#sirius black x fem!reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

colouredbyd · 5 days ago

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i think your house is haunted (and i think you should come live with me)

sirius black x reader ✰ 6.8k

synopsis: "sweet tea in the summer, cross my heart, won't tell no other. and though i can't recall your face, i still got love for you"

— or in which you return to the town you left at eight, where the haunted house still stands two doors down and the boy from your childhood waits. together, you wander where trees were planets, swings were ships, and love was only ever pretend. but somewhere between saturn and moon, pretend begins to feel like something real.

cw: childhood friends to strangers to lovers, childhood trauma, implied child neglect and abuse, grief and loss, first love, virgin!reader, first kiss, heavy nostalgia, bittersweet memories, soft angst, mentions of found family, childhood flashbacks, vulnerable dialogue, muggle modern au.

masterlist

It has been twelve years since you last stood on this street, though the road has barely changed.

The sun drips slow gold onto the front lawn, pooling over manicured hedges and pale white shutters, casting long shadows from the wrought iron fence that still curls around the perimeter like it’s guarding something precious.

You step out of the car, the heat clinging to your skin, your arms full of cardboard boxes, the scent of soil already slipping into your senses.

Your father moves ahead of you with purpose, two heavy boxes stacked in his arms, his voice calling out over his shoulder. “Just put your things in your room, sweetheart. Same one as always.”

As if it hasn’t been over a decade. As if this is just another summer, and not the beginning of something you don’t yet have words for.

Your mother lingers by the garden gate, already kneeling, hands disappearing into the tall grass that has grown untamed since the last time she stood here. “We’ll bring it back,” she murmurs, more to the soil than to you. “It’ll be just like before.”

You don’t answer. You’re too busy letting the house look at you. It’s still beautiful — smaller than you remembered, painted in shades of bone-white with wide bay windows and a garden that once bloomed so fiercely it made the neighbors whisper.

There are five houses on this street, each spaced with intentional elegance, each trimmed with green like something from a magazine. Your parents' house is the brightest among them, sun-warmed and quietly proud.

But two houses down, the contrast strikes you like a breath caught in your throat.

That house, black, sharp-roofed, and peeling at the edges, seems to exist in a different season altogether.

The shutters are closed. The curtains drawn. The grass is overgrown, brittle and yellowed in places, as if even the earth there has learned not to hope. You pause on the steps with the last box in your hands, your eyes narrowing slightly. There’s something in the silence of that house, something that stirs at the edge of your memory like a ripple over still water.

“Mom?” you call softly, setting the box down by the door and stepping back out onto the porch. “That house down there. The one that looks abandoned. Who lives there?”

She doesn’t look up from where she’s trimming the hedges, but her voice carries easily. “That’s the House of Black.”

You turn to glance at it again, the name sending something peculiar through your chest.

“The House of Black?” you repeat, the name strange on your tongue.

She finally rises, brushing the soil gently from her knees, a wistful smile tugging at her lips. “Don’t you remember? You used to be really close with the boy who lived there. He went to school with you for a while — mischievous one. Sirius, wasn’t it? You two were inseparable once, like the best of friends, always getting into trouble together.”

Sirius.

The name hits you in a place that still remembers freckles and laughter and hands that held yours too tightly during storms. You don’t say anything. You only nod and carry the last box into the house.

Inside, everything is like it was left waiting — the polished floors, the tall ceilings, the quiet scent of cedar that lingers in the corners of the rooms. Your old bedroom feels like it’s been frozen in time.

The window still faces the same view of the road, the pale blue wallpaper is faded only slightly, and the bookshelf still holds a few forgotten toys and a dusty snow globe with a miniature swing inside. You run your hand along the desk where you once drew pictures of monsters and fairies.

“I’m going for a walk,” you call out toward the hallway as you lace your shoes by the door. “I just want to see it all again.”

“Don’t be too long,” your mother replies gently. “Lunch’s in an hour!”

You step out into the early evening light, and it feels like the past reaches out to wrap around your shoulders. The road stretches ahead, framed by the five houses you once knew by heart.

Beyond the end of the street, past a rusted fence and a line of old maples, the lake comes into view.

It’s just as you remembered, wide and glimmering, wrapped in trees. A place where the sky always felt closer, where time used to loosen its grip.

You follow the familiar path, gravel crunching softly under your steps, your fingers brushing along tall wild grass as you go. Just beyond the lake lies the woods — dense, green, and slow with memory. You pass the tree you once named Saturn. And there it is.

The swing.

Still hanging from its old branch, its rope faded but strong. The wooden seat is chipped now, moss curling at the edges, but it’s there. And behind it, just visible through the trees, is the house you once believed was haunted.

Your mind drifts back to when you were seven, to afternoons spent beneath this very tree, where everything seemed larger than life.

The tree was huge, the biggest one near the lake, its bark rough and speckled with moss, tied with rope so thick it scratched your hands when you touched it. Your father had tied the knot last summer.

It was summer, and everything smelled warm. You wore your favorite dress, the one with the little blue flowers on it. Your mum had ironed it that morning. Now it was crumpled and slightly muddy at the hem, but you didn’t care.

You sat on the swing, legs swinging back and forth, hair flying in your face, and behind you was a boy with messy dark hair and a stick in his hand.

You didn’t really remember how he looked. His face was all fuzzy now, like trying to see through a rainy window. But you remembered his voice. You remembered how he pushed the swing just right, not too hard, not too soft. You remembered how he laughed when you laughed.

“Higher,” you giggled, gripping the ropes.

“I can’t,” he said, pretending to grunt as he pushed. “You’ll fall off and the crocodiles’ll eat you!”

“There aren’t any crocodiles in the lake,” you said, kicking your legs.

“Yes there are. There’s millions, big ones, and they love princesses.” He waved his stick in the air. “But don’t worry, I’ll save you. I’m the pirate and this swing’s our boat.”

You rolled your eyes, even though you were smiling. “That’s wrong! It’s supposed to be a prince saving a princess from pirates. Not a pirate saving a princess from other pirates.”

“I don’t wanna be a prince,” he said quickly, with a frown in his voice.

“Princes are boring. They just wear fancy clothes and sit on horses and don’t do anything. Pirates are cool, they have swords and ships and treasure and... parrots.”

You twisted around to look at him, trying to see his face, but the sun was behind him. “But pirates are the bad guys.”

“I’m a nice pirate,” he insisted. “A good one. You’re the princess and I’m the pirate and we’re sailing away to India.”

“Why India?” you laughed.

“Because that’s where treasure is. That’s where everything is!” He puffed out his chest. “My uncle has a book about it. The colors there are shiny. I saw them.”

You didn’t know much about India except for the map in the globe in your father’s office. You used to spin it until it made you dizzy.

Nearby, your plushies were sitting in a circle on a picnic blanket. Your rabbit was there, and your bear, and the small dog with one ear bent the wrong way.

They were all watching the game, very seriously. The rabbit was the captain, and the bear was the lookout.

“This boat needs snacks,” you said suddenly, hopping off the swing and letting your bare feet touch the grass. “I’m gonna get apples.”

But instead of apples, you ran toward the tree next to the big one. It was smaller, but you had always liked it. You could climb it easily, especially if you stepped on the knot in the trunk. Sirius called out from behind you.

“You can’t do that. You’re a princess! You’re supposed to stay on the boat.”

“I’m a different kind of princess,” you shouted as you started climbing. “One who can do what she wants.”

He ran up to the bottom of the tree and stared up at you. “My mum says girls have to sit nice and boys have to be strong and loud. So you can’t climb, only I can climb.”

“That’s dumb,” you called down, wrapping your hands around a branch. “If girls want to climb trees, they can. Maybe your mum just doesn’t know how.”

He looked like he was thinking very hard about that. You swung your leg over a branch and perched there like a bird.

“See?” you said proudly. “Now I’m taller than you.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m the pirate. Pirates are supposed to be the tallest.”

You just stuck your tongue out and stood up, wobbling slightly on the branch before jumping down. You landed with a loud splat in the mud and your dress got dirty all over the back. You stared at it for a second, then laughed and wiped your hands on it too.

“Now I’m a pirate princess,” you declared. “See?”

He stared at the mud, at your feet, and then started laughing too. “Fine,” he said. “You’re a pirate princess. But I’m still the captain.”

“No, the rabbit is the captain.”

“That’s not fair. He doesn’t even have a sword.”

“You can be the cook.”

“I’m not being the cook!”

“Then you can be the pirate who sings songs and ties the ropes and swabs the deck and steers the ship and—”

“I get it,” he said quickly. “I’ll be everything.”

You nodded. “Okay. You be everything, but I get to name the trees.”

“This one’s Saturn,” you said proudly, pointing at the tall one.

“Sat-ren?” Sirius wrinkled his nose. “What’s that even mean?”

You shrugged, picking at the edge of your sleeve. “I dunno. It just sounds really fancy. I heard my mum say Moon and Saturn in the kitchen once, and I think they go together. Like best friends.”

He looked at the trees for a minute, then nodded slowly. “So I can be Saturn, and you can be Moon.”

You looked at him funny. “No, silly. Those are Saturn and Moon. The trees, not us.”

“Oh.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Well… I still wanna be best friends like Saturn and Moon.”

You thought about it for a second, then smiled really big. “Okay! You can be a star, and I’ll be the sun. Stars and suns are best friends too.”

He perked up like you’d just given him the best idea ever. “Ooh, I like that. But only if I get to be a really cool star.”

You thought for a second, squinting at him in the sunlight. Then you pointed at his shirt. “You’re wearing grey, like the stars.”

He looked down at himself.

“And I’m wearing yellow,” you said, twirling a little so your dress spun out. “So I’m the sun.”

“So I’m a star?” he said, grinning.

You nodded fast. “Yep. A star star. Like, up-in-the-sky star.”

He grinned so big you could see the gap in his front teeth.

“And I’m the sun. So we stay close forever. Like... right next to each other forever and ever!” you said seriously.

Sirius held out his pinky. “Pinky promise?”

You hooked yours with his and gave it a squeeze. “Pinky promise.”

You looked up at the trees, then at him. The sun was behind him again, so his face was still blurry, still hidden.

“Let’s sail between them,” he said, lifting his stick-sword and pointing to the space between the trunks. “If we go through Saturn and Moon, that means we’re halfway to India.”

“What if the crocodiles come?”

“I’ll fight them,” he promised.

You picked up your rabbit and handed him to Sirius. “Here,” you said, very seriously. “He’s the captain. You have to listen to him.”

He held the rabbit like it was real, tucked it under one arm, and nodded. “Aye aye, Captain!”

You smiled so wide your cheeks hurt.

The memory fades slowly, like sunlight sliding off the swing ropes, like warm air settling back into stillness.

You blink and find yourself in the present again, your footsteps soft on the curve of the road, the sky above tinged with the early hues of evening. The wind still carries stories you thought you’d forgotten.

You walk past the same five houses that made up your world once. Yours still looks bright, white and gentle, with its garden waiting to bloom. But as you move down the road, it’s the one two doors away that pulls your attention again.

The House of Black.

It sits in the shadows, even though there’s still sun in the sky. The roof is sharp, the shutters closed, the grass left to dry and curl in patches.

You slow your steps, drawn to it without meaning to be, and the closer you get, the heavier it feels. You stare at the second floor, the crooked windows, the empty porch, and something tugs at you again — soft at first, then clearer.

Another memory.

It comes back not like a wave, but like the sound of your own laughter echoing somewhere far away.

You were seven, and the tea party was very, very important.

You’d set it up just right — your favorite pink blanket on the grass, your plushies all sitting in their places.

Rabbit was in charge, because she was the queen, obviously. Bear was her royal guard. The cat was lying sideways with her paw in the sugar bowl, but you let it slide. Mrs. T kept tipping over, but turtles were slow, so that made sense.

You had your sparkly headband on and your mum’s old scarf tied around your shoulders like a cape.

“Rabbit says you’re slurping too loud,” you told him, pouring pretend tea into his empty cup.

He looked at Rabbit like he was thinking about starting a fight. “Well Bear says Rabbit’s being bossy again.”

“She’s not! She’s the queen, and queens make the rules.”

He frowned and slurped even louder on purpose. “Bear’s gonna steal the sugar bowl and run away to the forest.”

You giggled, loud and sudden, until your headband nearly slipped off. “No running away! This is a peaceful tea kingdom.”

Sirius grinned a little but then went quiet. He looked down at the plate in front of him, picking at the crumbs with one finger.

Then, out of nowhere, he asked, “What time do you hide in your closet?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“When the monsters come out. Do you hide before bedtime or after?”

You tilted your head. “I don’t hide. There’s no monsters in my house.”

He looked surprised. “Not even at night?”

You shook your head. “Nope. My house is boring.”

Sirius didn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes distant and serious. Then he nodded slowly. “Well… mine has lots of monsters.”

You leaned closer, elbows resting on your knees, voice soft with curiosity. “Where?”

“In the walls, I think,” he whispered. “And under the stairs. They bang on stuff, and it makes Mum and Dad really mad. Then they yell, alot.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just blinked at him, letting the silence hang between you.

“Sometimes they break things,” he added quietly. “That’s when I hide Reggie.”

“Who’s Reggie?”

“My little brother. He’s a baby, kinda. I put him in the closet at eight o’clock. That’s when the monsters get the loudest.”

You felt a strange flutter in your chest—not quite fear, but the ache you get when you read a sad story by mistake and it stays with you all day.

“Well,” you said carefully, “I think your house is haunted too.”

Sirius looked at you, surprised but not dismissive.

“Your dad’s always mad,” you confessed softly, “and your mum is… whatever she is. It’s always making you sad.”

He nodded slowly, like he’d been waiting to hear that.

“The ghosts,” he said quietly, pulling up his sleeve to reveal a dark blue mark blooming across his skin, “they give me these when I’m asleep. They hurt Reggie too.”

You reached out a hand before thinking, voice steady and sure. “You can move to my house. We don’t have ghosts or monsters.”

But Sirius shook his head stubbornly. “I won’t leave Reggie with the ghosts!”

You reached for the last biscuit on the plate — the one with the most sugar — and handed it to him. “It’s okay. You can live in my house, and you can bring your brother!”

He blinked at you.

“Just for now,” you added. “Until your house gets... un-hauntedly ghosted.”

He stared at you for a second, then let out a weird little laugh. “That’s not a real word!”

“It is now.”

He smiled sadly. “My house is never gonna be un-hauntedly ghosted.”

“Then stay in mine forever,” you said. “We have pillows, and a closet with fairy lights, and no monsters at all.”

Sirius didn’t answer. He just took the biscuit and held it with both hands, like it was something special.

Then he looked at Rabbit, nodded very seriously, and said, “Thanks, Your Majesty.”

