s not an ounce of hesitance in his voice as he says, “Yes. Why?”

“It’s…”

You’re going to a relaxed hangout at his brother’s place, and he’s wearing black jeans slung low on his hips and a tight, cropped graphic t-shirt. With his painted nails and dark makeup, he looks way too cool for you, even more so than usual. The only thing soft-looking about him are his eyes. With his bone structure and coloring, Sirius can make himself look as gleaming and dangerous as lightning when he wants to, but his eyes are a thick fog. Moonlight reflected on water.

“I was just going to wear a t-shirt and jeans,” you say.

He tilts his head at you amusedly. “That’s what I’m wearing.”

“You know it’s not the same.” You shake your head, turning your head towards the closet. Sirius takes this opportunity to look over his favored spot at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, running his fingers over the marks he’d made the other night. “I should start getting ready, huh?”

“You should wear whatever you want,” he says firmly. “I have to assert my coolness as the older brother—I mean, it’s implied, but sometimes Reg requires a reminder. But you’ll look perfect whatever you wear.”

You sigh and melt forward a bit, letting him wrap his arm around your shoulders. You sense an opportunity. “So do you,” you say softly. “You don’t have to dress any way to impress them, you know. Regulus’ friends all already know how cool you are, and you’ll look it no matter what.”

Sirius makes a little humming sound, and though you can’t see his face you like to think he’s blushing. “Good. They should know,” he says. The arrogance of his words is mushed into the top of your head. “And anyway, I think it’s fairly established when I have something as good looking as you with me, don’t you think?”

You turn your heating face away from his view, nose squished against his chest. Sirius laughs, palming the back of your neck. It takes all the audacity you’ve got to turn your face up to his.

“You do it all by yourself,” you tell him earnestly.

Sirius goes all soft around the edges. Now it’s him hiding, dropping his head to that spot on your neck so he can love on you unseen.

“You trying to get me out of these pants already, baby?” His voice is teasing but leaden with fondness, and the hand he drops to your waist is painfully gentle. “You haven’t even got yours on yet, so I suppose that puts you ahead of me.”

You’d be content to stay here forever, but at the reminder you back off. “I should get ready,” you say again. “Help me pick an outfit so I can look like I fit with you, please?”

Sirius rolls his eyes as he hops down from the counter. “You’re far out of my league on my best days, but sure. I’ll throw something together for you.”

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bookshelf-dust · 1 year

Text

love and mandrakes

sirius black x gn!reader

word count: 5,220

warnings: swearing, fluff, i think that's literally it, but let me know if it's not

a/n: hi! so this is new!!! a new character!! sirius black is the loml, and i've been working on this for what feels like forever. i'm really proud of it, and i hope that maybe some of you will like it. it's been very fun to explore a new universe and the marauders as a whole. i hope you enjoy this!! love you 3000 <333

————

The greenhouse windows are frosty this morning, and you can feel the chill seeping in through the thin glass panes. You fight the urge to lift your finger, using the tip to draw a face in the condensation gathering on the one nearest you.

You’re stood at the back of the greenhouse, like always. You’ve never liked to be very close to Professor Sprout–certainly not because of any disdain towards the woman–but for the fear that she’d have something negative to say about your work. This is despite the fact that she’s been nothing but kind to you regarding every plant that’s ever been in your care.

Really it’s just that you’d beat yourself up if you killed a plant that makes you so determined to do well.

You’re twenty minutes early for class today. Early enough that it’s just you and Professor Sprout in the greenhouse. Everyone else likes to stumble in within the five minutes before class begins.

But clearly, that’s not quite the case this morning. The greenhouse doors open, both rather than just one, and Professor Sprout turns to greet whoever it is.

“Good morning, Mr. Black.”

You look up. Sirius Black is never early to class. If anything, he’s usually either not there at all, or the absolute last one to find his way in, perhaps a half hour late, if not more. He sidles up to Remus Lupin, and suddenly they've got a lovely little group project on their hands.

“Remus won’t be in today, Professor.” Sirius gives her a look that you assume is supposed to induce sympathy on her part. “Seems he’s got a cold.”

Pomona has never found it in herself to be frustrated with the boy, unlike the majority of her colleagues. She’s one of the few professors at the school to not harbor particularly malicious feelings towards the boy. He might be a troublemaker, but who isn’t at that age?

She’s been briefed on what his home life is like, too, and who he has to put up with. And since she was a young girl, Pomona has been determined to give everyone a fair chance.

"Thank you for letting me know," she tells him.

You watch as Professor Sprout heads to a supply closet and begins to pull out heaps of gloves and what look to be earmuffs, messily tossing away the things she doesn’t need. You're lost in observing her, so consequently the voice sounding a few inches from your ear startles you.

"You always in this early?" Sirius has materialized next to you, the beginnings of a smirk playing at the edges of his mouth.

You glance at his hand where it lingers over the stem of a plant you’re not sure he should dare to touch. He’s got a ring on every finger excepting his thumb.

“Usually,” you say. It occurs to you that these are some of the first words you've ever spoken to the boy, if you don’t count bare minimum exchanges in the odd class. “I like it back here.”

You like it back there because less people can look at you. Because having to sit somewhere else stresses you out, not to mention throws you off. You feel safe in your little corner.

Sirius withdraws his hand from the questionable plant and raises his head. His eyes bore into yours. They’re the strangest shade of blue. It seems to shift in the light, and sometimes they look almost gray. He grins, and then begins to scan the area around the both of you.

“Suppose it is nice. Maybe I’ll stay back here with you. Wouldn’t want you to be lonely, you know.”

You snort at that and he quirks a brow at your amusement. Sirius pushes his hair behind his ear and you realize he’s got a silver industrial piercing.

“That hurt too bad?” You ask, gesturing towards the jewelry and hoping he knows what you mean. He does.

His thumb skips over the metal ball at one end, coming back to fiddle with a section of his robes. He leans forward, grinning at you. His smile is wide. The corners of his mouth tick up mischievously, smile lines conveying layers of mischief you know he must have hidden in that mind of his.

“Probably wouldn’t have as much if I’d gone to a shop.”

You gasp lightly, thinking about it getting infected and Sirius having a bloody mess on his hands.

“You did it yourself?” You ask, eyes wide and full of concern.

He laughs. It’s a gorgeous sound, deep and friendly. Warm.

“I was prohibited,” he says, pressing a scandalized hand to his chest. “Remus did it for me over break, while my brother played nurse.”

“Well it looks nice,” you tell him, palms beginning to sweat. You find his presence to be slightly overwhelming. “I mean I think so.”

“Thank you, sweets.” He bends slightly at the waist, hand over his stomach, and it’s a gesture you might take as being that of an asshole, if it weren’t for his voice being so kind.

You hum in place of a you’re welcome, trying to will away the swarm of butterflies in your tummy. They’re being rather aggressive.

“And for the record,” he adds, “Remus was very strict with my cleaning regimen, so I did not get any infections if that’s what you’ve been contemplating.”

“That’s good.” You smile. You’re not sure it’s anywhere near as pretty as his.

Professor Sprout claps her hands, startling you. Today is really not your day. Sirius snorts at your jolt, but when you glance at him he’s pretending to be intensely focused on your instructor.

“Morning, everyone!” she begins. “Today, as you may have guessed, we will start our lessons on Mandrakes. This particular lesson will focus on basic knowledge, as well as care, but come next class, your actual project will begin.”

“You’re going to need a partner, so I’ll give you a few minutes now to choose, that way you can prepare with one another prior to the main exercise.”

All at once, everyone turns to this person and that, chattering and deliberating. It seems everyone has someone.

Your heart starts to pound, and you wonder if maybe Professor Sprout might let you work independently. Pairs are forming, and you can feel yourself being left out, pushed to the edges of society. Maybe that’s dramatic, but it’s how you feel.

You lean against the table behind you, hoping that she won’t call you out for not having a partner. That is until there’s a figure in front of you.

“What’d you think, huh? Shall we work together?” Sirius stands so that you have no other choice but to look back at him. It’d come off rude to not maintain eye contact at this distance.

You feel yourself burn and can’t help but wonder if this is some sort of cruel joke.

“Wouldn’t you rather wait and join Remus?” You ask, fingernails picking at the wooden underside of the table.

“You think I’m using you as a fill-in?”

You shrug, rubbing your nose. “We’ve quite literally never spoken an actual conversation before today. I just thought you’d want to work with your friend and not some stranger.”

“Well there’s a first for everything, isn’t there? And you’re not a stranger. I see you all the time.”

You sigh. He grins, ever pleased with himself.

“You don’t want to be friends with me?” He teases.

“I—”

“No, it’s quite alright. I’ll see if good ‘ol Mona will help me out.” He turns like he’s going to march away, though his feet barely move. He’s not going anywhere and you both know it.

“Holy shit,” you start. “Just shut up. Go and get the gloves then.”

Sirius grins. “Demanding, aren’t we?”

He does go and get them though, returning with two sets of gloves and a pair of shears, as Professor Sprout had instructed.

“Today, we will focus on tending to your Mandrakes. I want you, in your pairs, to check the soil and water as needed. I also want you to trim the leaves, as these have been left to run amok for a while. To work!”

Chatter erupts around you, bouncing against the glass walls of the greenhouse.

You fetch a watering can while the area is still free, and Sirius fills it up for you. You notice that your Mandrake is severely lacking the soil it needs. It’s not very well off at all.

“Do you see this?” You ask him, gesturing towards where the roots are showing, clearly dehydrated and with nowhere to sprawl out and grow. “She’s got us treating the wounded.”

Sirius crosses his arms. “That’s a damn shame now, isn’t it? Guess we better heal this thing then.”

“Are you fucking with me?” You ask, eyes darting up to meet his.

“No, I swear. I can tell you’re into this. It’s not my best subject.”

“Well you know what they say.”

“What do they say?” His eyes are gleaming. That’s the best word you can think to use for it.

“Teamwork makes the dream work.”

He rolls the very same eyes. “I’d like a new partner after that one.”

You laugh, and Sirius feels a pang in his chest. Like he’s taken a blade to the heart, and he can’t do anything but let it happen. Your laugh is such a sweet sound and he worries it might be the death of him.

