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dearest gentle readers | introduction

pairing(s): marauders (undetermined) x reader

warning(s): eventually 18+, bridgerton au, mentions of marriage, slight cursing?, i’m not british so just pretend i know what i’m talking about, mentions of scandal and incest, not proofread/edited so forgive me

word count: 818

masterlist

Sponsored by Lady Minerva McGonagall and desperate to find a match before you’re truly considered a spinster, you find yourself caught up in the whirlwind that is The Season. Will you be able to find a husband by August? Or is fortune just as fickle as the ton?

Swathes of fabric lined with lace, ruffles, and beads filled the great expanse of the room.

Yellows as pale as cream and blues as deep as midnight thrown over chase and chair. London’s dreary gloom seemed brighter the longer such a vibrant array of colors decorated the space. Lady Minerva McGonagall wasted no expense on the three debutantes she’d chosen to sponsor again this season.

Beside you, Mary eyed the fabrics with rapt attention.

You fingered the expensive satin silk of the dress nearest to you. Simple in silk, but a striking royal purple, it truly was a marvel of craftsmanship.

“I can’t believe how many dresses there are.” Mary’s Scottish accent appeared to be far less pronounced than what you might’ve imagined, but you three were sure to be an odd bunch. Lady McGonagall had sponsored you lot for two years already. A favor welcomed by your not-so-noble families. Or rather, your not-so-wealthy families.

“I’ve decided on new wardrobes for you this season. You will be married by the end of it, if I have any say. Mary’s are by the window and Lily’s are by the bed.”

Minerva’s sharp gaze turned to you. You’d had either the luck or misfortune (which one it was, you weren’t quite sure) to additionally spend the last few years as Minerva’s ward. Her rough edges were thorns you’d grown accustomed to, especially in her times attempting to make you a reputable lady.

“Your’s are by the chest of drawers.”

She’d certainly paid attention to detail. Mary’s dresses consisted almost entirely of her favorites: warm pinks and oranges. Brilliantly cut to showcase her clavicle, each dress appeared as if it would cover her breasts modestly but still draw attention to her long, slender neck. The simplicity of their silhouettes showcased the utterly perfect embroidery that decorated each bodice and skirt.

Lily’s were a myriad of greens, sprinkled with the occasional peach or yellow. Her soft, drapey dresses contrasted beautifully with the sleek lines of Mary’s attire.

Your own clothes appeared to be a quite suitable mixture of the two.

In moody shades of blue and violet, with the odd periwinkle and silver, you were honestly looking forward to donning the impressive garments. Any jewelry you wore would be borrowed from Lady McGonagall’s extensive collection. A collection, you were afraid to say, you’d miss dearly once you wed.

It was Lily that surged forward to examine her pieces, a chorus of thank yous from each of your lips as you did the same. Minerva smiled knowingly. Your dresses last year and the year before were beautiful, yes, but these actually suited you in a way those hadn’t. Three years of sponsoring the same girls had gone from a favour to fondness. She leaned onto her cane as her gaze flicked between you all. Still, she would be lying if she said she wasn’t eager to find you husbands.

“This is beautiful,” Lily breathed. In her hands, an elegant ensemble of a cream colored fabric hung. You grinned. If this was any indication of how this year’s season would go, you were more than ready. Jill, Minerva’s favorite maid, entered the room holding four sheets of familiar pale paper. Your eyes narrowed in delight. Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers were a joy every season. Mary reached for the pamphlet first. She knew better than anyone how gossip could be wielded as a weapon, and her eagerness to uncover the secrets of this year’s marriage mart was palpable. You felt the same.

Dearest Gentle Readers,

How lovely it is to greet you again. Our time away from Society has proven wonderfully refreshing indeed, though I would be quite the liar if I claimed to not miss you. Our extraordinary ton has now returned from our glorious reprieve, and it seems there are a many anxious mamas hoping to prey on the unsuspecting wiles of this Season’s eligible bachelors.

Last year, scandal swept through the ton when none other than Miss Narcissa Black married Duke Lucius Malfoy in secret after a supposedly whirlwind love affair. Hopefully, Mr. Sirius Black is as unbothered as he appears.

Regardless of the nearly disastrous ending to last year’s entertaining exploits, the new batch of debutantes seem sparkling indeed.

There is fierce Lady Charity Burbage, who proves to be a bold wonder amongst a meek crowd. Or perhaps one might find interest in Lady Aurora Sinistra, who I dare say is more brilliant and sharp than ever. Even Lady Pandora Rosier seems dreamier of late.

There is one thing for certain, reader: this season will be one to remember.

Keep your wits about you. Scandal lurks in every corner, as tricky as a hungry fox and more than ready to sink its claws into an unknowing victim. Guard your hearts, gentle ton, for I fear what I will write this season will be quite damning indeed.

