#sirius black music taste | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

agreeewrites · 4 months ago

Text

Hit Me Where It Hurts The Most | S.B.

feat. Sirius Black x Rowle!reader

SUMMARY: You and Sirius have known each other since childhood due to your families running in the same circles. But after a lifelong loathing of one another, the scale tips another way during the New Years Eve feast after-party.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, hate fucking, enemies to enemies that kiss, abusive siblings, toxic friends, reader is Thorfinn Rowle’s twin sister, side Rabastan Lestrange x reader (it's complicated)

series navigation | part two | part three | part four | masterlist

divider by @sxmmerberries

“Well, don’t you look supremely vicious this evening,” a low voice hummed in your ear, one you would recognize anywhere.

“Would you like a taste, Black?” You replied, turning your head just slightly so you could see him in your periphery. He looked exceptionally handsome, as he always did, with his regal bone structure and sage eyes, his hair glossy as raven’s feathers.

It made you sick.

“I’d rather chew nightshade. Far less dangerous.” Sirius stepped around to your front, openly surveying the outfit you’d selected for the evening: a black mini dress with long bell sleeves, a silver chain around your waist, and a platform pair of gogo boots that barely brought you up to his chin. “You’re lethal, darling.”

You and Sirius had known each other for years, having been in attendance for countless parties thrown by your families, and you always seemed to end up here, flirting like you were wielding knives instead of compliments. A competition to see who could deal them most flattering, and most lethal blow. And when he’d left his family for the Potter’s, that rivalry only deepened.

It was much easier to hate one another, to twist the most alluring parts of each other into flaws rather than admit the truth of what they were, or how they made you feel.

You were both at the New Years Eve feast afterparty in the Astronomy Tower, a rare multi-house event. Magic kept the blustering cold at bay, and the party safely enclosed in a bubble of warmth. Students from every house mingled, sipping straight from bottles of giggle water and dancing amid a haze of glittering confetti. The music thrummed through you, aiding the alcohol in loosening your tense muscles.

You loathed parties, but your brother, Thorfinn, had insisted. And what the oaf wanted, the oaf got.

Speak of the devil, you caught Thor’s eyes across the party, where he stood with Sirius’ cousin, Rabastan Lestrange, and the Carrow’s, scanning the crowd for their first unwitting plaything of the year. Thor’s gaze flicked to Sirius, and his expression darkened.

You turned your attention back to Sirius, rolling your eyes at him. “Better hurry back to Potter, baby. His hand must be getting cold outside of your ass.”

Your jab didn’t phase him, and he flashed you that dauntless grin. “What? Big brother says you’re not allowed to talk to me?”

Thor started to move through the crowd towards you, a battering ram through water, and panic curled behind your ribs. “I have no interest in speaking with you, reject. Leave me,” you hissed, as vicious as he accused you of being.

His smile tightened, your cruel words finally chinking his armor. Then, the bastard caught your eye flitting past his shoulder and turned, spotting Thor as he prowled ever closer. “Oh, he looks thrilled,” Sirius said, turning back to you. “Better turn that little brain off and play dumb like you’re so good at.”

Anger simmered under your skin, twining with the panic to make you feel a frantic, fevered.

With a huff, you stepped around Sirius and met Thor halfway, allowing him to take your elbow and steer you back across the party, his grip bruising.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, talking to that rat?” Thor seethed, his alcohol-singed breath wafting over your face.

“He came up to me,” you bit back, swallowing the urge to pull away despite the pain.

“So you walk away. Not play your stupid little word games.”

“I know, Thor. I’m sorry,” you said, feigning remorse, but tonight, he wouldn’t be so easily disarmed.

“Your lack of control is a disgrace,” he snarled, before shoving you away and almost directly into Rabastan, who caught you with a steadying hand before quickly releasing you.

“Just stay here,” Rab whispered in your ear, his heat at your back. “Pecking at my cousin isn’t worth the consequences.”

Rabastan Lestrange was far from a good man, but he wasn’t an unfeeling ogre like your brother, so you often took shelter in his calm demeanor and powerful name. If he wanted Thor shipped off to Azkaban, all he had to do was say the word.

Your parents hoped you would snag an engagement proposal from him by graduation, but the months were rapidly winding down. And you couldn't bring yourself to try all that hard, despite finding Rab both intriguing and exceedingly handsome. He was a Lestrange, after all, with angular features and the eyes of hunter, the kind of magnetic allure that only good genetics could buy.

