#also subtle prongsfoot if you pay attention

[resident-gay-bitch]

⭐️ Sirius Sundays ⭐️

Happy Birthday Sirius Black🐾 a little angsty with a happy ending (2k words)

Never before has Sirius enjoyed his birthday. It’s alway been a rather drab and lonely affair. He doesn’t think he’s ever been celebrated, actually. 

He’s always made sure that his little brother Regulus never felt the same way on his own birthdays; Sirius was always sure to get him a gift (usually homemade), sang him the birthday song, and spent the day making sure that his little brother felt special and loved. 

However, Sirius isn’t treated the same. Well, not really.

Sure, Regulus tries, but he doesn’t really understand how it feels to have your birthday forgotten, the way Sirius does. Regulus always gifts him something (usually from his own room when they were younger, which Sirius did find rather sweet), wishes him a happy day, and they more often than not spend a large amount of the day together. 

But Regulus doesn’t go out of his way to ensure the day is as wonderful as possible, because he has never known how lonely and horrible it feels to spend a birthday alone. 

Sirius doesn’t hold this against him. Regulus has done many upsetting things in the past, but this is not one of them. He was the only person to ever give Sirius a gift, afterall. 

It was not until he started at Hogwarts, did his birthday begin to feel a little better. His first there was completely missed, because he didn’t tell any of his new friends when it was coming around. However, they didn’t allow him to miss his second, and on that morning, he received three awkwardly wrapped gifts. 

Every birthday since, he’s received presents in the morning, and The Marauders spend the whole day treating him like a prince. They embarrass him by singing the birthday song in every class, and every meal, and everywhere else they go, just for a bit of fun. They wear party hats and tell the other students to “Clear the way, birthday Marauder coming through!”, and pull pranks on others just to make Sirius laugh. And they tell everyone to treat Sirius well, for it’s his birthday after all, and he knows James is telling all the birds to treat him extra well because they flock to him until he’s frazzled and has to run away. 

And it’s lovely, having a cheerful birthday, and he certainly doesn’t feel forgotten anymore. 

But by the end of the day, as the moon is high and the stars are shimmering bright in the black of the sky, Sirius will cry. 

Silently, with the curtains closed around his bed, he’ll cry. 

He’ll look at every card and every gift he received before him, and he’ll never see anything signed from his parents, never has. And he no longer receives any gift from Regulus either. 

It’s terrible. Really, it truly is. He shouldn’t be crying over his lack of gift and attention when he’s already received an abundance of it. 

But it’s really the lack of care he mourns. The lack of love. 

He watches all the other boys on the mornings of their birthday, as owls fly in and deliver heartfelt cards and thought out gifts from their parents and families. But no owls ever come on Sirius’ birthday. 

It’s his birthday today. He’s seventeen. And he barely got any sleep all night, quietly worrying himself about nothing. About everything. 

It’s his first birthday after running away, and it’s stupid to wonder if maybe his family will send a gift. They never have before, so why should they now? Sirius is a blood traitor after all. 

But he’s clinging to the slither of hope he has like a lifeline, thinking maybe they’ll want him back, and maybe things will change. He’s eternally grateful for the warmth and care the Potters have provided for him, and he loves them more than anything. 

But perhaps their kindness and simplicity has muddled Sirius’ head to mush, made him believe in a fairytale that his parents did love him, and that they miss him, and that they want him to come home. 

Sirius pretends to be asleep when James rolls over beside him for a morning hug, tries wishing him a happy birthday and chatting before realising Sirius is asleep and gets out of bed. He pretends to sleep when Remus and Peter each come by to say morning as well, and he pretends to sleep through breakfast. 

When classes begin, Sirius pretends to sleep through this too, and James (the most wonderful person that he is) realises that Sirius has not been sleeping. And so James sits on the end of Sirius’ bed and begins to read and give explicit commentary on his Quidditch magazine out loud; he knows that Sirius is soothed by the sound of his voice. 

They sit there all the way through to lunch, Sirius pretending to sleep as he listens to James’ voice, and James pretending he doesn’t know that Sirius is awake. 

And no owls ever come. 

Until one does. 

Right after Pete and Remus came up to let the pair know they’ll bring back lunch, an owl knocked on the window. 

Sirius got his hopes up at the sight of a strong, nobel looking owl. Wondered if perhaps Regulus sent it, or he’d even be grateful if one of his cousins did. 