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown

Aww, my little boys !! <3

hello !!! can i request a right person, wrong time with siri? maybe they broke up because of the war... and the reason is because siri doesn't want to put the reader into danger and then they meet again, all grown up and they still have feelings for each other and Siri has to grovel to win reader back again? And it ends with a happy ending (please) (Siri was the one who broke the relationship and reader was really hurt) it's very long yet vauge 😅

A CALL TO ARMS — S.BLACK

sirius black was the love of your life, and you were his. but sometimes higher priorities—and deep-seeded anxiety—can get in the way. but the invisible string of fate always brings people back together.

cw — fem!reader, details of the first wizard of war, reader and sirius have a messy and complicated relationship, harsh arguments, character death mentions, happy ending

sirius black x reader || hurt/comfort || 6.2k || requests open!!

a/n — let’s just pretend sirius doesn’t get avada’d like three weeks after this fic ends

The war put a strain on everybody. Some people had to leave their families to join the fight, some had to hide away to protect themselves from the Death Eaters.

Some didn’t have a family, anyone to worry about them coming home at the end of the day.

They threw themselves into it the hardest.

Then there was you and Sirius, a pair of outcasts who found solitude in each other. A pair who paid no greater devotion than protecting the people that you cared about from the ravages of Voldemort’s uprising.

You were barely eighteen when you both joined the Order, fresh out of Hogwarts and straight into the line of fire after the group had been offered a spot in Voldemort’s army and refused, leaving every one of you with a target on your back.

By the time you were twenty it almost seemed fruitless, with James and Lily being sent into hiding to protect them and their son under Dumbledore’s direct orders under fear for their continued safety and a Fidelius Charm placed over them to keep them safe. Sirius denied being their secret keeper with the explanation of it being too obvious a choice. What a mistake that was.

Then order members started dying.

And it all began to fall apart.

The brass framed picture in the entrance of the Black family home offered Sirius no empathy as he escaped the bitterness that October was serving him, the laughing faces of his friends and self-proclaimed family only serving to make his already dwindling morale dampen further.

Twenty-two people in the picture. And how many remained? Fourteen. In the span of five months.

It was Dorcus and Marlene that really did him over, and he could barely so much as glance in the direction of their hopeful smiles without feeling like he was going to throw up.

The trudging of his feet up the wooden stairs was proof enough of his arrival for any present members of the Order to hear, too fatigued and all together bleak at the continued state he was living in to announce his presence verbally.

“Sirius, sweetheart, you’re home thank goodness,” Not even the warmth of your arms around him or the relief in your voice as you pulled his head into your shoulder could satiate him anymore.

You shouldn’t have to be relieved that he walked through the door.

You shouldn’t have to hug him like it’s your final goodbye every time he leaves.

Every time you leave.

You didn’t deserve that. And neither did he.

“Godric you’re freezing, come and sit down,” You pull Sirius into his childhood bedroom with all of the care of a feather floating on a pool of water, squeezing his hands in yours like you’re trying to transfer your own heat to him.

He follows you with no real resistance, though he doesn’t make any move by himself, and you have to push his shoulders down to get him to sit in front of the lit fireplace that would hopefully quell the chill echoing across his skin.

You help him remove his coat with a sigh, dark frown lines marking your features as you take a seat beside him and rest the side of your head against his shoulder, your hand gently tracing over his to capture his palm in your own. He doesn’t return the small squeeze of your fingers.

You can’t blame him for being so dismal, the situation was something that nobody could make it through without a gargantuan crack in their emotional shield, but seeing Sirius display his almost funereal sentiment so fervently without so much as a hint of a mask was devastating.

Displaying even the tiniest glimmer of hopefulness was what allowed the Order to survive for so long, and Sirius couldn’t even muster that.

“Harry said his first word today,” You try to keep the conversation positive, ignore the downfall of everything around you and keep focusing on the small wins. “Dada of course, apparently Lily was pretty miffed,” You punctuate your sentence with a small laugh, although it’s more pathetic than genuine and even you can tell you’re doing a horrible job of trying to uplift Sirius’ spirit.

“They sent over a picture, Remus has it if you’d like to see—”

“Just stop.” Sirius shakes his head sharply, pulling his hand from yours and standing with his back to you.

“Sirius—”

“I don’t know why you keep trying to pretend that everything’s okay, it’s not. Our friends are dying and you’re acting like its completely fine.” There’s more malice in his voice than he’s intending, and logically you know that he doesn’t really mean to get so angry at you. It wasn’t you that was the problem, it was the world in which you were living.

But logic can often times get overridden by other facets.

“I am trying to stop anyone else from dying.” Your words are more desperate than harsh, and they’re not laced in anger like Sirius’ are, but they carry just the same amount of conviction. “If we lose hope then we may as well just hand ourselves over…”

There’s a stuttered exhale as you trail off, and Sirius swears he hears your voice crack as you try to take his hand in yours again. “I can’t bear to see you like this…”

“You should leave the Order.”

You’re almost not sure you heard him.

“What?”

“You don’t belong here, you’re not fit for this,” He sounds almost resigned, and his shoulders drop just enough that you’re not sure he really believes what he’s saying. “You should leave before you get hurt.”

There’s a moment where all you can really do is let out a breath of astonishment, and then there’s an overwhelming need to defend yourself against Sirius’ accusation. “I am perfectly fit for this, Dumbledore agreed that—”

“Well I don’t agree with it!” He cuts you off harshly, turning around so that you can see the anguish that’s drenching his features. “People are dying, our friends are dying, and you are on the goddamn list of whose next.”