The road is quieter in the afternoon, lined with the soft hum of cicadas and the hush of sun-filtered trees. You’re walking back from the lake, shoes brushing against gravel, hair tied up to keep the heat off your neck.

You pass the Black house without meaning to slow, but something makes you look.

The shutters are open.

For the first time since you came back, the windows aren’t closed and the porch doesn’t look like it’s holding its breath. There’s light on in the front hallway, warm and real, spilling out behind the glass.

You pause.

A second later, the door creaks open, and someone steps out.

He’s tall, effortlessly commanding the space around him. Broad-shouldered, his silhouette strong and sure beneath a pair of dark, well-worn jeans and a leather jacket that’s softened with age, the collar casually turned up, giving him an air of quiet rebellion.

His hair is long and black, cascading past his chin in soft, unruly waves that catch the fading light. The edges of his sharp jawline catch the glow too, tracing a perfect line that hints at something both dangerous and magnetic.

He moves with a lazy grace, the slow stretch of his arm as he pulls out a cigarette, then leans against the railing with a casual ease that somehow feels deliberate, as if every small gesture is part of a silent rhythm only he knows.

He doesn’t see you.

You watch him for a moment longer than you intend, caught between fascination and something unspoken. Then, almost reluctantly, you turn away.

Four days pass.

You fall into something soft and predictable. Mornings are for walking, afternoons are for errands, evenings are for sitting with books you don’t finish. You pick wildflowers near the lake. You refill the bird feeder.

And then, on the fourth day, it happens.

You’re coming back from the bakery with a paper bag of warm rolls tucked under your arm. It’s nearly noon. The sun is high, and you’re walking up the drive, keys in hand, when you see him.

He’s standing on your porch.

That same man. The one from the Black house.

But this time, he isn’t leaning back in silence. Instead, he’s engaged in conversation with your parents, his hands moving expressively as he speaks. His voice is low and warm, carrying a quiet confidence. A genuine smile plays on his lips, and in response, your parents return the gesture—soft, easy smiles that light up their faces.

As you step closer, your father turns toward you, a warm smile breaking across his face. “Oh, Y/N, there you are!”

Your mother’s eyes light up as she beams, “Look who it is.”

The man turns, slowly, and for a heartbeat, the world seems to tilt off its axis.

You find yourself staring, breath caught in your throat, because it’s not just any someone standing there. It’s him.

“Hi,” he says, and there’s a lilt in his voice that is familiar, even after all this time. “It’s been a while.”

“Sirius,” your mother says softly, like she’s offering the name to you gently. “You remember Sirius, don’t you?”

Your mouth opens. You almost say no. Because that can’t be Sirius.

Not the boy with scraped knees and biscuit crumbs on his lip. Not the boy who once called himself a pirate and promised to fight monsters with a stick-sword and a crooked grin.

Because this man—this Sirius—is the hottest man you have ever seen.

“Hey,” he says, quiet, almost cautious. “It’s been a while.”

Sirius takes a step forward, but your mother is already ushering herself and your father back toward the door, her hands clasped together.

“We thought you two might want to catch up,” she says, and the front door closes behind her with a soft click.

You and Sirius are left on the porch, facing each other in the late sun.

His voice breaks the silence first. “Want to go for a walk?”

You nod.

You do not trust yourself to speak yet.

You walk side by side in the softened light of late afternoon, your sandals brushing through the tall grass that edges the road, his boots pressing into the earth like he’s done this a hundred times before.

He keeps a careful distance and you’re grateful for it. The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable, just full. Like there is too much to say and neither of you know which part should come first.

“So,” he says eventually, glancing at you, his voice low and smooth. “You really don’t remember me?”

You look at him quickly, a little startled. “Of course I do. I mean, not everything. Just… pieces.”

“What kind of pieces?”

You hesitate. “The swing by the lake. Tea parties. You had a stick and called it your sword, and I made you wear flower crowns.”

He laughs, soft and warm. “Sounds about right. You were very bossy, if I remember correctly.”

“I was not!”

“You absolutely were. You told me Rabbit was the queen of the world and I had to bow to her or be banished.”

You smile in spite of yourself, looking down at the path ahead. “You didn’t seem to mind.”

“I didn’t,” he says, more gently now. “It was the only place things didn’t feel awful.”

You glance sideways at him. His face is unreadable.

“I went to school here,” he says after a moment, his voice low and thoughtful.

“Just outside town in this old, creaky building. It felt like a castle sometimes, big and cold, with the worst heating you can imagine. The uniforms were awful too, stiff collars and scratchy ties.”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “Sounds like something someone made up.”

He grins, eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. “I know, right? It sounds almost too strange to be real. But it was real enough for me. That’s where I met my closest friends, James, Remus, and Peter.”

You nod, sensing the weight behind his words. “That must have meant a lot.”

You don’t say anything to that, but your gaze softens. Then you ask softly, “Do you still live here?”

He shakes his head, a small, almost wistful smile touching his lips. “I moved out when I was sixteen,” he continues, his tone lighter now, as if saying it aloud eases the weight a little. “Into James’s house. His parents took me in, and I never really came back here after that. Not unless I had to.”

You nod slowly, understanding settling between you. “Because of the monsters.”

He gives you a strange look — startled, almost — but you don’t flinch from it.

“We were just kids,” you say quietly. “But I still remember the way you said it—how there were monsters in your house. I didn’t understand what that meant back then. I just thought maybe you had ghosts. But I guess… it wasn’t ghosts.”

Sirius exhales through his nose, a sound almost like a laugh. “Yeah, though monsters is quite fitting if you ask me.”

He looks at you then, curiosity softening his gaze. “Why did you leave, Y/N?”

You walk in silence for a moment, the sound of your footsteps mingling with the distant rustling of leaves.

“I left the summer I turned eight,” you finally say. “My dad got sick, it was sudden. We needed to be somewhere with better hospitals. So we packed everything and moved to the city. I barely had time to say goodbye to my dolls, let alone the people.”

He nods slowly, his eyes drifting toward the curve of the road, his voice quiet but full of something that’s sat in his chest for years. “I used to wonder what happened to you. One day, you were just gone, like you’d disappeared overnight.”

You exhale, the weight of time curling in your throat. “I didn’t mean to vanish,” you say softly.

“It all happened so fast. My dad got sick, and we had to move almost immediately. I barely had time to say goodbye to my dolls, let alone the people. But I thought about this place all the time. I never really let it go.”

He looks at you again, his expression unreadable, the silence stretching between you like something delicate. “And now you’re back.”

You nod. “Just for the summer, maybe longer, I haven’t decided yet. The city’s loud and always moving, always demanding something from you. I used to think I liked that—liked the pace and the noise—but lately, it just feels like I’m always behind, always exhausted, and somehow still alone. It stopped feeling like somewhere I could stay.”

He tilts his head, considering that, the way he used to when you were both small and everything was simpler. “And here?”

“It’s still quiet,” you say, your voice softer now. “Still slow in all the right ways. And I think… I need that.”

Sirius smiles, and it’s a different smile than you remember—older, a little heavier, but still touched with something golden and familiar. It lingers on his face as if it belongs there, as if it never really left.

“I always liked your house,” he says, glancing back over his shoulder. “It always felt warm. That soft white paint, the porch full of flowers. Your garden smelled like strawberries, and your mum used to leave lemonade out even when it rained.”

“She still does,” you say, your lips curling with affection. “She says someone might come by and need it, even if they don’t know they do.”

He lets out a breath, not quite a laugh, but close. “Your mum loved me. I don’t think I ever understood how much until I got older.”

“She did,” you say gently. “She always said you were too thin, and too quiet for a boy who was supposed to be causing trouble. I think she wanted to keep you.”

“I loved her too,” Sirius says, and this time his smile is real and soft and full of something almost childlike.

“She gave the best hugs. Like, actually the best. And her food—don’t even get me started. I still remember that stew she made with the star-shaped carrots. I thought it was magic.”

“She called it that. Kitchen magic. Said if you were going to feed kids, you should do it with a little love and a little fun.”

He nods, thoughtful. “Maybe I’ll come steal a glass of that lemonade. For old time’s sake.”

“You’re welcome to it,” you reply, smiling. “But only if you bow to Queen Rabbit first!”

Sirius laughs, the sound low and warm in the air between you. “Naturally. I wouldn’t dream of disrespecting the crown.”

You both laugh again, and the sound is light enough to lift something heavy from your chest. You walk further until you can see the lake glinting through the trees, and for a while, neither of you speaks. The silence feels more like company than distance.

Then, without warning, you speak.

“You had a brother.”

He goes still beside you. The change is immediate, the lightness in his shoulders fades, the lines in his brow sharpen, and his hands curl slightly in the pockets of his jacket.

“Yeah,” he says, voice quieter now. “I did.”

You tread carefully. “Is he… not here?”

There’s a long pause.

“No,” Sirius says at last. “He didn’t move out. He—” He stops, and when he speaks again, it’s with practiced calm. “He drowned a few years ago in an accident.”

Your breath catches. “Oh. Sirius… I’m so sorry.”

He nods once, but doesn’t look at you. His eyes are on the lake, on the rippling water and the light it throws onto the trees.

“I didn’t really talk about him much,” he says. “Even then. Reggie was… soft. Too soft. I tried to protect him, but I couldn’t always be there. And in the end I wasn’t.”

You don’t know what to say. No apology seems large enough to meet that kind of loss.

So instead, you reach over, very gently, and your fingers graze his. It is not a grand gesture. It is not anything loud. But his hand doesn’t move away.

You stay like that a moment longer, just watching the light on the lake, remembering what it used to be like before you knew the names of the things that broke your hearts.

When the lake comes into view, you pull ahead a little, feet kicking up dust as you start toward it. Your eyes brighten.

“God,” you say suddenly, spinning halfway back to look at him. “It’s so much smaller than I remember.”

Sirius lifts a brow. “What, the lake?”

“Yeah. When I was little, it felt endless. I thought it touched other countries.”

“Maybe it does,” he says. “Maybe there’s a secret portal in the middle.”

You scoff. “Please. If there was, we’d have found it by now. We practically lived here.”

“I mostly remember being bossed around here,” he replies, grinning. “You made me fight invisible monsters and serve tea to a rabbit.”

“Rabbit was royalty,” you say. “You were her loyal knight.”

“I was her prisoner.”

“You had fun.”

“Maybe I did.”

You smile and step closer to the water, watching how it catches the late sun. Then you nod toward the trees flanking either side of the lake.

“Those still have names.”

Sirius follows your gaze. “Saturn and Moon?”

You nod.

“Come on,” he calls, glancing back. “We’re climbing the tree.”

“No, we’re not,” you say flatly.

He stops. “What do you mean no?”

“I haven’t climbed anything in years. I’ll probably fall and break something!”

“You used to say girls could climb better than boys.”

“I was seven.”

“You still said it.”

You cross your arms. “So what? You want me to prove it?”

He smirks. “I want to see if you’ve still got it.”

You stare at him, then at the tree.

“Fine. But if I fall, it’s on you.”

“Deal,” he says. “But I’ll catch you anyway.”

You shake your head, biting back a laugh. You approach the tree and begin climbing, awkward at first, but your muscles remember. You settle onto a thick branch, legs dangling, and breathe out slowly.

Sirius stays below, hands in his jacket pockets, looking up at you with that lazy, amused expression.

“Well?” you ask. “Do I look ridiculous?”

“Not even a little,” he says. “You look like a princess-pirate.”

You rest your arms on your knees, watching him. “You’re still full of lines, huh?”

“I mean it.”

You look away for a second, caught off guard.

“So,” you say, shifting the conversation. “What have you been up to, pirate boy?”

He rolls his eyes. “God. You haven’t changed.”

You jump down from the tree before you let that line settle too deeply, but your foot slips slightly as you land, and he steps forward instinctively, hands at your waist, steadying you.

“Careful.”

“I’m fine,” you say, voice a little breathless.

You meet his eyes for a second. Long enough to feel the warmth press into your ribs. Then you step back, brushing dirt from your skirt.

“You should come in,” you say, voice easy but hopeful.

He blinks, as if he didn’t quite hear you right. “What?”

“For dinner,” you clarify, tucking your hands into your pockets. “My mum would be thrilled to see you. And if she made that lemon chicken I think she made, you’d be out of your mind to say no.”

Sirius studies you for a beat longer than necessary, eyes searching your face like he’s still not sure if this is real. “Are you sure?”

You nod, a smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. I mean, unless you’re busy doing pirate business.”

He smirks. “Only if Queen Rabbit summoned me personally.”

“Well,” you say, nudging your shoulder against his, “until then.”

“Until then,” he echoes, a little softer this time.

And together, you begin walking toward the white house at the end of the street, the porch light glowing gently in the dusk like it never stopped waiting for someone to come home.

Your mother greeted him at the door like he was an old neighbor rather than a boy you hadn’t seen in over a decade.

She ushered him in with a warmth that felt startling and inevitable all at once, like she had expected this day to come, and now that it had, she wouldn’t waste a second treating him like family.

“God, Sirius,” she said, beaming as she waved him inside. “Look at you. Last time I saw you, you were eight and covered in mud.”

Sirius grinned, stepping in and shrugging off his jacket. “Honestly, not much has changed. Still a magnet for dirt, just slightly taller.”

Your father stood from the dining table as you led him in, wiping his hands on a napkin and eyeing Sirius curiously — like any father might be with a ghost from their daughter’s past suddenly walking into their whitewashed home.

“It’s good to meet you again, Mr. and Mrs. L/N,” Sirius said, extending his hand first to your father, then your mother. “It’s been a while.”

Your father nodded, still measuring him. “You’re the boy from the end of the road, the Black house, Sirius, right?”

Sirius’s smile shifted just slightly, softened at the edges. “That’s the one. Though I don’t stay there much anymore.”

“You’re back for the summer?” your mother asked, already returning to the kitchen to pull out another plate.

“Sort of. Passing through, I guess,” Sirius said, lowering himself into the chair beside you. “I live in London now. Did a music degree at uni, took a while to figure things out. I do freelance audio production now—sound design, recording sessions, mixing. A bit of everything. It’s good work.”

Your mother placed a new glass in front of him, nodding as if trying to absorb a fuller picture of the boy he’d become. “How wonderful. I always thought you were more artistic than the others.”

Sirius smiled. “That’s a kind way of saying I was a little strange.”

“Well,” your father said, cracking a half-smile, “we like strange in this house. As long as you’re not picky about the food.”

“Never,” Sirius said easily. “I’ve missed real food, honestly. Can’t beat a home-cooked meal.”

Your mother flushed with pleasure and began serving more onto his plate than he could possibly eat, but Sirius took it all without protest.

The conversation flowed gently around the table—your father asking about the studio he worked with, your mother pressing for details about his friends in the city.