You slip your gloves on and start trimming the leaves that have to go. There’s quite a few of them, but luckily they seem to be towards the bottom of the stem, and you think once you’re able to water it, the Mandrake might have a chance.

You finish with the shears, and set them down. You look up at Sirius, and your eyes catch a group of buttons on the shoulder of his robes. His hair had been covering them before. You find yourself feeling warm inside, as one in particular tickles your fancy.

“I like your pin,” you say.

His brows shoot up, “Which?”

You use your pinky and tap the glossy finish. He watches. “That one.”

“The Queen one?”

You nod, shoving some more soil into your pot to try and save the roots.

“You listen to them?” Sirius leans down so that his face is next to the Mandrake and in your line of sight. He’s got this brilliant grin. It’s worrying you. For a moment you think he might say something cruel, but the look in his eye is almost boyish.

“Yeah,” you say. “My mom is a muggle. Fell for a dorky wizard boy. So she’s raised me on loads of good stuff.”

“Lucky duck, you.”

You snort and then look up at him, though he's already been looking at you. His eyes haven't left you the whole time you've been working. He finds the way you treat the plant as if it has feelings to be charming. He wonders if you take care of everyone like that. Or maybe even yourself.

You move the soil pouch towards him. "You gonna help me?"

He slips his gloves back on. They really don't match anything he's wearing, and frankly it bothers him a bit. "Of course, of course."

He starts tending to the plant and you watch, noticing the bumps left in the gloves where his rings are hiding underneath.

"Feed her, Seymour," you say, and Sirius whips his head towards you.

"Who the fuck is Seymour?"

"Muggle film. Musical actually. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry for exposing your nerdiness. What's the film about? Talk to me," he proclaims, wincing at the state of his soil work.

“This guy, Seymour, finds a plant, and he tries to take care of it, you know, as you do, but he figures out it only wants blood and meat to eat and that’s what he feeds it, so it keeps growing and growing until it’s big enough that it starts eating people.”

Sirius looks at you with wonder in his eyes, and starts to laugh. "Are you fucking with me, love?"

You start to smile, one that you at first try to suppress, but it ends up spreading across your face, softening your features. Sirius thinks maybe it's the prettiest smile he's ever seen. He can't get over the way the lines around your mouth form, or the way your cheeks bunch and your eyes light up.

"No, I promise."

The boy tugs his gloves off, having finished salvaging the soil for your plant. "Killer plants, huh?"

"Indeed," you say. "You know Mandrakes are killer too, right?"

"Stop."

You start to water the plant, trying your best not to drown the damn thing. "What do you think the earmuffs are for, dumbass?"

You immediately regret calling him a dumbass, thinking you may have crossed a line--it's not like you know him all that well, you've only been speaking for this one class period--but he only smiles at you.

For some reason, you find him easy to be around. He doesn't scare you.

"It's cold."

"Because it's cold? No. After we save the plants we have to re-pot them, and when we take them out they're going to scream. Their cries are fatal, Sirius."

He stares at you. Remus did not tell him this. Technically he could've read his textbook, but clearly he didn't.

"That seems highly uncalled for."

You chuckle and he grins again.

"I agree,” you say. “Have you got the time?”

Sirius pushes his sleeve up, glancing at the watch tight around his left wrist. “We’ve got five minutes left.”

You look up, and notice Professor Sprout removing her gloves. If you’d waited to ask for just a moment longer, she would’ve begun her everyone-get-your-shit-together-and-get-out-of-here speech.

“Students, your attention please!” Professor Sprout’s cheeks are rosy, tufts of curls sticking out from under the brim of her hat.

“Next class we’ll try and get the Mandrakes repotted, so that they may grow to their full potential and can then be used as needed for Madam Pomphrey. You’ll need to come and water your plants periodically throughout the week, as these tend to drink rather quickly, so I suggest you alternate days with your companion.”

When you’ve finished and you’re outside once again, it’s misty, your skin dampening with each step you take.

You feel a hand on your elbow, and Sirius has appeared next to you. Frankly, you hadn’t expected him to continue contact with you.

The both of you had discussed what days you’d water you plant, and you assumed that was that.

“I’ve realized we’re co-parenting a Mandrake,” he starts, “and I feel as though I should at least know a little something about the mother of my child.” You raise your eyebrows at him. “You know, to ensure that they don’t grow up lacking proper guardianship.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, hopping over a puddle.

He tosses his head back, laughing, and you feel your insides go all warm and gooey at how his hair moves with the motion. You can’t help but wonder what it feels like.

“First, you don’t want to be friends, and now, you want our child to be one of divorce.”

You stop, resting your forehead against the cool stone of one of the courtyard walls.

“Sirius, we haven’t even been married.”

He presses his forehead against the stone next to you, and you turn to look at him. “I’m pretty sure there are a good bit of people who’ve been married and know less about each other than we do,” he says.

You smile at the wall and he catches it.

“Besides, we’ve got the same music taste, and that means I’ve got to keep you around.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, that’s how this works. Didn’t you know?”

You brush at the side of your robes where you’ve now gotten moss remains on them. “I was not aware, no.”

“Haven’t you got class or something?” You ask him. His cheeks are pink from the cold, a stark contrast from the chill of his eyes, the sharp black of his hair.

“Not for another hour. You?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“So tell me something quick.” He spins a ring around his finger, a chunky silver one with something set into the center. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Seriously?”

He smiles. It’s gorgeous and full-fledged. You can’t believe he’s looking at you like that. It feels like some big error.

“Sorry I set myself up for that one,” you say. “Um, it’s green.”

“Lovely. Now what shade of green are we talking?”

“Sirius.” You pout.

“Come on now, chop chop.” He snaps his fingers. “Thought you had an excuse to ditch me or something?”

You roll your eyes. It seems that cocky ass grin never leaves his face. “Like a forest green. Trees and such.”

Sirius claps his hands together, metal clinking. “That’s fantastic. I’ll be sure to remember it. Mine’s purple, by the way, thank you for asking.”

“I bet you look stunning in purple, Sirius.”

He blushes. He actually blushes. You grab for his wrist and push his sleeve up to peer at his watch.

“I’ll see you around, okay?”

For the first time in a long time, Sirius Black hasn’t got shit to say. No one ever makes him blush.

————

“I don’t come to class one day, and you’ve made a new friend? Why couldn’t you have made a new one any other day? I think I need some time off. Maybe even early retirement.”

Sirius smacks Remus on the shoulder where the latter lays stretched out in bed. The curtains are drawn one one side so that the only person they’re visible to is James, who is half asleep in the neighboring bed, glasses askew and tie on the brink of choking him.

“It’s rude to abuse the wounded.”

“You’re off your rocker, Lupin.”

Remus rubs his face, though he winces, his arms much too sore for any sort of activity. “Tell me about it.”

“Feeling any better today?”

“Yes, Sirius. I’m feeling fucking wonderful.”

“He’s being sarcastic.” James’ voice is muffled by the pillow he’s collapsed into.

Sirius turns to look at his friend. “Yeah, no shit, Prongs. Thank you so much for enlightening me.”

James raises a weak arm, flipping him off. “Eat me.”

“You say that as if I won’t do it.”

James sits up, but only enough so that he may rearrange himself into a poorly structured child’s pose. “Stop being such fucking tease and do it then, babe.”

Remus rubs his eyes aggressively, like it might somehow rid him of his ever permanent longing for sleep. “Shove it, you two.” He peeks out from between his fingers at Sirius. “I thought you were saying how you’ve made someone else miserable with the joys of your friendship.”

“Fuck you,” Sirius says.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I did make a new friend. In herbology, since you decided to have a go with the moon and left me to perish.” Remus rolls his eyes. “They’re very kind, if you must know. We are co-parenting a Mandrake.”

James snorts into the mattress.

“Is it really co-parenting if you’ll make them do all of the work?” Remus asks.

James snorts again and Sirius leans over to smack him against the back. He lets out a pathetic cry that both of the other boys ignore.

“I’m helping, asshole,” Sirius begins. “I’m supposed to go water the fucking thing in a bit if either of you need proof of life.”

“Of your friend or of your child?” Remus reaches his arm out to grab hold of one of the bedposts and heave himself up.

“Both.”

James slides off of his bed and starts to stretch, and a cacophony of cracking sounds follows, which is slightly concerning considering his age. “Sorry. I’m supposed to go and see Lils. But I expect a full report back, Moons.” He strips off his tie and pulls on a coat. The other two boys watch him bound across the room like they’re at a tennis match.

James is gone so quickly you’d be amazed that he was half-asleep minutes before.

“What a prick,” Sirius says from where he sits at the foot of Remus’ bed. He looks away from the door and at his friend.

Sirius sets his hand on Remus’ knee. “You get any sleep this morning?”

“Some. Not enough. Though it’s never enough, or whatever.” Sirius gets a pang in his chest. He wishes he could make it all better.

“You want to get some fresh air? You can come with me to the greenhouses if you want, but you can stay here too. I’ll sneak down to the kitchens and get you something.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll go with you. Sun’s not out, is it? It’ll kill my head.”

Sirius stands and peers beneath the drawn curtains. It’s cloudy, like it might storm, a thick layer of cloud lying over the grounds. “Nope. She’s hiding from you today.”

Remus nods and his friend walks back over to his bedside. “Come on, Rem.”

He removes the blankets from over his lap and scoots to the edge of his mattress. Sirius holds out his hands for Remus to take. Sometimes he gets really woozy when he has to stand after nights like the last. His knees shake, but he’s steady once he’s up. Sirius keeps an arm around his back when there isn’t anyone in the halls to question Remus’ condition, but has to settle for watching his friends footing otherwise.

Sirius gets Remus on a bench and makes a stop by Madam Pomphrey on the way, feigning a headache. She gives him a little bottle of these chewable tablets with instructions on how often to take them and tells him to come back if the ache persists.

He hands the bottle to Remus when he’s finished, and the boy’s had the medicine for an entire four seconds before he’s chewing. It’s one of those headaches that stays dull, but any sudden movement and your entire skull is throbbing and he thinks he might just die. Remus thinks this every full moon. He is not dead.