He takes your upper arms in his hand and shakes you like it’s going to make you see his point, practically shouting at you as he desperately tries to get you to see his point of view. “You are a brilliant witch, and you are in so much danger that it makes me want to rip my heart out so I don’t have to worry about you any more—”

His rant doesn’t stop once his hands halt, and they stay gripped uncomfortably tight around your biceps to the point where you’re sure it’ll bruise. “Dorcus died because she was brilliant, Marlene died because her father was a muggle, you are like the two of them wrapped up in a package practically serving yourself up to the Death Eaters every time you step out of this goddamn house and I cannot take it anymore.”

Sirius practically pants as his yelling comes to a halt, and he almost immediately regrets getting riled up as he sees the reflection of the fireplace in your glassed over eyes.

“I love you. I love you so much and I can’t live like this anymore.” His hands move from your arms to cup the sides of your face, and you flinch at the contact like you’re afraid he’s going to hurt you.

It breaks Sirius’ heart.

“The Order is falling apart love… I don’t want you to be here when it collapses,”

You pull his hands from your face with yours at his wrists, shaking your head as you blink through clouds of tears. “I’m not leaving the Order, Sirius. You really think I would abandon my friends like that? My family? You?”

“Then I’ll make one of the hard choices for you,” Sirius lets his hands fall to his sides on your prompting, taking a step back from you to hide them in the pockets of his jeans. “I’m breaking up with you.”

“What—” There’s nothing but absolute betrayal written across your face, and Sirius almost breaks down immediately. “Sirius—”

“If you want to stay here and watch shit hit the fan then be my guest, but I will not put myself through watching your downfall.” He doesn’t give you the courtesy of replying before opening and slamming the door behind him as he leaves, but you’re not sure you’d be able to articulate anything even if he did, your only response being the start of a sob that echoes off of the empty walls and back into your ears to amplify your own anguish.

You move your belongings out of his room that same evening, taking refuge under Remus’ open arms as you cried yourself into an uneasy slumber, so emotionally exhausted that you could barely formulate any sense of coherency.

Lily and James died two days later.

The news hit you like a truck when Dumbledore relayed it to you, and whilst most of the Order were left in a blanket of shock, Sirius took off in a rage before he could even finish his sentence.

It was enough for you to push the grief aside to not cost you any more.

“Sirius wait—” You weave your way through the others and past Dumbledore to rush after him, the first words either of you had spoken in the other’s direction since the argument. “Where on earth do you think you’re going the Death Eaters might still be there—”

“I hope they are.” Sirius’ tone drips with venom as he pulls his motorcycle helmet from the coat rack at the front door, and you just barely catch his wrist before he has the chance to leave.

“You’re going on a suicide mission—”

“They murdered my brother, I have nothing to lose.” He again leaves the conversation with a slammed door, and you don’t know whether the possibility of his death or the fact that he’d seemingly accepted it hurt you more.

He had nothing to lose.

It was the biggest insult he could’ve possibly left you with.

And it’s all he did leave you with.

For twelve years.

You grieved the loss of Sirius like you did James and Lily, like he too had entered into an early grave of which he would never return. Azkaban may as well have been.

You were angry at first, disgustingly loathing the thought of what those twelve poor muggles had to endure as their final moments. You were less empathetic towards Peter’s fate, although your grief for him was replaced with a deep-seeded betrayal that sunk into your muscles all the same.

Then it settled into an uneven weight in the bottom of your chest, something that you carried with you from that point onward.

You moved out of England soon after, with nothing but a silent vow to Remus that if Voldemort were to ever return, that you’d be there, a final standing against the allegiance that stole your life from you.

You couldn’t stay there anymore, every street of London reminded you of him, of them, of all the people that you lost and how the prime years of your young adulthood were unceremoniously ripped from you under the false belief that you could actually make a difference.

As weeks turned into months, and then into years, there were days that passed where you didn’t think of what happened, of how your previous life had fallen apart and left you as a shell of yourself, and eventually, you managed to pick up the pieces and live your life like it hadn’t happened.

Apart from a single shard of your heart that had lodged itself at 12 Grimmauld Place, underneath the black silk sheets you and Sirius once shared.

You were thirty three when a letter from R.J.Lupin was sent through the letterbox of your house, and it was like those twelve years of growth and acceptance disappeared in an instant.

—

‘I hope this letter finds you well, I know I promised to contact you only for something of the upmost urgence regarding the resurgence of you know who, but I believe this is appropriately important.

Wormtail is alive. He was the one who caused those muggles to die without reason. Which leaves no question of Padfoot’s innocence.

I don’t know if you have kept up with the wizarding news, but he escaped from Azkaban, and is in a safe and secure location known only by the Order.

I understand if this news is too much for you to digest, but he has asked me personally for your consideration in returning to the place where everything began.

Yours sincerely,

R.J.Lupin’

—

The aftermath of your reading was a mess of shallow breaths and an elevated heart rate.

Panic.

You hadn’t felt so horrible since the day that James and Lily had died, the day one of your closest friends betrayed you and the love of your life was taken away presumably to never be seen again.

And now he was just out there? You were just adjusting to living without him, and now he was being thrust back into your life by his own doing.