You didn’t respond, snagging another flute of giggle water as it passed by and taking a delicate sip, Thor’s glare still trained on you. As your family demanded, you were to remain the picture of elegance, of restraint.

Appeased, Thor finally turned back to his hunt, and you exhaled.

You watched as students danced and flirted on the dance floor, gyrating and spinning with abandon. How badly you wished you could join them, could let loose for just a moment. And your opportunity arrived when the band started a slow waltz, and Rab’s hand caressed your lower back.

“Dance with me,” he said, not a request, but you didn’t mind.

He led you out onto the floor and you slid one hand up his broad chest, the other placed in his palm. He pulled you closer, his touch light and careful along your back as he started to lead you.

Dancing with Rab was effortless, fluid as water due to his extensive etiquette training, and you quickly got lost in the buoyant feeling of it.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he murmured, and you looked up at him, finding his brown eyes trained on your face, thick lashes heavy, a new intensity blooming.

“Thank you.” You rested your cheek on his muscular chest, overwhelmed by that look in his eye. Your parents would be thrilled. So thrilled, they may not even care that you broke form by resting your head on him.

Rab certainly didn't seem to mind, his hand growing heavier against the curve of your spine and pressing you closer together.

From this new angle, you scanned the crowd, watching countless other couples get lost in their own love story. There was Pandora and Xeno, and Evan and Barty. Not far from them was Marlene and Dorcas, and James Potter and Lily. And to the right of James—your heart stalled, acrid, green poison spilling through your blood.

Sirius was dancing with a girl you didn't recognize, her hair tangled in his long fingers while she kissed up his neck, their bodies flush and swaying.

But his eyes—his eyes were trained on you.

You shifted closer to Rab, an unconscious movement, and he purred in pleasure, his fingers trailing up your spine and making you shiver against him. He smelled expensive, amber and peppercorn, Burberry wool. Warmth began to spread through your lower belly, cloying and dark.

You lifted your head, glancing around to check Thor's location. He was tucked into an alcove with Lucinda, and paying you no mind. With Rab, you were safe from Thor's constant shadow, the burden of the Rowle name. With Rab, you were shielded by his even loftier name, a Lestrange by association. A large enough legacy to disappear into.

It could have been Sirius, your mind whispered, unprompted, and you flinched in Rab’s arms. Where had that come from?

“Alright, darling?” Rab asked, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head. “Did something frighten you?”

You shook your head, fingers curling into his chest. “Just a little overwhelmed,” you murmured, hoping it comes off as coquettish and sweet instead of pathetic, like you feel.

You saw his gaze flit towards Thor, then back down to you. “Would you like me to throw him off the tower?”

You nearly choked on your surprise, then are stunned further to see a soft smile crinkling his eyes. A nervous flutter tickles your lungs, and you giggle. “No, no. That would be too obvious.”

Rab chuckled, his smile widening. “Fair enough, I suppose. Just say the word, love, and you will be free of him.” He pressed your head gently back onto his chest and you obliged, feeling his steady heart drum under your ear.

But, you couldn't seem to stop yourself from finding Sirius in the crowd once more.

He was dancing with Lily now, laughing and spinning her in wide circles, and that poison spread further, rooting into your bones.

It could have been you.

You flinched again, this time away from Rab. “I'm sorry, I—uh. I need some air.”

Rab looked around, you were literally outside, but nodded sympathetically. “Go on, little doe. I'll handle Thorfinn,” he whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles before turning you loose.

You pushed your way through the crowd and down the stairs, bursting into the empty corridor below, the cold seeping in through the stone.

You leaned against the wall, drawing deep breaths, running your fingers through your hair. It was all too much, you were feeling too much, and you couldn't make sense of any of it.

Rabastan was finally flirting with you, and you ran away from him. From safety, from security, from your inevitable future. And for what? To avoid—

“Good ‘ole Rab scare you off?” Sirius drawled, appearing at the bottom of the stairs. “That was a very swift exit.”

You rolled your eyes, straightening. “Can't allow me a moment of peace, can you?”

He sidled up closer, looking sinful in his all black outfit, his shirt half unbuttoned, neck heavy with silver chains. “Not in my nature.” He smirked.

“No, you're nature is far too effusive. Permeates the fucking room.”

“Wow, I've really got you wound up tonight, doll. Profanities on that pretty, posh tongue? Be still, my heart.”

“Not everything is about you, imbecile.”

He prowled closer, his hand resting on the stone beside your head. “So who is it about? I highly doubt that Rabastan Lestrange has you so hot and bothered.”