The trip to the greenhouse takes longer than usual, mainly because of Sirius’ tendency to baby Remus during his moon hangovers. He claims it’s because he doesn’t want a death on his hands, something about living up to the Black name, but Remus knows it’s really because Sirius is much more caring than he’d ever admit.

“See? Look at this fucker. My child.” Sirius gestures dramatically at the potted plant. Remus leans up against one of the tables, only slightly amused, much more out of breath.

He’s only just gone digging for a watering can when he hears the door open and glances up, assuming it’s another student having to monitor their own dirt ball.

But it’s you.

“What’s up, love?”

Remus’ eyebrows shoot up. He hadn’t realized when Sirius said he made a friend he actually meant friend. He’s never really seen Sirius look at someone that way.

You stand by the doors, kicking the one you came through shut behind you. Sirius pretends like he’s not attracted to the movement.

“Hi,” you say. You step a little further into the room. “I know it’s not my day to water, but frankly I was kind of worried you’d forget to do it.”

Remus turns to face you and laughs, full on. You grin at him. He’s never really looked at you before, but there’s no denying how sweet you look. He bets you could kick Sirius’ ass if you wanted. He also thinks Sirius might let you do it.

Sirius straightens and flips his hair back as he does so. “You wound me.”

You shrug. “I was also slightly panicked you’d drown the thing, so there’s that.”

Sirius walks over to the sinks, filling up his watering can, though you both know he could easily use a spell to do it instead. “So you came to supervise?”

“‘Fraid so.” You chew on the inside of your lip.

“I don’t blame you,” Remus says. “He’s kind of a flake.”

“Fuck you, Rem.”

“Yeah, sure.” Remus pushes off of the table, moving in the direction of you and the doors. His head is starting to feel better. He leans in next to you, though his voice is anything but a whisper. “I don’t know why you’re putting up with him. Would’ve asked for a different partner myself.”

“She picked me!” You laugh, seeing Sirius put his hands on his hips out of the corner of your eye.

Remus raises a brow at you. “Oh yeah?” He smiles at you. It’s a knowing expression, an understanding one. He keeps his eyes on you, but speaks to Sirius. “I’m gonna go for a walk, Pads. Come and retrieve me when you’re finished.”

The squeeze Remus gives to your shoulder is kind. It tells you you’re safe with Sirius. With him. That you’re welcome. The glass door rattles as it shuts.

“You really have no faith in me?” Sirius asks, spritzing the Mandrakes leaves. You peer into the pot, noticing he’s watered it just right. It’s not going to drown after all.

“No, I’ve got plenty. Maybe I just wanted to see you again.”

Sirius sets the bottle he’s holding down. “No shit.”

“Well you see, last time you asked me a question, and I didn’t get to ask you one of my own, and I figured I’d better do that if I want to keep the friendship alive, you know?”

Sirius is smiling at you. He can’t believe this–your teasing.

He runs the pad of his thumb along your cheekbone. “So what’s the question?”

“Do you like pie?” you question.

“I do.”

“That’s good. Because I feel the same way, and rumor has it you can get into the kitchens, so I thought we could work together on this...and get pie. It’s like a reward. I put up with you and you put up with me kind of thing, so we get something to eat.”

Sirius tosses his head back, letting out a bark of a laugh. Your eyes linger on his neck for a second longer than they should.

“Well the rumors are indeed true,” he says. “Guess we’ll have to ditch Remus, then. Make it a proper date and whatnot.”

“That seems unkind,” you chuckle.

“He’ll live.”

————

“What’s happening here?” Sirius throws himself into one of the chairs on the other side of the table where you and Remus sit.

“We’re reading,” Remus tells him. “Go away.”

Remus had shown you to this table. Said it was his favorite. There are a small group of them in the very back of the library, behind one of the last rows of shelves. You wouldn’t know they were there unless you went looking.

He said it’s where he goes to hide when James and Sirius won’t shut up and let him work, which is more often than not.

“You whined about me making new friends,” Sirius says, “so that I’d leave you alone, and now you’ve taken it upon yourself to steal said friend from me?”

You cover your face with your book, sliding deeper into your chair and trying your very best to fight off a giggle.

Sirius reaches across the table and snatches the book from your hands. He wants to see the shit-eating grin you’re hiding. He stands and moves in front of you just when you bury your face in your sleeve.

He tugs on the fabric of your shirt. “Traded me out then, have you?”

You snort into your sweater, and Sirius watched the way your shoulders shake. Remus eyes his friend’s hand, trying to make sure he didn’t lose your page with his frenzied antics. He didn’t though, pale thumb tucked into the paper.

Remus sets his own book down, stretching over the back of the chair. He’s thinking about going to bed.

Instead of looking at Sirius like you know he wants, you turn to Remus.

“Leavin’ me, Rem?”

Sirius scoffs. Rem his ass.

Remus lowers his head so that it’s level with yours. “Sleepy,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut. You look at the scar that runs through his brow and across his eyelid. There’s another by his ear. You wonder if he’ll tell you about them someday.

He bumps his forehead—the gentlest of taps—with yours, and then he’s standing. Sometimes you forget how lanky he is when he’s always so hunched over.

“Goodnight, Lupin,” you say.

“Goodnight, you two. Don’t get too wild. This is still a library.”

Sirius takes the chair Remus had been occupying. You look at him, and reach for his hand. He wouldn’t even think about denying you taking it, even if he is being a grump.

“I have not traded you out, Sirius.” He glares at you, though his eyes are still much too soft for it to be anything malicious. He’s not sure he could ever look at you in a hateful way.

“You could’ve read with me,” he argues, tickling your palm. You try and wriggle your hand away, but he only presses his fingers firmly into your skin, keeping you there.

“Come on.”

“No, you could have,” he continues. “I can be very well behaved, if need be.”

“Oh yeah?” You’re the one smirking now. Sirius is afraid he might never get this image of you out of his head.

“Yeah.” He leans in, nuzzling his nose against your temple. When he pulls away, you realize he has a smattering of freckles under one eye. You have the urge to touch them, and so you do.

He relaxes against your hand. “You’re very pretty, Sirius.”

“Thank you.” He kisses your knuckle. “You’re very pretty, too, sweets.”

“Thank you.”

In the weeks since your Mandrake project has finished—and the plant did indeed survive—Sirius has grown increasingly attached to you. Frankly he finds himself shocked that you’re willing to deal with him at all, let alone that his friends like you so much. He wasn’t even a little upset that you’re spending time with Remus. You have a lot in common, actually.

He just likes to tease you. And he’s very good at it.

“So you come looking for me because you need something? Or are you perhaps attention starved?” You question, taking your hand away from his face, though your other is still within his grasp.

“Most definitely the latter.”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

He speaks close to your ear as if he’s about to spill the world’s most confidential information. “Is this a safe space?”

“Absolutely,” you assure him.

“I want you to play with my hair,” Sirius says.

You gasp, clutching at your nonexistent pearls.

Your moment's pause makes him a little nervous. “Well let’s get on with it then,” you tell him.

You take Sirius up to your common room, it being much too late for anyone to be up. You slip your fingers into his hair, scratching at his scalp until he’s falling asleep and you’ve made promises of braiding it sooner or later. Eventually, you have to wake him, send him off to bed.

And he pouts. God, does he pout. But it’s okay. He’ll get you to do it again tomorrow.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

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friendly-neighborhood-boricua · 1 year

Text

Lipstick Stains

Summary: reader and Sirius do the tiktok trend in which one partner covers the other’s face in lipstick stains.

Notes: Harry Potter Universe, Sirius Black x reader (no Y/N), modern!AU headcannons

First things first: Sirius is absolutely the one wearing the lipstick and covering your face in the stuff

The whole idea kinda started with him trying out your different lipsticks

And you tried to explain to him that when you first put on liquid lipsticks, they come off on things really easily

Like if you’re drinking something, the lipstick leaves a mark on the glass

And of course Sirius stubbornly pretends not to believe you, so you tell him to try it out

You meant on a cup or something

He did not take it that way

So of course, Sirius applies some liquid lipstick, holds the side of your face, and presses his lips very firmly on your cheek

Like he’s trying to stamp your cheek with his lips

Which I guess he is

And he pulls back and examines your cheek and sees that it did indeed leave a mark, and he’s unreasonably excited about it

So this turns into Sirius trying each and every one of the available lipsticks—even going to Mary and Marlene and Lily begging for more—and seeing if they’ll leave marks on your face

And at the beginning, you’re a bit flustered by all this because you really weren’t expecting Sirius to spend his day pressing bruising kisses all over your face and neck

But here you are

Covered

In kisses

By the time Sirius has the bright idea to actually film the tiktok, you’ve simply got this fond look in your eyes, and when Sirius purposefully smudges his lipstick for the tiktok, you reach up to fix it like it’s second nature

Sirius has got plenty of followers (mostly people who are completely enamored by him, and how could you blame them?), but the most common comment on this post is “do you see the look in their eyes when they look at him?”

#Sirius Black #sirius back #sirius orion black #padfoot #sirius x reader #sirius x y/n #sirius x you #sirius black x reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black x gn!reader #sirius fluff #sirius black fluff #marauders modern au #this man WILL be the death of me istg #sirius black headcanon #sirius black hc #sirius headcanon #sirius hc

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queenpiranhadon · 22 days

Text

⚡︎⎸⎸ 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 ⎸⎸‎⚡︎

A/N: You all voted on this poll, and this poll, and this poll and after a LOT of voting ((again) again) , I wrote this for all of you :D Thank you to my first not irl moot, Bee (@swans-chirping-in-the-distance) for beta reading this ily girl 😭 Here's my masterlist! Divider made by @cafekitsune

Warning(s): Enemies to lovers trope, mentions of anxiety, night thoughts (iykyk), reader wants to strangle Sirius lmao, maybe some inaccuracies idk man, reader is a Ravenclaw, reader is in the year below Sirius, reader is a bookworm, reader gets stressed apt academics - don't even try to call people like that nerds, anxiety for this sorta stuff is really serious, reader snaps at Sirius, reader’s nicknames are sweetheart, love and angel, slowburn kinda- they're just figuring stuff out, reader is GN but written with f!reader in mind.

