#sirius fluff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aetherraeys · 4 months ago

Text

beneath the surface

sirius black x fem!reader ⊹ 9.6k

cw ⟢ strangers to lovers, fluff, pining!sirius, non-chalant!reader, endless teasing, tension, sirius is quidditch captain, mild Black sibling rivalry, slytherin!reader

summary: you had absolutely no interest in sirius, but for some reason he had loads in you. they say opposites attract but he wasn't sure if you were really so different.

a/n: this took ages for me to write but it was so much fun and i love sirius so so much! let me know if i missed any content warnings and i suck at proofreading.

When you and Sirius were first seen together, sitting next to each other in divination—poor James abandoned—then couped up in the library, people assumed that you were brought together purely for education purposes.

Assumed you had been assigned to keep Sirius at bay almost, and to ensure he wouldn’t fail his next set of exams. The consequences of another awful report for Sirius were world-ending in his opinion. If he failed to bring his grades up he would have to forfeit the next quidditch season, according to madame Hooch, he needed to graduate with credentials outside of sports.

It wasn’t that Sirius was dumb, that was entirely not the case, no, he just didn’t care to study, didn’t care to show up on time, and used quidditch as an excuse to leave classes more frequently than he should have. Really, if he put his mind to it, he was rather brilliant.

And surely, you, a top student, head-girl infact; reserved—indifferent, never seen without a book or a scroll of parchment. You would have absolutely nothing in common with the hard-headed, outlandish, troublesome Black brother. No, you would better be suited to his more refined, quiet younger brother, Regulus.

When you were then seen by the boys’ changing rooms after a quidditch match, potions textbook in one hand, a slightly displeased expression dorning your face, waiting for none other than the captain—some eyebrows were raised. Still, most brushed it off as a tutor waiting for their student, you were rather regimened like that.

Despite all of that, that still wasn’t the reason you and Sirius were being seen together so often.

In the great hall, Sirius sat restlessly—legs bouncing, eyes darting, neck craned towards the entrance then round to where a group of slytherins sat and back and forth, over and over again. Remus finally let out an exasperated sigh, drawing the attention of James, who with a full mouth spluttered, “Something the matter, Rem?”

“Why don’t we ask Sirius?”, if he were still sitting there, all the eyes would have landed on him. But after looking at his watch, as quickly as the words, “m’ late for something—i’ll be back soon,” left his lips, Sirius was gone.

“Where’d ya reckon he’s off too then?”, a small peace of sausage flew out of James’ mouth—grimancing, Remus replied,

“Haven’t a clue mate”.

The next time you were spotted together, it was by none other than Lily Evans, once again in the library researching for her herbology report, she caught Sirius trailing after you, not unlike that of some lovesick puppy.

Because, unbeknownst to the rest of his friends, Sirius had take quite a liking to you. Although initally you were simply placed together in a group, for an ancient ruins project. Now you just couldn’t seem to shake the boy.

Still in her seat, she watched your expression for signs of anything other than indifference. You walked as poised as always, picking and placing books back on the shelf, humming back uninterested at whatever Sirius was saying to you.

Eyes trained forward as the pile of books you began to stack in his arms grew.

Said project had barely finished a week ago, and now Sirius layed spralled across the sofa in the gryffindor common room, staring aimlessly at the ceiling fan, as it spun round and round.

Lily sat cross-legged on the floor resting her back on the chair that Marlene sat in as she receited the ingredients of the potion she was studying. Nudging her foot and nodding over to Sirius, Marlene scoffed,

“Aren’t you going to pick up a book, Black?”

He didn’t break his gaze from the fan, just mumbling, “Yeah I will…later”

Lily shut her book, and sighed dramatically, adding—”I don’t think Sirius has books on his mind right now, Marls”, in a light, knowing voice.

That caught everyone’s attention, including his.

“Ooo, pray tell, Evans.” Marlene leaned forward in her seat, watching as Sirius shuffled uncomfortably in his seat.

Lily’s voice adopted a dramatic hushed tone, “I think there’s a particular girl on his mind, aren’t I right Sirius?”.

With that Sirius shot up and off the sofa, suspiciously fast, rushing out an, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She was right.

Sirius had been racking his brain for excuses to see you, trying to find more reasons to be in the library of all places, just to spend a bit more time with you.

Even he was shocked, not only were you a slytherin— he knows they’re not all bad but still.

You had zero interest in quidditch, barely acknowledge him and always had your nose in the most boring of books. And yet, he found himself painfully drawn to you. Intruiged, watching from a far spot in the courtyard as your face cracked a bright smile, your hand coming down on your friends leg as you barked out a laugh.

Eyes glowing and crinkled in amusement—listening carefully to your friend’s recount of what had happened in Transfiguration that morning. Times when you bursted out of this shell, animated and full of life one moment, then stoic and apathetic the next.

At this point, Sirius was going to run late for quidditch practice that he’d scheduled, but he just couldn’t tear away his gaze, your head thrown back, clutching your stomach as your laughter bounced off the pillars of the courtyard. Sirius thought you looked absolutely bewitching.

“Could you be any creepier?”, Regulus voice cut through the moment, dry and unimpressed.

Sirius nearly jumped out of his skin, his head whipping towards his brother with a loud, “Merlin!”

He’d been utterly transfixed by you—the way your laughter softened into breathless giggles, the way your fingers wiped at the corner of your eye where a tear had formed.

Regulus rolled his eyes. "Aren’t you going to be late?" he pointed out, arms crossed.

Dragging a hand through his hair. "Quidditch can wait," he shrugged, before his gaze inevitably tried to turn back to you.

Sirius blinked, his expression dropping as his eyes swept the courtyard once more. Just moments ago, you had been right there—laughing, glowing, utterly captivating. And now? Gone. Like a wisp of smoke slipping through his fingers before he even realized he was reaching for it.

Regulus huffed beside him. "Tragic, really," he drawled, already turning on his heel. "Maybe next time you'll spend less time staring and more time speaking."

This time it truly was coincidental.

You sat in the three broomsticks, butter beer in one hand and, as suspected, a book in the other. Today though, Sirius thought you look particularly divine, when not wearing your uniform, you look much less uptight more, you.

Whatever that meant.

He wanted to pay attention that strategies James had devised for the up-coming quidditch games but he couldn’t stop his eyes from flickering back between you and the person who sat across from you in the booth—conveniently out of his view.

James’ sudden huff brought his eyes back, “Were you paying attantion to a word I was saying?”

“I don’t think he was James, he’s been practically drooling over Y/N since we sat down,” Remus didn’t even look up from his pasty as pressed his knife into it.

Sirius felt his jaw tighten, fingers twitching slightly where they rested on the table. It wasn’t the accusation that got to him—he could handle the relentless teasing, the knowing looks. It was the casual way Remus had said your name, like it was something familiar on his tongue.

“Since when are you and Y/N so chummy?” Sirius shot back, trying to keep his voice light, but the sharp edge was impossible to miss.

Remus, finally glancing up, only raised a brow. “Since we both take Astronomy, and I actually talk to people instead of just staring at them across the room.” He cut another piece of his pasty, utterly unbothered.

James snorted. “He’s got you there, mate.”

Sirius wanted to argue, wanted to say I do talk to people—just not when they disappear into thin air the second I look away, but the words stuck. Instead, he only grumbled under his breath and tore a piece off his toast, chewing with far more aggression than necessary.

Now, you were packing up your things, slowly stacking the used plates, neatly placing the utensils in a pile—a hand stuck out handing your bag over to you. Sirius’ eyes squinted, hoping to get a better look, when he saw him.

His brother, his own flesh and blood—but with him, your face looked relaxed, free from the unimpressed expression that it so often had in his presence. Something twisted uncomfortably in Sirius’ chest. He wasn’t sure what it was—annoyance, confusion, maybe even something uglier—but he hated the way you walked so comfortably beside Regulus. Hated the way his brother stood there with your bag in hand, offering it to you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And yet he remained seated, appetite gone, roughly tossing down the toast on to his plate.

Sirius barely registered James and Remus still talking beside him, their voices muffled under the rush of his own thoughts. His legs began to bounce under the table as he watched you and Regulus exchange a few more words—ones he couldn’t hear, which only made it worse—before you laughed softly, shaking your head at something his brother said.

Turning and walking out together.

Sirius’ moping was beginning to grate on both James and Remus. They all knew why he was in such a state, Remus telling him, if it bothers him that much, he should just go and ask his brother why you were there together.

But instead Sirius whined and let his head fall onto the table, narrowly missing the saucer of jam.

“Is he still sulking?”, Lily asked, tucking herself in.

A fed up mmhm, left Marlene in affirmation. Sirius’ head shot up at the sound of your voice from the table infront of them, effortlessly engaged in conversation, for once books nowhere to be seen.

Sirius barely caught what you were saying, too busy zeroing in on the way you smiled mid-sentence, eyes alight with enthusiasm. And worst of all? Sitting beside you, looking perfectly unbothered, was Regulus (and Pandora), though Sirius payed her no mind.

Sirius groaned, slumping back down onto the table with a dramatic thud. “This is actually torture,” he muttered.

Lily rolled her eyes. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake, just talk to her.”

“I can’t,” Sirius grumbled, voice muffled against the wood. “What if they’re—” He hesitated, lifting his head just enough to peer over at you and Regulus again. “What if they are?”

James sighed, shoving a hand through his hair. “What if they are what?”

“Together,” Sirius hissed, glaring at his friends like it was their fault he was in this mess.

Remus sighed, thoroughly unimpressed. “And what if they aren’t? You’re spiraling over nothing.”

Marlene leaned her chin into her palm, watching him with amusement. “Or,” she added, “you could grow a pair and go find out.”

Sirius groaned louder, dramatically dragging his hands down his face. But even as he protested, his eyes kept flickering back to you—your soft smile, easy conversation, and the way Regulus seemed perfectly at ease beside you.

Yeah. He was going to lose his mind.

The evening on that same day, Sirius was still distraught, eyes glazing over the same page of his potions textbook for what felt like 100th time. Lily came rushing in a wide grin stretch across her face.

Stationing herself infront of Sirius, she waited from him to look up at her, “You owe me big time, Sirius”.

He blinked up at her, barely registering her words at first. His brain was still stuck on the same miserable loop—Regulus, you, Regulus, you—but Lily’s smug expression was enough to snap him out of it.

“What?” he asked warily, closing his textbook with a dull thud.

Lily wiggled her brows. “I may have happened to find out exactly why Y/N and Regulus were together today.”

Sirius sat up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floor. “And?”

Lily folded her arms, basking in the moment. “And you, my dear Sirius, are an absolute idiot.”

“That’s not news, Evans, context—now.”

She let out an exaggerated sigh, then leaned in conspiratorially. “Y/N is tutoring Regulus in Arithmacy.”

Sirius blinked. Then blinked again. That’s it? He opened his mouth, then closed it, as if trying to compute the information. All this time, all this sulking—

Lily smirked at his stunned silence. “He’s ahead in his class, so Y/N is prepping him to join advanced classes.”

He let out a sigh of relief, her hand patting his shoulder as she stood, “That’s not all.”

“I’ve decided to graciously help your cause, and take you as my plus-one to Slughorn’s party on Friday.”

His face scrunched in displease, “Why would I want to go to Slug’s Party? Besides I have to train for quidditch.”

Lily shook her head, question why she bothered to help the boy in the first place. “You really are hopeless, aren’t you?”, her hands now placed on her hips, “Because, Sirius, Y/N is going to be there, and unlike you, I have an actual plan.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “A plan?”

Lily sighed dramatically, as if she were speaking to a particularly dense child. “Yes, a plan. One that involves you actually talking to Y/N instead of sulking and shooting death glares at your own brother across the Great Hall.”

Sirius groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I don’t shoot death glares.”

Lily gave him a flat look. “Regulus actually asked me today if he’d offended you in some new way. And frankly, he looked delighted about it.”

Sirius scowled. “Smug little git.”

“Exactly. Which is why you need to do something before he catches on that you’ve been acting like a jealous, brooding fool for the past two days.” She crossed her arms, tilting her head. “Besides, Slughorn’s parties are the place for whispered conversations and accidental strolls through the greenhouse.”

He huffed, torn between appreciation and sheer annoyance that Lily had clearly been scheming without him. “And you’re sure Y/N’s going?”

She responded with a light, ”Yup”.

Then Lily shot a very guilty look toward the door before lowering her voice. "I was originally going to take James."

At that exact moment, James’ voice rang from behind her, utterly deadpan. "Yeah. Thanks for that, by the way."

Sirius glanced over Lily’s shoulder to see James standing there, arms crossed, looking entirely unimpressed.

Lily winced. "I’ll make it up to you."

"You’d better," James muttered, though there was an amused glint in his eyes.

Sirius’s mouth opened as another thought hit him. "Wait—what about Regulus?"

Lily tilted her head, looking far too pleased with herself. "Oh, he was invited," she said airily, inspecting her nails. "But he had to decline. Prefect duties, I think."

Sirius blinked. Then, ever so slowly, a grin curled at his lips.

"Well," he drawled, stretching out his arms. "Why didn’t you lead with that?"

By Godric’s graces, Sirius was sat next to you, sweaty palmed barely able to look up from his plate. His tie felt too tight, strangling him, making his throat dry. The chatter of the party buzzed around him, but all he could focus on was you.

There you were—calm, composed, your posture straight, as though you were perfectly content to sit there in silence, only speaking when spoken to, listening without much reaction. It felt like a nightmare and a dream all at once—being so close to you, yet so far out of reach.

How exactly was he supposed to casually strike up coversation, when your expression was so unreadable. He missed the way your face looked when it wasn’t so tightly bound, when it was loose—and carefree. You didn’t fidget, didn’t seem to notice the clinking glasses and hushed conversations at nearby tables.

And of course, as a top student, you were sat on Slughorn’s main table. Among the smartest in Hogwarts, and though he had been steadily working on his grades—again thanks to Lily.

He couldn’t shake how ill-fitted he felt for this event.

He was always so sure of himself—always so confident, a boistrous charm in the way he carried himself. But here, next to you, in the hush of your carefully maintained silence, he felt unsettled. Out of place. Uncharacteristically unsure.

You weren’t unkind, nor were you cold, but there was a deliberate distance in the way you held yourself. Private. Dignified. A quiet sort of control that left no room for unnecessary conversation. You weren’t ignoring him, but you weren’t indulging him either.

Sirius was used to attention, to easy smiles and playful banter, to people leaning in when he spoke. With you, there was none of that.

He just wanted to, for once, be the reason your exterior cracked, to get a glimpse beneath the surface first-hand.

The silence stretched, thick and unbroken. He should have found it uncomfortable. Maybe he did. But something about it—about you—held him there, kept him still when he would have otherwise filled the space with careless words.

And then, you glanced at him, catching his eye. Waiting expectantly, something about the way you looked at him, your gaze neutral but observant—

"Sirius," you said, your voice low, subtle, soft around the edges, catching him off guard. Whispering, “He’s talking to you?”

Lily less graciously clear her throat and parroted Slughorn; “He was saying he thought Regulus was already quite a gifted alchemist. And that maybe you should consider joining him in the advanced potions class”.

There was small snickers as he spluttered out, “Oh! Uh right, well um…I’d love to but um, with the quidditch season starting, I’m not sure what electives I’ll be able to take”, he rubbed his palms forcibly drying them on his trousers.

When his eyes flicked momentarily over, he swore he saw the corners of your lips twitched up into a the smallest of smirks, shaking yorur head in unimpressed amusement. The tips of his ears felt hot, but he couldn’t ignore the sense of satisfaction blooming in his chest—a win, was a win in his books, embarassing as his was.

Slughorn nodded hastily in acknowledgement, “Ah yes…yes! I’ve see you on the pitch, Black. You’re quite the talent.” Seamlessly launching into a speech about ambition, talent, and the bright futures of his carefully selected guests. Sirius barely heard a word of it.

He found his fingertips aimlessly picking at the buttons of his cuffed sleeve, still reeling in his small victory. However minuscule, however brief, it was something. And for Sirius Black, that was enough to keep his spirits lifted, even as he sat in his stiff chair, enduring Slughorn’s endless praise for his star pupils.

Pushing boundaries, wanting to get another reaction out of you. Something more than a smirk, more than that slight shake of your head.

Leaning slightly closer, he dropped his voice just low enough for only you to hear. “Do you reckon Slughorn’s rehearsed this in the mirror? Or does he just feel it in his soul?”

You didn’t look at him immediately, only reaching for your glass with careful ease, as if you were debating whether or not to entertain his comment.

You mimicked his lean in feigned drama, your voice coming out measure and hushed.

“I imagine he does both,” you mused, tilting your head slightly. “Practice ensures confidence, but true passion?”—your eyes met, the glint of jest that he saw was undeniable, “That can’t be faked.”

Sirius blinked, momentarily a small huffed chuckle slipped past his lips. It wasn’t what he’d expected—just enough to match his teasing but just ambiguous enough that he couldn’t tell if you were just playing along or making a genuine observation. Either way, it was enough to disarm him.

He exhaled, feeling his shoulders ease from the tense position they had been locked in all evening, the stiffness melting away before he even realized it had been there. The tight grip he’d had on his own nerves loosened, and he had to fight off the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

For the first time that night, Sirius felt like he had an in.

The mingling had begun, hors d'oeuvre and a variety of other dishes were handed out. You stood with Lily, and your plus-one, Pandora. Lily caught him staring hopelessly at your turned back—called him over with a knowing smirk, her voice cutting through the buzz of conversation. “Sirius, why don’t you join us?”

You turned you attention to him as he walked over, slowly inserting himself, listening—Pandora, who was currently enthusing to you about magical creature care. Her eyes were bright with excitement, hands gesturing animatedly as she described a recent lesson on the behavioral patterns of mooncalves. Lily, equally engaged, nodded along, chiming in with her own thoughts.

Unlike the other two, you weren’t adding much to the conversation, simply holding your glass loosely in one hand, gaze flickering to the room beyond as if your mind was elsewhere.

His eyes drifted lower, catching sight of your near-empty glass, condensation pooling at the edges. Before he could second-guess himself, he stepped closer, angling toward you slightly.

“Would you like another?” His voice was even, polite—none of his usual theatrics, no teasing lilt. Just a simple offer.