He threw you away right before your house of cards toppled, and now he was trying to worm his way back into your life?

It took you almost three weeks of staring at the sheet of parchment before you made a decision, and it ended with the letter going up in flames and you watching on with a sunken expression, no tears left to cry over the man who’d ruined you.

All of those months where you’d pondered, where you’d asked yourself over and over again what might’ve happened if you’d have just not spoken to Sirius that day, if you’d just let him rest like he’d obviously wanted rather than try pathetically to lift his mood.

If it might’ve meant he would regard you as something to live for and stop him from blindly running off to avenge James and Lily without a second thought.

All of it went straight down the drain. Because you could have him back if you wanted. But you didn’t. You didn’t want to go back and see him again because the minute his name invaded your mind all you could think about was that god awful argument and it’s aftermath.

And it ripped you apart every single time.

—

“She’s not coming Pads…” Remus’ hand on Sirius’ shoulder was almost apprehensive as he gave it a soft squeeze.

It was almost three months of having to watch Sirius treat the front door like it was his lifeline, his head turning at the smallest creak of the wood in the fruitless hope that when it opened you would be on the other side.

“I know…” Sirius lets out a small, pathetic laugh as he rakes his fingers through his hair, his facade of indifference threatening to break with every breath he took. “Can’t blame me for trying though right?” His voice betrays his devastation, tone wavering and quiet, cracking when he tries to push it to sound more convicting.

“Pads…”

“I’m fine,” Sirius shakes his head with a dismissive hand, clearing his throat and blinking away the starts of tears from the corners of his eyes. “I’m gonna go get some sleep, gonna need all I can get if we’re gonna fight these sons of bitches hey?” Sirius nudges Remus with his elbow as he plays a characature of his former self, although it’s poorly executed at best.

“Yeah…” Remus consciously suppresses a sympathetic sigh that tries to escape his mouth, pressing his lips together. “Goodnight Pads,”

“G’night Moony,”

—

There’s eighteen months of radio silence before another letter is slotted through your door, and you have half the mind to burn it on sight when the familiar red seal is left face up on your patio tiling, but the handwriting on the back wasn’t Remus’, and it was definitely not Sirius’ either.

The scrawl of your address was almost unmistakably Dumbledore’s, and you were left in an emotional state of uneven limbo as you debated why he of all people would be personally sending you a letter.

Logically, you already knew the reason, but your brain chose to ignore that logic as you ripped the envelope open, only for that denial to be thrown right back at your face once the seal of the Order inked itself into the folded parchment.

You didn’t even need to read the letter to know what was inside it.

Three words.

Invitatio ad arma.

A call to arms.

You barely remember packing your bags, leaving the sense of normalcy you’d built over the past fourteen years to throw yourself back into the line of fire and more devastatingly, right back to Sirius Black.

The train ride to England almost felt like a fever dream, your body left in a state of dissociation where you couldn’t discern whether your actions were real or just a part of some vivid nightmare that you couldn’t wake from no matter how much you tossed and turned.

And by the time you reached the front door of number 12 Grimmauld Place it felt like you were right back where you started, just barely twenty one thrust into a war that could leave you in your grave at any unfortunate minute.

It felt almost foreign to you as you entered, the hallways that once proved to be your substitute home reduced to unfamiliar sights covered in dust and peeling wallpaper. There was no brass lamps to warm the sight, no picture of your closest friends on the wall, not even the mirror that had been hung beside the door had survived, reduced to a half shattered mess that hadn’t been replaced under higher priorities.

“Oh—” The slightly surprised sentiment draws you away from your almost depressing nostalgia, drawn instead towards an almost perfect capture of teenage James Potter, down to the slanted circular glasses sat over his nose bridge.

It’s enough for you to genuinely consider for a second that you’d actually stepped back in time, right into your graduation year when you were all so young and full of hope.

But it couldn’t be James. As much as your heart desperately wished it was.

“You’re another member of the original Order of the Phoenix right?” The boy takes a few steps towards you, wonder still lingering in his eyes despite the film of knowledge that cloud them. Knowledge of just how unfortunately dark the world actually is. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m—”

”Harry…” Your interruption is barely more than a breath of air as you take in the sight of one of your closest friend’s child, a child that he never got to see grow into an almost perfect replica of himself. “You look just like your father…”

There’s a mix of shock and a small amount of sadness in his expression at your statement, and it’s enough for the glimpses of Lily to shine through in his demeanour. “Thank you,”

It’s enough for your eyes to well with tears, and you blink them away with a small clearing of your throat to regain your composure in front of the boy. He didn’t need to see you cry over the fact that he looked like one of your dead friends with the personality of another. That wasn’t fair.

“It’s nice to finally meet you Harry, properly,” You extend your hand almost hesitantly as you introduce yourself, and he takes it graciously in his own with a small sympathetic smile. Being proxy comforted by a teenager, how pathetic.

“It’s nice to meet you too, my parents have good friends,” You give the boy a small nod with a small, sad smile, and he mirrors it himself in turn.