Sirius answered every question with a quiet sort of charm, never too slick, never too rehearsed.

You watched him speak like you were trying to piece him together: the boy he had been and the man he had become, sitting there with his fingers curled around a glass of water like it was something holy.

And when you laughed at something he said about a recording session gone wrong—a sound tech accidentally looping cow moos under a serious ballad—he looked at you the way someone might look at sunlight falling through blinds.

Like he hadn’t expected to find it here, like he wasn’t sure if he deserved it.

Dinner melted into tea, then tea into comfortable silence, and when the sky outside turned navy and the breeze came soft through the windows, he stood to leave, promising to stop by again soon.

And he did.

He came by the next day with two iced coffees and a half-melted croissant in a paper bag.

The day after that, he knocked again. Said he needed help finding his old bike in the garage, but you both knew it was just a reason to see you. He stayed for hours, poking around the shelves, pointing out things that hadn’t moved in twelve years.

Soon, it became routine.

Sometimes, he came by late in the afternoon when the house was quiet, and you’d sit in your room with the window open, your legs crossed on the bed, his on the floor beside it, playing old songs through his phone and arguing about which ones had aged the worst.

Other times, he’d turn up in the morning with a toolbox, claiming he was helping your dad fix the car, though most of the time they just ended up leaning over the engine, talking about music and whatever Sirius called “life’s current madness.”

He showed you around town again—drove you past old buildings that had been turned into cafes, new murals stretched across crumbling walls. He knew every hidden path, every shortcut, and most of the baristas by name.

You met his best friends: James, who had the kind of warmth that made you instantly want to sit beside him, and Remus, who looked at Sirius like he knew exactly who he was and chose to be friends with anyway.

The three of them were chaotic in their own way, constantly ribbing each other, constantly orbiting around Sirius like he was the center of something—like he always had been.

And soon, you began to feel like someone who had roots here again. Like the girl who used to wear yellow dresses and climb trees and believe that lakes had no end was still inside you, just quieter. You let her speak again, slowly, gently, whenever Sirius looked at you like you mattered.

And he did look at you like that.

Often.

Sometimes too long.

Sometimes not long enough.

You didn’t ask him what he saw when he looked at you like that, and he didn’t say, but something was building.

You felt it every time his shoulder brushed yours, every time he sat too close on the edge of your bed, every time he handed you a cup of coffee and didn’t let go right away. You felt it in the way he said your name, carefully, like it was something worth handling gently.

The summer was unfolding. And you were beginning to unfold with it.

And now, the sun had gone soft again, dipping into late afternoon like it didn’t want to burn too brightly. You and Sirius walked slowly along the path toward the lake, your shoes crunching over dried grass and sun-baked dirt.

In your hands, half-melted popsicles dripped lazily down the wooden sticks.

His was electric blue. Yours, lemon yellow.

He stuck his tongue out suddenly, mischievously, the color startling against his teeth. “I look like I ate a Smurf.”

You laughed, nearly choking on a piece of ice. “You look disgusting.”

He grinned. “Let me see yours.”

You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, too. “Sunshine girl.”

Sirius snorted. “You always were.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, come on.”

He nudged your arm with his elbow, softer than a joke. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

You didn’t need to think long.

“Yeah,” you said. “My seventh birthday.”

The memory came in bright colors: pink, gold, and the warm scent of summer.

You had worn the fluffiest pink dress your mother could find, the kind that swished when you twirled and had tiny pearl buttons down the back.

A plastic crown sat crooked on your head. You were a princess, officially. The paper invitations had said so.

Your parents had decorated the front lawn with balloons tied to the fence and hung streamers from the porch.

All the neighborhood kids had come—some running around screaming, some already sitting on blankets and nibbling on triangle sandwiches.

But your eyes weren’t on the party.

They were on the boy sitting far away, crouched near the end of the road, next to the pavement where the grass cracked and the hedges were too wild to trim. He was fiddling with rocks, stacking them, knocking them down.

You had seen him before. On the swing at the park. Beneath the giant oak tree near the lake. In the back row of your classroom, staring at the desk like it held secrets. He was your age. Maybe even in your class. But he was always alone.

Always, always alone.

And he always looked sad.

What could he be sad about? He had the whole world to run in! There was cake to eat! Balloons to chase! You watched him for a few more seconds, frowning. And then, crown bouncing on your head, you marched over.

He didn’t see you at first. You crouched beside him, folding the layers of your dress underneath you.

“Hi!” you said.

He looked up. His eyes were grey like the sky after a storm. His hair was dark and messy and stuck up in the back like a bird had nested in it.

“Are you lost?” you asked.

He shook his head.

“Why are you sitting here?”

He shrugged. “Just am.”

You glanced back at the party. Someone was already unwrapping the presents without you.

“It’s my birthday,” you told him proudly. “I’m seven!”

He blinked. “You look too pink.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I look like a princess.”

He tilted his head. “Are you a real one?”

“Yes,” you said immediately. Then you added, “And if you come to my party, you can be a prince.”

He made a face. “Yuck! Princes are boring. They wear shoes with buckles and talk too much.”

You thought about that. It was a fair point.

“Okay,” you said. “You can be a pirate.”

He stared at you like you’d offered him treasure. “Really?”

“Yeah. We need one. You can be the pirate and I’ll be the princess, and you can steal the cake.”

He hesitated, then stood up slowly, brushing the dirt off his shorts. “I guess that’s okay.”

“What’s your name?” you asked.

“Sirius.”

“Like serious?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, not like that!”

You giggled. “I’m Y/N.”

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Come on, pirate.”

You took his hand.

The moment you dragged him into the yard, everything changed. He didn’t say much at first, didn’t even run around like the other kids. But when the food came out, he came to life.

To say that Sirius ate a lot at your birthday party would have been an understatement. He devoured two plates of sandwiches, three slices of cake, and so many biscuits your dad raised an eyebrow.

At first, it was funny.

Then it wasn’t.

Your mother came over gently. “Sirius, sweetheart, do your parents know you’re here?”

And everything stopped.

Sirius went stiff. His shoulders locked. His hand, holding a biscuit, dropped slightly. His cup of juice slipped from the table and shattered on the patio. Orange juice spread across the concrete.

His eyes went wide. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean— I’ll clean it, I can do it, I didn’t mean to break it, I swear—”

Your mother was already kneeling beside him. “Sirius. It’s okay. It’s just juice, love. It’s just a cup.”

He was still babbling apologies under his breath.

“Sirius,” she said again, pulling him into a soft hug. His whole body locked up for a second, then slumped. “You’re alright. You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.”

You stood frozen, watching. Something strange settled in your chest, something heavy and confused.

Later that evening, when the sun had begun to fade and the candles on your cake had melted down into puddles of wax, Sirius came up to you, eyes a little less stormy.

“Thanks for the cake,” he mumbled. “And the pirate job.”

“Want to play more tomorrow?” you asked. “We can go to the lake, there is a swing there. We can fight monsters!”

He nodded, just once. “Okay.”

When he walked home—barefoot, carrying a napkin full of biscuits for someone—your parents pulled you aside.

“Sweetheart,” your mother said, brushing your hair back. “Where did Sirius come from?”

You pointed down the road. “The black house. Two doors that way.”

Your father nodded slowly, and exchanged a look with your mother.

“If Sirius ever needs somewhere to go,” he said gently, “if he needs to come over for dinner, or stay the night, you bring him here. Okay?”

You frowned. “But I already did that, today.”

“I know,” your mother said. Her voice was soft. “Just promise us. If he needs to come over, you let him.”

It felt like a strange thing to promise. Wasn’t that obvious?

Still, you nodded. “Okay. I promise.”

When the memory faded, you blinked yourself back into the present. The sun had dipped lower, the lake gleaming gold and glassy beside you.

Sirius was looking at you again, but differently this time. His expression was quiet, unreadable, like he was trying to match the girl in the memory with the woman beside him now.

You glanced sideways. “What?”

He tilted his head. “Nothing. You’re just really, really pretty.”

Your step faltered slightly. The popsicle in your hand dripped unnoticed.

You laughed, flustered. “Oh, don’t say that out of nowhere.”

“But it’s true,” he said, bumping your shoulder. “Even with lemon on your chin.”

You wiped it quickly, cheeks burning. “You’re the worst.”

He smirked. “The worst pirate.”

You shook your head, smiling at the ground.

And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he stopped walking. Turned toward you.

You turned, too, not fully understanding, not fully ready.

But he kissed you.

His lips met yours softly, like a question asked in a language only the two of you understood. There was no rush, no push—just quiet, steady warmth. He tasted faintly of blueberry ice and something familiar you couldn’t quite name.

When he pulled away, you were still, stunned silent. Your breath caught somewhere between your ribs and your throat, eyes wide, heart knocking against your chest like it had just remembered how to beat.

He noticed, of course he did.

His voice came low and amused. “Was that okay, or did I just commit some kind of unforgivable crime?”

You blinked, lips parted, but nothing came out at first. Then, quietly, like the truth might dissolve if spoken too loud, you said, “That was… my first kiss.”

His eyebrows lifted, surprise flickering across his face. “Seriously?”

You nodded, a little slow, a little embarrassed. “Yeah. I guess I just…”

He looked at you for a long moment, something unreadable in his eyes before it softened. Then came that familiar, lopsided grin—the one that always made the world feel slightly off its axis in the best possible way.

“Well,” he said, voice gentle but teasing, “I’m honored. And a little shocked, to be honest. A girl like you, in the city, has never been kissed before?”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling now. “City boys weren’t exactly my type.”

He grinned slowly. “And what is your type, then?”

You grinned wide. “Pirates.”

He barked out a laugh, too loud for the quiet around you. “Well, good thing. I’m terrible at being a prince.”

You looked up at him, a little smile dancing on your lips. “There isn’t even a princess around here.”

“No pirate either,” he said, hands in his pockets.

Then he turned to the lake, still as a mirror, the sky blushing down onto its surface.

“Come on,” he said, reaching for your hand. “Let’s go back to Saturn.”

You laughed, breathless, letting him drag you through the grass until you were at the base of the tree. The swing still swayed slightly in the breeze.

He pulled you under its branches, into the shade of everything you used to be.

And then, grinning like a child again, he stood taller and cleared his throat. “Princess,” he said formally, “the seas are wild and the moon is high, but I have come to rescue you from the wicked storm!”

You blinked up at him, suppressing a laugh. “And who exactly are you?”

He bowed. “Your favorite pirate, of course. The one who sails from Saturn to Moon.”

You played along, tilting your chin and sweeping your arms out dramatically. “I demand treasure and tea before I agree to go anywhere.”

Sirius took your hand and spun you gently beneath the tree, the breeze lifting your hair. “You shall have both, princess. If you promise not to fall from the mast this time.”

You pretended to pout. “I did not fall. I jumped. And besides, I was rescuing you.”

He stepped closer, voice softer now. “Guess we keep rescuing each other, huh?”

You looked up, something catching in your chest.

And then, without hesitation, he touched your cheek again and whispered, not in character this time, “Love you to the moon, and to Saturn.”

You smiled, slow and sure, heart stammering in your ribs. “Love you to Saturn, and to the moon.”

Somewhere between Saturn and the moon, in that quiet seam of sky where make-believe dares to become real, you reached out your hand to a boy sitting alone beneath the trees.

You had just turned seven, barefoot and fearless, your crown of summer leaves slipping low on your brow. And though you couldn’t have known it then, that single, innocent gesture would become the anchor he held onto for years.

You didn’t know that twelve summers later, it would be you who led him out of the haunted house. That it was your voice, familiar and full of light, that pulled him back from the brink, when the grief of losing his brother turned the world hollow and the monsters in his bloodline came far too close.

But that’s the thing—you never needed to know. You were a princess, after all, and Sirius had always vowed to protect you.

He thought, sometimes, about telling you. About how he still wanted to be your pirate, how he had never stopped, but it could wait. There was time, time to say that even if he was never a prince, he had always been yours, and always would be.

Passed down like folk songs, our love lasts so long.

a/n: this was so gut-wrenching to write omg </3 i can't write kids dialogue for shit, sadly! i feel like this could have a part two possibly? either ways i loved this

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etclouie · 29 days ago

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for your event can i request rockstar sirius and this prompt ¹²⁴⁾ “hey, quit forcing yourself to talk before you lose your voice altogether.”

title; ‘just fine’ (Sirius Black x fem!reader)

prompts; 124) “hey, quit forcing yourself to talk before you lose your voice altogether” — from three hundred assorted dialogue prompts

warnings; rockstar!sirius x girlfriend!reader, sirius’ first big tour, reader being worried about his voice, but that’s it?? (361 words)

one year masterlist | main masterlist

— come celebrate my one year!!

Sirius had been on his first big tour, the back to back dates taking a toll on his voice.

every time he spoke, his voice was strained from the over use.

it made you frown, because he wasn’t doing anything to rectify the current issue, and you didn’t want him to cancel the last show of the tour.

the last show was different, it was a return to his home town. something he’d been excited for since he announced the tour.

“Siri, come on—stop talking for five minutes”

he hadn’t stopped all day, talking about how good every gig of the tour had went. the difference in crowds from town to town, how far he’d come from starting his career.

which you loved, you loved to hear him talk about it all. but you wanted him to rest his voice.

“i’m fine love, just fine”

you gave him a knowing look, coming to sit on the couch next to him and cradling his face in your hand to force him to meet your eyes.

“i promise love”

he gave you those eyes that always seemed to make you give in, but this time you stood firm.

you didn’t want him to have to cancel the last show of the tour, not with how excited he was for it.

Sirius tilted his head to press a kiss to your palm, and then up your arm to meet your lips in a soft kiss.

when he pulled back, he tried to speak, but you shushed him by pressing a finger to his lips.

“hey, quit forcing yourself to talk before you lose your voice altogether”

his lips curled into a frown before he sighed, nodding slowly with a soft whisper.

“okay love”

because Sirius knew you were right, knew you always had what was best for him in mind.

you pulled him into another kiss, before ushering him down onto the couch with you. a mess of limbs and love as you cuddled on the couch, your fingers brushing through his hair as you whispered to him.

“want you up and performing perfectly for the homecoming gig, i know you’ll ace it”

reblogs are highly appreciated !

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luveline · 4 months ago

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can you pls do Sirius and his loser!gf <3 where she’s getting insecure about how cool he is and how much of a loser she is so she stops doing her fun little hobbies and tries to change and he can’t wrap his head around it? luv u

fem, 2.4k

Shaving the backs of your legs is hard, but you only cut yourself once. More of a rash. It’s fine. And buying new clothes is worse, trying everything on, attempting to make outfits you aren’t brave enough to wear, it’s difficult, but Sirius got you a gift card for your birthday with too much money on it anyways. It’s okay. Doing your makeup like this, following the tutorials and learning how to keep a steady hand, it was frustrating, but it’s done now.