Your gaze lifted to meet his, searching his face for a moment before you glanced down at your glass. There was a brief pause, then a small nod. “That would be nice.”

“Any preference?”

You considered for a moment before answering, “Something fruity. Not too sweet.”

You watched as Sirius took your glass with a quiet nod before turning toward the drinks table. For a moment, you considered staying put, letting him bring it back to you, but something about the way the room buzzed with conversation—Lily and Pandora still deep in their discussion—made you move.

Without a word, you stepped away from the group and fell into step beside him. Sirius glanced at you, brows raising slightly, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he adjusted his stride to match yours, the two of you weaving through the crowd in a comfortable silence.

At the drinks table, he reached for an empty glass. “Something fruity, not too sweet,” he murmured, repeating your request as he scanned the selection.

You hummed in affirmation, watching as he carefully poured. Letting a soft, “Thank you,” pass into the air between you.

As you took a sip of your drink, you glanced at Sirius, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “I was expecting to see Lily with James tonight, not you,” you remarked, tilting your head slightly.

Sirius exhaled a small chuckle, swirling the liquid in his glass. “So was James. He was less than pleased when Lily swapped him out for me.”

You hummed, lips pressing together as you nodded. “And yet, you still came.”

Sirius placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “What, you think I can’t enjoy a sophisticated evening of small talk and fine dining?”

You gave him a dry look, unimpressed. “I think you’d rather be anywhere else.”

He gasped—actually gasped—so theatrically that the man standing beside you both at the drinks table glanced over in alarm. “You wound me,” he said, staggering back half a step as if struck. Unfortunately, in his dramatics, he miscalculated his footing, knocking his elbow against a tray of glasses just as the man set them down.

One wobbled, teetering dangerously toward the edge. Instinctively, Sirius shot out a hand to steady it, but the sudden movement caused his own drink to slosh over the rim and down into the sleeve of his shirt. With a twisted expression and he let out a disgusted groan, feeling the cold liquid slide up towards his elbow.

The moment was so ridiculous, so perfectly clumsy despite all his usual effortless bravado, that before you could stop yourself, a laugh escaped you. Not just any laugh, not the superficial, light laugh he had heard from you once before, no, your laugh was full and rolled through the quiet area by the drinks table. Earning a few turned heads.

Sirius looked up sharply, frozen for a moment as if he couldn’t quite believe he’d managed to get such a reaction out of you. Then, slowly, his lips curled as he chucked to himself in disbelief.

You bit back the rest of the laugh that threatened to bark out of you.

You clear you throat, hand coming up to physically stop you from breaking once again. “Sorry, I—,” you stopped yourself, licking your lips as a smile of amusement lingered at the corners of your mouth.

Sirius shook his head, eyes still fixed on you in an almost fascinated way. “Don’t apologise,” he said, voice softer now. “Good to know you’re human.”

You scoffed lightly, raising a brow. “Not everyone is always quite as animated as you, Black.”

His grin turned wolfish as he leaned in ever so slightly. “And yet, here you are, laughing at my misfortune.”

You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head as you glanced away, but the atmosphere between you had shifted, lighter now, easier.

The conversation that carried between you was more casual that he’d expected. Finding out that you weren’t quite as anti-social as he’d originally pinned you.

Learning your indifferent silence wasn’t cause by anything other than a preference for meaningful conversation over idle chatter. You spoke when you had something worth saying, and Sirius found himself even more drawn that he was before.

As you became less of a mystery to him, he marked your almost dry, understated wit—one that revealed itself in carefully chosen words and small sarcastic remarks. He stood beside you, soft rings of laughter and chatter resonating, the distance between you closing as the hours shed away.

Perched on a window in the Bell Tower, you admired that stars that were scattered across the sky—he’d also learnt that you had soft spot for Astronomy. Explaining why when he was looking for you in the library, 60% of the time he’d failed. Revealing that you spent more time in the Astronomy tower than anywhere else in the castle.

But speaking about the stars was when you truly came to life, gushing at the high-visibility of the constellations that hung in the sky that night.

“It really is a privilege to seen the sky like this—Look, look there! Can you see it? An hourglass with three stars in the middle.” You leaned forward over the window, pointing earnestly at the stars above.

“Y/N, I have honestly no idea what I’m supposed to be looking at.” Small chuckles littered through his sentence.

Your hands dropped dramatically, huffing out an exasperated sigh. “Sirius, you aren’t even looking in the right place!”, moving to stand impossibly close to him, first guiding his fingers up to point closer to where he should look.

There was still had no reaction, you watched his eyes dart up and down, left and right—brows creasing in efforts to see what you had. Growing impatient and fearful a cloud may steal the precious opportunity away—you reached up, your skin warm and radiating through his cheeks, touch too tender as you angled his chin ever so slightly higher.

Palms lingering on his face, watching—waiting for him to register what was so obvious to you, “Have you found it yet?” Your voice faintly above a whisper, calm and hypnotic.

"Not yet," he murmured, though his voice had lost the usual mischief. You wanted to look back at the stars yourself, so tempted to give up. But he was still looking—still searching, eyes pinched, his lips parted slightly; whispers of his hair dancing over you every so often.

You could see them reflected faintly in the darker silver specks in his eyes, your hands still hadn’t moved from his face, any space between had now vanished entirely, neither of you in any hurry to step away.

Then, just as you opened your mouth to prod at his delay once more, his breath caught, and his gaze finally narrowed, focusing.

“There!”, almost in awe, as if the constellations above had been birthed before him—lips curving up into the biggest beam you think you’d ever seen, so bright it challenged the very stars you beholded.

An incredulous laugh punched through him, his shoulders bouncing, body vibrating against yours. Obviously, Sirius had seen the stars before, and yes, they were beautiful—and until tonight, they were just that, stars—far away orbs charged with fading into the distance.

But in this quiet moment, they felt impossibly closer somehow, and Sirius was suddenly ashamed to have only just noticed them, ignorant to the small pleasures they could hold.

You followed his gaze, to the familiar pinpricks of light shining in the night sky. “About time,” you teased, your voice had lost its edge.

He could hear the smile on your face in your voice, light and airy, bewitching him as the seconds passed, “And if you look at there…jussttt across, that really really bright one,” Now, he could feel your breath skipping over the skin below his ears, goosebumps prickling down the back of his neck. Sirius hummed softly back.

Your hands gently slipped from his face, leaving warmth and wanting in their wake, as your words, the softest of the night—

“That’s you.”

Your voice seemed to echo over and over in his head, unmistakably clear. For a moment, Sirius couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, his heartbeat sounded loud in his ears. Eyes flicking between you and the star.

“That’s me?” he echoed, voice a little quieter than usual, in a hushed tone, afraid of discovery.

You nodded, a small mhmm.

A faint nervous chuckle bubbled in him, still close enough to be gently shook by his vibrations. “Well, you sure know how to make a guy feel important.” Almost laughing at the absurdity of it—

Tearing your eyes away from the sky, the corners crinkling in amusement, this time you didn’t hold back, didn’t cut your laugh short. You threw your head back, moonlight bouncing off the skin of your neck—as a hearty laugh ripped through you. One hand clasping your stomach, muscles beginning to ache, the other finding purchase on his arm. And it seemed that, once you had started, you struggled to stop.

Melodic giggles mixing with his, he couldn’t help but join in—your vibrant and unrestrained joy infectious. His free arm finding your waist, giving you some stability as you leaned into him, breathless.

“What? What—what’s so funny?”, grinning like a fool, his own question punctuated with the laughter bubbling from him.

When you finally pulled back, gasping for air, there was a softness in your eyes, your fingers still rested lightly against his arm, the proximity making the depths of his stomach flip.

“Merlin,” you breathed, shaking your head as if trying to steady yourself, “You’re actually quite funny, Sirius,” Bodies now resting against the cold stone wall, hands still on each other.

“Glad you think so,” his voice again confident and dripping with teasing sarcasm.

You rolled your eyes, but it was accompanied by another smile, turning to pointing at the star.

”That—” you started, but you knew his gaze hadn’t left your face yet; elbowing him lightly before you continued. “That, is the Dog Star, the brightest star in our skies and it’s named Sirius. Gods, you really are something,” words littered with of faux annoyance.

He raised his hands in defeat, another laugh rolling through him, “Now was I meant to know that!”

Quickly leaning into you, fueled by your relaxed smile, he brought his lips mere millimeters from your ear, and you could feel the warm of his body—smell his scent of roasted coffee, warm sandalwood and burnt parchment.

“And I bet that’s your favourite,” just above a whispered tone, painfully smug.

He could feel the shiver that ran down your spine, breath audibly hitching, “Oh, spare me, Black!” failing to fight the twitching smile that wanted to play on your lips.

“My favourites are actually in the hourglass I showed you earlier.”

His eyes glimmered with mischief, watching your expression carefully, “Oh, I totally believe you, Y/N. And what might it be called?” His closeness was disarming, that irritatingly charming, teasing confidence of his—combined with the way he looked down at you with an uncalled for fondness. You couldn’t, didn’t dare look back at him, not until the heat that’d built up and began crawling up your neck simmered down.

“It isn’t just one star, it’s the three that split the hourglass,” picking up one hand from the cold ledge, directing his gaze away from your face—”It’s called Orion’s Belt, apparently because it cuts across the ‘waist’ of the constellation.”

The smirk that spread across Sirius’ face, far too smug and self-satisfied, a snicker slipping in—“Orion’s Belt, huh?” he mused, leaning slightly closer to inspect the stars with you.

Squinting, whipping your head to him, suspicion written all over you face, “Yeah…Why’d you say it like that, though?”

He turned to casually lean his back against the pillar, crossing his arms, keeping his eyes on you, “I didn’t say it like anything?” Playful. Feigning innocence.

“Then why do you look so unbareably pleased with youself?”, mimicking his lean and crossed arms. He enjoyed the skeptical look in your eyes, pushing himself up off the pillar, abruptly closing the space you had so recently put between you.

One hand curved around the rock that framed the window, and the other hand, oh so conveniently placed just above your head; closing in. Eyes helplessly travelling from his face down his neck—he was getting dangerously close now, only now noticing his unbuttoned shirt, chest exposed, and silver necklace dangling away from his skin at the depth of his incline.

Dipping his head down to catch your wandering eye, leaning further—inching closer and closer, holding you captive in his gaze. Leaving barely a fingers space between your lips, deliberately skimming your jaw with the very tip of his nose before stopping by just below your ear.

So close you swore you could hear his pulse, loud and steady, rhythmic. It was torturous, the tips of your ears burned hot, lips pressing into a thin line. He still hadn’t said anything, seconds passed like hours, a breath held so tightly in your chest your shoulders began to raise.

His voice low and breathy—

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

There was nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide; even as he made his retreat he stopped again, hand that once rested on the stone frame, resided precariously in the gap of the wall and your waist. Searching for any signs of protest, or discomfort in your face, he waited at eye-level with an intensity that made your chest stutter its rise and fall pattern.

Sirius tilted his head just slightly, the corner of his mouth quirking up in unfiltered amusement, you weren’t going to let him win. Dropping his gaze and letting your eyes drift so obviously down his chest, raising your hands from your side.

Swallowing the scoff that edged that tip of his tongue, as you pulled him in by the collar closer—delicately trailing your fingertips down, down, down. Your eyes were on his again, challenging, teasing, and relishing in his expression. Adam’s apple bobbing as the tips of your thumbs brushed directly against the skin of his chest. Before smoothing over the fabric, looking up at him, innocent, effortless—yet so painfully calculated. You tip-toed slightly to reach his ear, palms now firmly pressed against torso, this time you could feel his heart, thumping, fast and firm.

“I think…”, the whispering presence of your lips against the reddened shell of his ear, smirk deepened when you felt the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch. “I think I’m going to bed now, Black.”

And then—just as quickly as you’d drawn him in, you let go, pushing him back with little to no force, he teetered, hand ghosting over where yours had been.

Spinning on your heel, he watched you walking away, not sparing a single glance back.

You heard his voice bouncing off the walls, getting further and further way—“At least let me walk you back!”, Sirius let out a sharp exhale, running a hand through his hair as he fought off the stupid grin tugging at his lips.

“Goodnight, Sirius!” You called back, silhouette fading into the dim corridors of the castle.

His body still hummed with the memory of your fingertips, your voice, that look in your eyes, a laugh bubbling up in his chest only now noticing you’d buttoned up his shirt, he shook his head.

Merlin help him.

When his friends saw him in the Great Hall the next morning, he had a new-found pep in his step. Excessively cheery and energised, just itching to get a glimpse of you again.

“I take it Slug’s party went well then,” Remus remarked, smirking as he sipped on his orange juice. Sirius tried to hide the way his lips wanted to break out into a grin, failing miserably, “What makes you say that?” he chimed.

His friends scoffed at his words, as obvious as his moping and longing were, he also wore his triumphs on his face. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe its the way you’ve smiling like a psycho into your bowl of cereal. Just a guess, though!”, James didn’t even try to disguise his loud snort at Marlene’s comment.

Sirius shrugged, too caught up in his own bliss to pay any attention to what she’d said. He was still flicking looks at the entrance, not entirely sure what he would do when he actually saw you, nevertheless waiting, rather impatiently at this point.

Remus rolled his eyes, setting his glass down with a soft thunk. “It’s almost pathetic, really,” he mused, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “You’d think after all these years, you’d have a little more subtlety.”

Sirius scoffed, finally tearing his gaze away from the doors to flash Remus a cocky grin. “Subtlety is overrated, Moony.”

“Not when you’re staring at the entrance like a lovesick kneazle waiting for its owner to come home,” Lily cut in, settling into the seat next to Marlene. She gave him a pointed look before lazily stirring her tea. “So, are you going to tell us what happened, or are we supposed to sit here and suffer through your dreamy sighs?”

“I don’t sigh,” Sirius argued, but before he could elaborate, James jumped in.

“You do. And, honestly, it’s disturbing.”

Marlene snickered. “And loud.”

Remus hummed. “And frequent.”

Sirius groaned, shoving his spoon into his cereal with a little too much force. “Fine,” he relented, though he hardly looked annoyed, his grin creeping back into place. He let himself sink into the memory of the night before—the way your voice had softened, how your fingers had trailed down his chest, how you had absolutely played him before walking away like it had meant nothing.

It had definitely meant something.

But before he could speak, the conversation around him stilled.

His heart stammered. He didn’t need to turn to know why.

You had finally arrived.

And, just to be cruel, you didn’t acknowledge him right away. No, you were far too composed for that, greeting Pandora with a smile, engaging in brief conversation with Dorcas. Sirius forced himself not to pout—you had to have known he was watching.

Almost in sync, all three of you turned your sights to him, Pandora’s lips pressed into a thin line, containing a laugh, while Dorcas did little to conceal her reaction, both hands coming to her mouth, as if trying to force the spluttering laugh that had escaped back into her mouth.

There it was. That hint of amusement, the ghost of a smirk tugging at your lips before looking away again—pretending as if nothing had happened at all.

Sirius let his head drop onto the table, melting with a dramatic groan.

“Oh, yeah,” James laughed, slapping him on the back. “He’s absolutely done for.”

After that morning, you and Sirius had been seen together at a much higher, frequency rate. It started subtly—him waiting for you outside the library after your tutoring sessions, lingering near the Slytherin common room under the pretense of “just passing by.”

Then it became impossible to ignore. Stolen moments in the Astronomy Tower, lying on the floor as you told him stories of the stars, his leather jacket draped lazily over your shoulders on particularly cold nights. Walking up to the Great Hall side by side, bickering about something utterly ridiculous, only to separate seamlessly at the entrance—he to his table, you to yours.

It’s not that that you didn’t like his friends, and it wasn’t that they didn’t notice the shift. Lily’s knowing glances, James’ exaggerated winks, not even meant for you to see, but James wasn’t exactly discrete—still none of it phased you. Your friends had noticed too, they saw the way you’d started to schedule your head-girl duties around his Quidditch meetings so you could ‘coincidentally’ bump into him in the Courtyard.

You still refusing to confirm or deny their suspicions—because you and Sirius were still just friends.

And yet, Sirius Black, the boy who had never carried a single book of his own, had been spotted time and time again with your textbooks in his arms. Slinging your bag over his shoulder like it was second nature, grumbling about how ridiculously heavy it was, but never once handing it back until you were where you needed to be.

And if anyone commented on it, he’d simply shrug, flashing a lazy grin as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“What do you carry in here?” he muttered one afternoon, adjusting the strap over his shoulder. “A dozen bricks? A severed head?”

“Oi, nosy Parker! Do I question what you lug around in that ghastly duffle bag?” you quipped back, lips twitching when he scoffed dramatically.

But more telling than anything was you. Sirius’ presence had breathed life into you, and the more time you spent with him, the more he chipped away at your most guarded parts. The carefree laughs that, before your friendship, were few and far between, corridors now rung with a mix of your vibrant giggles and his howling laughter—on more than one occasion being scolded for disrupting nearby lessons.

“I’m so sorry, Professor, I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,”

The door of the classroom barely closed before Sirius grabbed your hand pulling you away, both snickering, trying to run, impossibly faster to keep up, him parroting your empty apology. There was an ease in the way you spoke, a lightness in your voice, even when you hissed out a Sirius in that exasperated, almost always fond tone.

And in turn, you were learning him. The Sirius Black behind the bravado. The one who stayed up far too late studying because he swore he wouldn’t fail another Potions test (though, truly, you were the one keeping him from failing). The one who distracted you during tutoring sessions, doodling on your parchment instead of taking notes.

“You do realise this will not help you pass, yes?” you deadpanned, pointing at the horrendous stick figure he’d drawn.

“I disagree,” he said solemnly. “This is a visual representation of the tragic fate of the gillyweed. Taken too soon.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a laugh.

And then there were the other moments. The ones that left you holding your breath, the air between you taut—thin and the space between you even thinner. His fingers brushing against yours a second too long when he handed back your quill. The times in the back corners of the library when he’d leaned in just close enough that your noses nearly touching, only to reach over your shoulder and pluck a book he didn’t need from the shelf behind you.

And if Sirius hadn’t know any better, he’d think he saw a pout on your lips when he stepped back, “Disappointed, are we?”