“I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve any of this,” You let your hand rest on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly in a terrible attempt at consoling the sadness riddling his expression. “You’re just a boy Harry,”

“I know,” He gives a small sigh and a more confident smile, sympathy lingering in the creases of his cheeks in a perfectly Lily fashion. “I’m sorry for your loss too, I know they probably meant a great deal to you,”

“They still do, that’s why I’m here,”

“Thank you,” He sounds more confident in his thanks this time, more determined, and the remnants of his parents continue to show on full display as his focus returns to the reason you’d arrived here in the first place. “We’re about to sit down for dinner, join us?”

“I’ll be there shortly,” You give Harry a small nod and another small squeeze of his shoulder before excusing yourself up the stairs to leave your belongings.

—

“Good evening everyone,” Your voice is taught and awkwardly flat as you push open the door to the dining room, and you stand there with your hands wrung together behind your back as your eyes flicker over the room.

There are so many people that the table is almost entirely too crowded, and a mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces in your presence, although those who do recognise you leave their seats almost immediately to greet you properly.

“It’s good to see you,” Remus reaches you first, wrapping you in a secure hug that you happily return with your own.

“It’s good to see you too, Remus, it’s been too long,”

“Welcome back, we need all of the human shields we can get,” Mad Eye’s reuinionative statement is much less heart felt, but you give him a small laugh and a “Thank you,” nonetheless.

Then there was Sirius. Stood at his chair, not daring to walk into your little bubble under fear of whatever consequences that might come from it.

He looked almost as you remembered him, but he was leaner, more gaunt, his hair more unruly and his skin even more paper-white than the almost impossibly pale complexion of his teenage years.

He was still Sirius, but he was different, and it took less than half a second of eye contact for him to realise that you were different too.

“Welcome back,” His voice is hesitant, almost catching in his throat as his brain catches up to the fact that you’re stood in front of him, less than ten feet away after all of those years he’d spent desperately dreaming of what it would feel like to have you in his arms again.

Now you were here. And you were a stranger.

“Thank you,”

Dinner progresses pretty much how you expected, a mix of awkwardly introducing yourself to the Order’s new members and horrifically failing at avoiding eye contact with Sirius from across the table.

Then the topic of interest moves to the Order’s plans, and things seem to spin into a downwards spiral all too quickly.

“We don’t have enough members to reliably be able to pull this off,” The argument was entirely valid from a logical standpoint, a weakness that quite a few of the Order seemed to have choice opinions about.

“Yeah well we’re not getting any new members are we?” Sirius leans back in his chair exasperatedly. “With the way Fudge is portraying Dumbledore and the lack of official credibility, we’re on our own here, there’s no use in waiting around,”

“I’m inclined to agree, we all know you know who isn’t going to waste any time,

“It’s reckless,” You shake your head with furrowed eyebrows. “We not ready to face something like that head on.”

“We’re never going to be ready,” Sirius shakes his head with a sigh. “We have to take action before he has the chance to build himself back to where he was all those years ago.”

“Sirius is right, we need to do something,” Sirius gestures towards Harry’s response like it’s the final nail in the coffin against your reasoning.

“Harry, sweetheart, I appreciate your enthusiasm but you don’t know the extent of what we’re dealing with,” Your voice is as gentle as it is assertive, not wanting to put him down too much but also wanting to make sure he understood the true extent of what was going on.

“He killed my friend in front of me—”

“And he’s killed dozens of ours,” You shake your head softly but firmly. “Jumping in without a plan is only going to make things worse, trust me.”

He seems more than a little shot down, but he gives you a small nod of understanding nonetheless as he backs down from his standing.

Sirius doesn’t pay you the same mind.

“So you’re suggesting we just wait in hiding for what, forever? We need to act,”

“The last time you ‘acted’, Sirius, you spent twelve years in Azkaban for it.” Your rebuttal holds none of the softness that was present when you were talking to Harry, and you can see it eroding the calcified shield behind Sirius’s eyes.

“That wasn’t my fault,” Sirius presses his teeth together to keep himself from raising his voice, his back straightening alongside his defensiveness. “At least I’m trying to do something, if you don’t want to contribute maybe you shouldn’t be a part of the Order at all,”

“I will not have this argument with you again Sirius!” His chastation seems to finally get under your skin as you rise yourself from your chair with your hands on the dining table, ignorantly ignoring the uncomfortable gazes of everyone else present as you’re forced back into that evening fourteen years go all over again.

“Okay, I think it’s time we called it a night,” Remus, seemingly the only normally functioning person at the table, rises from his chair slowly, taking your shoulders in his hands to guide you away from the group and calm you down.

“Yes right you are Remus,” Molly stands up with a nod that’s almost too enthusiastic clasping her hands together. “Off to bed, all of you,”

You can practically hear the lingering exasperation in Remus’ breathing as he leads you up the stairs and into the room he was staying in, and the second he shut the door behind you you knew what you were in for.

“You need to speak to him.”

“I know,”

“Properly.”

“I know,”

You’re sure the sigh you let out echoes across the house’s first floor, and it’s enough for Remus’ eyes to shift into displaying a concerning amount of sympathy in your direction.

“He misses you, you know,” Remus takes a seat on the edge of his bed with a soft sigh. “He said the thought of seeing you again was the only thing that got him through Azkaban,”

“Yeah well he wouldn’t’ve gone there in the first place if he hadn’t’ve been such a hot-headed twat,” You wouldn’t lie that Remus’ statement didn’t hit you a little where it hurt, but the lingering anger towards Sirius’ situation was clearly still more forefront in your mind.