Pairing: Sirius Black x GN!Ravenclaw!Reader

The halls were quiet.

Too quiet.

And you knew that, but it didn’t stop you from traversing the halls of Hogwarts, relishing in the darkness that enveloped the halls, and ultimately concealing you from any prying eyes.

Stars twinkled through the windows that cast soft rays on moonlight onto the empty halls of Hogwarts, you should’ve felt at ease.

But you didn’t.

Technically, you shouldn’t be awake right now, and technically, you shouldn’t be in the halls right now, either, given the strict curfew Hogwarts has on its students.

Didn’t stop you from leaving though.

You had just finished a big essay for Herbology, and your anxiety had gotten the best of you, creating the twisting feeling in your gut, the one of failure, your subconscious whispering false notions and spiraling into possible timelines of being forced to work as Filch’s assistant because you failed to pass your exams, and-

Needless to say, you needed to clear your head.

Which is why you snuck out of Ravenclaw Tower, and why you were walking through the halls of Hogwarts.

And why you now found yourself hiding behind one of the almost intimidating, looming pillars in the hall, footsteps resounding through the hallways.

Your heart pounds - you would for sure be screwed if you were caught. Your mind races, thinking of countless possible ways your life would be ruined if whoever was there found you.

Your body feels like it’s on fire, buzzing with the urge to run and hide, back into the safety of your sheets; better to give yourself to the torment of your thoughts than be caught in a place you weren’t supposed to.

You curse mentally to yourself, until a husky masculine voice snaps you out of your mental tirade of self-abuse.

“You can come out, sweetheart; I won’t bite. I’m supposed to be here as much as you are.” the male says smoothly. He had voice of a man who thrived off his confidence.

Your body physically slumps in relief at the knowledge that it isn’t a professor. And then the tension came back, once you realized who the voice belonged to.

Sirius Black.

The boy in question was in the year above you, but it didn’t stop him from continuing his onslaught of pestering you when he could. And you tolerated it- knowing this was just how the Marauders were sometimes- but then Sirius did the unimaginable.

You were reading your book- one of mystery and romance, each inked word drawing you in more and more until the book was physically ripped from your hands, your progress lost in the process. To say you were furious was an understatement.

You probably yelled at him for 20 minutes straight, going on a tangent about how you never do that to someone and that he was an unsufferable prick, and yet all that son of a Blast-Ended Screwt did was stare at you with those stupidly gorgeous eyes and an even stupider grin plastered on his face.

And after that day, he had made a point to poke fun at you whenever he could.

Maybe running into a professor in the middle of the night wouldn’t be so bad.

“I know you’re there, love.” he says; you can practically hear the smug grin on his face.

“Shove off Black, you’re not supposed to be out either.” you bite, speaking in hushed tones unlike the loud boy on the other side of the pillar you were hiding behind.

“That may be true, but I’ve never been good at following rules, have I?” he teases, trying to rile you up. “But I seem to have caught the Ravenclaw’s self-righteous angel doing some misdemeanors of their own.”

You want to wring his neck- stupid Black doesn’t know anything- doesn't know how much your anxiety bothered you at night, and the moment you try to get some reprieve, you have to deal with him.

“Can you actually shut your mouth?! You don’t know anything about me, and you never will, so stop acting like you can read me so easily, because maybe, just maybe, people have lives outside of you and your thick head Black.” You snap, storming off from your hiding place where Sirius can see you, determined to leave for Ravenclaw Tower.

But before you can, he grabs your wrist, tugging you backward and into his chest- strong arms wrapping around you and securing your frame, effectively trapping you in his embrace.

“There you are.” he whispers.

You feel your face heat up, the proximity of the two of you was unbearable, his warm breath fanning over the back of your neck. You tense up, and yet, some part of you melts into his touch- and you hate it.

“What in the world are you talking about, Black.” your tone harsh but no bite.

You feel his head tilt up. The arms encircling you tighten as his tone turns thoughtful.

“Do you hate me?”

That caught you off guard. “What?” you stutter, taken aback.

“Do you hate me, angel.” he repeats calmly, still looking through what you think in the window on the opposite wall from the both of you.

You look down in contrast, mulling over his words. Do you hate...Sirius Black? Sure, he annoyed you to the end of the world, made your blood boil to the point where he could cook pasta with it, and made you want to rip the strands of your hair out, but somehow, hating him didn’t seem right. It didn’t sound right, the words hate and Sirius Black.

“No.” you whisper, deciding to look up at the window with him. “I can’t.”

You know he’s smiling when he softly says, “Me neither.”

You both don’t say anything after that, silence ringing out through the halls of Hogwarts, and after a few minutes of just standing there in each other's presence, you speak.

“So where does that leave us?”

#sirius black x you #sirius black x reader #sirius black fluff #sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius x reader #sirius black angst #sirius black x y/n #the marauders #mauraders #maurauders era #the marauders era #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x gn!reader

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perpetuallydaydreaming · 11 months

Note

Can you do a Sirius x reader where the reader goes to visit him in Azkaban

winter’s only pretty when you’re warm.

tags: sirius black x gn!reader,, soft angst,, azkaban,, ambiguous ending,, mention of yn,, short around 1k wc or so

a/n: thank you for the request,,, i hope you like it anon! <3

“jus’ hand over your wand, empty pockets, that’s it—“ the security, if you can even call him that, was a lanky, gaunt-looking man. he looked to not even bother to weigh your wand before stashing it away and waving you off. though you imagine, there’s hardly any need for him anyway, no one would even dare to step foot in this place.

the stone walls, dusty and narrow. the windows, hardly even considered as such for how small it was, was unreasonably high. like they don’t even want the inmates gazing at the sky. there was no light fixtures in place, except for the small weak fires lining up the hallway.

you hear the howling winds outside, and waves crashing against the the building, the silent echoes of groans, the crying pleas and the manic laughter deep inside the building.

the doors slammed open by the rough winds of the sea. you jumped, whirling to look at the source of the sound, fingers circling around your absent and locked up wand. an occupational hazard, moody calls it. you unclench your fingers, stretching out the tension.

you asked, no, begged dumbledore to do this. to be the one to talk to him, at least once.

the guard called over another, barking out, we have a visitor. as if it was a joke.

it could be. rarely anyone gets granted visits to azkaban, but dumbledore isn’t just anyone. you even had the absolute pleasure of getting bloody tips on where to go and what to say and who to say it to.

it was another guard, a familiar man that once worked for the dmle, though you fail to remember his name.

“i’m here for—”

he clicked his tongue, “i know who,” standing up with a groan and adjusting his trousers, “not like we have a line-up of visitors shceduled in this charming place. follow me then.”

elevators don’ work, always malfunctionin’, someone almost died last year, if you could believe it. ministry didn’t want to be liable so they jus’ removed it. didn’t even think of the older employees working here those bastards, the familiar man ranted.

on a regular day, strangers talking to you would have been your nightmare come to life, but you’ve come to appreciate the noise in your ears rather than the raging heartbeat echoing in your chest.

as you go further, raising floor up to floor, the colder it got, the more unsettled you feel. for once, it wasn’t because of the dementors that caused the chills down your spine but something greyer and darker than they are.

he led you to a room, locking it as he says wait, off to fetch him.

you stare at the scraped up table, the scruffs and scorch marks on the walls. wondering what must’ve happened from past visits before.

you pick at the skin around your nails, biting and ripping, until the red bead of blood seeps out.

the metal door creaks open, murmurs of warning exchanged between prisoner and guard, and then all you can see is grey and dark.

his sunken eyes, holding the once vibrant grey eyes that have now gone dull and misty. the dark luscious waves now in knots and matted down. he looked so different but he brightens up all the same once he sees you.

he runs to you, engulfing you in a hug. one that you know he needs more than anything. you see the guard reach for his wand and you stop him with a shake of your head, assuring that it was fine. he reluctantly nods and leaves you two alone.

you hear sirius take a deep breath in the crook of your neck as he clutches unto you for dear life. “angel, i di-didn’t—“ he sobbed, arms tightening as he did so, “i would have n-never, i would never betray james like that. you believe me, don’t you? please say you believe me. please say.” his voice cracking, body shaking like a damn leaf. he felt so cold, shaking in thin, shabby looking clothes.

you slowly raised your arms around his waist, hugging him back.

“i believe you,” you whispered, offering mere words as a consolation for losing everything, he cries harder. “shh. sirius. i’m here, i believe you,” you breathed, repeating this like a mantra, as he hugs you more and more into his chest. one of his hand smoothing out your hair at the back of your head and the other firmly wrapped around your waist.

the way he hugged you, and looked at you hadn’t changed, why should anything else?

you stay like this until he resembled the warm heat of a living person. sitting in front of each other but clutching each other’s hands. you struggle as you remove your, his, jacket but you did, placing it on his shoulders right after. hoping the heat from your use, can warm him just a bit more before the inevitable arrives.

“i c-can’t believe they let you be here.” he breathed, voice rasping like it was the first he’s used it in weeks. it probably is, you imagine dementors to be rather dull conventionalists.

“they had to,” you laugh bitterly, imagining the loud protests from the order, when you requested a visit. “else i would have never stopped. i had to come see you no matter what.” you look at him, dirtied and thin. chest clenching and something heavy dropping into your stomach as you gulp, “i should’ve come sooner, if i had known—“

he softly smiled, grey eyes looking so tired but actively roaming around your face, as if memorizing every minute detail. every blemish, mark, scar, mole and line. like it was the last time “no, this is perfect. i didn’t even think i could see you—“ he looked down at your hand completely engulf by his, an overtly misplaced fond smile on his still handsome face, “let alone touch you.” raising your hand to his cold lips as if to emphasize his point.

you dragged your chair over to him, clutching at his arms, pulling him to you—hugging him once more, unable to look at him as you bury your face to his shoulder. it hurt seeing him so happy here, of all places, just for the mere fact that he got to hold your hand.

resting your head on his shoulder, and him nuzzling your hair, taking deep breaths in. as if hoping your smell can somehow be engrave into his brain before the inevitable.

it was easy to forget where you were, being with him like this, but the distant moans and screams was just as easy to hear.

running your tongue over your dried bitten lips, knowing of the time and the limit set. “i don’t how to get you out, sirius,” you sniffled, clutching his dirty and muddy clothes. “they won’t listen to reason-”

he whispers back to you, face still buried into your hair, “because they’re afraid, angel.”