To alot of people, you made no sense.

You were put-together, composed, meticulous. Sirius Black was reckless, loud, and endlessly exasperating. But what they didn’t realise—what no one truly saw—was that beneath all of it, you weren’t so different.

By the time you’d made your way into the Great Hall; the usually conjested walkways between the tables were clear, some students still milled about—finishing their breakfasts and making their way out.

You sat, as you always did, with Pandora, Regulus and Dorcas, parchment in one hand and toast in the other. Humming along with the conversations that carried beside you. You’d seen Sirius when you entered, knees resting on the bench as he leaned over the table, huddled amongst his friends and a few faces you didn’t quite recognise.

Sirius was preoccupied.

“—and if I loop around Flint here before he can block, that leaves me wide open to feint left and pass here—” James was rambling at full speed, Quidditch playbook spread across the table, but Sirius was barely paying attention. His eyes kept flickering toward the dwindling crowd, tracking your movements as you slowly gathered your things.

“Uh-huh,” he muttered absently, cutting James off mid-sentence as he abruptly stood.

James blinked. “Mate?”

Sirius ignored him, slipping through the benches and making his way over to you. You didn’t even look surprised when he appeared beside you, just raised a brow as he fell into step next to you.

“Good morning to you, too,” you murmured, adjusting the strap of your bag.

Sirius grinned, keeping pace with you easily. “I had a thought—”

“Oh, Shall I call Madame Pomfrey?”

He huffed, nudging your shoulder lightly. “I think you should come watch me play.”

You hummed, not slowing down. “Quidditch?”

“Yes, Quidditch,” Sirius said, as if there was any other answer. “You know, the most thrilling, heart-pounding, exciting sport at Hogwarts?”

“I have no interest in it.”

His jaw dropped dramatically, stopping in his tracks, face dorned with a look of pure offense. “What! But it’s the first game of the season! Everyone’ll be there!”

Trudging to a stop, you turned to face him, weight shifting onto one hip—arms crossed over your chest. Your lips twitching, the slightest of smirks gracing them before you spun away from him and continued toward the doors. “Exactly, with everyone else there, I’m sure you’ll survive.”

Sirius jogged to catch up, eyes twinkling, his hands on your shoulders, lightly shaking you. “Come on, Y/N, just this once. You wouldn’t want me to lose, would you?”

“That depends,” you mused. “Would you blame your loss on my absence?”

“Absolutely.”

Earning him an eye-roll and a quiet chuckle, even after all this time, he still felt a pang of victory when he was the cause of your smile. Finally, you pushed an exasperated sigh out, shaking your head. “Fine, Black. I’ll come.”

Truthfully, you’d already rescheduled, even post-poning your tutoring sessions so you’d have time to go, simply finding amusement in his grovelling.

His face lit up, “Anndd will you come by the changing rooms after the match? We can go with everyone to Hogsmead after, to celebrate.” His last words came out rushed, a clear after thought, eyebrows still raised into a pleading expression, you didn’t respond immediately.

A feigned debating look on you face, lips pressed into a thin line, foot tapping and an unsure hmmm reaching his ears.

He bent his head down to meet your eyes, always so close but so far away—“I’ll make it worth your while,” he voiced faintly above a whisper. You groaned, head rolling back in playful reluctance, your words came out more pinched than you’d hoped, mumbling out “Maybe…”

Escaping his clutch with a turn of your heel, retreating down the corridor without looking back. Sirius lingered there for a moment, watching you go before he spun around and bolted back to the table.

James barely had time to react before Sirius all but crashed into the bench beside him, looking positively giddy.

“She’s coming,” he announced, practically vibrating.

Marlene snorted. “Poor girl.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Merlin help us if he wins.”

But he wasn’t paying attention. He was already envisioning it—the roar of the crowd, the wind in his hair, the knowledge that you would be there, watching.

Sirius was unnecessarily righteous when it came to his duty as captain, and as much as winning was important to his pride, feeding off the energy that surged around him when he brought his team to a victory.

Now, winning really mattered.

You’d never been to a Quidditch match before, opting to avoid the commotion all together. Frankly, you’d written it off as ‘too violent’, after passing by the hospital wing time and time again—seeing poor Madame Pomfrey overwhelmed with the sheer volume of injured players post-match. Just the idea of watching made you grimance slightly, anxiety lightly brewing in you.

The match had been brutal.

Barely half-way through your voice adopted a coarse and gravelly cadance, suprisingly over-zealous and commited to cheering. A shocked laugh leaving Remus’ mouth, as your voice boomed, travelling rows away.

A grueling hour and a half of hard-fought goals, relentless defense, and a nail-biting chase for the Snitch. But in the end, Gryffindor had come out victorious, and Sirius had played one of his best games yet.

The hope of ‘maybe’, made him dress just that bit faster—fighting the aching tension of his muscles. He was still the last to stide out of the changing rooms, James roughly massaging his shoulders, grins of exhaustion on their faces. Hair still damp and clothes still slightly askew, he’d expected his usual friends to be waiting—Remus, Marlene, Lily, maybe even a few other.

He didn’t expect you.

And you weren’t there, though he was welcomed with a rally of loud cheers, applause, too hard pats on the back. He really was trying to enjoy the moment, honest, but it felt slightly incomplete. Because the only person he was looking forward to celebrating his victory with, was you.

Minutes had passed and they were still stood there, just barely a meter away from the doors of the changing room.

It was James who caught sight of you first, elbowing Sirius roughly in the ribs. Nodding his head in your direction, ”No way,” he whispered, grinning.

Barrelling through the curtains, you hunched over hands on your knees—panting breaths as your chest heaved. Marlene let out a low chuckle. “Huh. She actually came.”

Your voice came out tight, each word wheezed out. “So…so many—people”, inhaling deeply through your nose, “Got—got lost,” Eyes squeezing shut as you failed miserably to catch your breath.

Sirius blinked, momentarily stunned, before a slow, triumphant smirk spread across his face. You still hadn’t found the strength to look up. His feet carried him toward you without hesitation, and by the time he reached you, his grin was unstoppable.

“You made it,” he said, a touch smug, but there was something else beneath it—undeniably soft. Hand reaching out to him in desperate purchase, he caught it, bringing his other hand gently around your waist—stabalising you, as you rested your weight on him.

You cracked one eye open, still huffing out your breath. “Clearly.”

“Well, I’m honoured,” he drawled, tilting his head. “Didn’t think you’d run to me.”

Before you could muster up a proper retort, one hand shifted your shoulder, guiding you ever so slightly out of the way as James, Remus, and the others brushed past, leaving the two of you alone in the corridor.

Sirus waiting patiently for your breathing to steady, when you eventually stood up straight, his gaze was tender—a warmth spreading through his chest, feeling like he could finally relish in his victory.

He was looking down at you, the awareness of your proximity making your barely regulated heartbeat ring obnoxiously in your ears, breaths shallowing again—not from exertion, not from the running, but from him.

Arms still holding onto you, not tightly, not in a way that caged you in—just enough that if you wanted to move away, you could. Touch somehow firm and gentle, grounding, fingertips twitching ever so slightly against the fabric at your waist.

Instead, you looked up at him, swallowing past the dryness that inched up your throat—gaze heavy and burning. “You did amazing,” you murmured, voice softer than you’d meant, like the words weren’t quite enough for what you felt, “Really,” confession direct and sincere.

His lips parted, breath catching, eyes trained into yours. The teasing smirk he so often wore faltered, replaced with something deeper, something that sent heat curling low in your stomach.

“Mmm that’s high praise, Y/N.” His voice had dropped, slow and deliberate—honeyed, like he was savoring each word, letting them hang heavy in the air.

Sirius tilted his head, just slightly, gaze flickering—your eyes, your lips, back to your eyes. It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t careful. It was knowing, full of intention, and it made the prickling skin at the back of your neck travel, helplessly further down your spine.

Your fingers twitched at your sides, the urge to reach for him overwhelming, shoulders squeezing up, sucking in a breath smaller than you needed when he inched closer. The distance between you was shrinking, a measly sliver of space left.

He was giving you a chance to stop this.

You didn’t take it.

His hand tightened at your sides, just barely, and the moment you tipped your chin up—just the slightest bit, just enough—he was there.

The first touch of his lips was ghostly, so faint you wondered is was just his breath, inconceivably cautious, testing—savoring your moment before committing to it fully.

And then raising slightly to your toes, nose skimming his skin, that was all it took.

Sirius exhaled sharply through his nose, and the kiss deepened, urgent and needing, like he’d been waiting for this longer than he was willing to admit.

And he had.

His other hand found purchase at your jaw, fingers curling just beneath your ear, angling your face as he pressed closer—so close you could taste the lingering remnants of triumph on his lips.

The arch of your feet began to burn at the stretch.

You barely registered when your hands found his jumper, curling into the damp fabric, trying to close a non-existent gap between you. Pulling him in as you pushed your feet to press firmly into the ground beneath you—his neck craning further down chasing you, unwilling to breakaway. He smiled against your mouth, he couldn’t help himself, kissing you was the easiest thing in the world, second-nature.

He prayed this moment wouldn’t end.

Lips plush and warm against his, the echoes of his teammates’ cheers lost, one palm slipping so intuitively into the dip of your neck, fingertips entwining with the strands at nape—basking in you, like you were a small slice of heaven.

When he finally pulled away, he didn’t go far, forehead resting against yours, his breath fanning against your lips. His smile had returned now, still bright, but softer—contented.

“Well,” he murmured, voice still hushed, “I suppose that’s a fair prize.”

You scoffed, but your lips were still tingling, wanting, your fingers were still curled into him. “Oh, shut up, Black.”

He laughed, vibrant and victorious, and just this once—you let him have it.

#marauders era #fluff #hp marauders #harry potter #sirius black x reader #sirius fluff #sirius black fanfiction #sirius fic #sirius x reader #sirius x slytherin!reader #sirius black #sirius x you #sirius x y/n #marauders fanfic #aetherraeysworks

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novvabee · 4 months ago

Text

Birthday Present

Summary: poly!marauders x reader, you give Sirius a cute gift

cw: suggestiveness if you squint, general fluff

word count: 1K

“Ok now open your eyes!” You said excitedly to your boyfriend.

He was covering his eyes with his hands, being led by James and Remus on either side.

This elaborate surprise all started about a month ago. Sirius’s birthday was quickly approaching, the first birthday out of all of you. You knew that you wanted to do something special for him. You knew that he was almost impossible to shop for, he has everything he needs or wants, he is terrible at saving his money and impulsively buys whatever he wants when he sees it.

The few things you knew you could buy for him, James and Remus had already got for him. Remus a few new vinyl records and James a pair of brand new black Converse.

It was you who brainstormed those ideas up and your boyfriends took them right out from under you before you got the chance to go out and buy them yourself. Those assholes. Those absolutely lovely, kind, and caring assholes.

You knew that you had to go in a different direction, then. You also wanted to upstage the two idea thieves slightly, but you wouldn’t admit that out loud.

You then remembered a charm that you could try and teach yourself. You didn’t have long to learn and practice it, especially when all three of your boyfriends were attached at the hip, attached at your hip. You weren’t exactly complaining, you loved them, but you couldn’t exactly practice your surprise in front of the birthday boy and you didn’t trust James and Remus to not ruin the surprise for Sirius.

So that meant sneaking off in the middle of the night most nights, slipping out of the comfort of your boyfriends warm embraces and the soft cozy bed. But you would do it if it meant you could see a smile on Sirius’s face.

So you practiced and practiced all those late nights for this exact moment.

Sirius dropped his hands and opened his eyes. He blinked at you standing in the middle of your shared bedroom. He looked slightly confused.

“Are you my present, love?” he said in a suggestive tone.

You giggled in reply before muttering the complex incantation. Once the last syllable left your lips, the room became lit in a magical glow. The roof appearing to fall away and a universe of stars and planets taking its place.

All three of your boyfriends looked up in awe.

Sirius was the first to step forward, still entranced in the charm. His eyes scanned from point to point, from star to magic star. He smiled, face glowing from the blues and purples being reflected on him by your little trick.

You thought for a moment that maybe you should have gotten him something. This wasn’t a tangible or memorable object that he could have. You waited for a moment before explaining yourself. “Look, I know its not much,” you started, “I just- I thought that I could-”

“This is amazing!” Sirius exclaimed. “I- how did you…” Sirius seemed to be at a loss for words, stepping under the small universe you created.

“This is beautiful,” James spoke up.

“It's incredible,” Remus agreed.

You felt better about the charm now. You thought that maybe your present wasn’t enough, that maybe you could just say this was what you could come up with as a sort of place holder until you could get a real gift. But their reactions, Sirius’s reaction in particular, set your mind at ease.

“Look!” Sirius said joyfully, grabbing Remus’s hand and pulling him to the center of the room. “It's all of us.”

“All of us?” James asked, amused and confused.

Sirius motioned up at the magic ceiling, ponting at the moon “Well, here’s Moony of course,” He pointed out the brightest shining star in the corner of the room, hanging above the bed, “That’s me, the Sirius star,” he then made his way to drag James under the glowing sun. “And here you are.”

You smiled ear to ear. “Yeah, I guess that is all of you.” you said, admiring your work.

“And you.” Sirius said from across the room, still holding James’s hand.

“And me?” you repeated to him, confused.

He crossed the room to where you had planted yourself since the big reveal. He closed the gap and cupped your face in both hands, tilting your head up to look at him. You were met with the glow of his eyes, both from the magic ceiling you had created and from the look of pure love and joy he was giving you. He looked so beautiful.

“You are the galaxy that holds us all together, without you, there would be no reason for us to shine now would there?” You weren’t too sure about his logic, but it was sweet nonetheless. You turned your face to kiss the inside of his palm and smiled at the feeling of his warmth.

Later that night, once all the gifts were given, when you were through with your fancy dinner date, after you all sang happy birthday and sat in your living room to eat the cupcakes you made for Sirius, when you all crawled into bed, Sirius nuzzled closer to you.

His head on your chest, his body almost fully encapsulating your own. You played lightly with the ends of his hair, twirling them softly between your fingers. You heard James and Remus sleeping, breathing long and deep, cozied up with one another.

“Love,” Sirius said softly, as not to wake the other two.

You hummed a response.

“That spell,” He started, “Is it… difficult?”

“Not at all.” you answered him. You had practiced it over and over to the point where you could probably do it in your sleep.

“Well… that’s good.” He said. You got the impression that there was more he wanted to say about it, but had become shy.

“What about it, Siri? You wanna learn it?” You asked. You would gladly teach it to him if he wanted, again, you had practiced it so much you could teach it to him easily.

“No,” He said sleepily, “But could you maybe do it again? Before we go to bed?”

You smiled and whispered the spell. The room lit yet again with the stars and planets. Sirius smiled slightly, eyes taking the whole picture in. You both laid there, under the stars and watched the beautiful night sky, just holding each other and appreciating the beauty before sleep eventually took over you both.

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asoftsighh · 1 month ago

Note

Hey! Could I request some fluff with Sirius please?

I was thinking of something a bit too specific like, Sirius not admitting he likes an oblivious! Reader, but still getting jealous of people around them?

Bonus points if the other boys keep pestering Sirius saying things like " thank the heavens you don't have a crush, huh?"

Thank you!

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ sirius black x reader ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

sirius isn’t jealous, he swears

1k words

a/n: thank you for requesting angel!!

The third time Glenn Pots touches your arm, not that Sirius is counting, Sirius’ nails have almost drawn blood. He squeezes his fists tightly, grateful that he was no longer holding a glass cup, as it would’ve surely broken.

Sirius leans back in the arm chair, propping his feet up on the coffee table, the picture of casualness. Around him, people danced and cheered and retold the Quidditch game that had ended less than an hour ago, the Gryffindors leaving victorious. Normally, he’d be in the mood for this; he might’ve sung along with the music with James or bothered Remus. More importantly, he might’ve gotten to talk to you.

The thought makes him glance back over at you, sitting on the loveseat in the corner, Glenn Pots leaning into your side. You’re smiling at him, a small one, but still. Before he can fret any more, someone places themselves on the arm of Sirius’ chair, fully blocking the view. This particular person, one with wild hair and crooked glasses, looks like he’s up to no good.

“You alright, Pads?” James asks, his eyes saying that he already knows what’s wrong. “Looking particularly sulky tonight.”

Sirius waves a hand, trying to subtly position himself so he can still see you around James’ body. “Fine. Headache, is all.”

James’ smile grows impossible wider, glasses slipping down the slope of his nose as he looks down at him. “Hm. Is it, perhaps, one in the shape of a Mr. Pots?”

Sirius turns his glare up to James, squinting at his best friend. Whenever James knows that Sirius is one of his moods, all of his smiles look satisfying enough to punch. If they weren’t friends, and at a party, he might’ve done just that. Instead, he shoves James’ legs off of his lap.

He laughs and catches himself before he could fall to the floor. “You know,” he continues, positioning himself back on the arm, “you could just talk to her. Crazy idea, I know.”

“And why would I do that?” It’s hard to keep the bite out of his voice, but he doesn’t worry about hurting James’ feelings. He knows that Sirius isn’t mad at him; mad at the universe and Pots, yes. Never James, though.

“Sirius, you’re staring.”

From James’ new seat, he can just see Pots. Even from across the room, the way he is looking at you makes him uncomfortable and angry all at once. Like you are something shiny behind a glass case and he has to have you.

“I’m not jealous, James,” Sirius says, far too defensively for that to be true. “I just think that he has a weird laugh. Not like she seems very happy with him anyway.”

James glances over his shoulder at you, pushing his hair back with a rough hand. When he turns back, he wiggles his eyebrows. “Maybe you can go save her. The whole knight-in-shining armor thing. Girls love that, I’ve heard.”

“Oh yeah?” Sirius asks, half listening. He watches as Pots leans closer to tell you something. “And how’s that working out for you?”

When James doesn’t immediately respond, Sirius looks up at him in surprise. “Sorry,” he amends quickly. “Jesus, sorry. I’m a dick.”

James’ smile doesn’t waver, and he dismisses him with a hand as he stands from the chair. “It’s fine, Pads. I know you are just a grumpy bastard in love.”

Sirius groans, leaning his head back against the chair cushion. “I am not in love.”