“And if he does?” You challenged, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes. Your bodies were so close, the heat of him pushing back the winter chill, and that bitter poison in your blood sweetened to something honeyed, sticky and slick and burning.

Sirius huffed a laugh, the warmth of his breath caressing your lips. “Then he’s an idiot for letting you out of his sight.”

“And why's that?” You prodded, bumping the tip of your nose against his, wanting to rip that smug smile off his face with your teeth.

“Because.” Sirius pressed his body to yours, solid and lean, so warm, too warm—”Someone else might burn in the fire he started.”

“You think we care if you burn?” You hiss, hating him so much you could scream, but wanting him so desperately you might cry.

“We?” He sneered, all mirth vanishing from his voice. “If there’s ‘we’, then why am I the one you're arching into? Why am I the one making your reptilian heart flutter?”

“Because you're insufferable and I hate you.” The last word skims the surface of his lips, the faintest brush of contact, a match striking the tinderbox.

“And you're a liar,” he growled, slamming his mouth onto yours in a vicious, wrathful kiss, the electricity between you combusting with a boom that rocked you to your core.

You gasped against his mouth, his tongue driving between your teeth to taste you, claim you. You bit down on his tongue, just hard enough to make him grunt in agitation, and his hand wrapped around your throat, cutting off your air and forcing your to release your hold.

His rings were icy against your fevered skin, his lips against your ear. “Oh, darling. How long have you waited to be bad?”

Unable to move, you flicked your tongue out, dragging it along the hard angle of his jaw, and he shuddered, loosing a wrecked groan.

He crashed your lips together again, open-mouthed and sloppy. He kissed you like every second was stolen, every lick was a victory, and it made your head spin. Or maybe that was the lack of oxygen.

He released your throat and you sucked in a sharp breath of cold air, making your lungs burn. His lips moved down to your neck, teeth grazing your pulse as his hands bunched up your dress, fingertips grazing the bare flesh of your thighs.

“Sirius, not here,” you gasped, moaning as he sucked a mark just under your ear, where it could be easily hidden by your hair.

You felt him smirk, and you realized that you'd verbally accepted what was happening, the charade of fighting having fallen without you realizing.

“Why? Afraid you'll get caught with the reject?” He threw your words back at you, and you cringed internally. But there was no malice in his voice, just that infuriating humor.

You grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into a nearby classroom, locking the door behind you. He promptly tossed you up onto a desk, resuming his colonization of your neck, his narrow hips nestled between your thighs.

His hungry exploration of your skin had your blood boiling, your cunt slick and thrumming with need. It was so bizarrely discordant with the loathing in your mind, but it only made your desire burn that much brighter. It didn't help that he was so unbelievably sexy like this, his hair messy, lips rosy and bitten, his shirt wrinkled from your hands.

The image of that leech attached to his neck flitted through your mind, your anger flaming anew. You tangled your fingers in his hair and yanked his head back, exposing his throat. You laved your tongue up his esophagus and his hips bucked against you, the hardness of his cock tangible against your thigh.

You covered his throat in wet kisses and licks, marking every spare inch as yours.

“Fuck, doll. You're a feral little thing aren't you?” He rasped, his hand sliding around your thigh to stroke the outside of your panties. “And fucking soaked for me.”

You bit down on his neck, earning a hiss of pain and another stutter of his hips.

He pressed his fingers harder against your cunt, making big, messy circles over your slit and you cried out, the pleasure far more intense that you anticipated.

“Sensitive, baby? So warm and wet—you've ruined these expensive panties, y’know? Such a shame, I bet they look so fucking pretty—”

“Shut up, Sirius,” you hissed, throwing your head back as his middle finger massaged your clit, stars dancing behind your eyes.

“I don't think I will. I think you like hearing me whisper filthy things in your ear. Don't you, my naughty girl? Ah—shit, yes—feel that? Your cunt is practically purring in my hand, drooling all over my fingers—”

“Sirius,” you whined, the attitude draining from your voice as your orgasm prowled near, your entire body humming with desperation, with need.

“Poor thing, getting close, hm?” He pulled the gusset of your panties aside, the pads of his fingers making direct contact with your puffy clit. With his other hand he undid his trousers and you reached for him, pulling his cock out.

Fuck, it was pretty. Of course it was, it belonged to Sirius Black. Long and veiny, flushed and shining with slick. You licked your lips, longing for a taste, but you needed to come more.