“It’s a carried trait in all of us ’m‘fraid,” Remus tilts his head knowingly, and you have half the mind to roll your eyes at the clear implication of what he’s saying.

But he isn’t wrong, not really.

“You know where to find him,”

There’s a small moment of silence, then a sigh. “Do I have to?”

“The longer you wait the worse it’ll be,”

Sometimes you hate how logical Remus can be.

With another sigh and a loll of your head, you reluctantly stuff your hands in your pockets and turn towards the bedroom door, muttering a soft—and only half genuine—“thanks,” in his direction as you leave.

The wooden door that barricaded you from the former love of your life felt more like steel than anything else. Tall, dark, and intimidating to the point where you couldn’t even consciously lift your hand to knock against it under the blood rushing behind your ears from how fast your heart was pounding in your ribcage.

It really shouldn’t be so scary, you’d spent weeks, months in that room when you’d originally joined the Order, yet now it felt entirely foreign to you.

Maybe it was the fact that the wood was slowly rotting away with how unkept it was. Maybe it was the knowledge of what—who—was on the other side of it. Or maybe, your mind was just so completely and utterly fucked that the idea of confronting the consequences of your own actions was more nerve-wracking than the idea of standing face to face in a death match with Voldemort himself.

You stand there staring dumbly at the door for almost two minutes, and when it opens your eyes widen like it’s a new form of magic that you’d never encountered.

Sirius halts halfway out the door, arm stretched straight with the doorknob still in hand as his face seems to go through an insurmountable number of emotions in the half-second it takes for him to realise you’re there.

You don’t say anything as you make eye-contact, head immediately ducking downward and stepping aside so that he can leave without you blocking his path, but he just stays there, staring at you like you had been the door, and it was becoming increasingly uncomfortable by the second.

You clear your throat with a feigned cough, pursing your lips together with a muttered “excuse me,” as you turn around to leave, but Sirius catches your wrist in his hand before you even manage to take the first step.

“Wait—” He loosens his grasp almost immediately after he feels a resistance, but his eyes convey just how determined he was to keep you where you were. “Let’s talk, please?”

There’s a hint of desperation in his tone, and you almost crumble on that alone, but you manage to maintain your composure with a small shake of your head and a gentle pull of your wrist from his hand. “I don’t think it’s worth it Sirius, not anymore,”

“Don’t say that, we can fix this,” Sirius mirrors your head shake with his own. “You just need to talk to me,”

“I tried talking to you Sirius, and look where it got us,” You gesture between the two of you with exasperation in your tone.

There’s a small pause where the two of you share and almost identical mask of composure over your agony.

“It just wasn’t meant to be, that’s it,”

“That’s not true,” Sirius shakes his head again, more confidently this time, and his inky black curls bounce against his shoulders like they’re trying to torment you with the memories of your fingers raking through them. “We can fix this, us, we just have to try,”

“I don’t want to argue with you anymore,” You lower your gaze away from his so you don’t have to see the heartbreak in his irises. “Especially not over this…”

“Then don’t, let’s work this out properly, like adults,” He reaches out his hand cautiously towards yours, and you flinch away as your fingers make contact. “Please,”

“Sirius…”

“I’m sorry.” Sirius lets out a heavy, pathetic breath as he retreats his hand to run it through his hair. “I am so sorry. I made the biggest mistake of my life and it cost me the person that I love more than life and I have suffered the consequences of it every day for the last fourteen years.”

Sirius lets his hands fall to his side with a start, voice beginning to tremble under the strain of his emotions as he desperately tries to voice everything that he’d bottled up over the last decade and a half before you leave him to rot in his own depression again. “I spent every hour in Azkaban imagining what it would be like to see you again, to hear your voice, to hold you and tell you that you’re the one thing in this goddamn hell that we live in that actually makes anything worth fighting for,”

The breaths between his words are shallow and weak, and your expression starts to blur as his eyes glass over with the beginnings of tears. “I love you so much, and I’m so— sorry that you had to live through everything I forced on you and I just—“ He takes a sharp, stuttering breath in. “—I need you to know that I will spend the rest of my life devoted to you, to correcting what I’ve done even if you don’t so much as spare me a glance,”

He’s not sure when the tears started running over his eyelids, but he can feel them fall in drops to dapple the ivory skin of his fingers. “And if I die tomorrow, I’ll take whatever punishment hell has to give me so that you can rest easy,”

The end of his rant is echoed by laboured breathing and a horrific attempt at muffling a sob that leaves his throat, bouncing off the walls of the hallway to settle into your muscles as you stand stationary in an astonished silence.

You’re not sure what to say. You’re not sure there’s anything you can say. How on earth are you supposed to respond to something like that? Something so desperate and raw and real?

Sirius Black, after fourteen years of radio silence, still loved you like you’d never parted.

“Sirius…”

And you’d be absolutely damned if you weren’t the same.

“I forgive you…”

It’s like a tsunami of relief ravages Sirius’ body at your words, barely a whisper escaping your mouth but invading his ear canals like a nuclear explosion, and it’s enough for that sliver of composure remaining to erode under the waves of his tears until he’s sobbing into his hands, hunched over with trembling shoulders as he lets everything go all at once.