From the corner of his eye, he can see James rolling his eyes, already turning toward the drink table. “Go talk to her, mate.” His voice is stern, like he’s giving an order. He’s gone before Sirius can say anything else, swallowed in the sea of bodies.

Sirius sighs softly, tucking the longer strands of his dark hair behind his ears. Taking a peek at you, he sees that you’re still there. You look exceptionally beautiful tonight, in his (and Pots’, but he ignores this,) opinion. You’ve done something different with your hair that eases the pain of anger in Sirius’ chest, bit by bit.

Without another doubt, he stands, making his way toward you, dodging dancing and cheering bodies. He’s about halfway there when you glance up, meeting his eyes. Jesus, he’s never met someone who makes him feel this nervous.

“Can I steal you?” he asks once in talking distance. You’re standing before he can even finish asking, forgoing the drink you were cradling in your hands on the nearest table. Saying a quick goodbye to Pots, you come up to his side with already-flushed cheeks. Sirius pretends to not notice the daggers being shot in the back of his head as he steers you away, one hand between your shoulder blades.

He feels more like himself with every step away from that loser. “Hello, gorgeous. Are you having fun?”

You look up at him with a smile that makes Sirius forget how to breathe. “I am now,” you say. Your voice is quieter than the music, but he hears you just fine. He guides you to an unoccupied couch, your thighs brushing against his as you sit. You’re so close that Sirius can smell your perfume and the way your lashes flutter as you look over at him.

He clears his throat, resting a forearm on the back of the couch, upper body angled toward you. “So… Glenn seemed chatty.”

You let out a giggle before saying, “He was. Mostly about himself.”

Sirius doesn’t bother stopping his eye roll. “What a tosser. Should’ve found someone else to talk to, love.”

You meet his eyes. “I wanted to, but he was with someone else.”

A coil of dread unravels somewhere within Sirius. His voice is low when he asks, “Who?”

Your smile widens, like you know something he doesn’t. “You, you idiot.”

He is stunned into silence for a moment, rare for him. Heat rushes up the side of his neck to the tips of his ears. “Me?”

You let out another soft laugh as you shift, mirroring his sitting position. “Yeah, you. I thought you were avoiding me.”

He shakes his head, collecting himself as tendrils of hair slip out of place. “Not at all. Too busy being an idiot, apparently.”

Your smile grows, as does his uncharacteristic nervousness. It’s hard not to tease him, just a little. “Aw, you’re too pretty to be an idiot.”

His laugh hits your ears, even louder than the music. Prettier too.

criticism is welcome as long as it’s kind ✮⋆˙

i’m very new to writing ✮⋆˙

#sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader #sirius fluff #sirius x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black self insert #sirius x you #sirius black fic #padfoot #padfoot x you #marauder x you #marauder x reader #marauders x reader #self insert #marauders fluff #marauders fic #hogwarts fluff #hogwarts fic

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not-rab · 2 months ago

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my fav thing in fics is someone telling sirius they would be honoured if their child turned out like him

because honestly he should get to hear that from someone even if it’s not from his own mother

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777heavengirl · 11 months ago

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AM - Chapter 3

I Wanna Be Yours

Sirius Black x reader Chapter 3/3 Warnings: angst?, smoking, suggestive themes, fwb to lovers word count: 3,178 masterlist

Currently playing: I Wanna Be Yours by the Arctic Monkeys

Chapters i, ii, iii

Sirius Black did not think of himself as a hopeless romantic. He never cared for the lovey sickness or all the stereotypical heart designs, not the lace nor the saccharine-drenched desserts. He knew you did though. As much as you tried to hide it. He knew well of the small journal-turned-scrapbook you kept under your bed. The one with the tickets and pictures and scraps of napkins and doodles you had accumulated. Sirius Black was not a sentimental person. But he adored that you were. That you kept trinkets and other “useless” artifacts and bits just because they reminded you of a moment, of a memory, of a person. He missed watching you put your sentimental treasures in your boxes, in your journal. You pretended not to know he watched you.

He wondered if you kept things from him. From your moments, your memories together, of him.

He stared at the Polaroid Lily took of the two of you with her muggle camera. You sat on his lap, a cigarette between his lips and a fun pink drink in yours. His arm around your waist, his other hand resting on your thigh. The sparkly dress you wore that night was entrancing to look at even through the still picture. One of your arms hugged his shoulders and your smile was so wide the corners of your eyes crinkled. Your smile was so big it made your eyes almost close. His own lips rounded into a crooked smile between the cig. It was the night you first hooked up. The morning after neither of you could stop giggling. He kept the anxiety of not knowing how to move forward close to his heart.

He remembered your laugh as Lily took two pictures, one for you, one for him. It’s not like he’ll keep it, pads isn’t sentimental like that.

The truth was, you were wrong. He kept it in his desk drawer since that night. He’d look at it often when you weren’t in his arms.

This was the smile he liked the most from you, he thought. The one right before you bust into laughter. He loved seeing it, it was like a firework, like a star shining in the night sky. He hadn’t seen that smile the entire time you had been in your relationship. He hoped it was just because of the distance between you that he hadn't seen it. But after the Ravenclaw party and the way Jacob had manhandled you. He wasn’t so sure anymore.

Remus, Peter, and Sirius waited outside of McGonagall’s office door. It was normal for James to be in trouble. It was usually all of them together but, not in trouble for something like this. Sirius had gotten down just in time to see James’s fist colliding with the Slytherin’s face. The screaming between Marlene and your boyfriend had brought him down and James’s outburst had brought unwanted attention. As Slughorn took James away, Sirius dragged Peter and Remus down. They followed the professor and their friends all the way down to McGonagall’s office. Jacob had been sent to the hospital wing.

Slughorn burst out of the office, no James in sight. The older man seemed upset but didn’t comment on the boys’ presence. The door rested slightly ajar.

“Professor you have to understand, I couldn’t stand for it!” James loudly “whispered” to his head of house. James couldn’t whisper for the life of him.

“Mr. Potter, while I understand that Mr Brown's comment made you very upset and I do not tolerate such foul name calling especially about a dear student like Miss Y/L/N-“

”It was more than name-calling Minnie!”

”Please refrain from calling me that-“ The boys outside could hear the amusement in McGonagall’s voice. It quickly faded. “violence is still not accepted, even if he called her a-“

”a whore! He called our Y/N a whore Minnie!” Sirius felt his blood drain from his body. He was going to kill him.

Remus put his hand on Sirius’s shoulder as if sensing the storm brewing inside of him.

McGonagall sighed and told James that he had a week of detention. Rather light for the offense.

“She doesn’t know does she?” Remus asked James as he exited the office. James’s eyes went wide as he realized they had all heard, it wasn’t like he wasn’t going to tell them. He would on his own time, be a bit apprehensive of Sirius’s reaction. James shook his head no. You had no clue, at least from him.

”I knew he was a good-for-nothing bastard,” Sirius stared at the floor, his hands deep in his pockets. “I’m going to murder him”

If the boys didn't know better, they'd believe him.

You sat at your boyfriend's bedside. By the time you got yourself together and went down to the hospital wing he was sleeping off his bruised cheek and the apparent slight concussion from hitting the floor. You wondered if James was okay, wanting nothing more than to go after your friend. But you felt responsible for his state, even if he had called you something mean, you felt guilty. You felt like you had driven him to blind jealousy and childish name-calling.

"Y/N?" Jacob stirred awake, surprised about your presence. "thought you'd be with Black." His expression soured and his fingers gripped your hand that was placed on the bed.

"I had half a mind to go wait with him for James" Your words were mumbled but you knew he understood you as he tightened his grip on your fingers. Marlene nor Lily had told you what he had said. Alice didn't have any shame in telling you however, he called you a whore Y/N, if I had been in the position to I would've beaten him bloody. You found yourself not caring what the boy had called you.

"I swear I didn't mean what I said honey," you frowned at the nickname "I was just so mad, I was upset, and your friend Maria-"

"Marlene?"

"Yeah that one, well she kept screaming at me and I just blew a fuse" You couldn't help but stare at him blankly. Jacob Brown was a handsome man but the temper he hid under a shy and stuttering demeanor had crossed a line, and fast. He lost whatever charm he may have possessed. He would never and has never made you feel the way Sirius Black does.

You were never really into blondes anyway.

"I think we're done Jacob," you pulled your hand away. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, not expecting you to have the balls to rip the bandaid off. "And if I had been James, I would've broken your nose, so be thankful"

You got up without another word, he didn't dare speak either. You slowly started walking faster, out of the hospital wing, up stairs, and down hallways picking up more and more speed, until you were running. You sprinted as fast as you could, as fast as your shoes would let you. You could see the glimpses of the remaining sunlight peer through each window you passed. They flashed like a camera lens. You needed the rush of adrenaline, to remind you that you were alive, that your heart was beating. You stopped in front of the fat lady, her nose scrunched up at your disheveled appearance.

"Rictusempra" She opened without further complaint.

Your chest heaved up and down as you slowed down, entering the warm, cozy common room.

"How lovely of you to join us," James laughed from the couch, a small ice pack wrapped around his hand. "How's my favorite whore?" You laughed and scrunched up your nose and Lily gasped in surprise.

"I'm doing great— newly single" your friends oo'd, "how's my amateur boxing champion?" You couldn't help but poke fun, James had a way of lighting up the atmosphere. You were grateful for it.

Lily ran her hands through his hair as she answered in his place, "he's doing better, he only has detention for a week,"

"Lils you're fussing over him too much he does not need that thing-" you laughed as you pointed at the ice pack, the redhead turned as bright as her hair as she laughed too. She knew but it never hurt to indulge James's dramatics. Most of the time.

"Minnie is a saint is all I'm saying," his words came out as more of a purr as Lily continued to pet his hair.

You struggled to ask the obvious, James looked at you like he was daring you to ask, Where's Sirius?

"He's in the astronomy tower-" Remus spoke up from his chair before anyone else could say anything,

Peter chuckled as your cheeks reddened, "Might have to hold him back," the rest of the marauders started giggling like they were twelve "he wanted to commit bloody murder earlier"

You messed with Peter's hair, mouthing a thank you to Remus as you left.

"I thought we said we'd quit," Your words came out in a short breath, the stairs all the way up the tower were no joke.

"Well hello there stranger," The words came muffled as Sirius balanced whatever was left of a cigarette between his lips. You walked to sit with him on the ledge, much like you had in February. Your thighs pressed against one another and you took a brand new box of organic cigarettes out of your pocket. "Glad to see neither one of us held up to the promise of quitting" Sirius chuckled as he took the box from your hands.

He put out the cig on the edge of the wall and took one of yours out. He placed it between your lips, his fingertips softly grazing your lips. You suddenly didn't feel the need to smoke. But you didn't say this as he took out his lighter and lit it for you. He took the cig after you inhaled. You couldn't help but stare at him, your arms crossed on the metal bar in front of you, your head on your forearms. The rings of smoke mixed and danced in front of you again.

"I have another confession to make"

"Besides the fact that you chain smoke like you're a fifty-year-old man?"

"Yes," you said and he turned to look at you, an amused flicker in his eyes. You could see the kindness in them, the care. Sirius always cared. No matter what he said or did, you knew this. All of you knew.

"Spit it out then love," his words were whispered, and he took the cigarette again. Your box was still in his right hand.

"You make me feel like I just downed a bottle of firewhiskey" He barked out a laugh at your childish confession, tilting his head back. He nodded as he passed back the cig. "and if I'm really honest, Jacob never made me feel like that, I fear," you inhaled deeply, allowing the smoke to fill you, Sirius's expression twisted at the mention of the boy.

"I hope not," You couldn't help but wonder if Sirius's need for your attention was simply to scratch an itch. Simply the satisfaction of knowing that he had you wrapped around his finger. The satisfaction of having you in his bed.

"What is it to you Black?"

"Don't call me that," he knocked his shoulder with yours, releasing a giggle from your lips. "If you must know— I could treat you better,"

He looked away now, shy at his admission, even when it had been said haphazardly. Like it wasYou shook your head, unable to process nor accept his statement. Sirius Black did not care. You knew this. He didn't care about your sentimentalism or your feelings. Sirius did not know what you liked to eat or watch or listen to. He did not care. He had never cared to ask or show interest. He didn't care that you knew he only drank pumpkin juice during dinner, or that he liked it when you braided his hair, or that his favorite muggle movie was the new animated Robing Hood and not the Godfather as he always said. You knew Sirius Black did not care that you knew all of his favorite things and he didn't know a single one of yours. And it broke your heart. That he refused to know you or to let you fully in.

"That's not fair," you retracted your legs, curling them up to your chest. Shy of the contact, self-conscious of your closeness and the way you let him in so easily. You didn't accept the cig back from him.

"How?" he put out the cig and pulled at your hand. "He could never make you happy, he will never know you like I do baby" his words were merely a whisper between the two of you.

"What could you possibly know about me, Black?" he hated when you called him that "You don't truly know a thing about me-"

"I know everything about you," he was barely a breath away, your warmth mixed with his and if you moved a mere centimeter your faces would touch. "I know your favorite color is pink, but you always say its red, it's not any pink either its the baby pink of the dress you wore to the Christmas dinner at the Potter's last year" You held your breath. “the one that shimmered under the lights-”

"Do you want an award for knowing my favorite color?" Sirius ignored you as he continued.

"I know you like orchids but not as a bouquet, you like lilies best," his fingers tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, but his hand remained there, at the edge of your jaw and you couldn't help but stare into his big grey eyes. You could almost see the constellations in them.

"You like the pixie dust flavored bean but hate the chocolate one, I know you wanted to be an auror when you were little but now you lean more towards a teaching position here," You felt a knot form in your throat as he continued to tell you the things about yourself you thought he had no clue of. "I know you like the smell of my leather jacket and that you keep a scrapbook under your bed, you love frills and lace and they are everywhere on that journal, I know you hate cigarettes because you feel guilty but you can't help yourself when you're anxious" you were somehow closer now, his tender hand on your jaw bringing your faces together to the point you could scarcely feel his lips as he spoke.

"I know you are a sentimental person, who keeps everything and everyone deep in your heart and that you wear your heart on your sleeve, all you do is give to others, your love, and your attention and it drives me insane," your lips were touching now, and you couldn't help but flutter your eyes shut as he finally said "I just want to be yours, love"

He pressed his lips to yours fully, his other hand threaded through your hair as he held your face close to his. You had kissed Sirius a handful of times, between the bites and the pulling of clothes. You had kissed Sirius with fear that he didn't truly want you, he had kissed you like it was something forbidden. But this time was different, he kissed you like a man starved like you'd leave him again for some other prat, he kissed you like he had been waiting a million years for it. He sucked softly at your bottom lip as you allowed him to deepen the kiss. Your hands pressed against his chest, and he broke the kiss. Pressing his forehead against yours.

"Be mine," it wasn't a mere question, it felt like a plead coming from his lips. Like a man on his knees.

"I've always been yours, Sirius Black," he laughed as you did too, at how ridiculous the two of you sounded. The two of you were meant to be. It couldn't go any other way. And everyone had known it but you.

You were such a sure thing.

You grabbed the brand-new pack of cigarettes from Sirius's hand and launched it over the metal bar as hard as you could. It felt cathartic, to let go of it. You barely looked at it as it plummeted down into the darkness. You could only look at him.

"I reckon we oughta quit now" he flashed you one of his toothy smiles, his eyes almost squeezing shut. You couldn't help but pull him in for another kiss.

You didn't smoke a single cig after that day. You'd joke Sirius was intoxicating and harmful on his own. He always feigned hurt. Your fingers never itched for it again. You had Sirius's hand to hold on to, his lips to press against yours. You had him in your pocket instead.

Sirius Black cares, and he always has. He cares that you only have eyes for him, that you spend your every waking moment attached at the hip. Even when you're fast asleep your arms cling to him, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't cling to you as well. Sirius cares that the stupidity that comes out of his mouth makes you laugh to the point of tears in a way he knows no one else can. That warm laugh that is born in your chest and makes him feel like he is the king of the world. Sirius Black cares that your eyes widen and glaze in affection when he gifts you an item of your favorite color, it has more to do than the thought of you tangled in his bedsheets now. Sirius Black's heart clenches every time he thinks of when you helped haul things out of his window when he ran away, dodging the jinxes that his hysterical mother threw your way once she saw you. Sirius has never been the most sentimental man, but tears formed in his eyes when you presented him with matching keys, with a simple live with me. He cares that you still wink at him before you take off the ground, whether to play quidditch in the Potter's backyard or right before you take off sprinting down the street trying to race him to your shared apartment. His pockets are filled with napkins, papers, tickets, and pictures for you to paste onto your journals, he always carries a camera to capture moments for you. So every moment, every memory, and every person is yours to keep.

He knows he never has to worry about anyone else, and he knows you feel just as cloyed and covered in the saccharine disgusting feelings as he does.

Sirius Black knows he loves you. And he knows you love him.

Tags ! (lmk if they don’t work or if u wanna be added) :

@beekeepingageissome, @prongsprincessworld, @w0nd3rlnd, @reevelio, @nrs-15, @sailtomarina

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mischievousmoony · 1 year ago

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𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛

⟢ rockstar!sirius black x reader ⟢ you do your boyfriends makeup before he goes on stage ⊹ 1.2k ⟢ warnings/tags: just fluff ⟢ note: inspired by luke hemmings (my beloved) because i think sometimes his wife does his makeup!

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Keep your head still,” you mutter, lifting the brush from your boyfriend’s eyelid momentarily as to not mess up your work.

Sirius’ head had dipped down again, his attention being drawn elsewhere. His hands squeeze at your waist, “I can’t help it. You look ravishing tonight, darling.”

You hook your pointer finger under his chin and bring his unabashed eyes back to yours, shaking your head disapprovingly as you do, which only makes him look even more brazen.

“Close your eyes,” you command softly as your hand slides up his face, your thumb finding its way to his cheekbone to brush off some powdery fallout.

Sirius hums in protest. “You said I didn’t have to right now.”

“Now I’m saying you do,” your voice is teasing, yet he finds it melodic.

Sirius playfully huffs but lets his eyes flutter closed, reasoning with himself that while he may not be able to see you, he can relish in your touch. The hands on your waist travel to the small of your back to ease you closer until you stand between his legs, which he presses into your sides once he has you where he wants you.