You turn in the mirror in silence. Small black dress with a reasonable and yet somehow brave skirt. Loafers, leather, shiny and brown. White socks. Baby sleeves, little silver necklace. You look cute, you do, but Sirius sees you everyday. This was all pointless —he knows you’re a loser already.

He won’t laugh at you, but he’ll raise his brows and whistle or ask what’s gotten into you, because this isn’t normal. You’re not normal.

“Darling,” he says from somewhere downstairs, and you aren’t ever sure if he’s teasing or if he actually thinks you’re his darling, “are you ready to go? Not that you need to rush, but we might have more chance of getting a table if we leave soon.”

“Yeah, two seconds!”

“Okay!” There’s a sound of scuffed boots against the wall. “I’m gonna go find Tilly!”

Tilly’s your little white cat. His suggestion, an uncharacteristic expression of worry. I don’t want you to be lonely, he’d said, though you both know you’re always lonely, less so since you met him. You’re a lonely person, and it’s not anyone’s fault, but Sirius acts as though it’s his and he tries his hardest to fix things. Tilly —his name choice, too, the posh bastard— was a year old by the time you got him and has remained very small. A rescue, he refuses to stay inside and yowls like mad if you restrain him, so you let him out in the garden in the daytime. Your house is far from the beaten path, you don’t worry about him often, and besides, he always comes when Sirius calls.

He barely has to raise his voice for the cat when you hear the tinkle of a jumping bell. “There you are, sweet boy. Yes, hello. You aren’t having anymore ham, it’s your mum’s.”

That’s nice.

You gather some bits into a handbag and wrap a jacket around your strange outfit, ready to head downstairs. You’re hoping Sirius won’t have anything to say about what you’re wearing. You might die.

When you get to the kitchen, Sirius is stroking Tilly’s back as the cat eats a slice of ham from a little saucer on the table. He looks up at your footsteps. Even now, he takes your breath away. It’s a rabid cliche and it couldn’t be more accurate —you choke on your exhale, witness to his good looks in the warm yellow light from the kitchen shade above. Sirius has always been handsome, outspokenly so, and somehow simultaneously there’s an understated quality to him. Perhaps it’s how he’s smiling at you, all warmth and no bravado. Not a lick of performance. You’ll never know why you were the exception, why, that night at the show, surrounded by people far prettier than you are, he’d stopped by your table and said, “Alright?”

Yes, you’d said back. Thank you.

You’re welcome. I’m Sirius.

You know now it was unlike him to act so calmly. He must’ve sensed that grand flirting would’ve scared you off. Not that he doesn’t flirt, does he ever stop? But your Sirius often feels like a secret. He only makes sense with you when you’re alone.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, smug in his way.

“Nothing.”

“Well,” he says, letting the pause between his words breathe deeply, “you look beautiful. But you have a cut?”

You turn your knee to show him more clearly, peering down at it unhappily, “Oh, I know, I cut it in the bath, is it noticeable?”

“It’s fine. Does it hurt?”

You rub your cheek. “No, not really. I’m ready now, sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, why are you sorry?” He rubs Tilly’s little snout and stands. “I feel quite stir crazy today. Do you know what I mean? If we weren’t going out for food I’d probably scream.”

Sirius cups your cheek. He’s not particularly gentle, but that doesn’t mean he’s throwing you about either, quick and greedy with his touching in a way that’s never made much sense to you.

He takes your shoulder and ferries you from the house, locks the door, insists on driving. “Tilly’s got the vets on Saturday next, I’ll make sure I’m not doing anything, it’s at five so we’ll go at half four, yeah?”

“Thank you. For sorting everything out.”

“Well, he’s not really a present if I make you do all that stuff, is it?”

“You don’t have to keep paying for his food, though.”

“Shut up, not having this conversation again.” He reaches over the gearstick for your thigh. “You look pretty. Don’t let me embarrass you, but this is quite new, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah. I got it with the card you bought me. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course it is.” He frowns. You watch his face as he watches the road, melted by the rough of his hand slipping up and down your thigh. His bracelet tickles as he goes, a ten thread embroidery bracelet you’d woven for him when you were still too scared to call him your boyfriend. He takes good care of it. Never showers with it on, so the colours have stayed bright and clean.

“The makeup is nice, too. You always look nice.”

“Thank you,” you say, covering his hand with your own. This lessens his frown some, but he’s onto you. Suspicious as he parks the car by the pub.

Then a blank slate falls over his pretty features. “Hey, you know what? James said there’s been a huge family of ducks in the pond behind the two for one, should we go have a look? Baby ones, too.”

You grin. “Really?”

“Green ones and everything.”

You scramble out of the car. It’s a little brisk for the outfit you’ve made up, just, all the cool girls on the website you’d browsed for information had nice legs that they used to their advantage, nobody was wearing jeans or tights, just skirts. Skirts skirts skirts. And you like skirts, but you would’ve worn a pair of jeans and a hoodie any other day. It’s only dinner at the two for one.

You and Sirius make your way down from the asphalt to the beaten path, through grass and to the edge of the pond, walking along lain wood chips as the pond opens up and the blue expands nearly further than the eye can see.

“You’re terribly in your head today,” Sirius says.

“Sorry, am I?” you ask.

Not cool. You’re lying about not knowing, but Sirius is kind enough to let it slide. For now. “You are. I was wondering if maybe you aren’t happy in the dress. It really does look lovely, you look lovely. It’s nice that you’re trying something new.”

“But?”

He offers his hand to hold. You let him slip his fingers between yours and squeeze. “No buts. It really is nice. You know I like you in your joggers, but it’s nice to dress up.”

You bite back another useless oh, pulling him toward you as you fall into step. Your arms and your shoulders touch. “Yeah. I don’t look stupid?”

“You don’t look stupid,” he confirms.

“I think I feel stupid.”

“It’s always jarring to try new things. You think everyone can tell, but they can’t.”

“I want this to be me. Like– like, it’s not that I don’t want to dress like this, I do. I don’t think it’s stupid to want to look dressed up or anything…”

“You know, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

You falter where the wood chips are turned to long, green grass at the edge of the water. “What?”

“Why don’t you make your bracelets anymore?”

“My bracelets?”

“Yeah, and your keychains. You don’t make them. You haven’t been watching your shows, either. I… was worried you were going a bit topsy-turvy. You’ve always been my…” You stare at him, not sure you recognise this Sirius who can’t seem to put words together. “You’re a quiet girl, yeah? You don’t go out much, but I thought you liked things that way. I was wondering if maybe you’re a bit depressed, sweetheart. What do you think? Tell me how you’re feeling.”

You shake your head gently. “Maybe a little, just…”

You cast your eyes to the water. At the other end of the lake, the family of ducks have emerged from by the cattails and the pondweeds, swimming far, far away in a broken V.

You don’t usually keep things from Sirius. It’s a big part of why you love him —he loves to hear you talk. You can chat for hours about nothing at all and he eats it up, interrupting with jokes and kisses and soft touches behind your ear. But what are you supposed to say to him now? I feel like I’m not enough for you, not cool enough, not charming. “Do you ever think it’s sad that I can’t seem to make any good friends?” you ask through a smile. “I try my best. I’ve joined all those clubs and I talk to people on the internet, but somehow I’ve never really made any.”

“You do try your best,” he agrees quietly.

“But you’re, like, the only person I’ve met who properly likes me.”

“That’s not true. I’m just the only person who’s managed to get to know you, it’s not– it’s not as simple as liking you. James really likes you, but I’m your boyfriend and he’s not. It’s circumstance.”

You’re tempted to laugh. “I’m uncool. It’s not funny, it’s quite bad, really, that all my hobbies are stupid, that I never learned how to dress, that– I’m so behind everyone. I think it’s quite miraculous that I have a boyfriend in the first place, but you being my boyfriend? It only happens in books.”

Sirius acts more like himself when you’re done, loosing your hand go to grab you by the face. “That’s all rubbish,” he says, pressing a sympathetic kiss to the space between your eyebrows. He lingers there, forcing you to shut your eyes tightly. “Yeah? That’s rubbish, you know that’s rubbish. You do. You’ve thought about it too much and you’re not feeling the best and you’ve, like, twisted it up. Because you aren’t uncool, and you aren’t stupid, and this doesn’t just happen in books. It happens in real life, that’s why people write about it.” He’s drawn away, frowning in the frame of your parting lashes. “The things you like aren’t stupid, sweetheart, they’re just not all the same as everyone else. It’s okay to be a bit different, it’s not like you’re an alien. There are tons of girls who like to do your crafts and watch those long tv shows and stuff, you don’t think they’re weird, do you?”

You shake your head.

“No.” He relaxes his hold on your face, his hands slipping to the curves of your neck. “I quite like you, which you know. I like that you’re a bit different. I like that you’re quiet with people we don’t know, ‘cos you’re not shy with me. You’re just you, my girl.”

“I know you like me,” you murmur.

It doesn’t help you like yourself as much as you both might hope, but it’s not anything to shake your head at, either.

Sirius manoeuvres you in front of him, his face pressed to the side of your head and his arms coming to hold you at your chest, encouraging you to look out at the water. It ripples with the flock of coming ducks. “Shiny heads,” you mumble.

“They are much prettier,” he says. “Bet all the other ducks think they’re weird.”

“Shush,” you mumble, wishing he’d say more as he draws a heart into your chest with his thumb. You can feel it despite your layers.

“Bet they love doing weird duck stuff.”

“Subtle.”

“I’m not subtle, and I never will be, and you don’t mind.”

It’s heavy-handed but effective. You relax into Sirius’ chest and find yourself suddenly eager to come clean completely, to tell him every detail of the worries you’ve worried these last few weeks, but you wonder if there’s a point. It’ll upset him if he knows how deeply your self-disdain runs, and it’s not as though it makes you feel better to confess to it.

He noses at the soft skin beside your eye. “You know there’s nothing wrong with you, don’t you?”

“I don’t know that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.”

You lean back fully. “Thanks,” you say. Your mouth feels heavy with honey.

Sirius points at a duck splitting off from the group. “That’s one of the babies. Cute. And friendless for now, but I bet soon–”

You turn in his arms and wrap your own around his neck. “It’s not about friends, Sirius.”

“I know.”

He gives you a quick, loving cuddle by the water and pulls apart from you with a twinkle in his eye you recognise and revere. When he spends the evening doting, kissing, and being altogether too touchy, you want to be embarrassed, rejecting his affection because you begged for it with your awkward confession, but you let him be kind to you because you love him, and he loves you, no matter how many ways you might try to change.

He sees you smiling dopily at him over dessert and asks if you’d like to be spoon fed. Won’t get anything on your dress, swear.

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #marauders era #marauders #sirius black drabble #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #the marauders #sirius orion black

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prettydaisygirl · 12 days ago

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𝓢𝓲𝓵𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼: 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓞𝓷𝓮

cw: fem!reader, this chapter contains themes of forced marriage, child abuse, and manipulation

chapter one: in which Sirius comes home with his new wife. ✩ 3.7k words

series masterlist

please read the prologue here

Age 8

Sirius’ hands shake as his eyes trace the page in front of him. He can hardly breathe, he feels like his collar is choking him too tightly around his neck. There’s a thin layer of sweat building up on his forehead and the stare of his mother has his heart beating irregularly in his chest. His unruly hair threatens to hang down into his eyes, blocking his view of the sheet music.

He presses down on the first key, the note playing out softly into the parlour. Regulus watches silently, sitting in a chair off to the side, his big eyes taking in the scene and his hands clasped in his lap.

Walburga watches her eldest son with sharp eyes. She can sense his nervousness, his unease. She thrives on it. She’s waiting eagerly for his first mistake, hands with sharp nails primed like weapons at her sides.

It happens shortly, only a few measures into the song. Sirius’ eyes focus on the paper, but he glances down at his hands as they threaten to stray from their correct placement. His finger slips, the wrong note plays, and the smack on the back of his hand is louder than Sirius’ outcry of pain.

“Stupid boy!” His mother screeches into his ear. Her palm makes contact with Sirius’ knuckles again, the skin blooming red from the impact. “Can’t you read? Start again!”

Sirius inhales shakily, eyes burning as tears threaten to rise. He doesn’t let them. Instead, he resets his fingers, and starts again.

He makes it almost halfway through this time, but his punishment is worse. Three slaps, so hard both he and Regulus flinch at the sound alone. One of his knuckles is split, blood pooling slowly and threatening to drip down his hand. Neither of them move to stop it.

“I won’t tolerate another mistake.” His mother hisses, the tightness in her words enough to choke him more than his collar already does.

“Yes, mother.” He manages to stutter out, and resets his fingers.

He doesn’t get any praise for playing it correctly the next time through.

“Regulus.” His younger brother’s head pops up at the sound of his name and he moves to quickly take Sirius’ spot on the piano bench. Sirius steps aside, nursing his injured knuckles to his chest with a defeated look in his eyes.

Reggie sits down, places his hands on the keys, and plays it perfectly the first time. Walburga’s hand, instead of smacking him, grips his shoulder tightly once he finishes.

“Good.” Their mother says, turning her head just enough to give Sirius a pointed look. Sirius wonders if her nails are digging into Reggie’s shoulder.

“Very good, Regulus.”

Sirius bursts into the front door of the flat with far less care than he should have at this hour of the night. The moon is high in the sky, and James and Remus should be asleep with the rest of the world as long as Sirius didn’t wake them. He doesn’t really care if he did. Truthfully, he’s not even thinking about it. His mind is too busy reeling from the events of the last several hours.

‘Your mother and I have found you a wife.’

The words make him feel sick. He has to take a deep, heavy breath and let it out slowly. It works to calm him until the sound of a timid pair of footsteps following behind him brings him right back to the present.

He turns, eyes narrowed, to look at you. His new wife.

That’s the word that makes him sick.

You flinch when his gaze lands on your body. You walk on unstable legs like you’re unsure of every step you take. Your hair is limp, there are bags under your eyes, and you haven’t said any words at all except for ‘I do’. His mother said you were perfect, but Sirius doesn’t know how anyone can see perfection in someone who is clearly so beaten down and broken.

He thinks he’s just as broken as you are, and despite all of the terrible things he thinks about when he looks at you (guilt, regret, Reggie), he’s too angry to stop himself from being an asshole. It’s a trait that he’s very familiar with: getting too worked up to stop.

“Listen,” His voice is just shy of snapping at you, but your reaction would suggest that he screamed in your face. You meet his gaze, albeit meekly, your hands clasped tightly in front of you, eyes wide in silent fear. “I don’t want you here, and I don’t want to be your husband. Just… stay out of my way, and other than that, do whatever you bloody want.”