“Merlin’s fucking—” he groaned as you pumped him, smearing precum over the rigid head with your thumb. “Ready, doll?”

You angled your hips forward, lining him up with your gooey entrance. He batted your hand away, grabbing his base and easing himself a few inches inside of you, hissing through his teeth.

“Of course you have the perfect fucking pussy,” he grated, almost angry. “Why wouldn't you fit me like a glove? You fucking brat—”

You were barely listening, lost in the delicious feeling of him spearing you on his cock, ripping you apart at the seams and stitching you back together in the shape of him.

“Fuck, Sirius,” you mewled, falling back onto the desk when he bottomed out, so full it felt like he was in your lungs, your heart, your throat.

He drew his hips back, pausing just before his tip left your entrance. “Say my name again,” he growled, leaning over you.

You bit your lip, eyes flashing with defiance despite the need tearing apart your insides.

“Oh, darling,” he chuckled. He shifted forward, slamming his hips into yours with a brutal punch to your cervix. “I'll get it out of you one way or another.”

He fucked you mercilessly, driving in and out of you like he'd somehow exorcise the attitude from your body. And you fucking loved it, keening and crying out as you thrashed underneath him, unable to get purchase on the smooth wood beneath you. But you held your tongue, refusing to say his name.

“You really are a brat, you know? So fucking spoiled,” he growled against your neck, breathless, his grip painful on your hips. “Giving me nothing but attitude, and here I am, giving you exactly what you fucking want.” He slapped your clit, making you jump and cry out as your orgasm pulled taught, a hairs width from shattering.

“Sirius, please,” you begged, tears squeezing from the corners of your eyes as the last of your resolve crumbled.

“That’s better,” he cooed, so condescending you'd punch him if you weren't about to explode. “See? You can be a good girl.” His middle finger found you clit again, moving into tight, fast circles, and you detonated.

An inferno burned from your core through every muscle fiber and tendon, every cell and every atom, eviscerating your mind until you were nothing but ash and starlight, weightless and scattered.

But Sirius didn't let up for a second, and you were quickly wrenched back into your body, oversensitive and wrung out, crying real tears as he fucked you through it.

“Fuck, that was beautiful. You even come pretty. Got another one for me? Shit, baby—feels like you do. Squeezin’ me so tight—fuck!” He roared as his own release crashed over him, his cock kicking hard against your tender walls and painting you with rope after rope of his seed.

The feeling drove you into another, smaller orgasm, your body lifting to wrap around his as you both shook and whined, clinging to one another through the onslaught.

He braced his hands on either side of your head, breathing labored and trembling so hard the desk shook beneath you. You collapsed onto your back, thighs clenching and unclenching around his hips, mirroring the frantic flutter of your used cunt.

He kissed you a final time, loose and featherlight, and your heart gave a weak trill. Your breath mingled another moment before he stepped away from you, tucking himself back into trousers.

You sat up, feeling his release squelch between your thighs, and shame crashed down over you, hard enough to steal you breath.

Thorfinn was going to fucking kill you, if he didn't kill Sirius first.

He noticed your expression shift. “Nobody needs to know,” Sirius said, his low, steady voice cutting through the cacophony of panic in your mind. “I won't say anything. To anyone.”

“Not even Potter?” You asked, hating how small your voice sounded.

“No, not even James. This stays between us,” his tone was soft, more sincere than you'd ever heard him, and it assuaged some of your fear.

You nodded, exhaling, though the relief was quickly overshadowed with sour guilt, and something else you refused to look at closely enough to name.

Sirius approached you again, catching your chin and tilting your head up towards him. “But when you go back up there, dance with my cousin, kiss him at midnight, I want you to remember who's dripping between your thighs. Who you were screaming for.”

“Fuck you,” you spit, jerking your chin out of his hold.

“Already did,” he smirked, disappearing into the corridor before you could say anything else.

Heat scorching your cheeks, you cleaned yourself up as best you could in the privvy before returning to party.

Rabastan and Thorfinn descended on you immediately. Sirius was nowhere in sight.

“Where have you been?” Thor growled, tugging you closer by the wrist, his giant hands making the thin bones grind together.

“I told you,” Rab cut in, his voice a glacial calm. “She stepped out to the ladies and to get some fresh air. These parties can be overwhelming for those with a gentler constitution.” Rab gave you a knowing look, a ‘keep your mouth shut and go with it' look, and you nodded in agreement.

His hand fell to your lower back, tugging you closer to him and away from Thor, and like the spineless coward you were, you went gratefully into his embrace.