You graciously let your boyfriend move you as he pleases while you coat your eyeshadow brush in a murky blue pigment. You give it a tap on the edge of the palette to shake off any excess before returning the bristles to his eyelid. You’re going for a smokey blue look tonight, incorporating Sirius' staple component: glitter, of course.

Your pinky grazes his neck as you move to tilt his head, giving you better access to the left side of his face. You feel a content rumble from his throat below the tip of your finger.

Sirius’ large hands slowly drag up and down your back until they diverge, one going up to rest between your shoulder blades and the other stooping lower until he can grab at the back of your thigh.

You ignore the way it has your stomach in knots. Sirius is trying to distract you with the way his hand curls around your leg, his fingertips brushing gently against your inner thigh. But he's due to be on stage any minute now, so you need to finish his eyeshadow swiftly and send him on his way.

The shiver down your spine is goes ignored as you place the eyeshadow brush on the table. Your hands find either side of his jaw as you tilt his head side to side, making sure you're happy with your blending of the shades of blue.

"Done?" Sirius asks, eye still closed.

"Almost."

You find a clean, new brush— the one you like for packing on pigment— and dip it into a shimmery, blue glitter. You begin to pack it onto his lids. If you had been doing your own makeup, you would normally hold a tissue or piece of card stock under your eye to catch any specks of glitter that rained down on your cheeks. Sirius, however, likes the way the excess glitter looks, sometimes even opting to smudge extra below his eyes, dragging it nearly halfway down his cheeks.

Once finished with the glitter, you do the same as before, turning his head in your hands to inspect your work.

"Done now?" Sirius is getting fidgety. He can usually sit pretty for you, captivated by your beauty, he says. But since he had to be cheeky and force you to command that his eyes be closed, he's getting a little antsy.

"Patience," you mean to scold him, but you can never waver your tone from amusement with him.

Originally, this is the finished product that you planned. But upon seeing it, you think he needs a pop of brightness. Choosing a more precise packing brush for the job, you add a white shimmer to his inner corners.

As you pull the brush away from his face, you're instantly happy with your decision.

"Okay, open," you say warmly.

Sirius is more than happy to oblige. You're inspecting the shadow in your usual way and Sirius drinks you in. Your teeth drag over your bottom lip, and he can barely help himself from capturing it in between his own pearly whites.

Your gaze is scrutinizing, and Sirius can tell that you're not all the way happy with the look.

"What is it?" Sirius asks. Expecting something to be off, his hand travels from between your shoulder blades to the nape of your neck, playing with your hairs there the way you like in an effort to bring you comfort.

"No, it's rather lovely. It's just—" your eyes dart down to his lips and it takes a lot of restraint to not interrupt you by smashing his own against them— "I know you usually only do your eyes, but this look would be stunning with some glossy lips."

"Yeah?" Sirius is the one eyeing your lips now, "Like what you have on now?"

You're wearing a pinky, translucent gloss with flecks of glitter in it. For Sirius, you were thinking any old clear gloss would do, but the more glitter the better.

You tilt your head side to side, weighing the options.

"That could work, let me grab it out of my—"

Any restraint Sirius once had snaps, and your words are lost on your tongue when he pulls you in by your neck, capturing your lips in a fervid kiss.

You're not even caught off guard, used to being interrupted by Sirius' lips.

"You can't expect to run that pretty mouth of yours for long before I can't resist a taste," he always says.

His one hand remains on the back of your thigh, his fingertips digging into your pillow soft skin when your lips part for him, allowing his tongue entrance. He can taste the vodka cran you've been sipping, prompting a guttural sound from his throat that vibrates against your lips.

When he pulls away from you, he captures your bottom lip between his teeth like he'd been longing to, dragging them over the plump flesh slowly until your lip freely bounces back into place.

"How's that look?" Sirius asks, his voice huskier than usual.

Your eyes flick down to his lips, slightly swollen and coated in a sheen of your shiny pink gloss.

"You're a dream, baby," you say breathlessly, running a thumb around his plush lips to capture the excess gloss, "Wanna see?"

You don't wait for his answer before you're snatching up a hand mirror, ready to show off tonight's eye look.

"Stunning as always," Sirius murmurs, admiring your handiwork with quiet approval. When you weren't around, his makeup consisted of a smudge of glitter to his lids with the pad of his finger. Though, despite your willingness to teach, he'd never risk sharpening his skills, worried there would be less moments like these in the future if he did.

"That's just my canvas," you muse, smoothing your thumb against his jawline.

There's a knock on the door, jolting you out of your moment of admiration. A muffled voice calls, "You're on in five, Sirius!"

Sirius doesn't seem phased, a smirk dancing on his lips as he pushes your body close again, "I guess we have a few more minutes on our hands."

By the time has to rush to stage, you've had to hastily apply a new coat of gloss on both him and yourself, the original layer having been thoroughly kissed away.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

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ailoda · 6 months ago

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updated: 09.03.25

˚☽˚.⋆ angst

Tulips (❅✧): after finding out Remus Lupin has found himself a girlfriend, a devastated Y/n L/n asks Sirius Black to help her get over him. Except Sirius has feelings for her. (@amiableness)

Mouth Wide Open (❅): your husband, sirius, returns to you after twelve years. but at what cost? (@sun-kissy)

If You Love Something (❅): your boyfriend, Sirius Black, hasn’t been faithful and you can’t stand it anymore. (@mischievousmoony)

Someone You Loved (❅): your relationship with sirius hurt so much, that the only way forward was to forget. (@bobluvbot)

Do I Wanna Know? (❅✧): Sirius learns the consequences of treating people he loves bad. (@remusluvr)

Cardigan (❤❅✧): you’ve dealt with everything on your own, but Sirius changes that. (@cassiopeiasdaughter)

Right Where You Left Me (❅✧): you and Sirius are reunited after he escapes Azkaban. (@in-my-feels-probably)

Safe Place (✧): Sirius isn't happy about y/n going on a date, turns out the guy is an ass, but that doesn't matter because Sirius gets the girl in the end. (@amiableness)

Call It What You Want (❅✧): in which sirius black falls in love with the very girl whose heart he had to help rebuild after his best friend broke it. (@velvetcloxds)

Checked Box (❤✧): James takes matters into his own hands to ensure his sister isn't on Sirius' "to-be-snogged" list. (@marauder-misprint)

new! Self Fulfilling Prophecy (❅): Potters love like it's a sport, but it seems that only a Black can challenge that. (@unconventional-lawnchair)

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robynlilyblack · 11 months ago

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Don't you dare pull away

Sirius Black x fem! slytherin! reader

Summary: Sirius Black and Y/n y/l/n have always been famous for their public showdowns, but what happens the two are forced to finally spend alone time together?

Warnings: swearing, mentions of wizarding slurs (eventual strange term of endearment), kissing and sex, enemies to lovers, steamy first kiss, getting together, fighting in the rain, kissing in the rain, lil sexual tension

A/n: 2.7k words, can be seen as a prequel to the my little deatheater series, thank you so much for the request, I hope you like it, enjoy!

Navigation | Sirius Black Masterlist

“This is all your fault” Sirius grumbles as descends from the last tower, tossing another bag of collected rubbish onto the pile you both had created

You let out an empty laugh, poking your tongue into your cheek and shaking your head a little, refraining yourself from hurling a quaffle at him…again. If anything, it was entirely his fault. He was the one that decided to pull the most outrageous hail mary in all of quidditch, therefore any reaction you had was merely in defence of his insanity. Not that the professors agreed mind you, forcing you both to clean the entire pitch yourselves without magic

“I don’t know why you’re so pissy you guys still--oh no you don’t” you finally speak, only to be caught off guard by one of the bludgers acting up “Salzar will you… ughh” you huff, anger overcoming you as you attempt force the clasp of the trunk shut, even going so far as to climb onto of it yourself “Motherfu-ahh” you squeal as it bucks harder

Just as you’re about to get thrown off you, feel a weight beside you, bringing the clasp close enough to finally hook on and allow you to lock it. You breathe a sigh of relief, head leaning against the wood and for a moment, it’s peaceful. The bludger stops fighting, going dormant once more, leaving only the sound of your breathing and the soft patter of rain on the tarpaulin above you

“Thank you” the words escape your lips faster than you can stop them and your eyes widen rather comically

Dammit, you don’t even need to look at him; you can already feel that stupid smirk of his forming

“What was that darling? I didn’t quite catch that”

You groan quietly “I said… ” you purse your lips before lifting yourself up, eyes meeting his “... thank you” you begrudgingly admit and his smirk deepens, the smug bastard

“Thank you?” he over exaggerates in faux awe, hand finding his chest, fingertips gently grazing his jersey “No… ” he shakes his head “... there’s no way our resident deatheater over here is thanking lil' old me for helping her” he coats it on annoyingly thick, egging you on as he always did

“Last time I thank you… for… what was that?” you attempt to rebuke but the sound of something ripping takes your attention away, gaze turning upward “Shit” your eyes blow wide at huge dip in the canopy above you, small drips of water already slipping through the beginnings of a tear

As you stand Sirius’ seems confused before his eyes follow your own, catching on quickly “Crap” he mutters, sliding off the chest “Come on!” he shouts, pulling you with haste towards the wall, shielding you from the impending cascade

… except it never comes.

Instead, you and he are held up against the wall. You peek with one eye to check what's happening, meeting Sirius doing the same, one hand flush against the wall behind you while the other is wrapped around your waist

You wrangle out of his grasp as you both realise the old awnings still got some life in her “Thank merlin you didn’t overreact” you tease him “Come on!” you mock, turning away for a moment and noticing the small trail of water from the edge of the tower and canopy beside you

His tongue pokes his inner cheek, head leaning against the wall before he pushes himself off, turning to face you “Oh fuck off” he tuts “We both thought it was gonna go...if anything you should be thanking me!” he lets out an exasperated breath, arms folding as his back finds the wall

“Thank you?” you look at him astonished, you couldn’t believe the nerve this boy had on him, though it did make splashing him with some of the dripping water less guilt worthy “Why the hell would I thank you?” you flick water at him again

“Oi!” he flinches, taken aback “What the--” he barely gets a word in as you continue

“I’m the one stuck here cleaning your mess!” you shout, flicking him a couple more times before backing down, taking pleasure in his pretty curls deflating into a drenched, frizzy state

“You better cut that out right…wait, my mess!” he lets out an annoyed ‘huh’ as your words finally register “I’m the one with the broken broom and detention for a month! Not to mention I’m missing my bloody victory party” he gestures towards the now hazy castle, obscured thanks to the relentless showers around you

“Well, if you had any real skill it wouldn’t have broken now, would it?!” you scrunch your nose at him, but your argument falls on deaf ears as his head begins to shake a little, trying to remove the strands of hair that have stuck to his face thanks to your watery combat “Plus it’s not like you wouldn’t already have detention… are… Sirius? Are you even listening to me? Black!!” you try to regain his attention but it remains solely on his hair “Oh for fucks sake” you grow tired of his failed attempts, swatting his hands away, gently pulling back the soaked pieces and tucking them behind his ears before stepping back “Better?” you ask crispy

“Yes. Much” he responds, falling in tune with your anger again “Ready whenever you are darling” his arms widen in a half bow, welcoming your attempts

You stare at him “I…” you start before begging your brain to come up with some kind of clever quip “You're... umm… fuck” you whisper the last bit as you draw a blank, growing increasingly frustrated, more so as he realises that for the first time, you might just be stumped

“Holy shit, you’ve got nothing” the smirk that grows on his, punchable, pretty, face is maddening “Oh you have no idea how happy I am right now”

“I… ugh… oh fuck you Black” you grab the nearest object, a forgotten wet scarf, and hurl it at him “Least I wasn’t disowned” even you know it’s a low blow, but as the man said, you really didn’t have anything

He manages to avoid it though, the wet fabric barely grazing his shoulder as he ducks “You're really clutching at straws now love” he half laughs at you “Hey!” he points as you chuck something else, taking a stride towards you after it misses as well

“Just admit it darling, you’ve lost!”

“As if!” you defend "I never have and never will lose to you!" you throw what can only be described as a half a decorative lion mane at him

He dodges once again, his eye wide your sheer determinism “Merlin, you’re so petty”

“I am not petty! you’re petty!” you scoff, moving towards him as well as you’ve ran out of safe objects to throw at him “Ugh, I could punch you right now” your fists ball, jerking at your sides as you attempt to control your rage

“Then why haven’t you!” he questions “Not like you haven’t got rough on the field before!” he waves his hands in the air, recalling the time you whacked him the face with your broom as you flew by him

“Because your face is pretty, and I rather like looking at it while I argue!” you admit, anger still in full swing

So is Sirius’ as he argues back “Yeah? Well I happen to think yours is rather cute when you’re all riled up at me!”

“Thank you!”

“I mean it!”

“Good!”

You’re faces are dangerously close now, and as your altercation falls into silence, your hard expressions soften for a moment, small half smiles and laughs escaping as the words shouted between you sink in

You thought he was pretty

And he thought you were cute

You and Sirius had always been known for your little battles, but you and he were in foreign territory now. Never before had one lasted so long, gotten you this fired up. Normally first years would run away and seniors would grab popcorn when you and he were in the same room, however without the screening eyes of your peers or authoritative figures something else was building, something new. No longer was it going to end with who got the biggest cheer, or last insult in before the professors broke you up, no, the game had changed now, and you both knew it

Your face hardens, the anger fading but the passion of the fight remains “You know you’d still have your precious broom if you’d accepted your loss” you start of soft, eyes looking deep into his, asking him if you want to walk this line with you

A smile quirks at the corner of his “Loss, darlin? Oh no we won…” his face darken back into it and you take that as a yes “...I think you need to get that pretty head of yours checked”

“We had it until you pulled what was quite frankly the most illegal fucking move in all of quidditch, and if you had been anything other than a perfect little lion this would be a completely different conversation!” you scoff “I can’t believe you call that a win, you bloody cheat!” you’re poking the bear now, pride overcoming you as you watch his eyes flare at the last word

“Don’t you dare call me that… take that back right now” he takes the smallest step forward, your chests brushing “What I did out there was blimmin' brilliant and you know it!” he leans even closer “You’re just jealous you weren't smart enough to think of it first!”

“Jealous! Why the hell would be jealous of a cheat, cheat, cheat-itie, cheater?” you near bounce at each little quip, merlin were you having fun

He breathes out through his nose, warm air tickles your lips “I am not… ” he stops himself, almost like he’s fighting an internal battle “I’m… ugh” letting out a groan as he turns, stepping in a small circle as he backtracks “I wouldn’t have to pull some cheaty moves if you lot played fair for once” he backtracks, pointing at you, his breathing heavy now “Fricking snakes, the lot of ya”

“For once?” you huff, slapping his finger away before flicking water in his face again, but this time it’s far more strategic “Thats a good one Mr Marauder” you flaunt your hands mockingly before do it again “Unlike you… Us. Snakes. Have. Standards!” you'll even admit you go a little overboard with the water this time, splashing him between every word before catching some in cupped hands and pouring it over him

He shakes his head like a dog after you finish “Stop!” he warns but it feels more like a challenge, now it’s his turn to ask you with his eyes; did you really want to step over this line? Enter this new world with him?

“Make me” you jeer, tone lower than normal as you accept his unspoken offer, hand sweeping through the water again

This time however he catches your wrist, holding it in place, before retraining the other one as well, knowing you too well to leave himself unguarded on one front

“Do that one more time and you’ll regret it...” he’s unbelievably close now "...darling"

“Or what, bloodtraitor” you hold his gaze, enticing him

Whatever it was that was building between the two of you was coming to its apex, and you’re both acutely aware of it. But it’s where, you suppose, this dangerous little dance of yours had always been leading

He leans in closer, letting your hand fall from his grasp, chests breathing in unison as his eyes refuse to leave yours for even a second “I think you know, little deatheater” a smirk threatens to play at his lips, godric was he loving this new frontier

And salzar, were you too, eyes unable to help stealing glancing at his lips then back to him “I do” you admit, bringing your lips up, letting them hover dangerously close to his own but as he smirks, taking this as his win, loving to close the gap, you retreat, whispering a flirty “Gotcha ya Siri” before stepping back, a playful smile on your face

His face is a picture, mouth agape, a light tinge of pink sprinkling his cheeks but within his shocked expression lies amusement, along with realisation that he lost your little game most spectacularly fashion

“You little minx” he breathes out quietly, tongue pushing his cheek out as he hangs his head, you had got him fair and square, and the boy couldn’t even be mad

“Yes!” you punch the air, beginning to laugh lightly, you don’t even try to come up with a witty remark as you celebrate, because you just bet the sirius black, prankster, playboy, at his own game

He raises his head after a few seconds to see you all proud of yourself, yet your pride is different than normal, if anything he swears it’s more genuine. He’s ready to accept defeat, to let you win, but he’s not ready to let you get away without finishing what you both just started, but just as he’s about to step forward it seems the canopy has finally given up, the fabric above you gives way, splitting in one foul swoop and releases a freezing torrent upon you

“What the…”

Your eyes are wide, mouth fallen open as you gasp loudly, feeling the cold water creep into each layer of your clothing, frozen in place as you look up at Sirius who remains dry, narrowly avoiding the same fate. He looks almost in as much shock, eyes looking up at the rather wide hole, then back towards you

Meeting his eyes, you finally let your smile break free “Shit!” you pout for a second “I just lost didn’t I?” you shout over the pitter patter, losing yourself in laughter as the rain pours around you

Sirius watches the scene with a similar smile, you had always been a wonder to him, this force of nature that drove him crazy, but in this moment all he felt was peace, and he was happy to lose, just this once with you

“Nah” he chuckles, letting the rain engulf him as he approaches, your laughter soothing as his finger hooks under your chin, bringing your gaze to his “We both lost” he tells you before guiding your lips upwards towards his, pausing just before they touch in tortuous bliss

The rain is a stark contrast to the moment, it’s unlike anything either of you have shared before, it’s quiet, soft, like you were old lovers finally finding one another again in another life.