Sirius takes several steps further into the flat, kicking off his shoes and tossing his jacket on the back of the couch as he stomps into the kitchen. He pours himself a glass of water, changes his mind, and takes a shot. Then another, and another.

His body warms, his throat burns, and he can’t get the evening out of his damn mind.

‘Your mother and I have found you a wife.’ His father’s words.

‘No. Absolutely not. Fuck no.’ Sirius had tried to argue, over and over again.

‘Sirius, your number one responsibility as the Head of the House of Black will be to conceive an heir. Do you not understand that?’ His mother’s sharp tone this time.

“And you’re, what? Giving me this woman? I can’t even choose my own wife?’ Sirius had made sure to avoid looking at you again when he said this.

‘Sirius,’ His mother says his name in the way she always does, the way that makes his stomach sink and his blood freeze. The warning voice, the tone that says there will be no more arguing for fear of what might come next. ‘You and I both know you aren’t the type to settle down. I don’t care what you do outside of your marriage, but we need a true, legal successor. Do you understand?’

Sirius takes another shot. He leaves the glass on the table and stumbles slightly onto his feet. He steps out of the kitchen and back into the living room only to find you standing in the exact same place you were before, hands still interlaced perfectly in front of you.

Sirius’ brows furrow, his brain working slower than it had before now that his blood is swimming with alcohol. “What’re you doin’?” He asks, words slightly slurred.

You blink at him, and speak in front of him for only the second time. He might even consider it the first, he doesn’t know if your ‘I do’ counts. “I… don’t know where I’m supposed to go.”

Sirius pinches the bridge of his nose. All he wants is to be alone so he can fucking think, and all of this was supposed to be about finding Reggie and somehow he’s ended up with a fucking wife? “I’ve just bloody told you to do whatever you want.” You just continue to stand there and stare at him like a lost dog. He curses under his breath and reaches out to grab your elbow. There are three points of contact between you and him, three of his fingertips against your skin. Sirius tries not to flinch away from it as he guides you down the hall. Your wide eyes take everything in.

“Here, you can stay in here. Better?” He huffs, and begins to curse under his breath, walking out of the room and leaving you alone, at least momentarily. You glance around his bedroom, noticing the details of it. It’s messy, though you’ve clearly picked up on the fact that he was not expecting to return with any company. He has posters of various rock bands, and almost everything is black, including all of the clothing in his closet.

Very hesitantly, you step up to the bed and run your hand over the fabric of his sheets. They’re soft, and you feel hesitant to sit on them. You glance out of Sirius’ bedroom door, back down the hallway. The kitchen light is still on, and you can faintly hear the sound of Sirius’ voice hissing, but you can’t make out any words. There are four other doors that you passed in the hallway, all of them fully closed.

You sit on the edge of the bed, spine straight as you wait for Sirius to return. You sit long enough that the backs of your thighs go numb, and then the kitchen light turns off, and then the living room. When you stop hearing movement, you officially realize that Sirius is not going to come back. Unsure of what to do, you gently push the door closed, turn off the light, and lay down on top of the covers. You don’t want to touch any of his things, lest you incur his wrath again. Sleep does not come easily for you.

It doesn’t come easily for Sirius either. His back already aches from laying on the couch in the living room and it’s only been a few hours. Another empty bottle of alcohol rests sideways on the floor below his hand, his brain spinning as he tries to forget the past few weeks.

Before Reggie and his terrible, horribly vague letter that left him with absolutely no leads on his whereabouts.

‘They know. Find me.’ Sirius truly has no idea what he’s supposed to do with that if his parents won't talk.

And now, this poor woman who is a complete stranger to him has been involuntarily left in his care, and legally is his wife. His fucking wife.

“Sirius,” His mother’s nails dig into his arm and her eyes are alight with the same ferocity she used to have before she’d hit him. She doesn’t hit him now, she knows there’s too much at stake. “Your father and I are trying to help you. Tom promised us he’d find the perfect wife for you, and look at her! She’s beautiful, she’ll obey you, you’ll have no problems producing an heir.”

“Can you just fucking think about this for a moment, mother?” Walburga’s smile falters at Sirius’ curse but he doesn’t stop. He never stops when he should, and he certainly isn’t going to now. “I agreed to become Head of the family, but I didn’t agree to this. This is cruel, even for you!”

“If you plan to become the Head of the family, then act like it!” Her teeth clash as she snaps. She shakes his arm so hard his shoulder aches. “It’s about making the decisions that are the best for the family, and that is what your father and I are doing. For you.”

“No!” Sirius finally manages to yank his arm back. He knows his shoulder will ache in the morning. “I’m not going to marry a complete stranger.”

Walburga growls, her face morphing into a sneer. Her fingernails snatch his jaw, leaving indents in his skin and likely blood when she eventually pulls away. “It’s this, or nothing. You will secure our bloodline. Is that understood?”

Sirius doesn’t answer, eyes full of fury. Walburga pushes herself closer, gets right in his face. Sirius, in that moment, feels the same way he did when he was five, when he was eight, when he was fourteen and sure he was going to die at the hands of the woman who created him.

“Is that understood?”

“...Yes, mother.”

“Fuck.” Sirius mutters under his breath and flips over. He can’t get comfortable on this shitty couch. His mind races, thoughts scattered and impossible to fully grasp. He tosses and turns for most of the night, and doesn’t even fully reach unconsciousness until the sun begins to rise on the horizon. It doesn’t matter anyway because he’s awoken shortly by James stumbling his way through the flat to get ready for the gym. The blender’s whirs cause Sirius to jump awake, heart racing at the sudden sound of the blades spinning. Sirius yelps, which causes James to shriek, and the blender stops.

“Bloody hell, Pads.” James raises a hand and places it over his heart, “Why are you in the living room?”

“Why are you trying to break my ear drums at five in the morning?” Sirius runs a hand through his unruly hair. James pours the contents of the blender into a cup, swirling them in his hand.

“I’m getting ready for the gym. I make a protein shake every morning, that’s why you have the room at the end of the hall.” James begins to chug his shake, then lowers it again. “Didn’t you go see your parents last night, to ask about Reggie?”

Sirius opens his mouth to answer but doesn’t get the chance.

“Sirius?” Remus’ face is pinched together as he steps into the living room, sandy hair sticking up in every direction like it tends to do in the mornings. “Why is there a girl in your room?’

“There’s a girl in your room?” James repeats the question, too wide-eyed and bubbly for it being so early in the morning. Sirius groans loudly. He’d forgotten about her, bliss just for the few short moments he’s been awake. “If there’s a girl in your room, why are you on the couch?”

“I thought you went to see your parents last night? To ask about Reggie’s letter.” Remus leans against the back of the couch. Sirius doesn’t want to explain last night’s events, doesn’t even want to think about them. He already has a headache starting to form beneath his temples.

“I did.” Sirius sits up with a grunt, his lower back screaming in pain. He winces, and stretches out his legs. “It… didn’t go the way I planned.”

“Did you find out what happened to Reggie?” James asks, tossing his head back to finish off the last of his protein shake.

“Is he alive?” Remus leans forward, elbow resting on the back of the couch.

“I… don’t know.” Sirius rubs circles over his eyes with his palms until he can see stars, and takes a heavy breath. “I didn’t find out anything about Reggie.”

Remus and James exchange a silent look, and Remus clears his throat. “Then, what happened?”

Sirius stretches his arms, listening to the sounds of his joints cracking as he does. He’s trying to act nonchalant, but really his body is trying to shake off some of his tension, the stress still lingering. He thinks it’s going to linger for a while.

“My parents weren’t alone when I arrived, apparently my letter had given them some time to plan before I did. Lucius Malfoy was there.”

James scoffs under his breath, “Git.”

“My mother looked… incredibly ill, my father looked like he might fall apart if he was hit by a strong wind. I’m barely two steps in the door before my mother is acting…” Sirius shivers just remembering how she’s held his face, the ruse to pull him in. “Like an actual mother. Then all of us sit down, and she asked me to become Head of the Black Family.”

The room goes silent, matching expressions of confusion and disbelief on Remus and James’ faces. “Come again?” Remus asks, blinking several times. “They asked you to become Head of the family when you’ve just returned home after ten years? Why?”

Sirius laughs, but it’s not a happy chuckle. It’s a sharp, strained sound of confusion. “At first she tried to say it was because I’m her ‘only’ son.”

“So… Reggie’s dead, then?” James draws out the words, asking in a quiet tone, voice trailing off when Remus gives him a warning glance and a slight shake of his head.

“I don’t know, other than that she didn’t talk about Reggie. I didn’t get another chance to ask, either. Fuck.” Sirius grunts again and throws the blanket off of his lap. “There’s more to this, Reggie isn’t dead.”

“Did you agree, then?” Remus asks, shifting to sit on the arm of the couch. “To become the Head of the family?”

He nods, slow and with a disgusted expression. Disgusted at the situation, disgusted at himself. “I knew if there was ever a chance to find Reg, then I wouldn’t be able to push them away. My mother, the horrible woman, knows exactly what to do and say to get what she wants. I didn’t know there would be any other… conditions when I agreed.”

Remus almost looks taken aback when Sirius’ words trail off at the end. “Other conditions?”

But Sirius isn’t looking at Remus, he’s looking at the end of the hall where his bedroom is. There, in the doorway of his bedroom, in the same clothes from the previous night, is you. Wide-eyed, unsure, standing there like you’ve been caught doing something wrong. James and Remus turn when they see his gaze has moved. The two new sets of eyes have you nervous, evidently, and you close the door again.

Sirius gestures vaguely at the door when the other two turn back around. “A wife.”

James laughs, a loud, booming one from deep in his chest that echoes. “That’s funny, Pads. Who is she, though?”

Sirius doesn’t laugh, his face stays as dark as it had been previously. “My wife.”

Remus stares Sirius down, and James looks between them like his brain is struggling to comprehend the situation.

Remus is the first to break the silence, voice slightly airy with disbelief. “Your wife?”

“Yes.” There’s no fluff, no joking or dramatics from Sirius. A straight answer. Truth.

“Wait, really?” James looks frantically back and forth between them now, like he was the one told he’s being forced to marry. “You really got married?”

“I didn’t want to!” Sirius shakes his head ferociously. He feels like he could scream, could claw all of his skin off. “It’s not… there wasn’t a ceremony, my mother says that will come later. It was just legal paperwork, but they were insistent. And I couldn’t think of a way out of it. Not without completely abandoning Reggie.”

The three of them fall into silence, the room thick with heavy emotions. The house is quiet around them, the sun slowly ascending and brightening up the room. The dichotomy almost feels comical.

“What are you going to do?” Remus asks, and he reaches out a hand to place on Sirius’ shoulder comfortingly, encouragingly. “Is she staying here?”

Sirius nods then lets his head fall, hands tangling in his hair to tug at the roots. It burns in a way that grounds him. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t… It’s weird. She doesn’t speak, she hasn’t asked for anything. She didn’t fight against the wedding at all.”

“That’s… strange. Do you know who she is?” Remus' voice is quiet as he and James share a look, he hopes you can’t hear them speaking about you. Sirius keeps his head buried against his thighs.

He tells them your name. But that’s all he has. He doesn’t know what your last name was before, now it’s Black. He doesn’t know who your parents are (if you have them), he doesn’t know if you have any family or friends to go to at all. He doesn’t know anything except-

“Well, there was one thing.” He lifts his head, eyes red from lack of sleep and the constant barrage of stress his mind can’t seem to escape from. “Malfoy and my mother both said that some man named Tom ‘chose’ her for me. That he would only offer the best for my family, those were the words.”

“Chose her for you?” Remus repeats them slowly, like the feeling of them on his tongue is heavy. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.” Sirius is honest. His brain hurts, everything hurts. He doesn’t understand any of this, doesn’t want to believe any of it really happened. But it did, and now he’s responsible for this girl who is so broken, who reminds him so much of Reggie, and he can’t stop the way his stomach churns at the thought of interacting with her in any way at all.

“You haven’t spoken with her?” Remus’ eyes trail down the hallway again, landing on Sirius’ closed door.

“She didn’t want to talk. That’s part of the… appeal, my mother said.”

“That’s what she said?” James genuinely looks like he is going to be sick.

“Her words were ‘she’s beautiful, she’ll obey you, you’ll have no trouble producing an heir.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” James lands with a flop at the other end of the couch. Sirius lets out another loud groan, tugging sharply at the dark strands of his hair.

“What about Lily?” Remus suggests after a while. James’ head whips around, absolute distress on his face at the mention of his girlfriend in this conversation.

“What about Lily?”

“I just mean, do you think she would talk to Lily?” Remus shrugs, but James still looks unsure.

Sirius shakes his head slowly. “I don’t know, I don’t know!” He feels defeated and full of guilt in a way that makes it difficult to breathe, like a weight is holding him down by his lungs. “I didn’t want any of this. I just wanted to find Reggie.”

Sirius thinks about Reggie, about the letter, about his own signature on a dotted line that sealed his fate, next to your own. He thinks about the silver ring he was given, the one that matches yours, buried deep in his jacket pocket. It feels more like a handcuff.

He takes another deep breath and sits back, eyes moving between his two best mates slowly. Despite his hatred toward this situation, he finds himself feeling guilty about you, those same black tendrils creeping up his throat now like when he thinks about Reggie. He doesn’t want you to suffer, but he really doesn’t want to be the one to speak with you. Not yet.

“Fine.” He answers finally, “Let’s call Lily.”

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

#daisy's writings #silver chains #sirius black #sirius black series #dividers by bernardsbendystraws #sirius black oneshot #sirius black au #sirius black fic #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #hp marauders #marauders fic #padfoot #regulus black

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inkdrinkerworld · 9 months ago

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"Sirius don't you dare, we're not at home." your whines go completely ignored by your boyfriend because as soon as you lay down on James' sofa, Sirius is lifting your sleep shirt and burying his head under it.

"What is wrong with him?" Lily asks as she passes you a mug of tea- chamomile with a touch of honey- before going to sit besides James who looks equally puzzled.

"Every time I get out of the shower at night he does this. Says the lotion I use is the cause." You pat your boyfriend's head under your shirt, Sirius turns sideways with a tired grin on his face.

"You act like Jamesie there isn't the biggest baby too." James gawks, hazel eyes narrowing.

"I didn't even say anything, Pads. I think it's sweet."

Remus shakes his head, "Of course you do. It'd be sweeter in private."

Lily, you and Marlene hide a laugh.

Stirring a pot, Lily says, "You could at least let the girl breathe."

"She smells like sleep, cocoa butter and vanilla. What am I meant to do against that?" He sounds too lovesick, and with the grin on his face, James wishes he had his phone nearby.

Remus solves that problem for him almost immediately. Sirius doesn't even protest.