As if his cousins come wasn't crusting along your inner thighs. Like your lips weren't still tingling from Sirius’ kiss.

“Now, take your hand off of her before I remove it,” Rab ordered, sharp as a razor’s edge.

Thor looked back and forth between the two of you, the singular gear in his brain turning.

Thor released you, suddenly seeming entirely too pleased, and dread coiled in your gut. Some kind of exchange had occurred, a currency trading hands, and it made you vaguely nauseous.

“Come, darling,” Rab murmured to you, leading you back towards the dance floor. “It's only a few moments ‘til midnight.”

When the clock finally wound down, the bell tower tolling loudly enough to shake the floors, instead of pulling you in for a kiss like you expected, Rabastan bowed low. He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to your ring finger, the same place a diamond would find it's home, and you flushed from head to toe.

Tingles erupted all over your body, your muscles tensing with excitement, but it was quickly followed by a twinge of exhaustion in your core, a sobering reminder of what you'd done.

God, what had you done?

Thank you for reading! 🤍

534 notes · View notes

somecluelessidiot · 3 months ago

Text

Get to know me (Marauders edition)

Looks: Lily Evans

Music taste: Remus Lupin

Kin(s): James Potter, Evan Rosier, and Marlene McKinnon

Style: Mary Macdonald

Hobbies: Regulus and Sirius Black

#marauders #marauders era #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #lily evans #regulus black #marlene mckinnon #mary macdonald #get to know me

312 notes · View notes

foodiegoogie · 15 days ago

Text

𝐎𝟐: 𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞'𝐬 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 | 𝟏.𝟏𝐤

in which you get a taste of james' primary love language: acts of service

note: this was not proofread. also this is ur reminder to stay hydrated or james potter will be watching you !

series masterlist | main masterlist

The scene before you feels strangely like deja vu. Whether that’s because you’ve seen the High School Musical movies more times than you can count on your fingers or the theory of past lives is real, you’re not entirely sure yourself.

The indoor basketball court was filled to the brim with cheerful students. On the right side of the court sat the students of Godric High—A.K.A. your fellow batchmates, while on the left side sat the students from your neighboring school, Salazar’s Academy. If you squinted, colors of red and green, the respective colors of both schools in competition, would mix together in your vision. An unspoken rivalry between the schools had been brewing ever since the “dawn of time” as the old seniors liked to put it. But really, it formed when both headmasters of Godric High and Salazar’s Academy had a falling-out after being best mates for so long.

And so that laid the groundwork for today’s events: the pressure was on for both athletes competing for their respective school. If Godric High won, they’d be continuing their championship streak that’s been running steadily now for nearly five years and counting. But if Salazar’s Academy won, they’d be breaking that streak, and much worse—earn the bragging rights to not shut up about it.

Presently, you were standing on the side of the court, eyes latched onto the ongoing game that was being played right in front of you. You raise your DSLR camera up to your face, waiting eagerly for the player in your focus, Diggory, to make his three-point shot. He swerves and dodges, bounces the ball on the ground, and jumps—! Click. Your camera shutters, capturing Diggory in the air as he shoots the ball, which had then led to a successful three-pointer shot. The crowd cheers as you make a run for your next spot for a different angle on the court.

“And nothing but net for the Red Lions from Diggory!” Marlene McKinnon exclaims from her place in the commentators’ stand. “That brings the Lions to a total of 26 points—still in the lead!”

You zero in on the players’ benches which are placed on the other side of the court. Perfect, you thought. It’ll give you a pristine shot of two players if they ever make a jump for a dunk or block the shooter.

You make it to the spot by the benches in time as Marlene announces the Emerald Serpents calling for a time-out. Right as both teams huddle close in circles, you raise your camera up for a picture. Click. Click. Two shots of the Red Lions’ coach barking strategies with a look of determination on his face. You take a few steps closer for a closer shot inside the circle. In your periphery, James Potter wipes the sweat off his face with the collar of his jersey while Sirius Black glances at him, patting his shoulder as if to say, “It’s alright.”

Click. Click. One shot of the close-up view of the huddle-up, and one shot of the act of brotherhood between Potter and Black.

The coach finally breaks the huddle-up, sending the players off for a water break. You take it as your cue to move to a different spot, turning to leave when a familiar voice calls out to you.

“Oi, Y/L/N!”

The sigh that leaves your lips is so heavy, you’d think someone just lifted the world’s weight off your shoulders.