“Don’t you dare pull away” he whispers, lips tickling yours, hot breath warming you despite your numbing limbs

His fingers slide along your jaw slowly, becoming flush before floating upwards carding through the wisps of soaked hair framing your face. His eyes follow, flitting over your face, eyes filled with the kind of admiration one could only dream of and it’s exciting, new, the beginning of a long time coming

“Never again” you promise

He nudges his nose against your own before closing the gap, lips parting as they meet. It’s slow, meaningful, there’s no battle for control, just two souls hungry for one another after being starved for far too long. And it’s intoxicating, your hands finding his cotton of his jersey at his chest, the wet fabric forgotten as you pull him impossibly closer. Sirius feels drunk on your lips, the rements of your lipstick on his tongue as it slips through, hands wandering down to your hips, moving the fabric of your jumper upwards to reveal the skin underneath, eliciting a soft moan from your lips and causing the kiss to finally break

Both your chests heave as Sirius guides you backwards towards the wall and shelter again, turning you around last minute so your flush against it, hands very much still on your hips, thumbs pressing into the skin in soothing circles

“You know…” you catch your breath “...maybe losing isn’t so bad” you admit, throat tickling with light laughter

He joins you “It isn’t…” he agrees, one hand sliding out from below to cup the sweet plush of your cheek, bringing your eyes to his grey ones, heartwarming as you lean into his touch “...but only when it’s with you”

After that, every snide remark that was fired across the battlefield between you was now coated with something more intimate, perhaps they’d always been, but it would always be the kind of strange endearment only you and he could ever understand

My “Little deatheater”

My “Bloodtraitor”

Thank you for reading ♡

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friendly-neighborhood-boricua · 2 years ago

Text

Squint And You'll See It

Summary: Sirius and his potions partner are trying to brew Polyjuice Potion for class, and he can't seem to figure out why she won't wear her glasses.

Notes: Sirius Black x shy!reader. All fluff, really. This is the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written. I'm weirdly self-conscious about the sounds I make, how loud they are, if they could annoy/distract people, etc. so I wrote this just to comfort myself about it lol. I ended up using Y/N a bunch because using too many pronouns in a row makes my brain bristle so oh well. Still though, this is the sweetest thing I think I've ever written. Enjoy! <3

Y/N squinted up at the blackboard as Slughorn collected the class’s attention once again, and Sirius just about melted. The all-too-familiar scrunch in her nose and the crease between her brows gave him more comfort than he probably should have taken from her struggles to see the properties of Chinese Chomping Cabbage from so far back in the classroom. After an especially rapid flurry of blinking, she scribbled a couple notes on her parchment before fisting her knuckles in her eyes tiredly.

Sirius nudged her gently. As if it wasn’t already, the honey-doe eyes she gave him had his heart overflowing with a plush fondness.

“Your glasses, love,” he whispered, nodding to her book bag, which hung off of the back of her chair. Y/N looked at it, then blinked twice. The glasses were a new and quite helpful development—one she hadn’t quite gotten into the habit of using yet. She eyed the bag again.

“I’m alright,” she whispered back and returned to her notes.

Sirius frowned. “You sure?”

She nodded, giving him a light smile.

Sirius frowned slightly but returned to his notes when Slughorn chided him for having his eyes elsewhere. But how could he be blamed? Only a madman would rather learn about ingredients than watch her.

For a surprisingly long while, Sirius managed to stay focused on his notes, sometimes copying Remus’s, who sat on his right side, and only occasionally sneaking glances at Y/N, who sat on his left. After what felt like an eternity, Slughorn finally let the pair work on their Polyjuice Potion at a work table in the far back of the classroom. Sirius had come down with a nasty case of spattergroit several weeks previous and missed a week and a half of the brewing process. Unfortunately, Y/N had missed several days herself due to a family matter (now resolved with nothing to worry about, she had assured Sirius countless times), ending in the complete devastation of their original Polyjuice batch. And so, Y/N, unwilling to take a bad mark, and Sirius, ready to do just about anything to keep spending time with her, decided to make another batch.

“Do you want to gather the ingredients or shall I?” she asked as Sirius scooted his stool closer to hers (to better reach the cauldron, of course).

“I can get the ingredients,” he said, flashing what he hoped was his most charming smile, and she blushed.

“Alright, I’ll, erm … I’ll work out our next instructions …” Sirius nodded as Y/N fell into her reading, smiling to himself as her brows furrowed once again to scan the page.

Sirius skirted the classroom towards ingredient shelves, passing by James, Peter, and Remus, who all raised their brows at him with smirks. He simply rolled his eyes, rummaging through the shelves until he had gathered the correct ingredients. But when he turned around, ready to make his way back to Y/N and their Polyjuice Potion, he was met with a horrible sight: Remus, holding a tight-lipped frown in a near-futile attempt to ward off a smile, Peter, doubled over with laughing cramps, and James, turned around in his chair and arms wrapped around himself, raking them up and down his back in a sultry fashion as he pretended to make out with someone.

With a peeved sigh, Sirius chucked a bundle of knotgrass at James, seed pods bursting and small nettle-like seeds clinging to James's hair. Of course, the three burst into peals of raucous laughter. Sirius groaned, and quickly made his way back to the back work table as Slughorn chastised the rest of them.

“Sirius, are you alright? You’re looking a bit … erm, warm.”

Sirius’s ears burned even hotter, and his eyes flew to examine the grout between the floor tiles.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘m perfect, lovie.” He set down his armful of glass jars and clay bowls, trying desperately to change the subject. “Found what we’ve got to do yet?”

“Mhm,” she hummed. “Just here, it says we must add three bits of boomslang skin—”

“Got that here.”

“—crush the bicorn horn and add that—”

“Got that as well.”

“—and then there are some cooking instructions, but we can cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Sounds good to me, love.” Sirius smiled warmly.

The two worked in harmony, Y/N checking and double-checking that she was measuring everything correctly and Sirius adding the ingredients once she had prepared them. The two worked in sweet, warm peace, managing only one easily-averted disaster, all while keeping quiet as Slughorn continued to teach the rest of the class. There was a strange sort of domesticity to it that made Sirius’s heart skip beats, and he imagined himself with Y/N in their future home, huddled around a cauldron and brewing something to keep them warm on a Siberian night—

“How long should it be at a high temperature again?” Sirius asked, forcing himself from his daydreaming and adding the crushed bicorn horn.

“Erm …” Y/N’s nose practically brushed the page with how closely she peered at the instructions. With the smallest sound of annoyance Sirius had ever heard, her head moved to allow her eyes to travel along the far wall, where a dozen or so posters displayed recipes for a variety of potions. She sighed lightly, squinting heard and pushing herself on tiptoe (as if it would help).

“Use your glasses, love,” Sirius suggested but was quickly brushed off.

“‘M fine, really,” Y/N murmured, eyes still squinting.

“Sweetheart,” the word caught Y/N’s attention, and she fell back onto her heels, eyes barely meeting Sirius’s before drilling into the bubbling cauldron, “you’ll give yourself a migraine. Use your glasses.” Y/N glanced uneasily from Sirius to her bag on the back of her chair and back. Sirius’s brows furrowed. “What is it, love?”

Y/N shook her head. “Nothing, it’s nothing.”

“Then … wear your glasses,” Sirius reasoned, and she let out a little huff. “Why don’t you want to wear them, lovie?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to wear them, it’s just …” Sirius watched her with soft, almost concerned eyes.

Y/N sighed, pushing herself onto the stool with knees pressed together. The thought was silly, but she had known Sirius long enough to know he wasn’t going to let this go.

“The buckle on the bag, it’s …” Sirius’s knee knocked gently against hers. “It’s loud—it clatters about when I open it. Catches people’s attention. And my glasses are in the bag, so if I open the bag, people will stare, and then people stare at me when I have my glasses on anyway—not that I’m not grateful for the glasses! They’re a great help for seeing the board during cl—”

Sirius couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle, and he almost felt bad at the pout Y/N dealt in return. “First of all, love, people stare at you and your glasses because you look fucking divine when you wear them. I should know.” He brushed her arm playfully with his, and she flushed a brilliant shade of red-pink. “And second, no one thinks anything about your loud bag buckles, I promise.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I just—I don't want to disrupt them is all …”

Sirius chuckled again, but still, Y/N didn't make a move for her bag. It took only a moment and a half of contemplation before Sirius burst into the most fake-sounding fit of coughs ever created in the history of this Earth. Nearly the entire class turned to stare at him as he seemingly hacked up a lung, and he hung himself dramatically off of the table’s edge to play it up just that little bit more.

“Mr. Black, are you quite alright?” Professor Slughorn asked, eyes slightly wide with concern.

“Y-yes, Pro—” Sirius coughed a dozen more times, discretely winking at Y/N, who seemed to get the point and quietly retrieved her glasses from her bag. Not a soul noticed.

#sirius black x you #sirius x y/n #sirius x you #marauders era #sirius black fluff #sirius x reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x reader #sirius black x shy!reader #sirius fluff

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amourane · 1 year ago

Note

HIHI I WAS READING ONE OF YOUR FICS WHEN I CAME ACROSS YOUR BLOG AND WOW YOU WRITE SUPER GOOD. And I wanted to send in a request if that’s cool with you! here I go!

Could I request Sirius Black with a Male! (or GN! I prefer a male reader if that’s fine!) S/O who’s very tall and is really popular around the school? bonus if they dress in alternative and emo/scene clothing ? maybe for starters, the reader likes sirius a lot and they buy him drinks, snacks, etc bc they don’t rlly know how to tell him that they like him? and then confesses randomly during one of their little hang out sessions ??

I understand if you can’t do this or anything, feel free to decline this if you’d like! thank you so much and have a good day/or night.

and what if i do?

pairing: sirius black x gn!reader

genre: fluff!

w/c: 1k

summary: you and sirius black were enamoured by one another and everyone was just waiting for you to admit it.

warnings: none!

a/n: thank you so so much for the request! i tried to write it the best as i could, i hope you enjoy <3

There were many things that piqued Sirius Black’s interest but you were the most important. He didn’t know why he felt so drawn to you. Maybe it was the way your hair fell in your eyes or the way your laugh seemed to echo off every wall in the room or maybe it was the way whenever you looked at him he felt his cheeks flush a subtle pink. Whatever it was it drew him towards you as if he was a moth to a flame.

Sirius Black didn’t get crushes often but when he did fall he fell hard and that’s exactly what happened. He had approached you with the notion of copying some of your notes for Charms at first but when he saw the way your lips curved into that dreamy smile he forgot what he was going to say.

There weren’t many times he went speechless yet whenever he was confronted with you nothing but a spew of incoherent mumbles would slip out of his mouth before he would disappear from embarrassment. His friends had teased him relentlessly at his newfound crush, mocking the way he would turn into a blithering idiot in front of you.

Unbeknownst to Sirius you had just a big of a crush. Every time he approached you you couldn’t help the grin that would tug at your lips. You had fancied him for a while and it made butterflies shoot in your stomach whenever his cheeks would dust in that pretty pink shade.

You wouldn’t consider yourself popular by any means yet the majority of Hogwarts begged to differ. You never knew why so many people liked you but you guessed you drew attention to yourself in the best way possible. Your friends had tried to get you to understand the influence you had but you often found yourself zoning out to think about a certain boy instead.

It wasn’t long before Sirius finally mustered up the courage to talk to you without stumbling over his words. You simply watched the curly headed boy nervously try and initiate a conversation, a smile playing at your lips. It was out of character for the Sirius Black to act this way but you enjoyed it.

From then on a friendship blossomed. The two of you bonded over late night conversations and shared interests. The attraction between the two of you only grew stronger and everyone in Hogwarts knew about the mutual feelings you both had for each other, everyone but you and Sirius it seemed.

It was in the late hours in the evening that you bumped into Sirius Black alone. You had been aimlessly walking back to your dorm after a study session in the library when you turned the corner to meet the face of the Gryffindor.

“Hey Y/n, mind if I join you?” Sirius greeted you with a smile and the familiar expression made your heart flutter.

You couldn't help but return the smile, the corners of your mouth curling upwards. "Not at all. What brings you wandering the halls at this hour?"

He shrugged casually, falling into step beside you. "Just needed a break from the chaos. James was plotting another disastrous way to get Evans’ attention and I really couldn’t take anymore of his ranting. Plus, I figured I might bump into you." He threw you a flirty wink and you felt your own face heat up.

In the few weeks that you had known each other Sirius Black had definitely warmed up to you. Gone was the nervous nature, now replaced with a more flirty, more playful Sirius Black. Not that you minded of course.

“Well it’s good that you did. I’ve been meaning to give you something.” You produced a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans from the depths of your pocket, holding it out to him with a sheepish grin. "I noticed you like these, so I thought I'd grab you some.”

Sirius accepted your gift with a chuckle. “Merlin Y/n, with all these gifts you’re going to make me think you fancy me or something.”

You didn’t think it was possible to get any hotter.

It was true. You had been showering Sirius with gifts, from chocolate frogs to bottles of firewhisky. It seemed as though your pockets were endless as you gave him a new present every day with a grin on your face. His reactions were your favourite. The bright smile and twinkling eyes. You loved the way he would look at you and it simply made your heart pound.

It started out when you had planned to ask him out with a bag of fizzing whizzbees in your hand but you chickened out last minute and simply shoved the sweets in his hand before darting away. Ever since then you had bought gifts in hopes that you would eventually tell him how you felt.

“What if I do?”

The words slipped out of your mouth before you had a chance to even think about what you said. Sirius stilled. It was too late to take the words back now so you might as well go through with it.

“What if I do fancy you? Would that be a bad thing?”

Sirius’ eyes widened and you saw the way his expression was momentarily caught between shock and disbelief. You held your breath hoping that the pounding of your heart didn’t give you away.

But then, to your relief, a slow grin spread across Sirius' face, his eyes alight with amusement and something else, something deeper and more profound.

"Well, in that case," He said, his voice low and tinged with a hint of mischief, "I suppose I'd have to say I fancy you too."

The world stopped. Your heart leaped in your chest, a surge of euphoria coursing through your veins. A feeling you couldn’t describe consumed you and you felt as though you were dreaming.

“You do?” You croaked out in disbelief still not fully registering what he just said.

“Of course I do.” Sirius grinned and now you could see the blush that had made its way onto his face. “Godric, how could I not Y/n? You’re smart and funny and just…just really fucking incredible.”

His words allowed warmth to flood into your body and you beamed at him. Without another word, you leaned in, closing the distance between you as your lips met in a sweet and tender kiss. And as you melted into each other's embrace, you knew that you wanted to stay with Sirius Black forever.

#marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius x reader #sirius black fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius fluff #sirius imagine #marauders imagine #maurauders #maurauders fanfic #sirius fanfiction #sirius black #sirius black fanfiction #sirius x you #sirius black smut #sirius smut

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sleyu · 2 years ago

Note

thinking about meanbf!sirius <3 visits you at work only to fuck you in the staff bathroom <3 speaks to you in french while you fuck because he knows you won’t understand what he’s saying and it makes you teary eyed <3 i love him so much PLEABS!!!

stop stop do you know how delusional this is making me . . . this is all i’m gonna think about when i’m at work.（；＿；）♡

i can picture him visiting you at work, maybe to pick you up after your shift ends, and him narrowing his eyes at one of your male coworkers that's being a little too close for comfort. when sirius comes up to you to take you home and your coworker protectively stands in front of you, he just stands there, feeling shocked for a brief moment, sneering before softening his eyes at the sight of you stepping towards him and hugging him tightly.

maybe it was the presence of your coworker entirely, or maybe it was the coworker asking you if sirius was simply your friend that made him want to steal you away every time you went on a break to fuck you stupid.

suddenly, sirius didn’t just visit your workplace to drop you off or pick you up. he began forcing you to text him the time you went break so that he could drag you to the staff bathroom for a nice, “quick,” 30-minute fuck. he practically has the bathroom code memorized with how many times he’s fucked you in it.

he would sit there for a while, clicking his ring-clad fingers against the table, bouncing his knees—doing anything to relieve him of his impatience. sirius would silently reel at the apprehension written all over your face and the flush on your cheeks as your coworkers or customers would speak with you. upon your break beginning, you could barely manage to kiss your boyfriend on the lips before he yanked you away to the employee bathroom.

‘why does he have to touch you so much, hm?’ he’d mutter bitterly, hastily lifting your skirt and pushing your panties to the side, simpering at the slick on his fingers as he dragged his fingers up your slit, slowly circling his middle finger over your gushing hole. ‘just touching you for no good reason.’

you would furrow your eyebrows at the agonizing feeling and hum in agreement with the man behind you. the hard porcelain of the sink was pressing painfully against your hips and your heart was beating rapidly, your mind only praying that people at work hadn’t caught on to the employee bathroom being occupied for thirty whole minutes nearly every day.

‘don’t know, siri,’ you’d mumble while sighing breathlessly, feeling flush at the sight of sirius staring at you intensely from the washroom mirror, studying your facial expressions while smiling in amusement at your bashfulness.

sirius would smile broadly at the sight of you sinking your teeth into the back of your hand, a useless and insufficient attempt in muffling your cries as he hammered into you from behind, watching you take the extra step to turn on the sink faucet to conceal the loud, echoing sounds of skin slapping as he thrust into you. he would exhibit a shit-eating grin, lazily staring at your eyes welled up with tears of humiliation at the lewd, moist sounds of you creaming around his cock with each rut.

sirius’s pace is unforgiving and relentless, and all the while, he would tug on your hair to jerk your head back so he could bite and suck on your neck, leaving bruised, mean marks along the side of your throat that he makes certain will show.

‘sluts like you love getting fucked in places like this, huh? just imagine what they’d think—your little friends,’ sirius breathed shakily, feeling his mind go numb at the feeling of your drenched cunt pulsating around his thick, throbbing cock.

‘does that git know what a fuckin’ slut you are for me? does he know that this cunt gets filled up every second of every day?’

‘‘s like you can’t get enough—fuck—i’m sure he can’t fuck you like this—oh—satisfy all your needs like me, yeah?’

sirius is the epitome of mean and truly does not give a fuck about what anything else thinks. he would purposely pull your hand away from your mouth, letting your moans spill uncontrollably from your mouth, echoing inside the enclosed space of the washroom.

he wants that “fucker”—according to sirius—to hear the way you lose your mind with his cock inside you. sirius would only laugh softly at the sight of your head dropping helplessly, tears spilling down your cheeks, lips parted with pants escaping them at the feeling of his cock brushing against the sweet spots inside your cunt.