James gives the owl a treat after handing the package over to Sirius, inquiring as to who it came from. 

Sirius sees brown parchment wrapping, tied together with a bright red bow, and his stomach drops. His family would never wrap a gift in such a way, such bright, joyous colours. And especially not Gryffindor red. 

James sits beside him on the edge of his bed, notices Sirius’ hesitancy to open it. And he can tell Sirius is disappointed, knows exactly why because James is the only one who knows all of these things about Sirius. And he can just read him, extremely well. 

“Open it, mate.” James whispers encouragingly, places a gentle hand on Sirius’ knee, “Come on, you’ll never know who it came from if you don’t.”

“It’s probably just another secret admirer or something.” Sirius muttered, placed the gift down beside him, “I’m not in the mood for presents.”

“Yeah, look at my bed, it’s already piled up with gifts the girls have been waiting to give you. Crazy they are.” James said with a chuckle, and one looked over their shoulders at the pile of gifts and cards on the bed, they were both giggling, “What do you bet there's a love potion in there?” 

“There's too good of a chance, I’m not opening any of them. Being under that potion one time was awful.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“You’ve never been under it, Prongs.” Sirius snickered. 

“Seeing you under it was bad enough!” He said with a grimace, a shiver going down his spine, “Terrifying.” 

Sirius grinned, “You jealous, Potter?”

“Terribly.” James smiled back, “I know you’re not in the mood for gifts, but perhaps you could open mine? At the very least? It’s just… I’m so excited to give it to you, I’ve been keeping this a secret for months.”

“Fine.” Sirius huffed, and allowed James to go fetch the gift from under his bed. 

He insisted that he hold Sirius the entire time he took to read the card and open it, so terribly clingy he is, but Sirius doesn’t mind. Sirius never minds when it comes to James. And the gift was lovely, it was a whole collection of new pranking materials, top of the line stuff, all of Sirius’ favourites. 

They spent the remainder of the day snuggled up in bed together, chatting about everything apart from Sirius’ family or his birthday, and by the time classes finished, James convinced him to open everyone else's gifts. 

He received Chocolates from Moony, and a new set of fancy quills from Pete, and an abundance of fun trinkets and things from the rest of his friends and students from the school (he made the boys open all of them just in case there was another love potion within, he had no desire to fall under another one of those). 

Finally, he opened the gift delivered by owl. As he unrolled the neat parchment card, he felt immediate regret for not opening it sooner. At the bottom it was signed by James’ parents, and he was just as surprised by this as Sirius. 

They had written such lovely words, wishing him the happiest of birthdays, and Sirius had to force himself not to cry in front of all of his friends when they wrote about how happy they are to have him stay with them. 

He hastily tore open the parchment to find a ring box inside. James saddled up to his side to peer in as well, and Sirius slowly opened the box. And the ring, in shiny silver, had the Potters family crest engraved. 

“What the fuck?” James exclaimed beside him, pulling the ring box closer to his face for exception, “No way, I can’t believe you got this before I did.”

“What?” Sirius asked. 

“What is it?” Pete asked as well.

“It’s our family crest.” James said simply, still in disbelief, “It’s tradition in our family for the men to receive one on his seventeenth birthday. It’s a mark of respect and trust, he’s finally become a man and now he’s trusted with our mark. You use it to stamp and sign official documentation and things, so people know which family it’s from, and that it’s real, technically. But my father always said it’s more about growing up and marking a milestone. It’s very important in our family, and it only goes to Potter sons and daughters.”

“Well… why did I get one, then?” Sirius asked, taking a closer look. 

“Because you’re seventeen.” James shrugged, as if this was such an obvious fact, “I’m so jealous, I’ve been waiting for mum and dad to give me one of these for years… I can’t believe I still have to wait months.”

“But, I’m not a Potter, Jamie. I’m a Black.” Said Sirius simply. 

James smiled at him, plucked the ring from the box, taking Sirius’ hand to slide it on, “You’re a Potter, Sirius.” 

Thankfully, the other two got the hint and wandered off, closing Sirius’ bed curtains behind them. Sirius was nearly in tears now, looking between James and the ring on his finger not knowing what to think. 

“You know you are. You’re family.” James pressed, his voice tender and smooth. Sirius looked at him intently, his eyes now stinging as he began to cry, “Of course you are, my parents love you. I love you.”