"Siri, don't you think it's a little pathetic to have to hide under your girlfriend's clothes at night to sleep?" Marlene asks and Sirius pops his head out again.

"Pathetic is you trying to imply you haven't snuggled up next to her on your sleepovers." Marlene throws a chocolate covered almond at him while he just looks at her all pleased and content.

Remus rolls his eyes, "You could at least save it for when you get into your room."

You hide a smile, knowing exactly what Sirius is going to say. You and your boyfriend have this conversation every night you join him back on the sofa instead of in bed.

Sirius doesn't dignify Remus with full view of his face- he moves your shirt just enough that his mouth and nose are visible.

"M'gonna be asleep in a bit anyways. In fact you're all just prolonging when I'll be able to sleep by carrying out an inquisition at near midnight."

You chuckle into your mug, taking a sip as Sirius shuffles up your body and settles again.

"You're a saint, Y/n." James compliments as he watches Sirius' hold on your waist tighten before he starts the movie.

Your boyfriend whines the second your hand falls on his back and you roll your eyes, slipping your hand down his shirt and scratching his back for him.

You can feel Sirius taking deep, lungful breaths of you before his heartbeat slows a bit and his breathing evens out- not even ten minutes into the movie he'd suggested.

"He's a big fucking baby." Marlene marvels at the way Sirius sleeps through the movie, hands around you and face hidden away under your shirt. "You wouldn't even guess he was clingier than Potter."

"Hey!" James groans, but he can't protest, his head is in Lily's lap as he twists and coils strands of his hair. Sirius hasn't even shown them the half of it- James keeps that tidbit to himself.

#siriusblack #sirius black #sirius black one shot #sirius black oneshot #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #sirius black imagine #sirius black blurb #sirius black drabble #sirius black fluff #sirius black x black reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x yn #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x fem!reader

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mercwithadilf · 6 months ago

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Home

Sirius Black x Potter!reader

Summary: Sirius runs away from ‘home’ having finally suffered enough of his parents’ ideals and behaviours. The only place he can really call home is with his best friend, James Potter. Wherever James is, you are too.

This is my first fic after a really long time but I'm really excited to get back on my writing journey! Writing for Sirius Black is mainly because of my absolute love for Ben Barnes so I hope you enjoy!! <3

‘Mum! Godric- James if I catch you looking through my stuff again, it’s your head!’ You chase after James who somehow manages to not only sneak into your room, but also find and run away with the hoodie you forgot to give Sirius back after a night of Quidditch practice.

James pauses in front of you causing you to almost run straight into him and holds up the hoodie with a wide, shit-eating grin.

‘And why, dear sister, do you have my best mate’s hoodie in your closet?’

You roll your eyes at his annoying, but also very usual antics. ‘Because, dear brother, your best mate gave it to me after I was freezing to death during the Quidditch practice you so thoughtfully stretched out until the dead of night. I simply forgot to give it back before Christmas break! Now give it back!’

You jump up to grab the hoodie back from James which he oh so kindly pulled out of your reach. Euphemia took the hoodie away from James’s hands and gave it to you.

‘Let your sister fawn over the hoodie Sirius gave her in peace, James.’ James smirks at you as your mother chuckles at both of you.

You stare at her in disbelief and scoff. ‘Seriously, mum! James is being a twat –’

‘Language!’ You hear Fleamont yell from downstairs.

‘– and I get humiliated! Unbelievable! Why don’t you tell mum about Lily, Jamesy?’ You flash your brother the same grin he shot you a mere few seconds ago.

You watch his eyes go wide as your mother pauses her movements and turns to him, ‘Are you still chasing that girl, James? I told you, girls don’t like stalkers.’

James playfully glares at you and turns to you mother, ‘She actually gave me a chance, mother dearest. And I said yes!’ He grins.

You look at him with the most unimpressed look you could fathom and both your mother and James catch up on it, which causes your mother to mirror that look. ‘Okay fine, she said yes, happy?’

‘Very actually.’ He sticks his tongue out at you and you reciprocate the gesture.

Your father’s footsteps emerge up the steps as he walks past you both, ruffling your heads. ‘Everyone to bed or else Santa won’t bring any presents down the chimney for tomorrow morning!’

‘He’s talking to you, Jamesy!’ You sing-song.

‘You wish, sister!’

Everyone heads to their rooms with a final goodnight, you settling in your bed with the comfort of the sounds of the rain and Sirius’s hoodie warming you and lulling you into sleep.

James jolts up from his sleep at the violent bangs of knocks coming from downstairs. In a rushed daze, he scrambles to put his glasses on and grabs his wand. He clutches it tightly, knuckles turning white as he sneaks downstairs, ready to attack whoever decided to disturb the peace at four in the morning.

He looks through the peep-hole, adjusting his sight to the figure standing outside. As his vision adjusts, he begins to panic.

‘What the fuck?’ James opens the door. ‘Pads?’

Sirius spins to look at him, eyes wide, lips quivering from the cold as he engulfs his figure in his robe. A bag is slung against his shoulder, the boy looking too weak to even carry it properly.

James could tell the streaks on his best friend’s face were from tears that were being washed away by the constant, harsh droplets of rain.

They were both too stunned to even speak.

‘Prongs –’

‘Get in. Now.’

James grabs Sirius by his shoulders and leads him inside, taking his bag from him as if it was weighing him down a ton and a half. He helps Sirius take the robe off and replaces it with a warm, fuzzy Christmas blanket as he leads him to the couch.

You huff while sitting up, expecting James to have gone downstairs to get a very early head start on the presents. You walk out of your room and storm downstairs ready to tell him off until you’re stopped in your tracks by the site in front of you.

‘Sirius?’ Your voice wavers.

Both boys situated on the couch turn to look at you. ‘Y/n.’ You wouldn’t have been able to hear Sirius’s voice if it wasn’t for the complete dead silence in the house.

You rush down the rest of the stairs and sit on the floor right in front of Sirius, your hand on his knee to reassure him of your presence.

You glance at your brother for an explanation, but he only shakes his head at you with a frown. You take that as a hint that Sirius hasn’t said anything and to not rush him.

Sirius’s eyes trail over your figure as you sit in front of him. He notices the hoodie you’re wearing was the one he kept looking for, however finding it on you softened the edges of his heart.

James notices Sirius’s eyes on you and smiles softly, despite the situation they’re in right now. ‘I’ll get you a cup of hot choco, yeah?’ James offers Sirius which he responds to with a grateful nod and an attempt of a smile. James gets up and walks to the kitchen while you stay with Sirius.

You look up at him with a reassuring, gentle smile. ‘You can talk when you’re ready, Sirius. No rush, yeah?’ He nods.

James comes back with a cup of warm hot chocolate and places it on the table for Sirius, taking his spot back next to him on the couch.

‘I left them.’ Sirius breaks the silence, his eyes stuck on his hands fidgeting with each other on his lap. ‘It was about time I left my parents but… I can’t believe I just left Reggie there. He’s gonna hate me, he- Godric I-’ He breaks, his hands now rubbing his face as if wiping off all his emotions.

‘You don’t have to explain, Padfoot–’ James speaks up, but Sirius quickly shakes his head.

‘No. No you need to know why, I just- It’s so hard-’

You squeeze his knee. ‘You can explain tomorrow, Sirius. You need to rest now, alright? You know you’re always welcome here.’

You can see the look in his eyes. Fear, pain, hurt, regret, but also relief and a tinge of happiness. He can only nod as he looks at his two best friends.

James stands up, a cue for you and Sirius to follow him. ‘You can stay in our spare room, we’ve had it ready in case anyone wanted to stay for the holidays.’

‘Thanks, Prongs.’ Sirius manages a smile as you both lead him to the room which you assume will be his for a good while from now.

‘I’ll tell mum and dad in the morning, you should rest now.’ Sirius nods and thanks him again while he’s settling in. James gives him a pat on the back before he kisses your forehead and heads to his room for a well-needed rest.

You, on the other hand, linger on the doorway of Sirius’s room. He looks at you with a hint of desperation in his eyes which you take as a hint to walk in, shutting the door behind you and sitting on the edge of his bed.

‘Are you alright?’ He sits down next to you with a sigh. ‘I know it’s a stupid question but… I don’t know…’

He chuckles lightly, the tension in the air softened, giving way for a more light-hearted and calm tone.

‘I could be better, but I’m glad I have you.’ He pauses as he looks at you, a stare that made your heart flutter. ‘A-and James, of course.’

You look at him with a hint of a smile, your shoulders rubbing against each other. ‘You’ll always have me, Pads… Us.’

You suddenly stand up. ‘Hold on.’ You walk downstairs, grab a glass of water and painkillers and go back into Sirius’s room and place them on his bedside tables while he watches you with curiosity.

‘What’s this for?’

‘You were absolutely drenched. Just in case you might fall ill, something for you to take in the morning.’

His heart skips a beat as he watches you show him the sort of care that not even his family has shown him in his whole lifetime.

He grabs your wrist desperately but gently, his eyes looking up at you like a puppy anticipating its praise for a trick.

‘Pads? You okay?’

He gets up, hovering over you with a vulnerability that makes his tall frame appear small and fragile.

Wordlessly, he slumps his forehead on your shoulder and lets his shoulders sag. The weight of the night finally leaves him as he collapses onto you, letting himself break down into your shoulder. His heaving sobs echo around you.

‘Siri…’ You whisper into his ear. You’re not used to seeing such an emotional side of him. He’s usually so bright and loud, a proud, smug grin on his face as he prances through the halls of Hogwarts. Now, in the dim and little room, you hold the same boy that’s held your heart in his palm for years. The boy that’s now showing a side of him that he doesn’t even show to himself.

You wrap your arms around him tightly, pulling him impossibly closer to you as you comb your fingers through his long, still slightly damp hair.

Sirius shudders at the feeling.

‘Everything’ll fall into place. I promise, Sirius.’ You continue to whisper reassurances into his ear. You can’t tell if those reassurances are just for him or for the both of you, but now you just know that he needs them more.

He pulls away to look at you while you remain in each other’s hold, his eyes roaming yours as if to find a hidden message in them. Anything, anything to prove to himself that he’s where he’s ever needed to be, where he’ll ever need to be.

Your finger as it glided up his skin to wipe the tears off his face, the site of you in his hoodie, the domesticity of it all, the dense, moody atmosphere; all of it. It all clouded his brain, his mind, any sense of logic that he held onto. It was all fogged into a silhouette he couldn’t make sense of anymore as he crashed his lips onto yours.

The kiss was messy, unrestrained, as if pouring every ounce of your soul into that fleeting moment of closeness. Your lips moved together in a trembling dance, every touch drenched in vulnerability and an aching need to hold on. It was as though the world had shrunk to just the space between you.

You both pull away reluctantly in the search for air, panting exasperatedly as your eyes never break the foggy stares you give each other. In that moment, Sirius knew he wasn’t alone anymore. For the first time, the weight of his past felt lighter—not gone, but shared. And as your laughter filled the small room, he realized this was what home felt like.

‘Took you only four years, Pads.’

You both chuckle, his forehead leaning on yours while his hands trace the skin of your neck and waist.

‘That all you’ve got to say, darling?’

You smile up at him. ‘Trust me, there’s so much I’ve got to say.’

He pecks your lips. He couldn’t get enough of you and he’s only just started.

‘Good thing I’m stuck here with you then, huh?'

#sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #marauders #marauders x reader #harry potter #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x potter!reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black imagine #sirius black one shot

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uramakimochi · 1 year ago

Text

THE MARAUDERS & REGULUS + GIRLFRIEND!READER AS INCORRECT QUOTES

///

REMUS

Remus: Who ate my chocolate?? I'm gonna fucking ki-

Y/n: I did, i'm sorry Rem.

Remus: Kiss you and buy you some more, it's okay my love, you haven't been eating enough.

Y/n: You know, Remus always gives Sirius flowers, i wish you'd do that too.

JAMES

James: Okay.

- Later -

James: *gives Sirius flowers*

Sirius: ???

James: I don't know mate, i'm confused as well.

SIRIUS

Y/n: Siri, your hand is on my butt.

Sirius: It was an accident.

Y/n:

Sirius:

Y/n: It's still there.

Sirius: It's still an accident.

REGULUS

Sirius: Hey Reggie what are you looking for?

Regulus: My will to live.

Sirius:

Regulus:

Y/n: *enters the room*

Regulus: Oh wait, there it is.

> BONUS BARTY CROUCH JR BECAUSE WHY NOT <

Barty: Listen to me. Love is a scam.

Regulus: You're making a Valentine's Day card for Y/n right now.

Barty, pointing the glue gun at him: You're on thin fucking ice.

///

LEMME KNOW IF YOU WANT MORE^^

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pretty-little-mind33 · 6 days ago

Text

James Potter x fem!reader x Sirius Black

Series Summary: You've been best friends with the Marauders since your first year, and you've loved James just as long, however when James begins dating his long-time crush, Lily Evans, suddenly your entire world crumbles. And as usual, Sirius's timing is horrible.

Warnings: everyone is 17/18, their in their seventh year, friends to lovers, love triangle, unrequited love, misunderstanding trope, dubious consent kissing (kinda?), James is oblivious, James x Lily, Snape is a weirdo, reader is going through the motions in this chapter and acts like a normal teenager girl lol

1 / 2 / 3 / 4

September

There's something bittersweet about the way autumn looks in the evenings. The humid air smells like a mixture of vanilla and cinnamon and it reminds you of him. Too many things remind you of him lately: like books that smell like worn out parchment, or the sound of the branches snapping on window shutters in a warm, welcoming, childhood bedroom—

This summer was the first summer you had spent away from them. It hadn't been the same and no matter how much you could pretend you haven't, you have missed all of them terribly.

This meant that the very moment Sirius Black's arms crushed you in a hug, you burst into laughter and squeezed your arms around him. You grin, your smile hurting your cheeks as the sounds of chatter from the train platform melts into the background.

"Hi, Pads," you say and Sirius mirrors your grin as he pulls away, still holding your waist.

You've heard rumors of Sirius Black's infamous charm, almost all the girls in your year say so, but being his best friend you had never experienced it yourself—Sirius had been too busy throwing mud in your hair for you to care about his looks.

However, watching him now, at seventeen and taller; his normally pale skin slightly tanned from the summer sun at Potter's vacation home in Cornwall, with his dark hair falling around his shoulders in faint waves, you suddenly see what the student body could have meant and it sends heat through your cheeks.

You feel someone else's presence behind you and you turn around. Remus Lupin is holding both his trunk and Peter Pettigrew's as the latter ties his shoes clumsily. Remus has also changed over the summer, he almost towers over you now, but your eyebrows furrow when you see some new scars across his cheeks. He's never told you why he has them and the others have warned you not to ask. Still, they worry you.