“Yes, James?” You turn around, walking back to the benches, camera in hand.

James smirks at your exasperation. “Damn, tough crowd.”

“Can you blame me? I’m busy,” You hold your camera up for emphasis. “got a job to do.”

“Ah, yes. How could I ever forget the Queen of Photography herself?” James plays up the dramatics in his tone, reaching for a water bottle in the icebox labeled ‘ATHLETES ONLY’ in big black letters.

You roll your eyes. “Oh, quit it–”

“Speaking of which,” He interrupts, chugging half the water in his bottle as he makes his way closer to you. You respectfully turn away. “You look like a tornado passed by you on your way here.”

Your head whips back to look up at him. For a moment, the fact that James was tall slipped out of your mind.

“Excuse me–?”

“You think I didn’t notice? You’ve been running around the court since before the game even began. You’re giving Usain Bolt a run for his money at this point.”

Well, now that James had brought it up, you realized right then and there that you hadn’t really looked in the mirror yet ever since you stepped foot inside the court. Now, it had really sunk in—the sweat on your brow and on your back, the strands of hair that had escaped your previously-neat ponytail, the rapid heartbeat in your chest—everything.

Shit. I probably look like a right mess right now, don’t I?

Before you could even bring yourself back to reality and fix yourself to look half-decent, James walks back to the ice box. He rummages around for a few seconds until he brings out another bottle of water, then walks back to you.

“Here,” He hands you the bottle. “You look like you need it more than us.”

Your gaze lands down on the bottle right in front of you. It’s ice-cold—was that why he took a while in the icebox?

“James, the water’s for athletes only,” You remind him, looking back up at him but not without a hint of reluctance in your eyes. “It’s nice of you and all but I can’t drink that.”

This time, it’s James who rolls his eyes at your words. “Come on. It’s not like they’ll punish you for drinking water. Just take it. Seriously.”

“But you paid for that. I didn’t. I can’t take it–”

“Nope. No. Athlete’s orders,” He shakes his head firmly, taking your free hand and placing the cold bottle in it. You almost sigh in relief at the refreshing feel of it in your hand.

“Take it.”

You look back up at him, albeit a little shy and grateful-looking now. James raises his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for you to… drink it?

Instead, you clear your throat awkwardly, murmuring a ‘thank you’ under your breath.

He sighs, but looks less like he’s about to force-feed you the bottled water himself.

“Not what I was waiting for but I’ll take it.” James mutters to himself, placing his hands on his hips.

Just then, the referee blows his whistle, prompting everyone’s attention and signaling the return to the ball game.

James takes his steps back onto court, glancing over his shoulder to look back at you, only to find that you’d already left your spot, and are now running to the next—wherever that may be, James thinks.

His eyes don’t leave you until he sees you take a long swig out of the bottle. A relieved sigh leaves his lips.

thanks for reading! \(￣︶￣*\)) likes, replies, and reblogs are very much appreciated~

#james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter fluff #james potter #james potter fic #james potter oneshot #james potter drabble #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james fleamont potter #james potter imagine #marauders era #marauders #harry potter marauders #harry potter fanfiction #foodiegoogie writes

204 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 8 months ago

Note

hello lovely girl!

this is quite specific so please bear with me, but i am deaf in my left ear so i constantly am hearing only half of conversations i am in and constantly pulling people to my right side or sitting across so i can fully hear them. in loud areas i refuse to wear my hearing aids because it’s honestly torture with how much louder everything gets and it’s quite overwhelming.

no pressure in the slightest because you probably receive at least 100 requests a day, but if this is your cup of tea, would you do poly!marauders or any marauder x fem!partiallydeaf!reader? maybe she’s just upset she can’t hear properly and feels like a burden? however you wanna spin this darling!! thanks for even reading it xxx

Hey gorgeous, thank you for requesting!

cw: alcohol

Sirius Black x hearing impaired!reader ♡ 912 words

Sirius is talking loudly, nearly shouting, but his fingers are soft and gentle against yours. He toys with your hand like it was made for his amusement, his rings brushing against your skin as he folds your fingers in, spreads them out, runs a short nail up the length of your pinkie as light as a breeze. He smooths his thumbs over your palm like he’s flattening out the creases in a piece of paper.

“Why don’t you just go to a different grocery?” Lily is the only one who seems to find Pandora’s story more concerning than amusing.

“Because,” Pandora says patiently, “if I stop going, who will feed the goose? I’m not sure if anyone else does. He seems rather neglected.”