‘need more. i don’t think i have enough time, sirius,’ you’d mewl. ‘please go harder.’

sirius would not care if this was cutting into your work time but he’s more than happy to fuck you harder and faster. he’s not stopping until he’s pleased and you're fucked out—eyes rolling back, and throat worn out from your loud moans. he could care less if your break was finished or if someone was banging on the door, begging to use the washroom—he’s finished when he’s finished.

‘cunts taking me so well, i’m definitely not stopping. ‘n i’m sure my girl doesn’t want me to either—not when you’re so close, yeah?’

and speaking of him talking to you in french . . . he knows you get off to his dirty talk, so him speaking in a language you can’t understand—hearing how you whine at the feeling of being unaware of his thoughts and his words only make the knot in his stomach tighter.

secretly, sirius is mumbling cheesy shit like, ‘i love you,’ or ‘you’re so pretty,’ to save himself from the embarrassment of saying soft things so contradicting to his fronting personality.

also, this is sirius. we all know that he’s working to the fucking bone to make sure he cums inside you and that his seed is buried deep inside your tight little cunt. without a doubt, he’s saving a little bit of his cum for your panties, cumming all over them, dampening the cotton fabric so that when you put them back on after getting dressed, your cunt would be stained and sticky from his seed, leaving you uncomfortable all day at the feeling of your wet, soiled underwear.

i think, if we are truly wanting to appreciate and hate the essence of mean bf ! sirius, i fear that he’s gonna pull out of you the very last second, when your one thrust away from cumming, watching and reeling as you sob at the lost contact, unconsciously wiggling your bum to entice him to take you again and help you find your release. he needs to make sure your cunt aches and longs for him, yearning the feeling of his long cock thrusting inside relentlessly.

‘no—fuck—please, sirius!’ you’d sob, shoving your head against his chest and hitting him weakly with your fist. ‘feel so empty, siri—please. it hurts so bad.’

sirius almost succumbed at the sight of your trembling pout and your longing, teary eyes. unfortunately, he persevered against temptation and pressed a gentle, tender kiss on your temple before pulling away and helping you get dressed again. he would coo and wipe away your tears, laughing to himself at the sight of your glare and your thighs rubbing against each other in an attempt to find relief and ease your aching, empty cunt.

‘when i pick you up, puppy,’ he’d pull you into a deep kiss, firmly gripping the back of your neck. ‘i’ll fuck you and make you cum as much as you want. good girls wait, yeah?’

2K notes · View notes

aetherraeys · 3 months ago

Text

rebel

sirius black x slytherin!reader ⊹ 7.1k

for this request x

cw ⟢ swearing, slightly suggestive, COCKY!sirius, pining, tension, kind of enemies to lovers, angst if you squint, internal conflict, slytherin!reader

summary: sirius black is shameless, even is his conflicted pining and endless watching, of you. but after years of successful rebellion, one thing could make it all come crashing down, prove his parents right--make them proud. and sirius is struggling to stomach the idea.

a/n: again idk how this became so long im just a girl. not proofread x

Sirius Black.

The disgraced heir, blood traitor, the run-away who burned too brightly for the cold halls he was raised in.

He was wildfire in human form—untamed, untethered, always on the verge of consuming everything around him. Fire is never safe. And Sirius Black had never once tried to be.

He was shameless in the way only someone truly unrepentant could be.

Defiance lived in his bones. In every choice he made, every rule he broke with that easy grin. In the way he carved out freedom with bare hands and bleeding knuckles, daring the world to punish him for it. He would not kneel. Not for his mother. Not for their pureblood rot. Not for anyone.

He wore rebellion like a second skin.

There was no hesitation in the way he looked at people—like he had the right to. Like he wanted you to know you were being watched. Desired. Picked apart by eyes that never pretended to be subtle. Sirius never mastered the art of pretending, not when it came to impulse, not when it came to you.

Regal, in the way a blade is regal—sleek and polished, but built to cut. You were every inch the legacy they praised in whispers and expected in silence: one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, born with history in your bones and expectations curled like silk around your throat. You wore your pedigree like a cloak, but never let it chain you.

Poised, deliberate and sharp, like you’d studied how to command a room before you ever learned to walk.

Sharp eyes that missed nothing, mouth even sharper, and a presence that made people step aside without quite knowing why. Slytherin suited you like a whispered secret.

You knew the weight of your name, but you wore it on your own terms. And that, perhaps, made you more dangerous than any of them. Because you saw the system for what it was—and still moved through it boundlessly.

A truly captivating sight to behold. Never in the way that begged for attention, but in the way that demanded it. Like art in a gallery too expensive to touch. People looked, they always did, and then they looked away—because looking too long felt like trespassing.

Except Sirius never looked away.

Eyes endless in their following, stalking—almost hungry in the way they lingered.

When he looked at you, which was almost always, it felt like being scorched—burning holes into your from ever angle, as if he could set your soul alight with nothing but his gaze.

Truthfully, it used to anger you—made your lips purse into a tightline, grip onto your fork a bit harder, when you felt his eyes on you from across the Great Hall. The infamy that surrounded him was nothing positive, and each time his sights helplessly drifted to you, you couldn’t help but feel like a target had been placed on you back.

So unbareably brazen in the way he scanned over your figure, that same smirk smeared across his face, when you’d enter Charms—settling into your seat with a roll of your eyes as he quickly abandoned his one beside James, in exchange for the one beside you.

You hide to fight the urge to openly scrowl, calming yourself with a deep breath—you didn’t even spare him a glance as you flicked through the textbook and began delicately scratching into parchment with you quill. Though, unfortunately for you, Sirius didn’t miss the small reaction his meer presence had earned him, scooting slightly closer with an eagerness that almost had your eyes flickering over to him.

Perching his elbow on his empty desk, chin on his hand, he watched you for a few moments—very obviously—before he leaned in, too close for you liking. So close infact that you could smell him, leather and warm sandalwood and cinnamon, maybe. His head was ducked, trying to catch your gaze—*and failing—*then his voice, low dripping with a uncalled for casual tone.

“I’m Sirius, by the way,”

Gods, was he distracting—it had you pressing your quill unforgivingly harder into the blameless parchment. Pausing, before you accidently broke your quill, slow and reluctantly your gaze shifted over to him.

Wide smirk and wild eyes.

You blinked at him, eyes doing a once over his slouched form—unimpressed before turning back to your work, and to your shock and horror. Sirius all but melted into his seat beside you—grinning like the cat that got the cream.

What a peculiar reaction.

You didn’t know what you expected after that, you were hoping for silence. Maybe for him to get bored and slink back to Potter, tail between his legs.

But Sirius Black didn’t take silence as rejection. He took it as encouragement.

“Not much of a talker, huh?” he asked, voice warm with amusement as if this were all a game and you were the shiny new toy he’d decided to break. “That’s alright. I like a bit of mystery.”

You didn’t dignify him with a response, moving your quill purposefully, though the words you were writing made less and less sense as his presence curled around you like smoke—thick and cloying and difficult to ignore.

Most would be completely deterred by your lack of acknowledgement, but it was becoming more and more apparent that Sirius wasn’t like most. Unbeknownest to you, you were quickly becoming the object of his affection.

Sirius felt like he was drowning in something he didn’t understand.

He shouldn’t have been looking at you like that—should’ve shrugged it off, moved on, found someone else to bat their lashes and giggle at him. He could’ve. Merlin knew he had options. There was always someone willing to chase the fire.

But you didn’t chase. You endured.

And gods, he couldn’t look away.

There was something in the way you held yourself—shoulders straight, chin lifted, gaze sharp enough to draw blood—that made his pulse trip. You weren’t just beautiful. You were untouchable. Unbothered. And it drove him mad.

You were infuriating. And he was fascinated. Completely, utterly wrecked by the quiet fury behind your eyes, the way you made him feel loud and messy just by being near you. He didn’t know why. He didn’t even like Slytherins. But he watched you, like you might disappear if he blinked. Like you were something from a half-forgotten dream he’d been trying to recall his whole life.

The push and pull went on for ages.

Sirius never stopped. Not really. He pestered, prodded, flirted, lingered—always with that maddening gleam in his eye, always circling like a star caught in your orbit. He made it a point to sit near you in every class he could. Made himself a nuisance in libraries and corridors, at assignment meetings and Quidditch stands.

But you remained ever the picture of composed indifference, met him with narrowed eyes and razor-edged retorts. You had mastered the art of dismissing him without ever quite telling him to leave. And perhaps that’s what kept him hooked.

Because despite everything—your scorn, your status, your silence—Sirius liked the chase. He shouldn’t have. Especially not after he finally put the pieces together.

One of the Twenty-Eight Sacred. One of them.

The very type of pureblood he was raised to despise. To dismantle. To escape from.

But you were different. You always had been. Not cruel, not bigoted. Not brainwashed. Just…sharp. Steely. Independent in a way that made his chest ache. You hadn’t chosen your name—but you had chosen what to do with it. And Sirius had never seen anything braver than that.

And he was infatuated. Still. Helplessly.

He couldn’t say when it started. And you couldn’t say when it changed.

Somewhere between the sarcastic quips and biting glances, something shifted. It was subtle at first. A twitch at the corner of your mouth, a less scornful scrowl, a slightly delayed response. The way you didn’t move away quite as fast when he leaned too close. A pause where there had once only been dismissal.

And then, one day, it happened.

Charms class again. Seventh year. The classroom warm with late autumn sun, shadows stretching across parchment and desks. You had arrived early, as usual, and settled into your usual seat without fanfare. Sirius slid in beside you, as he always did, far too casual, far too smug.

“Good morning, your majesty,” he said with a grin, dragging the words like silk between his teeth. “Gracing us with your presence again, I see.”

Normally, you’d roll your eyes. You’d sigh or pointedly ignore him. But that morning…something in his tone was especially absurd, and something in you—maybe the soft air, maybe the way he looked at you like you hung the bloody moon—broke the routine.

Your lips twitched.

It shocked you even, you didn’t mean to. Not really. But they did. Just enough.

A small, restrained thing. Barely there. Gone in an instant.

But he saw it.

And Sirius Black lit up like the bloody sun.

His mouth parted slightly, blinking as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d witnessed. Then—slowly, irrepressibly—a grin spread across his face, wide and utterly boyish, delight pouring from him in a way you hadn’t expected. Not cocky. Not flirtatious. Rather radiant, actually.

Proud.

“Was that—?” he whispered, hand pressed to his chest in mock-shock. “Was that a smile, princess?”

As always, you rolled your eyes, but not with the same exasperation as before. It didn’t have the same venom. In fact, there was something dangerously close to amusement in the way you turned back to your notes. Sirius leaned back in his chair, the beam on his face entirely uncontainable.

He didn’t even care that Professor Flitwick had started lecturing. Didn’t care that James shot him a confused glance from the row behind.

He’d seen it. He’d earned it. After years.

And if there was one thing Sirius Black had learned about you, it was that you didn’t give your softness freely.

From that moment—that damned smile—something shifted between you.

The icey exterior had began to melt, and you dont know when it had started, only that it did. Slowly. Reluctantly.

Sirius, for all his insufferable grins and arrogant charm, somehow started to feel less like a thorn in your side and more like a…habit. One you hadn’t meant to form. One you couldn't shake.

Letting him sit closer without side-eyes and sighs. Sometimes even answering his questions when he poked at your homework or made some snide remark about Slughorn’s newest “favourites.” You’d begun meeting his teasing with deadpan sarcasm instead of silence. And occasionally—very occasionally—you didn’t hide the way your lips curled at something he said.

You weren’t sure why it happened. Maybe it was the persistence. Maybe the way he never pretended to be anything but infatuated, even when it was inconvenient, even when it would’ve been easier for him to stop. Maybe it was because you saw something in him—beneath the bravado and leather and grins—that reminded you of yourself. A recklessness born from rebellion—hunger to be known.

And Sirius? He was too far gone to pull back.

He’d always watched you, but now he read into everything. The way you no longer flinched when he leaned in, how you didn’t swat his hand away when he nudged your quill out of your grip. How, sometimes, your eyes lingered on his profile when you thought he wasn’t looking.

So when Saturday rolled around and he hadn’t seen you all day—not at breakfast, not in the common areas, not even passing through the library—a strange itch clawed at him. He told himself it wasn’t a big deal, but he couldn’t help it, he felt deprived of nutrience, of your presence. Maybe you were just sleeping in or studying or avoiding the Gryffindor rabble.

But by evening, he cracked.

Against every instinct, against everything in his brain that told him this was probably a very bad idea, Sirius reached for the Marauder’s Map.

And there you were.

A tiny dot, alone in an empty classroom on the fourth floor. Probably studying. Probably buried in books and ink and the smell of parchment.

He couldn’t help it, he went.

…

The door creaked open with a reluctant groan, and you startled, head snapping up from your book.

You hadn’t expected anyone. Least of all him.

And there he stood—framed in the doorway with a grin too wide, too smug, like he'd just stumbled across treasure.

“Well, funny seeing you here,” Sirius said, like this was all pure coincidence and not the result of him committing several minor breaches of privacy.

You blinked at him. “Did you follow me?”

He placed a hand to his chest, faux-offended. “Follow you? Please. I’m just a curious soul drawn to light. And look—here you are, all lit up and studious.”

You rolled your eyes, but your voice held less bite than usual. “I think you just came to distract me.”

“Distract you?” He was already halfway across the room, dropping into the chair beside you with the sort of lazy ease only he could pull off. His knee bumped yours, and you didn’t move. “You think I’m distracting?”

He leaned in close, far too close. You barely had time to process the proximity—the warm scent of him, like spice and mischief, the way his voice dropped just low enough to slip down your spine—before you tilted your head toward him.

Eyes locked with his, sharp and steady, with a confidence that made his grin stretch visibly.

“That is your one goal in life?” you asked, tone silken and mocking. “Or am I mistaken?”

Sirius froze—not visibly, not in a way anyone else would notice—his pulse sounding loudly in his ears. But you were so observant, even if you hadn’t been looking at him, you would have felt it. The flicker of breath caught—the way his grin twitched, lips parting just slightly as his gaze dropped from your eyes to your mouth.

And lingered.

The tension that knotted between you was painfully palpable, the air gone suddenly too thick. He leaned in—just a fraction—and you swore the space between you crackled. His hand flexed on the table beside yours, struggling to stay in place—twitching as though if it had it’s own mind, it would already be on you. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and for a moment, you thought—

In that split second, something like hesitation crossed his face. Regret, maybe—or fear. His smirk faltered.

He pulled back.

Barely. But enough.

And he looked at you like maybe he’d ruined something by not doing it.

You didn’t say anything.

Not because you were disappointed—though maybe you were, a little—but because you didn’t trust yourself to ask. To question if this was real or just a long game he’d been playing, entertained by the chase, by the idea of an untouchable prize. Like you were just something to be worn down, after all.

Your gaze stayed on him, unreadable. And he almost shrunk under it, second passing like hours as your eyes practically punctured his skull. Stare too cool. Too neutral.

Wordlessly, you turned back to your book, fingers brushing over the forgotten text, you couldn’t remember a single word you'd just read—mind feeling scattered—disrupted. He always had that affect on you, more than you cared to admit, inwardly scolding yourself for being so soft, so naive.

Sirius watched you for another long second—jaw tense, eyes searching—like he’d just watched all his efforts spoil right before his eyes, watched the wall go back up in realtime.

“Right,” he said softly—more to himself than anything—before leaning back in his seat with a forced exhale.

The silence stretched again. But this time, it was different. Colder, almost dismissive, begging to be unravelled—understood.

Sirius stormed into the Gryffindor common room with the energy of a brewing storm—quick, loud steps echoing in the corridors, hair wild from his fingers raking through it too many times. By the time he slammed the dormitory door behind him, he was already pacing like a madman.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

He didn’t notice the quiet creak of the door opening again behind him.

Didn’t see James and Remus freeze on the threshold, their eyes wide as they watched him stalk across the room like he might combust.

James gave a silent what the fuck look to Remus, who just raised a brow, waiting for an opening.

It didn’t come.

“Sirius,” Remus said, voice slow and cautious. “Did something happen?”

No answer. Just a ragged sigh as Sirius ran a shaking hand through his already-wrecked hair. His face was taut, jaw clenched.

He looked up like the words physically hurt. “I—I don’t know what I’m doing.”

James, ever calm when Sirius wasn’t, moved to the windowsill and perched there. “Alright, mate. Pause. Just breathe.”

Sirius obeyed, if only because he didn’t know what else to do.

“Try again,” James said.

Sirius exhaled, long and sharp. “I ruined it.”

“Ruined what?” Remus asked.

“Everything,” Sirius said, dropping onto his bed like gravity had finally caught up to him. “I could’ve kissed her. She was right there and I could’ve. And I didn’t.”

James blinked. “Why the hell not?”

Sirius scrubbed a hand down his face and then—quietly, bitterly—voice just above whisper, stained with shame, “Because she’s exactly the kind of girl my parents would want me with.”

A short silence shrouded the room, thick and overbearing before Remus stepped forward, slowly. “Wait…what?”

“She’s regal. Poised. Slytherin. Perfect! One of them—” Sirius bit out, like the words tasted like ash. “And fuck, I’ve never wanted anything less than to make my parents proud. But she—” His voice cracked, frustration bubbling up. “She’s not like them. She’s not like them at all. But they’d love her. And what does that say about me?”

James stared. “You didn’t kiss the girl you’ve been obsessed with for years because your mum might approve? Because she’s a pureblood? That’s—actually insane.”

“You don’t get it,” Sirius snapped. “I’ve spent years trying to tear their world apart. Burn every expectation. Every rule. And then she walks in, and I can’t stop looking, and it makes me sick because it feels like they’d win.”

He didn’t need to look at him to know there was a frown etched on to Remus’ face. “Sirius—”

“It’s not her fault,” Sirius said quickly, defensively. “She’s not them. She’s sharp, and brilliant, and she knows what she is, and she still doesn’t play their game. But that’s what makes it worse. Because I look at her and I want her. Not out of spite. Not to rebel. Not to destroy anything. Just—because I do. And that makes me feel like I’ve already lost.”