Instead of mentioning them, you point to his ankles and whisper, "Remy, you've outgrown your pants. Do you need new ones? I can ask—"

Remus helps Peter up and chuckles. He ignores the comment and smiles, nudging Peter over. "We missed you," Peter says, interrupting your worry as he hugs you with a wide smile. Unlike Sirius and Remus, he hasn't changed much and you're happy for the familiarity. One summer couldn't have changed that much. You hug him, pulling Remus in by his sleeve to have him join, still smiling.

"I missed you both more."

The train honks and you all wince, laughing as you cover your ears. You look around and just as you open your mouth to ask, you're snatched from Remus and Peter. The scents of vanilla, cinnamon, and oak fill your nostrils as a warm cheek skims yours, muscular arms circling around you.

James Potter presses feathery light kisses on your cheek and then tousles your hair in a way that has always driven you crazy. "Merlin I missed you, bug," he exclaims, his voice so quiet only you were supposed to hear him. Once he finally releases you from his clutches, you look at him, and he smiles. It's not James's usual smile. It's your smile, the one he has reserved only for you.

You duck under his arms quickly and escape his hand, groaning as you comb your fingers through the mess he's made of your hair. You send him an annoyed, and reluctantly amused, look as Sirius, Remus, and Peter laugh in the background.

James's smile turns into his boyish smirk as he laughs. You look at him closely, your eyes squinting as you take him in. His hair looks slightly longer and he looks much more in shape than when you'd last seen him. Perhaps things can drastically change over the summer.

"What have you been doing over the summer?" you ask, your gaze locked on his arms. He's holding his robe over his shoulder casually, which is causing his forearm to flex and Merlin's name it looks practically sinful—

James bursts out laughing. Your cheeks now burn hotter and it only becomes worse when Sirius puts his hand on your shoulder, "You like 'em? Prongs worked hard for those babies over the summer," he remarks and wiggles his brows in James's direction as his best friend obnoxiously flexes. He looks ridiculous.

"Oh, fuck you," you say and push Sirius's arm off you. You look at James again and shake your head, biting your cheek. You don't want to encourage him but he does look good. So good your mind wanders.

Suddenly, James's attention moves from you as he calls out a name, one name, one normal, unoriginal, name but the moment the name leaves his mouth, you feel ill and you hold your breath. "Lily!"

Lily Evans, beautiful and kind Lily Evans. You don't hate her. How could you hate someone so sweet? And still, whenever you hear Lily's name something inside you crumbles into dust and you don't know why. It's like your chest suddenly becomes too small for your heart. Slowly, you turn as James drops everything and pushes by you and some other students simply walking by to meet the red-head.

"Lily-Flower," he exclaims dramatically, swooping in low and wrapping his arms around the smaller girl's waist, hoisting her up into his arms. You half-assume James will lean in to kiss her— he's always looked like he wants to kiss her, Lily has just never given him permission.

However, this time their lips connect and the air in your lungs feels like it's been jerked from your chest. Remus moves closer to you, his hand skimming your arm to steady you. You look up at him, your eyes wide. You don't even need to ask.

"It happened this Summer. Prongs won her over." Remus explains in a whisper, "It all happened so quickly he must not have had time to send you an owl."

Remus making up excuses for James isn't new. He'd tell them in class, during dinner, in the courtyard, during Quidditch matches, anywhere, but he'd never told them to you. James has never been dishonest with you, or hidden something from you. Not you. Up until now, when it must have slipped his mind to tell his best friend something as important as a new girlfriend.

"Oh," is all you can say.

"James! Not here! Your friends—" Lily squeaks with embarrassment, pulling away and hiding in James's chest like a love-sick school girl. Lily seems to be more relaxed and easily embarrassed. It's weird.

"No one minds, right, guys?" James asks, looking over at you all. Sirius shrugs, clearly unimpressed and Remus and Peter shake their heads. James's eyes meet yours, looking at you expectantly and you feel cornered. All you can do is strain a reassuring smile with your stomach sinks.

James returns his attention to Lily, fussing over her as she blushes and clearly enjoys the attention. Your other friends must sense the mood shift because Remus loops his arm in yours, Peter coming to your opposite side, and Sirius isn't far behind as he mutters a spell and your trunks, having them float behind you all. "C'mon, I'm starving," Remus jokes, lightening the mood.

"I hope they have pudding," Peter thinks aloud, causing a snort from Sirius behind you.

"They always do, Wormtail," he teases, his tone light, "you just eat it all up for everyone else—"

"Oi, you shut up, you're already a pain in my arse," Remus snaps at Sirius, who barks another laugh, and for a while, the pain in your stomach from seeing James with Lily becomes a distant memory.

* * *

Dinner passes fast and you didn't eat with them. You usually don't. You're not a Gryffindor and you have your own friends, friends that you also haven't seen all summer. Jane Hughes, one of your roommates, keeps pestering you about James—to which you only brush her off. There is nothing to say, especially since he's dating Lily.

Your mind wanders as you walk to your Common Room. You don't even hear someone approach behind you until it's too late. "Ow," you suddenly hiss as someone yanks your hair from behind.

Your cheeks burn with anger as you turn and see—Severus Snape. He's smiling, which leaves your palms sweaty and makes your stomach twist. Perhaps it's the way he hates you, or the strange thing that's always existed between him and Lily Evans, or perhaps it's how even breathing next to him sends James into a fit.

"Snape," you say, soothing your scalp as you move away from him a little.

"Y/l/n," the boy drones back. You frown. He looks even angrier this year.

"What is your problem? You can't just pull someone's hair. What are you, a first year? It's childish," you snap, crossing your arms.

Severus looks unamused by the scolding. "You talk too damn much. I have a proposition. I want to date you," he says like he's rehearsed it a thousand times in the mirror. You feel ill.

Your eyes round in shock. You move back again until your shoulders hit the wall. "Excuse me? You want to what?"

"Date you," he repeats, his voice still emotionless. It's becoming awkward. He steps closer and panic rises in your chest. Damn it, you should have just walked back with the others.

"No."

"No?"

"Yes. No. I don't want to go out with you, Severus."

"Potter would be furious," he says it casually but his gaze flicks over you like you're something to be won. You frown. You don't understand what that has to do with anything. "Don't you want him to be furious? Dating you would make him crazy, Y/l/n, he thinks your his—"

His words are cruel, and it's pathetic. Your gaze hardens as you stand your ground. You're not some pawn he can use to mess with James. "I said no."

"You heard the lady," a voice says behind you—and then James is there, grabbing Severus by the collar. "Why don't you mind your business, Snivellus?" he asks, his tone harsh, as he brushes imaginary dust off Snape's collar as he grins. "You're clearly not wanted here. What a surprise."

Severus shakes his head but his fists are clenched. For a second, you think he'll swing.

He never does. Instead, he shoves James away and the latter lets him. James crosses his arms as Severus mutters a curse behind his breath, "Consider my offer, Y/l/n," is all he says as he turns away.

You watch him slink away, your expression disgusted. You relax once he's gone.

"Bloody creep," James mutters. He turns to you, also relaxed. "You okay?"

You nod, smiling a little. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in the Common Room already? I saw you and the boys leave the Great Hall hours ago."

"I was concerned, and as Head Boy it's my duty to investigate any concerns I have," he says with a nonchalant shrug. "I suppose I have a sixth sense when it comes to you." He smiles.

"We're not in the same house, you knob. And maybe you're just a stalker and I should be worried."

James only laughs, he's unfazed by your words, and simply holds out his arm. "Can I walk you, m'lady?" You smile and take his arm, happy for normalcy.

The walk toward the Ravenclaw common room is silent in the beginning. You want to ask so many questions about Lily, but you don't want to sound jealous. Still, James is your best friend. He is your best friend no matter what and you shouldn't walk on eggshells around him because of his girlfriend. Knowing Lily, she wouldn't want that anyways.

"So, you and Lily, huh?"

His eyes light up. Your stomach sinks.

"It happened this summer. She came over when you couldn't, I invited her," James pauses, sounding a little sheepish but he continues, his tone becoming lighter as he tells you, "and well, she kissed me one evening. Just happened."

"She kissed you?" You look genuinely surprised.

"I know! I mean, I never thought the day would come." James is beaming and you should be happy, but you aren't. "Who would've imagined she would make the first move? I mean, technically I made all the moves, but—"

You tune him out.

Left, right, left, right.

You focus on the rhythm of your steps instead of the ache creeping up your chest.

"You okay, bug?" James's voice pulls you from your thoughts and you realize you've made it to the Ravenclaw Common Room. James is looking at you with those puppy dog eyes and you strain a smile.

"Yeah, I'm really happy for you, Jamie."

The smile hurts.

James smiles back, leaning in and kissing your cheek lightly. Like he always does. "I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

"Oh. Okay. Sure."

James pretends not to notice your fake smile or that you had completely tuned out his rambling. Pretends, because deep down, he knows. He knows what it really is and he won't allow himself to admit it. "Goodnight," he says simply.

* * *

October

"You look awful," Sirius says, eyeing the half-hidden state of your face as you groan against your desk. It's been weeks of no sleep and endless exposure to James's lovesick nonsense. The start of this year has been absolutely horrible. You turn away from Sirius, who is supposed to be your Potions partner but you haven't been listening. Hair shields the dark circles beneath your eyes.

"I'll hex you, you arse," you mutter.

Sirius ignores you and turns you towards him. When he sees your eyes, how blood-shot they are, he panics. "Bloody hell, did someone—"

You snap up, your head pounding. It isn't Sirius's fault but he's there and you've had enough. "Don't touch me,” you snap, yanking away.

Sirius blinks, confused by your explosion. You stand and shove your books into your book-bag. The entire class has grown silent but you're much too upset to stop now. Your emotions are everywhere. "Can't you shut up for one bloody second? Ever?!" you snap, the words hurtful, and storm out.

Sirius doesn't let it go. He follows you out into the hallway, his voice sharp behind you, "Y/n?!"

You spin around and find him standing close. He's so close your noses almost touch and his cheeks are flushed. His grey eyes are sharp as he grips your shoulders and pushes you against the wall. You gasp. "How dare you speak to me like that?"

You laugh bitterly. "Oh Merlin, Sirius. Grow up."

You try moving away from him but his grip holds you firm. You're so overwhelmed now that your eyes squeeze shut, hiding the tears that threaten to spill.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he asks.

You open your eyes. He looks different now. He looks genuinely upset that you look so hurt and sad. Sirius's hand touches your cheek and suddenly the world stops. His hand is warm against your skin and your heart skips and you don't know why. Suddenly, you can't look away. Sirius looks at your lips and you look at his.

And then he kisses you.

His lips move with certainty, brushing against yours as his hand tightens around your cheek. This shouldn't make you feel better but somehow it does. You kiss him back and your body leans in without permission. You hear a sound behind you and instantly, you snap your head away and look behind Sirius. No one is there. Thankfully.

Sirius tilts your chin towards him, smiling a little. You laugh, but it's shaky. You laugh until you almost cry. "What was that?" you ask, your voice small.

Sirius shrugs. "I wanted to kiss you."

Your stomach flips. "This can't happen again, Sirius," you croak, your throat dry.

His smile fades and he drops his hand from your face. He moves away a little. "Why not? I fancy you, Y/n."

Your breath catches. What? Since when? You feel sick. How did this happen? How could you have allowed this to happen? This year is already a mess and now you've kissed one of your best friends while being madly in love with another?

No.

"Un-fancy me, then."

"I don't think that is how feelings work."

You stare at him. Sirius has never liked girls like you, Merlin's beard you've never even heard him mention a crush! You shake your head. "I'm sorry I let you kiss me. I shouldn't have. But, Sirius, you and I, it's never gonna happen."

Sirius looks gutted.

'I'm so sorry," you whisper, only feeling more horrible than you had been.

Sirius exhales. "It's alright. I get it." He looks into your eyes, his knuckles skim your cheek, smiling a little. "And just so you know, this doesn't change how I feel, hm? And if you ever change your mind, I'll still be here. Waiting," he says and pauses. "This doesn't have to change anything," he whispers.

You don't want him to wait for you, it's unfair. But knowing Sirius, nothing will change his mind right now. You exhale. You really want to believe him that nothing will change. You do. But he’s wrong. Things have already changed. You feel like you're swimming in muddy, uncertain water, and you're not sure how much longer you can stay afloat.

"Yeah," you whisper, your voice shaky. "Okay."

To be continued…. NEXT PART

#james potter #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #the marauders james potter #the marauders era #the marauders #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #james potter x reader x sirius black #love triangle #the marauders sirius black

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moonstruckme · 2 months ago

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Hiii Mae!!

I'm literally on my hands and knees worshipping your work everyday🫶🏽

Was wondering if you'd consider Poly!Marauders, or any one of them, x Reader who's house is being broken into and they phone one of them or if Reader is walking home alone from a night out with her friends and someone starts following her?

Thanks a lot!!

Thanks for requesting!

cw: man (eek!) (no but actually in the scary way), reader being followed at night. modern au

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 870 words

Anxiety crackles in your fingertips as you dial Sirius’ number. Every ring feels like a year off your life.

Sirius picks up on the third. “Beautiful,” he says in greeting.

“Hey.” Your voice is light automatically, reluctant to make things seem dire when they might not be. “Are you busy?”

“Never too busy for you.” You can hear him moving away from some noise. A television, maybe, or a group of people talking. “You headed home already?”

“Mhm, yeah. Are you…where are you?”

“At the pub on King Street. You should come join, James is buying.”

You hear some playful protest, presumably from down the table. ‘James is buying,’ he says—just invite the whole bloody town, why don’t you? You stop listening as Sirius makes some jibe back.

Kings Street isn’t far from you. You turn a corner and pick up your pace.

“Yeah, I’ll come,” you say. “Maybe, um, would you want to meet me halfway?”

It’s an odd request, coming from you. You practically hear Sirius register this, his chair audibly scraping back and the voices in the background growing quieter as he moves away from them. His tone says it, too. “Yeah, baby, ‘course. What’s up?”

“I’m okay,” you say swiftly, though you don’t know if that’s strictly true. You don’t feel very okay. But it seems a silly thing to act that way when nothing has happened. “I’m just, I’m…” You lower your voice a tad. “I think maybe this guy is following me? I don’t know.”

“Following you?” Sirius sounds outside, now, the crowd noise dying away entirely. “Where are you coming from?”

“I’m coming down Dalling now,” you reply, loud enough that the man about twenty feet behind might be able to hear. “Passing Blythe.”

“Okay, I’m coming. Is he walking close to you?”

“Not very. It’s probably fine, I’m just…”

“I’m coming,” Sirius says again. “Stay on with me, yeah?”