“they have nothing to be afraid of,” you scoff. “you don’t deserve to be here. you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“haven’t i?” he laughs, “i mean it was my idea—“

you shook your head, “don’t. you thought of it as a strategy, a damn good one if that. it was him. he was the one who couldn’t be trusted. it isn’t on you.”

“but i trusted the wrong person—“

“that doesn’t make you responsible for his actions, i don’t even want to—“ taking a deep breath, calming yourself down, “i just want to focus finding a way to set you free—“

“jus’ you here is fine,”

you frown, pulling away from him to look at him in the eyes. grey still misty, still dark.

“why do you sound like you’re just giving up.”

not a question. an accusation, a soft one—a disbelieving one.

he reaches to you. rough hands on your cheeks that used to be so soft, sullied after a year. “because it wouldn’t matter, james is gone, lily is gone, pete—“

“i’m not.” you cut in, smothering the rage at even hearing the traitor’s name. “remus either.” you steered your voice to be firm, “and harry, we’re still here waiting for you.”

conversation became quieter after that. less important, less imposing, more normal. like you were in your flat rather than a cell. in front of a comfy fire, rather than the howling sea winds and cold chills of the floating spirits around you.

chatting in the living room, talking about your day and the plans for the week after a hearty dinner.

hands, arms and even ankles twisted and tangled with each other. needing nothing else but to melt and meld with one another, never to part.

but then the inevitable, the door clanking and creaking open, indicating the end.

you pull each other, hugging fiercely just like the first.

sirius kissing your neck and cheek and forehead and nose and mouth. whispering promises, you don’t know if he’ll be able to keep.

he wasn’t shivering now, all warmed up and looking content but this offered no peace of mind knowing what he has to come back to. how sensitive he is to the cold.

he was escorted back to his cell, a lingering look sent to you as he goes, and each step he takes away from you makes you feel a little colder, a little more frustrated and a little more hopeless.

sooner than you’d like, you were already going down again, your jacket warmed by him hanging off your shoulders.

you get your wand and your portkey and leave.

the portkey beeps, counting down the seconds before it activates, as a trickle of snow softly fall down from the sky. snowflakes catching into your sleeves, beautiful shapes and designs in each one. the howling winds, cold and strong, but warmed by your jacket, you can hardly feel it. then you think of the thin, shivering, man holding your heart, trapped in the tower. with his cold lips and tired grey eyes.

#perpetuallydaydreaming #sirius black x gn!reader #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #marauders era #sirius black angst #sirius black imagine #sirius black fluff #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fluff #james potter imagine #james potter fluff #sirius black fanfic #lily evans #sirius in azkaban #marauders imagine #the marauders #sirius black x reader

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natti-ice · 13 days

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/natti-ice/746984961002864640/guys-are-yall-up-im-bored-rn-send-me-some

*cracks knuckles*

sirius black can’t keep his hands off you. those long fingers seem to be attached to your skin, he can’t get enough of exploring and watching closely how you react to every touch.

18+ mdni

Not smutty just suggestive

He is the clingiest person known to man without a doubt, he’s quite literally addicted to the touch of your body against his hands. When you’re around him, he has to be touching some part of you at all times, whether it’s your hand, arm, back, ass, whatever the case may be… he’s got a handful of you always.

#natti’s 18+#sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x gn!reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black fluff #sirius black smut

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ma1dita · 4 months

Text

tangible

this was a request! read it here

words: 2.8k

summary: Holding onto love helps you through a difficult Order mission. sirius black x auror!reader (can be gn!reader)

warnings: mentions of blood, angst then fluff, domestic!sirius, reader gets injured, no use of y/n

a/n: guys i got really sick after thanksgiving and boy… thank you for your patience. i cannot ever write about sirius without bringing up him being an older!brother. i hope you enjoy this! working on more requests this week xx

(posted 12/11/23)

—

It’s funny, the things that cross your mind when you’re dying. Everyone says that your life flashes before your eyes. In the gut-wrenching pain in your abdomen that slowly but surely ebbs as a vignette consumes your vision, you can only think of how stupid it was to fight with Sirius before you left the house. The memory scrolls through your brain, flashing scenes from the evening playing like a black-and-white film, and you can’t hear the words, or understand the transcription of what caused it to be that bad.

To be that cruel.

When the war started, you both made a pact to never go to sleep with the other being angry. There’s not a lot of certainty for two star-crossed lovers with a poor chance of fighting fate. Sirius was always too stubborn, pushing at his luck and scoffing in the face of danger.

Why was he angry again?

Was it because you rearranged his vinyls without asking him? Or maybe because you yelled at him over how his boots tracked mud into the hallway after the rain. A tear slips out of the corner of your eye and it feels like you’ve been mulling through this question for hours when it’s only been 3 minutes. 3 minutes since a death eater struck you with a curse ripping life from you faster than you can comprehend and now the blood pulses between your fingertips as the waning pressure in your free hand feebly holds down on the gaping wound. Wand shaking at the ready in your other grasp, there’s much to think about as you lay here on the cold concrete. Labored breaths leave your lips and soon, they’ll weaken too.

Oh, what one would do for an extra 3 minutes?

With 3 more minutes, maybe you could’ve sat with Sirius for breakfast today and talked about visiting your godson if the coast is clear. You could’ve spent that time trying to make Sirius like the tiny cat that greets you at the door. Maybe you would’ve even had the time to put on matching socks before running out of there, not meeting his eyes as he yelled at you from the living room. A few more minutes of laying on the couch, or another kiss would’ve quelled this feeling in your chest. There’s never enough time, and as your heart races to compensate for the shock in your system, it becomes clear that you didn’t tell Sirius ‘I love you’ before slamming the door.

Ah yes, now you remember. He got mad because you switched partner assignments for the Order mission today without telling him until you were minutes from walking out.

—-

“We always go on missions together, why on Earth would you want that to change now?” he scathes, and the contrast between his tone and how he gently helps you button up your coat makes your stomach feel queasy.

“I’m doing this to be careful, Sirius. I’m not saying we wouldn’t get the job done, but—”

“But what, love? How is this you being careful? I think you’re being fucking stupid right now, and you didn’t even think to consult me!”

His hands are shaking as he wraps your scarf around your neck, and suddenly you’re not so sure anymore. A sense of foreboding fills the room as you stare at each other, and you catch yourself getting distracted by the gray of his eyes.

“I can do it, baby. Dumbledore said this was an important mission. This is what we signed up for.” Your hands catch his as they fall from your face and he’s reeling from the determination that’s clearly taken over common sense.

“I didn’t sign up for you walking towards your death without me there. How do you expect me to protect you?” His voice wavers and in the heat of the argument, you think it’s because he speaks before thinking, words striking like oil on a hot pan.

“I don’t need you to protect me, Sirius. I just need you to trust me and not look at me like I’m going to die!” Your reply echoes in the tiny house, footsteps clomping towards the door as you push away from him and walk out to the sound of him calling your name as you apparate.

—

A snowflake lands on your cheek and the only thing that comes to mind now is the address of your townhouse that you share with the love of your life. The quaint white house on top of the hill with the flowerbeds between the window shutters. A whimper escapes your mouth in a last-ditch effort to alert anyone in your surroundings. ‘Please help me,’ you try to think out loud. ‘I’ve got a home to get back to. His name is Sirius Orion Black, and I can’t let him go to bed angry with me.’ The words fall from your lips in a jumble, until the only intelligible words are Sirius’s name. SiriusOrionBlack. Sirius Orion Black. S i r i u s. Your desperate plea is your only prayer.

“I need to go home.” A blue wisp of light seeps from the tip of your shaking wand, your patronus fleeing between buildings to get to your love as a warning, or an apology. Hopefully, Sirius left the light on in the hallway. He doesn’t do that well with all that thinking in the dark.

Death is too quiet. Snow continues to fall silently, slowly burying you deeper into unconsciousness and the last thing you feel is your fingers stuck together with your dried blood. The last thing you hear is heavy footsteps crunching in the snow.

Has he come for you yet?

There’s no more time for fear or for crying, and your only consolation is that maybe in the next life, you can find him too and tell him you’re sorry for leaving without a kiss goodbye. The last thing you see is Sirius, or someone who looks like him, hair shorter and jaw thinner.

“Sirius…” you mumble before your eyelashes flutter with the last of your energy.

What only registers before unconsciousness is that his eyes show recognition, and the face might be somewhat wrong, but those eyes….you know those eyes. Death feels familiar now, as darkness shrouds your being, tucking you in for a dreamless sleep.

—-

Sirius Black can find comfort in a waiting room. At Hogwarts, he would always wait outside the cream curtain with the boys after Moony’s time of the month, sitting patiently with his friends. He’d be the one to drag Prongs to Madame Pomfrey after quidditch scrapes and broken bones after bludger hits. Late walks with Wormy after sneaking into the kitchens to get him more sleeping draught for his insomnia. Sirius loves to take care of others in the few ways he knows how to. He strives to give the love he so desperately wanted when he was younger, and though some of his methods are unconventional, he protects what’s important to him. There isn’t much value in material things as he’s lived unhappily with an abundance of it, and lived much more earnestly at the dining room of his little white house surrounded by his loved ones. What compares to endless riches when what he wants to protect is more tangible and has a heartbeat?

The waiting room is a liminal space where he can’t do much but fidget in the uncomfortable plastic chair. Though now with his fists clenched at his side and posture as sharp as a lash from his father’s belt, he thinks he’s been waiting for you to wake up for hours now. His eyelids droop in discomfort and exhaustion, the steady beeping of the monitor sounding like claps of thunder in his ears.