“He bit your hand!”

“Which makes it seem like he was quite hungry, no?”

Without warning, music blares into the room. It ricochets off the walls, rising over the cheers of your friends as they recognize the song. You wince, a hand finding your ear.

Sirius’ hand leaves yours. He holds it out in front of you for you to put your hearing aid into. You do, and he stores it safely in his jacket pocket, getting up and moving to your right side automatically.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Yeah.” You smile at him. “Thanks.”

He kisses you on the cheek, lips staying close to your ear. “Evans is worried about the goose being around children.” You turn your attention back to your friends, and you can see the gestures and expressions corresponding to Sirius’ account. “Rosier thinks it has a nest nearby. She’s, well, a bit unhappy that human children are taking priority. And James is back with our drinks.”

The last part you could’ve ascertained on your own. James is carrying four cups in his two hands, seemingly unaware of the liquid sloshing out on all sides to coat his knuckles in stickiness. He peers into the cups concentratedly as he stops in front of you, passing one off to Remus before holding two more out to you and Sirius.

“This one’s yours, babe.” He leans slightly to your right as he speaks. “No vodka, right?”

You nod gratefully. You know James is Sirius’ best mate, but after you’d started dating it almost felt like he became yours, too. He treats you like he’s known you forever, includes you in all their conversations, and remembers things like how the taste of vodka makes you gag. He teases you like you’re best mates as well.

“Wuss,” he says, plopping down in the spot Sirius vacated.

Sirius makes a dramatic gasping sound. “Excuse me! Darling, would you like me to defend your honor?”

You take a sip of your drink. It’s sweet and made the way you like it. “Not this time,” you hum.

“Fair enough.” He shoots James a faux glare, speaking to you. “Now Marl’s asking why Rosier goes to a grocery that far out of the city anyway. Good point.”

Sirius uses his whispering as an excuse to get you close, working a hand around your shoulders and tugging you up against him so his breath warms your ear as he speaks. The conversation is interesting, as are the little comments and opinions Sirius peppers in, speaking to you as though you’re the only one in the room instead of to the group, but you find your mind nonetheless drifting away from it. Sirius’ hand is cupped around your shoulder, tightening every now and again to keep you in place when one of you shifts or his grip starts to slip. The cadence of his voice is enthralling, dipping and curving and getting enthusiastically louder before he remembers to drop it back to a hush, and occasionally on an odd word his lips will tickle the shell of your ear.

It’s difficult to care what he’s talking about when the talking itself is so lovely.

“Thanks for doing this.” You turn towards him, half startled to find his nose hardly an inch from yours. Your boyfriend’s lashes flutter momentarily as though it flusters him too, but he collects himself swiftly, quirking a dark brow. You wet your lips. “I appreciate the help. I know it’s not…it can’t be easy, accommodating me all the time.”

Sirius grins at you. “Course it is, sweetness. It’s easy. I’m only translating.”

“Well, you don’t have to,” you reply, voice softening self-consciously. “So thank you.”

Dark eyes roll skybound before settling on you with an intensity that you should be used to but nonetheless pins you as effectively as it did the day you met. “You think I’d rather you use your hearing aid when it’s too much for you? Or leave you not knowing what’s going on? Don’t be silly, it doesn’t cost me anything to sit here and talk to you.” He stamps a kiss on your cheek. “Shocking as it may be, I like talking to you. Got it?”

Your bashful hum must not be enough for him, because he gives your ear a nibble, a little squeak coming out of you before you can stop it. You both hear and feel Sirius’ laughter, bouncing through his chest as he pulls you closer against his side. “Oh, sod off!” he says to someone, you hope not you. He turns his mouth back towards your ear. “James has just made a ridiculous comment about PDA. The gall of him! Are you sure you don’t want me to defend our honor?”

475 notes · View notes

loverangels · 3 months ago

Text

head over heels

pairings: sirius black x fem!reader

synopsis: sirius loves visiting your record shop, for the vinyls and for you.

The tiny bell above the door jingled, and you didn’t even have to look up to know who it was. Sirius Black strolled into the record shop—again. You’d lost count of how many times he’d been here this month alone, but he always showed up with a grin that somehow managed to be both cocky and endearing.

Your mum had joked once that he must have the biggest vinyl collection in the city. But you knew better. Half the time, Sirius didn’t even seem to care which records he bought. He always spent more time leaning on the counter, chatting you up, than he did browsing the shelves.

“Afternoon, rock star,” he greeted, that signature lopsided grin firmly in place as he approached the counter.