“I’m so sorry—“

His final apology is doused in so much heartbreak it might as well rip your heart right out of your chest, and your at his side almost immediately, gently pulling his hand from his face to pull his head into your shoulder with a soft shush of consolation.

He clings to you like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance to, tears damping the shoulder of your shirt and his arms wrapped so tightly around your torso you’re not sure he intends to ever let go. You’re not sure you’d complain if he didn’t.

That familiar musky scent of cigarettes and faux leather hits your nose once he’s close enough, and that’s where you break too, silent tears streaming down your face as you bury your nose in his hair.

You’re eternally grateful that everyone on this floor of the house is already asleep, either that or just polite enough not to interrupt the two of you out in the hallway, because the state the both of you were in was definitely not meant to be seen by other people.

A desolate, broken side to the two of you only trusted in the company of the other.

“Stay with me tonight, please…” His plea is barely more than a mutter against your shoulder, and you’re sure he wouldn’t even have to ask to know what your answer would be.

And so you find yourself back where you started, tangled up underneath the silky black sheets of Sirius’ bed in the warmth of his embrace, that tiny shard of your heart finally recovered and back in it’s rightful place.

Right where you belong.

You will be missed by many Chadwick! Thank you for such an amazing experience with Black Panther!❤️🥺

i think this screenshot is a sign to post chapter 10 (😘)

I think you're right👀👀👀

Pink Pastels Pt 10

Description: Your rooftop rendezvous with Spiderman. NSFW content below the cut

“He phrased it all wrong, good girls don’t suck dick, they take cock.” Miguel says it slowly, and seductively, watching as your breathing hitches, your heart rate speeds up, and your body temperature rises.

“Yeah?” You ask, half breathless, your hand settling on the blanket right next to his knee.

He nods, twirling a lock of your hair around his finger. “Yeah, they look all pretty, and take all the pleasure you can give them, until they’re a beautiful, babbling mess.”

“O-oh…” Your face is adorable, eyes looking anywhere but his masked face.

“Look at me.” He orders, lightly, not to scare you, never to scare you.

Your eyes flicker to his, and he preens under your gaze, his free hand wrapping around your waist, fingers splayed across your clothed skin. “Good girl.”

He sees you rub your thighs together ever so slightly, and it drives him wild. He can’t fuck you, you have a boyfriend, and you don’t even know it’s Miguel under the mask, it wouldn’t be the same. But he does have another idea.

He trails his hands down your body, watching your face for any signs of fear.

“What else did he phrase wrong?” You ask with an adorable nervousness coloring your tone.

He can tell you want him, not just because his suit is giving him your bio signs, but by the way you inhale, and the way you lean towards him, hanging onto his every word.

He brushes a thumb over your lips. “How long has it been since he’s tasted you?” You avert your eyes, and he lightly taps your cheek with his forefinger. “Don’t turn from me Querida, I want to see those pretty eyes.”

You do as he says, and he hums in satisfaction, moving his hand to cup your face, thumb still resting on the center of your lips.

“So long, Spiderman.” You breathe, your lips moving against his thumb.

“Corazón.” He says, “not Spiderman, not now.”

You repeat the word after him, a little clumsily, but the sound of it makes him hide his face in your neck, his fangs begging to break through and claim you.

“It’s been so long, corazón.” You say, once he raises his head.

“Allow me to repent for his sins, then.”

Your eyes are wide, lips parting in surprise when his hands leave your face to grasp your thighs, pulling you forward, the bottom half of his mask dissolving once he’s lined up with your clothed core.

He’s dreaming, he has to be. You’re there before him, pretty little sundress bunched up around your hips, damp cloth covering that perfect pussy he’s seen night after night in your bathroom mirror.

“Oh Querida, you smell so good.” He presses kisses to your thighs, careful not to do more than nip you, mindful of the venom in his fangs.

“Corazón, please…” Your voice is quiet, but he can smell your arousal, and he rips off your underwear, tracking where it falls, intent on taking it home with him.

And then he feasts, large hands holding your thighs apart, as he devours you, tongue like silk through your folds, moaning at the taste, his lips wrapping around your clit.

You gasp at the feeling, and it goes straight to his cock.

“I don’t—fuck, um, I haven’t really shaved, and you really don’t need to all this for me, I mean Todd told me guys don’t like it when…” You’re nervous, insecure, and it breaks his heart.

He pulls back, pressing soft kisses to your skin before he rests his head on your thigh, giving you a reassuring smile. “It’s okay y/n, let me take care of you, forget what Todd says, focus on me.”

“Yeah, but what about—" You’re cut off by him diving back in, mouthing at your core like a man starved, and your eyes flutter shut.

You taste divine, and he needs more. He locks his arms around your thighs, his hands spread on your soft skin, his nose brushing your clit. “You’re so pretty, Querida, so perfect.”

“Corazón, corazón, I need more, please…” You beg, hands grabbing at his shoulders, your nails digging into the fabric of his suit.

“Anything, mi vida, I’ll give you anything.” He promises, as he plunges his tongue into your entrance, his words vibrate against you, and he moans when your walls clench around him.