This is not the Hogwarts hospital wing, and you were not supposed to get hurt. You’re not kids anymore and St. Mungo’s doesn’t have the gentle touch of Madame Pomfrey as she tends to minor bumps and bruises. It smells of disinfectant instead of soft cotton and the lights are too bright compared to the warm fireplaces at the castle. When they let him in to see you sleeping, his hand softly nudges your blanket, tucking you into the thin polyester so you won’t get a chill. He can still feel goosebumps rise along your arm as his fingers glide over to hold your hand. For a second, he forgets the anger, and the worry, and a smile crosses his face with the idea of your body knowing him even in its incapacitated state.

Sirius gazes down at your face and thinks of the last fighting words he spat at you as you ran out.

“You’re just sleeping,” he mutters, and he’s not quite sure who’s trying to convince. The healers said that whoever brought you in came at the right time because they would’ve lost you if a few minutes more had been spared. Tempting fate and pushing luck indeed. If you were awake right now, you’d be the type to use this example to somehow further prove your argument, but he still can’t figure out why you wanted to go without him.

“Why go where I can’t follow?” he whispers, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

Later in the night, your mission partner comes to visit, but his endless apologies are left unheard as all Sirius can do is focus on your still form in the hospital bed. He focuses on the curve of your cheekbone, the faint sounds of your breath, and the rise and fall of your chest.

This, you, are tangible. You are real, and you are his.

Sirius’s eyes flicker over every movement, like a soldier standing guard for any change in the environment. Here, he will wait until you wake. Until he’s sure you’re okay.

—-

Everything is blurred when your eyes finally open days later. It had been touch and go, and what you didn’t know is that Sirius had felt like he couldn’t breathe until you took a deep breath of fresh air. He’d give you all the oxygen in this room if he didn’t have to take up some of his own. A gasping stuttered breath leaves both your lips, yours from the soreness in your abdomen, his from the choking feeling crawling up his throat.

“Sweetheart…” he sighs, and you don’t miss the tears in his eyes as he rushes forward to kiss your forehead.

Those eyes.

“You came for me,” you croak lowly, voice hoarse from disuse, but this is the only clear memory from that night.

“I sent you a Patronus and you came to rescue me.” Sirius stalls at your words as he readjusts in his chair. He remembers your Patronus tapping on the bay window of the home you share, that night you left. On his fourth cup of black coffee, he waited at the dining table to hear an all-clear, hoping you’d get home soon.

‘I need to get home,’ your voice broke through the magic of the protective spell, and he didn’t know if this was the message he was waiting for or the last he'd hear from you. Fabian and Gideon Prewett came knocking an hour later, telling him you were dropped off at St. Mungo’s by a total stranger, and they weren’t sure if you’d make it.

“I’ll always come for you baby, but that wasn’t me who found you. You were brought here by someone.” Sirius strokes your hair as your brain works to replicate the events of that night.

“Maybe it was death.” The joke falls flat as your love looks at you sternly until he hears the words that follow in your mandrake restorative draught-riddled mind.

“He looked like you, baby. It looked like Death had your eyes.” Sirius is frozen, watching you babble as he thinks of the enemy, of the idea of his sweet little brother who was once tangible to him too. Could it be?

“Held me so gently I thought it was you,” you sigh sleepily. “He took care of me.”

“He did, didn’t he?"

Sirius’s resolve shakes at the notion of a love he once protected taking care of the greatest love he’s ever known.

“I didn’t fall asleep angry, Siri.” Your hand pats around the blankets searching for his, and when you find him, he drops his head over your chest gently to listen to the sound of your heartbeat.

“I haven’t slept at all.” He holds you, one hand in yours and the other in your hair, and it reminds him that this is real, you’re breathing, and everything will be okay.

—-

“What made you do it? I never got to ask you.” You’re pouring maple syrup over your pancakes as Sirius cuts into his eggs one morning after you’ve been discharged from St. Mungo’s. Maybe becoming an active member will be a part of the discussion again once the scar the size of your fist doesn’t scare you when you look in the mirror, or when you’re able to sleep through the night peacefully. Gentle hands pick up your napkin, wiping crumbs off your cheek as you chew on your lip. It all sounds stupid now that you have to put it into words, but now that you have some time…

“I had this fear…that once we start a family together, it would be scary to see you die. So I thought it’d be better to go on missions with different partners.”

Sirius looks at you deep in thought, and his answer is without hesitation.

“Why would I leave you? If we die, I’d rather do it together or not at all.” The notion of this conversation being part of real life becomes funny to you as you mop up some butter with your fork. Domesticity is a privilege neither of you thought you’d be lucky to see.

“Baby, but if we both die, who would take care of our child?”

His eyes widen and fall to your stomach, and you throw the napkin at him in offense.

“Idiot, you wish! Who would take care of Mittens?” His laughter fills the small house and with it, your fear of death dissipates. After all, you’ve faced it once before, and it’s somehow comforting to think of him being with you next time.

“Mittens…Baby, is that the scrawny black cat you feed in the garden?”

You nod matter of factly, “Him and our future very real kids too. What then?”

“You fought with me and almost got killed over a tiny thing that stomps through my flowerbeds. My love, if you think I’m ever going to let you fight any more death eaters without me right beside you… That’s your time off included. Not letting you out of my sight.”

“Well if I’m not going on missions, neither are you!” You say sarcastically, but Sirius actually agrees.

“Right you are. Can barely walk straight and this time it’s not my fault.” He smirks as he kisses your wrist and you slap his cheek lightly.

“You’re lucky you’re a good nurse.”

“I am lucky, and I love taking care of you. You should stop fighting me on it. I’m not doing life without you.” Living with him this long doesn’t impact the rise of the blush in your cheeks, and that was that.

—

Later, Sirius washes the dishes and hands them over for you to dry. The two of you were meant to meet Remus for tea by now, but something black darts across your vision. Mittens peers through your kitchen window, stomping on a petunia before blinking at you curiously and you can’t help but laugh.

“Stupid cat,” he grumbles, throwing the sponge at the window, and Mittens’ tail sways teasingly, daring him to do something about it. Being more thoughtful of how you spend your time, you notice the cat has gray eyes too. Your eyes flicker to the clock above the stove, and instead of panicking, you turn to kiss Sirius’s cheek.

Both of you are living on borrowed time, but as you lean into his embrace and he grazes over your waist, you can’t help but think, well, what’s another 3 minutes?

—

"I thought pain meant that I was not loved. It meant I loved." -Louise Glück

taglist (OPEN!) : @jsjcue

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#sirius black x reader #marauders x reader #sirius black x y/n #marauders era #sirius black x gn!reader #for my gn babies (づ ◕‿◕ )づ

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cosmal · 2 years

Text

KINKTOBER DAY NINE — THROAT TRAINING W SIRIUS BLACK

*:･ﾟ summary — sirius trains you to deep-throat him. you seem more eager than he does.

*:･ﾟ warnings/tags — I really hate this im sorry, gn!reader, , male receiving oral, eager reader!, throat training, face fucking

*:･ﾟ word count — 1.4k

Your heels dig into your ass where you're kneeling at Sirius’s feet and it’s enough to stop you from squirming with anticipation.

“Sirius, I promise.” You squeeze reassuringly at his thigh, curls of hair graze your palm, “I wanna try.”

He brings his hand down to your face, cups your jaw in his warm palm. Still, he frowns, “You’re sure?”

As if your twitching hands aren’t enough to show how eager you are, you say, “So, so sure.” You smile.

“You gotta tell me if it’s too much, okay?” He looks too soft and caring, it’s an awful juxtaposition to how badly you want to rip his fucking pants off and jump his goddamn bones.

You nod. Sirius looks like he doesn’t believe you.

“Please, Y/N. If it hurts, tell me to stop.” He says, sternly. Still, he moves to palm at his clothed cock under his shorts.

“With my mouth full?” You giggle. He pokes your cheek.

“Punch me in the leg for all I care, okay?” He says.

You shift on your knees and the floorboards creak. “Okay, Sirius. Please, just get your pants off.”

He sighs like you’re an inconvenience, sliding his pants down his legs, along with his boxers until he steps out of them. Down to just his shirt. “God, needy thing, huh?” He pats your warming cheek and you blink slowly. Impatiently.

He gives a few tugs at his already aching cock, twisting until beads of precum roll down his length and into his palm. He watches your eager eyes, where your mouth is agape. He swells with pride.

You raise your hand, “Let me.” Your fingers wriggle until they wrap around him. With your face close to his pelvis, you stroke him eagerly, with long, gentle tugs.

You’re overly excited to try and please him. Take him deep enough just how you know he’ll like it. You want it bad and the thought of knowing he does too, makes you want it even more.

You can’t look at him. You don’t want to do bad and if you look up where he’s watching you, it might make it worse. His adoring but stern face. He’d never make you feel pressured, ever. You’re just definitely in your own head, determined to be good for him. And if he reads your face for how you’re feeling, a little nervous, he’d think it's because it’s about the task at hand, not because you’re doubting yourself.

He pets your head, brushing your hair away from your face with a too-soothing touch. Too gentle for what you’re about to do. You want him to be rough.

“Don’t go all shy on me, babe.”

You shake your head and stand up on your knees, legs trembling. You open your mouth just to wrap around his tip, sucking away his precum with a smack of your lips.

He gently guides your head down and you wrap your mouth around his entire length. He pushes past the barrier and you take him in your throat for a split second. Spit wells in your mouth immediately and you gag.

He pulls you away by your cheek and your eyes water. Heaving a breath you try to blink away the tears, looking up at him with damp eyes for reassurance.

“Through your nose babe, remember what I said?” He says. You hum and take him back in trying to not graze him with your teeth.

He brushes the same spot and you gag lightly. Quickly, you remember to breathe through your nose when he breaches the barrier even more. When his tip presses the spongy spot of your throat, it feels funny and you quickly pull your head back. Spit bridges from his cock to your lips and breaks, dribbling down your chin. You dart your tongue out to lick it away, smiling.

“That’s it, baby.” He smiles, moving to stroke his cock, “Feel okay? Wanna try again?”

You lean forward to lick a stripe along his shaft, “Sirius?” You hum.

“Yeah, honey.” He replies, softly.

“You gotta,” You stammer, licking your lips. Your knees ache where they press into his hardwood floor, “You gotta be rough, I think. Help me.”

He strokes your cheek, over spit and fluids, “Yeah, okay.”