You rolled your eyes at the nickname but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “Back so soon, Sirius? Didn’t I just see you yesterday?”

“What can I say? I have impeccable taste in music and an ever-growing collection to feed.” He winked, resting his forearms on the counter as he leaned a little closer. “And who better to guide me than the expert herself?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, grabbing the stack of new arrivals you’d been sorting through.

“Ridiculously charming, you mean,” he quipped.

You gave him a look, though your cheeks felt warm. “What are you after this time? Let me guess—something loud and obnoxious?”

Sirius clutched his chest dramatically, as if you’d wounded him. “You wound me, truly. I’m here for something... different.”

“Oh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief. “What’s your favorite album in the shop right now? Pick something for me.”

You rolled your eyes again but humored him, scanning the shelves behind you. You grabbed a record you thought he might actually like—something classic but edgy—and handed it to him.

He held the sleeve reverently, his long fingers brushing against yours as he took it. “Perfect. I’ll take it.”

“You didn’t even look at it,” you teased, crossing your arms.

“Don’t need to. I trust your taste.”

That made your stomach flip, though you tried to ignore it. You busied yourself ringing up the record, but you could feel Sirius watching you.

When you glanced up, his gaze was softer, more thoughtful, like he was trying to memorize the curve of your smile or the way your hair fell over your shoulder. The moment he realized you’d caught him staring, his cheeks flushed pink, and he quickly looked away, pretending to be engrossed in a nearby display of CDs.

You bit back a smile. He was so confident most of the time that seeing him bashful was oddly endearing.

“Anything else?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light.

“Oh, definitely,” Sirius said, recovering quickly as he wandered over to the movie soundtrack section. He picked up a random CD and waved it at you. “What do you think? Too much John Williams in my collection?”

“You can never have too much John Williams,” you replied with a laugh. “But you’re not actually here for movie soundtracks, are you?”

“Caught me,” he admitted, his grin softening. “Maybe I just like the excuse to see you.”

His words hung in the air for a moment, and you felt your face heat up again. Sirius didn’t seem to mind your silence, though. If anything, he looked more confident, like he’d just scored a point in some game you hadn’t realized you were playing.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

Later that night, Sirius sat on the couch in his flat, staring at the ceiling while Remus flipped through a book and James played with a football in the corner.

“I’m an idiot,” Sirius declared.

“Yes, we know,” Remus said without looking up.

James laughed. “What is it this time? Forget to flirt with the cashier at the bakery?”

“It’s the girl at the record shop,” Sirius groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I swear, I was going to ask her out today. I even practiced. But then she caught me staring, and I panicked.”

Remus finally looked up, his expression equal parts exhausted and amused. “You’ve been talking about her for weeks, Pads. Just ask her out already. The worst she can say is no.”

James nodded, spinning the football in his hands. “Seriously, mate. If you don’t, I’ll do it for you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Sirius said, narrowing his eyes.

James smirked. “Try me.”

That was all the motivation Sirius needed. The next day, he walked into the record shop with a purpose.

You were behind the counter, sorting through a shipment of CDs, when the bell jingled and Sirius strolled in. This time, he didn’t pause to browse or make a cheeky comment. He came straight up to you, leaning casually on the counter like always—but his usual grin was softer, a little nervous around the edges.

“Hey,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

“Hey,” you replied, tilting your head. “No new records to buy today?”

“Not exactly,” he said, shifting his weight. “I, uh... actually wanted to ask you something.”

You set the CDs down, giving him your full attention. “What’s up?”

Sirius hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. “Would you want to go out with me? Sometime. On a date, I mean. Dinner, or coffee, or whatever you like. Your choice.”

You blinked, caught off guard by how nervous he sounded. For all his usual bravado, he was fidgeting slightly, his confidence faltering as he waited for your answer.

A smile spread across your face as you nodded. “I’d like that.”

His expression lit up, the tension in his shoulders easing instantly. “Yeah? When are you free?”

“Tomorrow, after I close up,” you said.

“Perfect,” Sirius said, his grin returning full force. “I’ll pick you up. Seven okay?”

“Seven’s perfect,” you agreed, feeling your own cheeks heat up under his gaze.

“Great. It’s a date.”

As Sirius walked out of the shop, he couldn’t stop himself from punching the air in triumph.

#fem!reader #sirius black fluff #sirius black one shot #sirius black fanfic #sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black blurb #sirius black x fem!reader #s

259 notes · View notes