James sat back, arms crossed. “So you let her think you’re toying with her. Because that’s better?”

Sirius looked up sharply. “Of course not—”

“But that’s what it looks like,” James said, gentler now. “You think she doesn’t know exactly what she is? Exactly how she’s seen? She probably assumed you were interested just long enough to mock her, to make a statement. And when you didn’t kiss her—after all this time—you proved her right.”

Sirius swallowed the lump in his throat, and the guilt settling in the form of an unforgiving weight, like a stone heavy in his stomach. Remus moved closer, voice low. “Is this really about her? Or are you scared that if you like her for the right reasons, it means maybe they got something right?”

Sirius didn’t answer, eyes wide and hollow

Because fuck.

Maybe they were right.

Maybe he was a coward.

…

For two whole days, Sirius acted like nothing had happened.

He still greeted you with that infuriatingly easy grin, still dropped into the seat beside you in class like it was habit, like it hadn’t once meant something more. He cracked jokes at the same tempo, still leaned too close when he spoke—but something was off.

Forced. Brittle.

And you? You didn’t even look at him. Not once. Not when he spoke, not when he laughed a little too loudly trying to get your attention, not when he lingered beside your chair a bit longer than necessary.

You sat there, eyes focused and face composed, ice sliding beneath your skin. Where once your silence had been cutting, now it was impenetrable.

He was unraveling, and he knew it. He’d been so close—so painfully close—to something real. The memory of you in that quiet classroom haunted him: your voice smooth and laced with quiet confidence, the heat of your gaze holding his without flinching, the way your words had wrapped around his chest like a fist and squeezed.

You would have kissed him—let him in, he’d felt it.

But he’d foolishly let it slip right through his fingers—just as it entered his grasp. And now you were gone. Not physically—you still walked the same halls, shared the same spaces—but the shift was irreversible. Whatever thread had tied you to him had snapped.

So when he spotted you in the side corridor, alone and unreadable, he didn’t think. His body moved faster than his doubt. He caught up in seconds, slipping a hand gently around your sleeve, tugging you into the empty class room nearby. “Stop,” he said, breath already short. “Please. Just give me a second—”

You ripped your arm back like he’d burned you, and for a second, the flash in your eyes looked lethal.

“Don’t.”

It wasn’t loud, but it cracked between you like that of a lightning strike, harsh and cold and burning. Sirius was frozen, fingers still half-curled in the empty air. His stomach churned when it caught your gaze, full of ice and fury and a rare kind of heartbreak that didn’t scream—it seethed.

“I just—please,” dripping in his voice as he spoke again, hands open, pleading. “Let me say this. Just let me explain. I know what you’re thinking—”

“You don’t know anything,” you snapped, tone suddenly louder. Fiercer. “You don’t know what I’m thinking, Sirius. You never did. You just assumed, and I let you.” cutting him off so sharply it knocked the air out of him.

He almost flinched away from the biting cadance of your words, and yet his eyes still remained soft, swimming with a quiet desperation that made your stomach turn, that made you want to run away—hide from the weight of his affections.

“Did you even for a second think about how it feels?” you continued, voice tight and trembling with anger. “To feel like some…experiment in your rebellion. One of the sacred twenty-eight, right? How thrilling for you. How poetic.” The venom in it had him fightly every urge in his body that screamed retract.

“It’s not like that,” he said quickly, breath hitching. “I didn’t mean for it to come across that way. I wasn’t using you—”

“No?” you cut in, a hollow laugh slipping from your lips. “Because that’s exactly what it felt like. Just another way for you to stick it to your family. Another line crossed.”

He stepped forward, almost desperate now. “I promise—I wasn’t meant to be like that, just—”

But with each step closer he took, in return, you backed away, putting more distance between you; shielding yourself, as if even the idea of his explanation made your skin crawl. “I don’t care anymore, Sirius.”

That hit harder than any spell.

“I don’t need to tolerate this,” you said, quieter now—vulnerable. “Not when I already have parents breathing down my neck, pushing names and suitors and with titles lined up—expectations. They want someone who’d take me seriously.”

His expression cracked. It happened all at once—something behind his eyes just broke.

He looked lost, like he was being peeled open slowly and painfully. Hands dropping to his sides, one twitching like he still wanted to reach for you. Even though he shouldn’t—couldn’t—because you had already slipped passed him. And the last look on your face made him shiver, the controlled, polished fury—that had flashed like a flame frozen mid-burn, had vanished.

Instead your eyes swam with a dejected, gloom that he knew all too well, your usually untouchable exterior cracked under the pressure of empty promises, under the weight of hope you didn’t know you were holding.

Hope that had already gone.

The silence that stretched in your absence was brittle and cold, and Sirius just stood there—silent, stunned, and aching wishing he’d done more as the door clicked shut behind you with finality that burned.

Sirius wasn’t going to hesitate—not anymore.

He stormed through the castle like a man possessed, fury and desperation curling hot beneath his skin. His chest was tight, thoughts snarled and tangled, and before he even fully registered it, he was standing in front of Regulus’ dorm.

Twisting the handle with a vigour that made the hinges whine.

“Regulus!” he barked, pounding on the door with a flat palm. “Oi, Regulus!”

A beat. Then another. Then the wall began to shift with a groan, and there, in all his , unimpressed glory, stood his younger brother. Cloaked in his usual composed disdain, book in hand, and a brow already lifted.

“What in Merlin’s name—how the hell did you even get in here?” Regulus asked, eyeing his brother like he’d dragged in mud behind him.

“Doesn’t matter,” Sirius snapped. “I waited.” He pushed past him into his room without permission, pacing immediately, eyes wild. Regulus blinked, still holding his book open, voice dripping with disinterest.

“Charming as ever.”

“I need to know something,” Sirius said, turning back to him sharply. “Now. What’s going on with the—you know, the pureblood lot. Events. Ceremonies. Matches. L/N’s.”

Regulus’s expression didn’t change, but he slowly closed his book with a soft thud. “L/N’s?” he repeated, flatly.

“Yes,” Sirius snapped again, running a hand though his hair, with such tightness his brows raised involuntarily. “She said her parents already have suitors lined up. Lined up, Reg. What the fuck is going on?”

Regulus tilted his head. “You really don’t read the letters they send you, do you?”

Sirius scowled, rolling his eyes as if even that was even a possiblity, “Of course not,” he muttered. “I’d set them on fire to see what the delightful expectations they’ve dreamed up this week smell like.”

“Well,” Regulus said, crossing the room to set his book on his desk, “then it’s no surprise you’re completely out of the loop.”

“Loop?” Sirius echoed, exasperated. “I didn’t even know there was a loop.”

“There’s an event,” Regulus said, tone clipped. “Soon. A ceremony, more or less—each of the Sacred Twenty-Eight hosting, rotating through their estates like some grotesque little social carousel. A chance to flaunt heritage, to parade eligible heirs and daughters like prized livestock, and, of course, to sniff out the most suitable matches. To keep the lines pure.”

Sirius stared at him like he’d been slapped. “You’re joking.”

“Am I ever?” Regulus replied dryly, arms crossed now, gaze neutral.

“And she has to be there?” Sirius asked, voice low now, more to himself than anything. “They’re forcing her to—”

“They aren’t forcing anyone,” Regulus said. “They’re expecting it. Same thing, really.”

Sirius was quiet for a moment, jaw clenched, fingers twitching like he didn’t know where to put them. Then—“Are you going?” he asked.

Regulus tilted his head again, slightly.

“I was requested, Sirius. Not all of us can run away from our obligations and burn bridges on a whim.”

That earned a deep, heaving sigh. Sirius dragged a hand down his face, muttering, “I didn’t come here for a lecture, Reg. Just—just tell me when it is.”

Regulus blinked slowly, a curious note in his eyes. “Why?”

Sirius turned toward the door, not looking at him.

“Next time you write home,” he said over his shoulder, “tell them to send an extra suit.”

And with that, he was gone—black robes flaring, boots echoing down the stone corridor, fury and purpose trailing behind him like a storm.

Regulus remained in place, staring at the empty doorway for a long beat. Then, slowly, he walked back to his desk, pulled open a drawer, and retrieved a fresh piece of parchment. He uncapped his ink bottle, dipped the quill with a practiced hand, and began to write.

Once finished, he folded the parchment neatly, sealed it with deep green wax embossed with the Black family crest—and held it in the candlelight just long enough to watch the wax catch fire at the edge and curl to a close.

…

The estate was bathed in gold and candlelight—opulence hanging in the air like perfume, rich and cloying, too heavy to breathe in properly. Everything gleamed. The walls, the glasses, the laughter. It was a curated thing—pure, controlled, a dance of lineage and power dressed in silk and arrogance.

The guests were already gathering in clusters—family names floating in the air like ghosts, ancestral ties whispered behind fans, strategic glances exchanged beneath low chandeliers.

And then the room shifted. Subtly.

It wasn’t his name that announced him. It was his presence. A current, a tension, like something electric slipping beneath polished marble.

Sirius stepped through the entrance—alone.

Manovering through the room like he belonged there, which only added to the stir. No parents in sight, just him in a sharply cut black suit with silver-threaded detailing that caught the light when he moved. His hair, often untamed and wild, was tied back at the nape of his neck, loose strands framing his features. There was something about him that looked sculpted and regal—yet defiantly unbothered. Untouchable.

Undeniably Black.

And people noticed.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd like wind brushing over a pond—soft and hushed, as if the very idea of Sirius showing up was somehow offensive, even as it made them all crane their necks to get a better look. Some turned their heads quickly, unwilling to acknowledge him at all. Others simply watched—too curious, too scandalized.

He didn’t glance at a single one of them.

Eyes set like steel, Sirius beelined across the room, moving between clusters of witches and wizards dressed in robes worth more than cottages, heading straight for the two familiar figures near the drinks.

Regulus stood poised as ever in black and green dress robes, brows lifting slightly at his brother’s approach.

Narcissa stood beside him in a floor-length silver gown that shimmered with every subtle turn, hair twisted into a perfect knot of braids and twist, chin tilted at just the right angle. She saw Sirius first, and while her expression didn’t falter, her fingers stilled around her glass.

Well,” she said, voice low and dry as Sirius came to a stop before them. “I see the rumors of your arrival were not exaggerated.”

“Hello to you too, Cissy,” Sirius said, voice smooth as sin, eyes scanning the room with bored calculation. “You look like you're about to gut someone with a compliment.”

She hummed. “And you look like you’ve come to start a war.”

He smirked faintly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Regulus, beside her, sipped his drink. “Nice of you to grace us with your presence. I trust you remembered the name of the family hosting?”

“Of course,” Sirius replied airily. “I even wore their colors—look.” He gestured lazily to the subtle detailing in his suit. “Silver for virtue. Or was it for vanity? I forget.”

“You’re impossible,” Regulus muttered, though his eyes flicked down the hall—searching. Sirius followed the glance instinctively. He hadn’t seen you yet.

But he would.

And when he did, he knew the room would fall away.

Because despite the suit, despite the defiant way he held his head high like this was all some elaborate game he didn’t care to be apart of—he wasn’t here for theatrics.

He was here for you.

But yyou didn’t notice him, not at first.

Not until the weight of his gaze sank into your skin, unmistakable—cutting through the sea of eyes that had lingered on you all night. People always stared, their glances clung to you, your family, the expectations woven into the hem of your gown. But his gaze was different.

It sought you, nothing more.

So when you finally looked up and caught it—caught him—your breath faltered. Lips parted in shock, only to snap shut again as your eyes narrowed. He looked good. Too good—untouchable in the dim glow of the chandeliers, all shadows and silk and the sharp cut of that smirk he wore so well.

The tilt of his brow was smug, a silent challenge. But you held his gaze a moment too long, just long enough for the swell of something warm to flutter between you.

But then, just like that, someone called your name.

An you turned away quickly, heart knocking against your ribs, and let the swell of polite conversation sweep you off before your reaction could be noted. But the look…it stayed with you. Beneath your ribs. In the corner of your mind.

You didn't expect to seek him out. Not really. But at some point in the evening, after doing your dutiful rounds—smiling, nodding, tolerating—you found yourself wandering towards the drinks table with the precise kind of detachment that made you feel normal again.

Like you hadn’t grown up learning how to smile through marriage negotiations. Like you didn’t know exactly which families your parents wanted you to charm.

Hands reaching for a drink when you felt it. That familiar warmth. The subtle hum of chaos wrapped in silk.

He was beside you before you could stop it. And even though you didn’t look at him, your lips twitched upward the moment he said, smooth as ever, “Funny seeing you here.”

Reaching past a crystal decanter, voice casual as you picked up a flute of something pale and effervescent. “Black.”

He grinned—not his usual roguish grin, but something smaller, almost boyish—relieved. “You’re not fleeing in the opposite direction. That’s progress.”

Taking a small sip, you tried to ignore how warm your face suddenly felt, heat curling beneath your cheeks in a way you couldn’t escape. “Wouldn’t want to cause a scene.”

His eyes didn’t leave you. You could feel it. That slow, indulgent drag of his gaze from the curve of your neck to the subtle shimmer in your gown. Like he couldn’t tear his eyes away even if he tried, gaze overflowing with want—something craven even he couldn’t name.

“If you stare any harder,” you murmured, setting your drink down with a soft clink, “I might disintegrate.”

He laughed low, leaning in just enough for you to feel the pull of him. “Just the clothes though, right?”

A startled gasp left you as you choked on your drink, coughing delicately behind your hand. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet here you are,” He picked up a glass, holding it between his fingers with idle grace. “You look bewitching, by the way.”

You always found your eyes rolling in his presence, but it was the smirk—that tugged at the corners of your lips no matter how hard you tried to push it down that betrayed you. “Thank you for the assessment, Black.”

“I can assess more if you want.”

“Sirius.” You hissed his name like a reprimand, but it lacked real venom. He heard that softness, low and creeping as it slipped through, and he wore it like a badge, hand rising in mock surrender.

Conversation blurred around you, background noise as the two of you drifted towards the edge of the room. A whisper of unspoken understanding passed between you—no need to say anything. The glittering, gold-drenched facade of the ballroom fell away with each step, until you were sliding through tall glass doors onto a balcony bathed in night.

The air was cooler out here. Cleaner. A balm against the perfume and pressure, the prying eyes and scrutiny.

Sirius leaned against the stone railing, gazing out at the dark gardens below, moonlight catching the silver thread in his suit. You didn’t mean to stare—but your eyes lingered, studying the shape of his profile, the sharp line of his jaw, displayed without the usual cloak of his dark curls—the wild softness of the strands that had escaped the hair tied at the nape of his neck.

He turned slightly, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What was that you said about staring earlier?”

You shrugged, scanning him more brazenly, unapologetic as you sipped your drink, “You scrub up nicely,” words so matter of fact, light.

He looked at you then, eyes that usually swam with unadultered mischief, lips that held a smirk so well—free from it all. And for a long while he didn’t say anything, just held your gaze hostage under its unfair tenderness.

No mischief, no smirk—just him, with that maddeningly fond expression that made your stomach twist. You looked away first for once, cracking under the pressure, looking down to your half-empty glass.

Voice soft. Quiet.

“I appreciate that you came—despite everything.”

When he spoke, his voice was low, just above a whisper—and it didn’t need to be any louder, because he was already so close. Word earnest, confessional—sincere in a way that made your breath catch. “I’d do it again for you.”

It made you gulp, throat dry despite the lingering chill of your drink. He was close—too close now—and yet not nearly close enough, heat radiating off of him like it was set on defending you from the harsh bite of the night’s air. Eyes were fixed on yours, unreadable but intense, like he was waiting for something, for permission or a sign or maybe just a heartbeat where you didn’t pull away.

“I really do like you,” he murmured, voice quieter now, all velvet and gravity. There was a kind of raw sincerity bleeding through his words—none of the cocky theatrics, no grin or drawl.

Just Sirius.

“I mean it.”

Your chest rose and fell, slow and unsure. The teasing edge in your voice was brittle when you managed to speak, trembling at the edges. “Really?” Your gaze flicked between his eyes, searching. “How much do you ‘like’ me?”

The question lingered in the air like a challenge—half jest, half dare.

But he didn’t laugh, didn’t smirk. He only exhaled, like the weight of every unsaid word had been pressing on his ribs, and leaned in slowly. Palm coming up to brace against the cold stone wall beside your head, the other brushing feather-light against your waist as he tilted toward you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your lips.

“This much,” he whispered.

And then there was no space between you—his lips soft and warm against yours—holding you in an embrace so delicate that you could mistake his touch for the wind.

It was gentle at first—like he was still afraid you might change your mind. Like the moment itself might collapse beneath the weight of history, your families, the thousand things neither of you had dared say. His lips still hesitant, just ghosting over yours, testing, asking.

But you didn’t pull away.

You leaned into it.

And Sirius needed no more invitation, his palms slid from the wall to cradle your jaw, tilting your face to his with such reverent care he could surely feel your heart hammering beneath your ribcage. The kiss deepened—not rushed, but aching.

Starved.

Months of lingering glances, of holding back, of almosts and maybes spilled out all at once in that kiss. Clutching the fabric of his jacket, gripping him like a lifeline, and he groaned softly into your mouth, like he’d been holding this in too long and it was finally—finally—unraveling.

Kissing like you were trying to memorise each other with your lips alone. Like it was the first time, and the last, and everything in between.

When he finally broke away, barely pulling back—lips still tempted over yours—both of you breathless, his forehead rested against yours. His hand stayed at your jaw, thumb brushing just beneath your ear as if to capture you both there, in the small moment, just a fraction of solace, of something warm and real.

“I would’ve gone mad if I hadn’t kissed you tonight,” he whispered, his breath shaky, brushing across your lips.

Your grip loosened slightly in his lapel, voice barely above a whisper. “I think you already have.”

Sirius huffed a chuckle—soft, hoarse, breathless—but he didn’t move away, smile fading slight as he stared at you, gaze dark and so full of feeling it nearly shattered you.

“I’m not playing games,” he said, voice low and rough. “Not with you. I never was.”

Just him showing up was enough, going against everything he stood for—you already believed him.

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