Bravely, you take him straight back into your mouth. Running your tongue along his skin until he’s back at the beginning of your throat. Without gripping the back of your head, he thrusts gently into your mouth to push down further.

You swallow and Sirius lets out a selfish moan which only spurs you on. You grip the backs of his thighs, eager, you bob your head gently, hollowing your cheeks.

He twitches and you forget to breathe and pull your head back again with a grunt. Mess spread all over your chin and chest, trailing down towards your navel.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He pants, “Doing so well f’me.” He wipes away the beginnings of new tears from your cheeks, prodding your face with a gentle touch. You smile and turn to kiss his palm. His encouraging words have a fire burning in the pit of your stomach.

He takes his cock into his hand and smears his tip across your tight lips, spreading spit across and up your cheeks before giving your mouth a tap.

“Open up, lovely.” Grinning only because talking might hurt, you open up for the third time, sticking out your tongue.

With a murmur of, That’s it he slides back along your mouth, a heavy, warm weight on your tongue, and you wrap your greedy lips around him.

Without any preamble this time, knowing you're thoroughly worked open, you push him to the back of your throat. He grips the back of your head, not roughly but certainly not gently, to slide you up and down his cock. You hollow your cheeks as he fills you up, all the way to the hilt.

He stills, deep-seated, and you breathe roughly from your nose as spit bubbles in the corners of your mouth. Your nose presses into the crush of curls at his pelvis, right at the end of his happy trail. His moaning stops you from moving, pleased that you’re doing well.

Sirius composes himself and starts to rut into your mouth. His grip on your hair is grounding and you remember to breathe. Roughly or not, it seems to do the trick.

You swallow deeply, your spongy walls constricting around his throbbing length and he jolts, pushing deeper than you thought was possible.

You squeeze his legs and you think he’s going to pull away. So, you nuzzle your face closer to his body and your airway almost gets smothered by his skin.

Proud, Sirius grunts and starts to thrust faster into your mouth. There’s an echo of gug gug gug’s as he finds the perfect rhythm and the amount of drool that’s produced is almost embarrassing. You feel him twitch on your tongue and you try to trace the vein under him.

You feel his thighs tense under your grip before he’s ripping himself from your mouth. You pant through a final gag, cheeks and chin all wet, looking up at him with glassy eyes.

He tugs at his cock a few times, throwing his head back before he’s spurting his cum towards your face. You leap towards him to take him back in your mouth one final time, sucking him clean as he fills your mouth. His heavenly moans bounce off the walls, finishing off with a grunt when you pull yourself off him.

“Holy shit.” He pants. “Fuck, Y/N. That was- that was amazing, sweetheart.” His cheeks are flushed, a deep red and he’s panting maybe even harder than you.

Beaming, you lean forward to kiss his tip and he jolts, bending in half to escape your lips. Oversensitive.

He strokes your cheek, leaning down to press his lips to your forehead before helping you up onto aching limbs. Your knees click and he holds you flat against his chest with his arms snaking down to squeeze your ass.

“You okay? Wasn’t too rough?” His eyes are soft and you almost want to mess with him. You decide against it.

“No, it was good. I liked it.” You grin and your eyes squint.

“You did so well, baby.” He pecks your nose and you wrinkle your face.

“I think I need to go wash my face. I’m all covered in spit.”

He pinches your ass and you yelp lightly, leaning forward to smack his chest, “I kinda like you all messy. Might have to keep that mouth busier.” He tugs the swell of your bottom lips and it flips back when he lets go.

You laugh and your chest rumbles against his, “Yeah, you would. Dirty perv.”

He smiles too brightly like it was a compliment. Only he would take it as one.

gif — imagines-therambles !

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lafleshlumpeater · 10 months

Text

haven't been as active as usual recently, so a little blurb to make up for it <3 hope you enjoy

Warnings: Slytherin reader, flirty Sirius (the biggest warning here), eating and drinking (no alcohol), celebrating Christmas, the marauders being icons, barty and evan slaying

sirius black masterlist

You walked into the great hall with a charming grin gracing your lips, wishing your acquaintances and classmates from the other houses a ‘Happy Christmas’ as you passed their tables, eventually settling with your housemates at Slytherin’s table and once again thanking your dormmates for their gifts you had received from them that same morning. One of the gifts was a festive, stripy red and green jumper, which you had decided to pull over a band t- shirt after deciding you weren’t bothered to change out of it. Responding to the compliments you received regarding it with a playful wink, you began to pile food onto your plate- meals were always better at Christmas- whilst making conversation with Lucius Malfoy concerning the upcoming prefect meeting after teasing him for the holly wreath adorning his platinum head of hair. You laughed when he scowled, beaming at Narcissa in faux- innocence when she elbowed him fondly.

You were just thinking how your Christmas was starting off great when you heard a familiar voice calling your name from the next table over.

The Gryffindor table.

You looked in the general direction of the voice with a raised eyebrow. Of course.

Sirius Black.

He winked over at you at which you responded with a scowl, when he smiled: “Finally warming up to me are you? Wearing a bit of red in who knows how many years for my house colour? That’s desperate y’know, real desperate.” He shook his head, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. You huffed.

Trust the eldest Black brother to make Christmas about himself too- though you couldn’t deny that you were subtly eyeing him throughout your meal, waiting for him to make a comment as he usually did- whether in class, on the grounds or in the hall.

“You self- obsessed gremlin- funny, but ever thought red is a Christmas colour? You think you’re so clever, but that was just pure stupid- like saying your eyes are silver, a Slytherin colour, making you obsessed with me,” you called back triumphantly- though it was short- lived.

Sirius playfully shoved Remus who chortled beside him at your banter, but didn’t take his eyes off of you, looking you up and down. “Been looking at my eyes, have you y/ln?”

You roll your eyes and exhale sharply at his witty retort, internally cursing the colour rising to your cheeks as he smirked at you over his shoulder wolfishly, mouthing: ‘you look hot, by the way’.

You look away from him immediately, outwardly cursing Barty and Evan who were whistling and laughing at your somewhat amusing predicament.

Sirius’ lips quirked upwards, calling out a little louder: “Alright there? You’re as red as your jumper, love.”

You groaned and buried your face into your arms which were resting on the table- simultaneously kicking your snorting friends as they poked fun at you further. Sirius turned around successfully, blushing slightly himself at your adorable reaction as he smiled genuinely into his glass of pumpkin juice, ignoring James when he coughed out something which sounded suspiciously like ‘simp.’

hope this is good <3

taglist: @kimorna @quickslvxrr

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

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bruisedboys · 1 year

Note

when sirius finds out about your tattoo, he becomes in awe of it. its the first place he kisses (if its visible), and he asks so many questions

I love this idea thank you sm 🤍 0.4k words

Sirius didn’t think you could get any more attractive. That was before now, before the moment when he’s seeing your tattoo for the first time.

“Y/N,” he breathes, eyes on your inked up skin. He’s sure he’s looking at you with far too much desire for a public setting like James’s living room, but he can’t help it.

The tattoo is small but pretty, decorating the back of your right shoulder. You’re wearing a strapless top, one that has your tattoo on full display. You’d sat down next to Sirius all but ten seconds ago. He’d seen it, done a double take, and then grabbed your shoulder so suddenly you’d actually squealed. He hasn’t torn his eyes away since.

“When did you …?” He runs his thumb over your tattoo. The design suits you. A little too well, Sirius thinks. He’s having trouble forming a thought. He shakes his head, a poor attempt to clear it. “I mean. You’ve been keeping this a secret from me all this time?”

You giggle shyly and twist your head to look at Sirius where he’s poring over your shoulder like it’s an art piece. “We’ve only been together two weeks,” you say teasingly.

Sirius scoffs. “So? I need to know these things, babe. You’re keeping me from doing this.”

He presses his mouth to your tattoo, a slow, sweet kiss. Your skin is warm to touch. His fingers curl over your shoulder tight enough to be borderline cruel. His lips part and he lets his tongue swipe over the spot on your skin for just a moment. Your breath hitches.

“Sirius,” you say, sounding as breathless as Sirius feels.

He ignores you. Kisses your tattoo again, and again, hot, open-mouthed kisses on your now scalding skin.

You squirm. “Sirius, stop.”

He gets about three more kisses in before you’re twisting out of his grip, gasping like you’ve been underwater.

Sirius just chuckles as you lean out of his hold, his eyes following your shoulder until you turn so the tattoo disappears from his view.

“It’s pretty,” he says in lieu of an apology. It’s not so much of an apology as it is a compliment. You flush, as expected, and then roll your eyes, also expected.

“Thanks,” you say dryly, more flustered than fed up.

Sirius grins boyishly, throws his arm over you shoulders and pulls you into him so he can see your tattoo again. “Welcome.”

#idk if I like this but oh well #★ mal writes!#ღ sirius #sirius black x you #sirius black drabble #sirius black blurb #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black x gn!reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader fluff #sirius black x y/n #sirius black fic #sirius black #✉️

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luveline · 2 years

Note

Hello hello!!! First of all i love all you shy reader fics 😭😭😭 that's literally my favourite part about tumblr!! Also if you can, may i request sirius x shy!reader. something like reader does something cute and sirius goes all mushy and fuzzy because they are so cute!!!! and showers them with kisses and cuddles . Also you can choose if you want to make the reader female or gn!! Thank you

tysm! and thank u for ur lovely request, i hope this is somewhat what you meant ♡ gn!reader

Sirius spots you waiting for him outside of the museum and beams. He checks himself before you can catch him smiling, forcing his expression into one of a cool neutrality.

"Hey," he calls.

You do as he'd done; you beam, catch yourself and tone it down into a sheepish little grin that makes him want to kiss you badly.

He tries to abstain from public displays of affection. He knows they're your worst nightmare, though how he can be expected to contain his affection when you're looking as lovely and as ridiculously happy to see him as you do is beyond him.

Your shyness has slowly, slowly abated over time. You remain moderately hushed, but you can meet his gaze without flinching and you've accepted a great handful of goodnight and goodbye kisses.

Sirius is used to begging for your affection otherwise. He's happy to do it. He always wants to go at your pace, of course, but he wants to be close to you so deeply it aches. He's far from too proud to ask when he wants things.