“But this is… this… this is for their son– you’re their son James, not me.” 

“You are too now.” He said with a smile, giving Sirius’ hand a tight squeeze, “You’ll always have a place with us, Padfoot.” 

Sirius fell, trembling into James arms, and they stayed there crying together for quite a while, because James gets emotional everytime Sirius does. And together, after a while, they wrote a thankyou letter back to the Potters, with tear stains all over the parchment. 

The four of them went down to dinner, and Sirius was bombarded with far too much attention, and Sirius wore his new ring, and they sang him happy birthday four times (they had tried to make up for all the times missed, but they only made it to four before McGonagall shut them down with the threat of detention that night). 

For the first time in years, Sirius didn’t cry himself to sleep on his birthday. And he never spent another birthday longing for parental affection ever again, because every birthday Fleamont and Euphemia gave him the most wonderful of gifts, and always addressed them to their son. 

Give it up for the Potters everybody (can we just appreciate how they got him a silver ring over the traditional gold because they know he prefers it) (I know I just made that up but idc)

[soup-of-the-daisies]

About Prongfoot ask - Possesive James potter

I love me a good possesive bf and most would say that Sirius is the possesive one but idk why i get the feel it is James..

A little backstory, - Now I have read a few wolfstar version of possesive bf but they make me cringe and laugh at all the werewolf stuff being told as the reason behind Remus's possessiveness as he hated that part of himself and would never embrace it... But from there I liked the idea of a partner (deserving and equal, which Remus is neither) knows Sirius is super good catch and feels bouts where they feel surge of the desire to make everyone know that Sirius belongs to them...

In what ways do you think James can be possesive bf..?

(You can answer in both explicit and non explicit sense) whatever you feel comfortable in sharing...

Oh anon… I too love a possessive Prongsfoot moment. I don’t read Wolfstar, but I agree with you that the werewolf-induced possessiveness doesn’t feel very in character (if it’s allowed). I do think that Remus would be insecure enough to feel incredibly possessive of Sirius—he’s just too shy to actually do something about it. And for Prongsfoot: I think they’d both be quite possessive of one another, but you’re 100% right that it’s extra delicious with James.

James is an only child. He likes gift giving, as it is how his parents also often showed their care… but he really doesn’t like to share.

It’s not that he isn’t confident in his relationship with Sirius. He’s perfectly well aware that they belong to one another. Family comes first for the both of them, so yes, James may sometimes have to step back as Sirius busies himself with Regulus or Andromeda, or any other biological relative—but they’ve made each other family too, and Sirius always understands if James has to busy himself with his (admittedly small) family, so he cannot let the green monster rear its head. It’s unacceptable.

He can’t help it though, that sudden grumpiness that overcomes him when Sirius isn’t floating off to someone else, that sudden cruel streak coming forward. But he doesn’t want to make it too horrible, so he does what he can to satiate his jealousy: a hand around Sirius’ wrist, finger pressed against the pulse point; an arm around Sirius’ shoulders; setting himself next to Sirius, and leaning against him in a subtle display of ‘mine’.

He wears Sirius’ clothing—shirts, jumpers, scarves, neckties and school robes. They’re all a touch too big, because Sirius is a touch taller and burlier than him, and that means it’s always subtly obvious to anyone who pays attention who the clothing actually belongs to. He sprays Sirius’ cologne on his wrists, so that they can smell it. He kisses him in front of the whole of fucking Hogwarts, in the halls, during classes, before and after a Quidditch match. And he sucks hickeys, big and bruised and painful, onto Sirius’ neck; high enough that they’re visible. He likes to press down on them from time to time, both in public and in private. He hates it when Sirius heals them prematurely and gets so sulky and grumpy that Sirius always, without fail, caves and lets James suck and bite a new one into place.

It’s ownership, technically. If he was a cat he’d be spraying. The only reason it’s okay to think as such (or so James tells himself) is because Sirius owns him just as much, if not more. Wholly, completely. James is a social butterfly, has acquaintances all over the place, but Sirius is always on his mine. It’s like he’s carved onto his bones. The imprint of him remains no matter what James is doing, no matter who he’s talking to. Sirius’ eyes stare holes into his back, only to loop an invisible rope through and yank him close again. James is owned. He can’t fathom why he can’t own Sirius right back.