You do, though neither of you speak after that. Sirius’ speaker fills with the rushing of air, like movement, and you suspect if he was listening all he’d hear was your controlled breathing down the line. You’re afraid to look behind you any more than you already have. Occasionally, though, you catch a glance in a storefront window angled just right. You convince yourself your pursuer is gaining.

You turn the corner onto Kings Street, about to update Sirius over the phone when a figure crashes into you.

You take in a panicky breath, throat tightening on a scream, as hands land on your shoulders to steady you. Sirius has an odd look on his face, alarm fading to relief in the second before he hauls you to his chest.

“Sorry.” He sounds breathless, like he’s been running. “I’m sorry. Hi, baby.”

“Hi.” You clutch at him. You wonder if you might be shaking. “Do you—do you see him? Blue shirt.”

“I see him.” Sirius’ hand splays protectively over your mid back. He keeps you pressed close to him, staring your pursuer down over your shoulder. You know the power of a Sirius Black glare. You’ve never been on the receiving end of a real one, thankfully, but you’ve seen it do its work on occasion. You don’t envy the other man.

“I don’t know for sure if he was following me,” you murmur. “He’s just been there for a long time. It was making me nervous.”

“I think he was.” Sirius’ tone is also quiet, though not infirm. “He’s seen us, though, I think he’s about to turn. Just a second, lovely.” He kisses your forehead, his grip never loosening. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, though your hold isn’t easing either.

Sirius kisses your head again. You feel the breath he lets out fan warmly over your skin. “He turned. He’s gone.”

You squeeze him impossibly tighter, frantic with relief. You’re definitely shaking.

“He’s gone.” Sirius gives you a good press before adjusting his hold, keeping his arm around your shoulders but pointing you toward the pub. “It’s okay. Fuck, I’m glad you called. I was scared I wouldn’t get to you in time, but you were moving faster than I gave you credit for.” He rubs the flat of your chest where you’d collided with him. “Sorry for ramming into you.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you chide, keeping practically melded to his side as you walk. “Thank you for coming. Really.”

Your boyfriend tsks. “Course, sweetness. How’d you end up walking home by yourself, anyways?” His tone turns a bit chiding, the sort you suspect would be worse if Sirius weren’t still feeling sorry for you. “You can always call me, you know that.”

Sirius doesn’t like when you walk anywhere alone, especially at night. You do it more often than he knows. You might do it a tad less often for a while, though.

“I know,” you say, contritely enough that he kisses your head again, a truce bestowed. “Just, thank you.”

“Stop with that.” He pulls you closer to his side playfully. “You don’t have to thank me, you freak. I hope you are ready to tell tales of my heroism, though. I just got up and ran out without saying anything; James is going to have lots of questions.”

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godricgryffinsnore · 2 months ago

Text

The Photo In His Wallet ♡ : A Sirius Black Fan Fiction.

pairing : Sirius Black x female!reader

summary : When a picture of his girl falls out of Sirius Black’s wallet, Remus and James seize the opportunity of a lifetime—and Sirius? Well, he doesn’t go down without screaming. And you? You grab the perfect opportunity to tease the shit out of him.

warnings : Fluff overload, Secondhand embarrassment, Sirius Black being a hopeless romantic (and dramatic menace), Mischievous Marauder teasing, Mentions of laminated photos, Light language and chaotic energy, Excessive cuteness and mutual pining. Please let me know if I missed any.

author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3.

word count : 2k

main master list <3

banners : @uzmacchiato and @cafekitsune

It started with a perfectly innocent game of Exploding Snap.

At least, that’s what Sirius would tell you later, when he’s lying across your lap dramatically, whispering about “the betrayal of brotherhood” and how “even James turned on me, my dearest heart, the pain—the agony—you can’t possibly understand.”

In reality, it started with Sirius refusing to lose.

“Just give it up, mate,” Remus said, smirking as he laid down a perfect pair. “You’ve only got two cards left, and I can see the panic in your eyes.”

“I never panic,” Sirius huffed, slapping a card down with such force that it ricocheted off the table and nearly set Peter’s sleeve on fire. “I’m Sirius Black. I am the panic.”

James raised an eyebrow. “You okay, Pads? You’ve been weird ever since we got back from Hogsmeade yesterday. You’re not still swooning over her in that new dress, are you?”

Sirius went very still. “I wasn’t swooning. I was… appreciating.”

“You tripped over a display of pumpkin pasties because you were too busy staring at her,” Remus added helpfully.

“Pumpkin pasties are a hazard to us all,” Sirius replied solemnly.

They all laughed, Sirius included. And just when things seemed like they’d settle into a normal rhythm again, Sirius pulled out his wallet to settle a bet—and that was the moment. The moment the earth stopped spinning.

Something fluttered to the floor. James bent down to pick it up.

And then… the silence.

It was too quiet. Dangerously quiet.

James stood slowly, holding something between two fingers. “Sirius.”

Sirius blinked. “Yes?”

“What is this?”

Remus leaned over. His face split into a slow, delighted grin. “Oh, no.”

“No, no, give it back, give it back right now—”

Because in James Potter’s hand was a photograph. A small, well-worn Polaroid of you sitting in the Gryffindor common room. Your legs were tucked beneath you, hair spilling over your shoulders, and you were laughing—at something Sirius had said, no doubt, because the way your eyes sparkled was the same way he looked at you.

And worst of all? In the photo, Sirius was next to you, mid-way through tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear.

You both looked… soft.

Dangerously, disgustingly soft.

James’ jaw dropped. “You CARRY THIS with you?!”

“It’s laminated,” Remus added, peering closer. “Oh my Godric, did you laminate it?”

“FOR PROTECTION!” Sirius yelped, leaping across the table with the grace of a drunk Hippogriff. “SHE’S VERY PRECIOUS TO ME, OKAY?”

James was howling. “Pads, you’re whipped. I mean, we knew, but this? This is evidence. This is proof in a court of law.”

“Shut your mouth, Potter—”

“Do you talk to it when she’s not around?” Remus asked, utterly serious. “Like, do you take it out before bed and whisper, ‘Goodnight, darling, I miss your smell’?”

Sirius turned scarlet. “I DO NOT—well, not out loud!”

James fell off the chair.

Sirius finally managed to snatch the photo back and cradled it to his chest like it had been wounded. “Don’t listen to them, love,” he whispered to it, with a glare at the boys. “They don’t understand us.”

“You know we’re telling her, right?” Remus said, already pulling out a quill.

“You wouldn’t dare—”

“Actually,” James grinned, “I think she’d find it adorable.”

“She’d die of secondhand embarrassment,” Sirius groaned, hiding his entire face behind the wallet.

But when he saw you later that day—when you smiled at him like he hung the moon, and kissed his cheek and called him "my handsome boy", and tucked your hand into his coat pocket where he was still clutching that damn photograph—he thought, maybe... maybe the teasing was worth it.

Even if Remus and James greeted him that evening with synchronized kissing noises.

── .✦

You knew something was up the moment you walked into the common room and James Potter looked at you like Christmas had come early.

“Oh, hey there,” he said far too casually. “Funny thing happened earlier. Wanna hear it?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Not particularly.”

“No no, I insist,” said Remus, sliding onto the arm of the chair beside you like this was premium entertainment. “It’s about a certain someone. And a certain object.”

You blinked. “Is this about Sirius? What did he do now?”

James grinned. “Oh, nothing. Just carries you around in his wallet like a 1950s milkman’s sweetheart.”

You stared.

Remus nodded solemnly. “Tiny photo. Worn around the edges. Laminated.”

“I—what?!”

And then—then—you spotted him.

Sirius Black, standing frozen at the top of the boys’ staircase like a deer caught in a very romantic set of headlights.

He held his wallet in his hand. He made brief eye contact with you. Then he did the only logical thing:

He turned around and bolted back upstairs.

“Oh my GOD,” you gasped, launching up from the couch. “He did not—SIRIUS BLACK, GET BACK HERE!”

“No you don’t!” came his panicked yell from somewhere above. “YOU CAN’T SEE IT—I’LL DIE—YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND, SWEETIE—”

James was wheezing. “He’s GONE. He’s GONE feral.”

You thundered up the stairs two at a time and flung open the dorm door to find Sirius mid-dive onto his bed, clutching the wallet like it was the Marauder’s Map and you were Filch.

“Sirius Orion Black,” you said, arms crossed, breathless from the chase, “do you or do you not carry a photo of me in your wallet like a lovesick lunatic?”

He peeked over the edge of his blanket. “Lovesick gentleman, actually. Big difference.”

“Let me see it.”

“No.”

“Sirius.”

“…No.”

You stepped forward.

He whimpered.

Finally—finally—with a deep sigh and a dramatic flop onto his back like he was sacrificing his soul, he handed it over.

And there it was.

A tiny, slightly faded Polaroid of you. Laughing, sunlight on your face, your hand tangled in his hair. Laminated. Well-loved.

You looked at him.

He looked utterly destroyed. “It’s for morale,” he whispered, staring at the ceiling. “You’re like… a good luck charm. Or emotional support. Or a Patronus. You’re my Patronus, darling.”

Your heart turned to mush.

But you kept your face straight. “So you laminated it?”

“For protection!” he cried, sitting up. “You don’t understand, my love—James keeps gravy packets in his wallet. I wasn’t about to let you mingle with beef stew residue!”

You burst out laughing, full and loud and bright. And Sirius—sweet, ridiculous, hopelessly gone Sirius—just looked at you like you were the only thing in the world.

“Hey,” you said softly, climbing onto the bed beside him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “You know you could just ask me for another one, right?”

He blinked. “A photo?”

You nodded. “Or better yet…” You kissed his cheek. “You could just look at me.”

He grinned, slow and smug and utterly Sirius. “I do. All the time. That’s why I walk into furniture.”

You laughed again, burying your face in his chest. “God, you’re lucky you’re pretty.”

He kissed your temple. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”

── .✦

You weren’t planning on him finding out.

It was meant to be a quiet little secret. Something soft, something yours. A folded-up photo of Sirius—just his profile in sunlight, caught mid-laugh, probably making fun of James—and it sat right behind the emergency chocolate bar and next to your spare quills. A talisman. A comfort.

You took it out on bad days. When classes were dragging or the world felt too heavy or you missed him more than you could say aloud.

But Sirius Black was many things, and snooping-proof was not one of them.

You’d left your bag on the floor for five minutes. Five. That’s all it took.

"Darling?" his voice called from across the common room, the kind of cautious that meant he’d either broken something, found something, or was preparing to dramatically confess something. You turned, only to see him holding your wallet open with an expression like he’d just discovered ancient treasure.

"What's this?" he asked, holding up the folded photo like it was evidence. His own face stared back at him from the picture. He looked younger, a little softer, sunlight in his lashes. You’d kept it since fifth year.

You blinked. “...That’s private.”

“PRIVATE?!” he shrieked, his voice cracking. “You’ve been carrying me around in your wallet, sweetheart?!”

You walked over, nonchalant. “Yeah. What about it?”

Sirius stood there like you’d just proposed marriage. “I—You—You keep a picture of me on you? Like I’m—like I’m a lucky charm or something?”

You smirked, plucking it from his fingers. “I thought it was only fair. Since you keep one of me.”

“That’s DIFFERENT,” he gasped, pressing a hand to his heart. “Mine is—mine is chivalrous. Yours is criminally adorable and I’m having a crisis.”

You leaned in, lips twitching. “Having trouble breathing, love?”

He nodded solemnly. “Yes. Also blinking. Also standing. I might need to sit down.”

You nudged his shoulder with yours and tucked the photo back where it belonged. “You look good in that picture. It always makes me feel better.”

Sirius made a noise like a wounded animal and flopped backward onto the couch, arms flailing. “I am going to DIE. This is the best day of my life and I’m going to die and I will not be reborn because nothing will top this.”

You sat down beside him, tugging his arm until he curled into your side like the absolute drama queen he was. “You’re such a baby.”

“I’m your baby,” he said smugly, nose brushing your jaw.

“You’re a pocket-sized baby,” you replied sweetly. “Fits right in my wallet.”

“Unholy words,” he groaned. “Say it again.”

You kissed the tip of his nose. “My pretty boy.”

He visibly short-circuited.

You grinned, victorious, and tucked your legs over his lap.

And that was it. He was a goner.

── .✦

It started, as most Marauder disasters did, with ego.

Specifically, Sirius’s ego.

You caught him staring at your wallet photo again. He tried to play it cool, of course, with that smug little smirk and a head tilt like he hadn’t literally gasped when he saw it for the first time.

But you saw the twitch in his jaw. The unspoken challenge in his eyes.

And then, the next day… it began.

You were in the common room, halfway through a cup of tea, when James’s voice carried across the room:

“Pads, why is your wallet thicker than Peter’s entire textbook collection?”

Sirius—cool, collected Sirius—looked far too innocent. “What? I just like being prepared.”

Remus reached over, yanked the wallet from his hands, and opened it.

And snorted.

James peered in. Then cackled. “NO. You didn’t.”

You raised an eyebrow as Sirius’s face went red. “What’d he do now?”

James turned the wallet around.

You blinked.

There were photos. So many photos. Every single one was of you. Laughing. Reading. Sleeping. Eating toast. One of you with a spoon on your nose.

You choked. “Sirius?!”

He sat up proudly. “Well, sweetheart, if you’re going to keep one photo of me, I figured I’d keep a few of you.”

“Seven is not a few!”

“Oh, that’s not all,” Remus added, flipping through the slots like a catalogue. “This one’s labeled ‘sunlight angel’. And this one—oh my Godric, he put a HEART STICKER on this one—”

Sirius snatched it back, scandalized. “It’s artistic expression!”

“You’ve got one tucked into your wand permit,” James added, eyes wide. “Pads, be honest… are we gonna find one under your pillow?”

“I’m not a monster,” Sirius huffed. “That one’s laminated and goes in my boot.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Sirius. You’re a menace.”

He leaned over with a grin. “I’m a menace in love, sweetheart.”

You tried not to smile. You failed miserably.

“You’re completely ridiculous.”

“And yet,” he whispered, brushing a kiss against your cheek, “I’m still your ridiculously handsome, wallet-stuffing, picture-hoarding idiot, yeah?”

You looked at him—utterly smitten, utterly Sirius—and sighed.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “You’re mine.”

He beamed, all sunlight and smug satisfaction.

Until a photo slipped out of the back of the wallet and fluttered to the floor.

Remus picked it up.

It was of you, with a very noticeable smear of toothpaste on your chin.

You froze.

James gasped, delighted. “He laminated it.”

Sirius’s face turned crimson. “IT’S CANDID, OKAY?!”

You smirked.

“...You’re not getting any new ones for a week.”

Sirius groaned. “Worth it.”

#della 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x oc #sirius orion black #sirius black fic #sirius black #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fanfiction

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