Sirius nudges the back of your hand gently with his and waits for you to nudge back before he intertwines your fingers and pulls you into the museum.

"Where do you want to go for dinner after?" he asks, all business.

"Where do you want to go?" you ask, almost tripping over the step up into the main auditorium. Great stone carvings line the walls, the room deathly silent. he catches your arm and steadies you without complaint.

You gaze up at the seemingly endless ceiling and your lips part. Sirius watches a dawning sense of awe slacken your previous features.

"How about Mazzio's?" he asks.

You blink back to attention. "Pizza?"

"Is that not what you want?"

You avert your eyes to a large doorway made of porcelain skulls. "I'll go wherever."

"You sounded surprised."

You drift around the room together and pause at a smaller statuette. It seems to be a woman posed against a wall, her hip, face and little stone feet meeting at the same invisible point.

"Maybe we could go somewhere fancy," you suggest.

He pushes down his surprise quickly. "Yeah, sweet thing. Wherever you want."

You take the lift upto the second floor and walk through the gallery. Old oil paintings stretch up the walls, meticulously placed.

"I just… want us to," you squeeze his hand unthinkingly, "do what everyone else does."

"Who's everyone else?" he asks.

"Normal couples."

His eyes flit to your face, surprised and delighted. You're looking up at a painting, your face once again slackened in awe. He watches your eyes take in each corner of the painting and his heart skips.

"We're a couple?" he asks.

You flinch. "We're not?"

He throws his gaze around the room before stepping close as he can and taking your face into his hands. You gawp, plainly, eyes widened and lips pulled into a shocked smile. You're the cutest person Sirius has ever met.

"Is that what you think?" he asks softly, so you know whatever answer you give is okay.

"I did think that, until… you know, a few seconds ago."

Sirius can't believe it. This whole time he thinks he's courting you and you're already seeing him as – well, as your boyfriend.

He kisses your cheek. When your breath hitches happily he kisses you again, again and again and again until he must've kissed every inch of skin on your lovely face. You giggle at his touch and he can feel the heat of a warm flush bloom under his hands.

It gets harder to kiss you as your laughing grows, his own laugh summoned in turn.

"Sirius," you beg, giggling, "stop, stop."

"We aren't a couple," he says, which horrifies you, until he continues, "because I haven't had the chops to ask you yet."

He steps back, takes your hands, and gazes at you steadily. "Can I be your boyfriend?" he asks seriously, though fondness for you lightens each word. His exuberance is catching, your eyes lit with mirth.

"Yeah," you say. You nod voraciously. "Yeah, you can be my boyfriend."

He takes you by the waist and spins you.

That really makes you laugh, louder than he's ever made you laugh before. It's the best sound he's ever heard.

"Sirius," you plead, a mixture of weak and giddy.

He stops his attack of affection and settles for just holding your hand.

He doesn't know about you, but he barely takes in the paintings. Monet, Dante Gabriel Rosetti, Raphael, John Constable, Birmi. All masters, and yet none of them could make anything as pretty as you, flushed and giggly and clinging to his hand for dear life.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius orion black #sirius black fanfiction #marauders era #marauders #sirius black drabble #sirius black #sirius black imagine #sirius black x gn!reader #gn!reader

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bookshelf-dust · 11 months

Text

body and soul

sirius black x gn!reader

word count: 1,418

warnings: swearing, sexual innuendos?, flirting, fluff

a/n: hi! i wanted to write more sirius, and here we are. i think this is really sweet. i hope that you enjoy it! also, the title is a mr. darcy line from pride and prejudice (2005). i couldn’t resist, okay? sue me. anyways, let me know what you think and i love you!! <33

————

“I thought you said I could braid your hair, you little shit.” You remove your fingers from his curls.

Sirius scoffs, leaning his head back to try and chase your hand. “Quite a mouth you’ve got on you.”

You let up, continuing to scratch your nails over his scalp. You’d say he’s almost purring, but that’d be the wrong animal, you’re afraid.

Sirius is sat on the floor between your legs. When you’d asked to play with his hair, he’d agreed, though this isn’t what you’d meant. He doesn’t seem to care. If you hear one more “five more minutes,” you might just kill him.

“Regulus?”

“Hm?” The boy is sprawled out on the bed behind where you sit, flipping through something of Sirius’ he’d picked up upon entering the room.

“Who should we invite to your brother’s funeral?”

He snorts, and you can feel his shoulders shaking against the mattress. Sirius’ eyes snap open. “My what? What crime have I committed that is so heinous for you to now discuss my death?”

He leans his head back, stormy eyes blinking up at you.

“You haven’t let me braid your hair when that’s exactly what I asked of you.”

Sirius lets out a whine. “But I like the scratches.”

“I know you do. But, frankly my love, you’re being a pain in my ass.”

He turns around to face you, sitting up on his knees, hands grabbing at your ankles. “Oh but I like your ass, wouldn’t want to hurt it now, would we?”

“Okay, gross. I’m going,” Regulus proclaims, but he doesn’t move an inch. He flips over onto his back, shielding his eyes with his forearm.

“Can I braid yours, Reg?”

He peeks at you from underneath his arm. “Sure.”

You push further back on Sirius’ bed, trying to escape his grasp. He’s quick to stand, towering over you, hands creeping up your legs. There’s a look of faux betrayal on his face; you know better than to think he’d actually be upset about you choosing his brother’s hair to braid first.

“Get back, you dog.”

Sirius gasps, and with one scandalized hand pressed to his chest—the other slapping at his sibling for laughing—you dart out of his range.

You make it to the other side of the bed, Regulus now in between the both of you. The boy settles, cross legged in the space, and you sit up on your knees to rake through his waves. His hair is a little less wild than his brothers, but just as thick and smooth.

“Sirius, my love, would you get me the ties and a brush, please?”

The look he receives from you tells him that he has no other choice. He retrieves them for you, though he gives you his best puppy dog eyes before handing them over. “Kiss.”

You smack one on his cheek, and steal the items from his hands. He looks appalled, and sits himself against the headboard, grumpy and brooding.

Regulus’s hair isn’t nearly as long as Sirius’s, but there’s enough that you make two small french braids with the front section of his hair, tying them together at the crown of his head. You think he looks fantastic, and he’d be lying to himself if he said otherwise.

He wanders off after his hair is done with, clearly finished with the both of your antics.

Sirius crosses his arms, giving you a haughty look, as if he doesn’t need attention from you. Really he’s dying for a kiss, for you to play with his hair some more.

“Oh, don’t be so grumpy, sweetheart,” you coo. He lets his arms drop, mouth ticking up at the corners. He loves it when you call him that.

“Gimme a kiss, and a good one,” he warns, holding his finger up, “and you may have your way with me.”

“Oh, I may?” You scoot up towards him, hands planting firmly against the mattress on either side of his thighs.

“Damn right, you may,” he laughs, completely enthralled with you.

You lean in, keeping your eyes on his—something else he’s fond of. You slot your mouth against his, finding the press of his lips to be warm and all-encompassing. Sirius has this way of kissing you, pushing his feelings outward and into you, letting you know how utterly taken he is. How much love he has for you. He makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world, like he will protect you from anything and everything. Nothing touches his baby.

You try to pull away, but should know better. Sirius is greedy, always wanting seconds and thirds. And he gets them. Every. Fucking. Time.

When he does let you go, it’s only to scoot further down the bed so that you can rise up onto your knees behind him. He likes it better this way because he can feel the heat of your body much more than if he were to sit on the floor. Being close to you makes him feel safe. Especially in a bedroom that has been a sanctuary from the rest of his home for so long. It’s better still with you in it.

You comb through his mess of curls, and he tries his best not to groan each time you yank a little too hard. Once the knots are gone, you part his hair down the middle and separate it so you can braid each side.

Sirius closes his eyes, enjoying the feeling of your hands in his hair, the way your fingers send a chill down his spine each time they graze his neck.

He’ll never understand how good you are at this, how you could do it with your eyes closed if you had to. He’s watched you do it numerous times, weaving each strand underneath the other, and you’ve even offered to teach him how someday so he can put it up when you’re not around.

He’s gotten the hang of a regular braid; he just likes it better when you do it. Sirius also thinks he has to keep his hair long forever, because he couldn’t stand to deprive you of this.

He feels when you finish one braid, the weight of it resting on one shoulder as you begin work on the other.

“Going to sleep on me, baby?” you question, noticing how quiet he is.

“Of course not,” he quips, reaching around to squeeze your waist.

You hold the braid firm in one hand, using the other the gently grab his jaw and turn him to face you. You kiss him once, short and sweet, and Sirius doesn’t think he could be more content. More cared for.

“Enjoying this, Black?” You’re beaming at him, eyes alight. This close you can see the freckles on the apples of his cheeks, across his nose. They’re light, but they’re most definitely there. And they’re gorgeous.

“You know I am. You know, I really think you do it because it shuts me up.”

You return to braiding, weaving the strands behind his ear together as securely as you can get them. “You got me.”

Sirius chuckles, a warm and honey-like sound. It fills your every nerve with glee.

“I’m all done,” you tell him, sinking back down into the mattress and stretching out your legs, knees having started to ache from being in that position for too long.

Sirius spins around, grabbing hold of your ankles and tugging so that you fall back onto the bed. He pulls until you’re where he wants you, his body between your legs. He braces his arms on either side of your head, looking down at you, nothing but pure adoration in his eyes.

“How do I look?”

You yank gently on the ends of his pigtails. “Gorgeous, as always.”

He chuckles. “Oh, how you flatter me, my love.”

You snort, and he enjoys the sound tremendously. Sirius presses his cheek to yours, nuzzling into your hair.

“I love you.” He whispers it into your ear, and the rasp in his voice gives you goosebumps.

“I love you too, baby.” You whisper the response into his ear as he’d done to yours, and the action makes him so happy that he pulls away just so he can kiss you. So that he can kiss every square inch of your face.

“Thank you for letting me play with your hair,” you say.

He winks at you, smacking an obnoxiously loud kiss to the center of your throat. “Anytime, my sweet.”

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