“You, corazón, I want you.” You gasp, bucking your hips against his face, smearing your juices over his skin.

He could die like this and be content, but he wants more, he wants to see how desperate he can make you.

“Get on top of me.” He orders, not giving you time to react, instead Miguel holds you up with one arm and lies on his back.

He has you facing the street, hands able to find purchase on the ledge, as he pulls you down, the scent of you flooding his senses, your thighs framing his head.

“Spid—” He pulls you down further, seating you fully on top of him, lips and tongue working in tandem to drive you closer and closer to your peak, his suit growing tighter and tighter as you pant and whine above him.

 “Corazón, please, touch me.” Your head is hanging down, he can see the way your eyes are screwed shut, your expression is all he imagined while he watched you pleasure yourself, and now he gets to see it—be the cause of it.

He drinks you in, slipping two fingers in to aid his tongue, and your eyes fly open, locking with his.

You’re so beautiful, truly he thinks you might be an angel, a goddess, a succubus, with the way you begin to ride his face, rutting against his nose, crying his pretend name over and over again.

“You sound so beautiful, mi reina, sing for me.” He pleads, grinding your hips down on him.

Your eyes flutter shut once more. “I—fuck, Miguel, I—”

You’re singing for him. His name slipping from your lips unknowingly, and he loses it, free arm wrapping around your waist, his tongue bullying your clit, his fingers finding that spot within you, in a record time, he applauds himself for that, and curls against it mercilessly, a punishing pace that has you screaming.

“Miguel, I can’t, it’s too much, Miguel—” Your words are resistant, but you grind down on him, making no attempts to escape him.

“Lo siento, querida, no puedo parar, no puedo. Sabes demasiado buena” He strokes the clothed skin of your back to comfort you, his words muffled by your pleading. Trsl: I’m sorry, sweetheart/my dear, I can’t stop, I can’t. You taste too good.

Then you crash, your muscles tightening, hips moving wildly, and then you go boneless and Miguel slides from under you, wrapping his lips around his fingers and savoring the taste.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—I’m so embarrassed, that isn’t even your name and—”

He tilts your chin up, and presses his thumb to your lips, like a vixen you part them unconsciously, and he groans, his cock aching. “No apology needed; I understand.”

“No but really I—”

“Y/N.” He warns playfully, the lower half of his masks reappearing.

You fall silent, and he feels a slow curl of lust. How obedient could you be? If he stayed to find out, he’d fuck you on this dirty roof, and he refused to debase you in such a way.

“Good girl, now go inside and get some rest.” Then he stands and swings away, desperate to find a quiet corner and take care of himself, your ripped underwear tucked safely away.

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @imisshim2much, @wanderlustingcastaway, @lynn-9703, @sleepyamaya, @erensbbg, @sweetea85, @ilovemiguelohara, @natthernandez, @stxrrielle, @ihateuguys, @jenniferdixon05207, @blep-23, @luvisaaxoxo, @minimari415, @emerald-09, @violet-19999, @kenchosaikuo, @groovycass, @youcantseem3, @lovefks, @nightshxdex, @dusstory, @aesniri, @munsonssecretblog, @kirke-is-my-name, @starbearieee, @chatoicboy, @act1839, @needsleep3000, @totally-not-georgia, @witchy-lizard, @cxmeiloorun7, @justrandomlolidk, @chimpkinnuggies

Threads ; part one

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Language, angst, anxiety? Let me know if there's more!

A/N 💌 Part one is finally here, thank you for all being so patient with me and I promise the future parts will be better!

Interaction keeps me motivated to write, so I would love to hear your thoughts!

Series Masterlist!

The Great Hall is thrumming with activity as the anticipation of the new school year sets in. 

Sunlight pours through the windows, casting a warm, golden hue onto the tables and cold walls. The clinking of cutlery melds with the lively chatter and bursts of laughter that permeate the hall. Students eagerly catch up with their friends after the summer break, their faces illuminated with excitement and anticipation for the year ahead.

"I don’t know if I’m quite ready for this year." You admit softly. Lily, seated to your left, casts a surprised glance in your direction. Your tone carries a hint of nervousness, a stark difference from your usual excitement for the new school year.

As seventh year begins, the reality of it all felt surreal, almost as if time had slipped through your fingers without warning. Contemplating life beyond Hogwarts seemed daunting, a foggy landscape you weren't quite prepared to navigate. The thought of a future without the familiar halls and comforting routines left you feeling unsettled. Questions about your path post-Hogwarts lingered causing anxiety to tighten in your stomach. The uncertainty of what lay ahead, and where your friendships would stand in the grand scheme of things, clouded your mind.

"Because this is the year you find your soulmate?" Marlene's question hung in the air, causing your stomach to sink even further.

Soulmates were tethered by a thread, an intangible connection that tightens with proximity, drawing them closer by an irresistible pull. As their 18th birthday approached, the magnetic pull between soulmates intensified, drawing them closer together in an undeniable bond. 

Even in their younger years, soulmates could sense the faint tug of their connection, though it often was difficult to discern between fleeting infatuation and the unbreakable bond between soulmates. However, as the milestone birthday drew nearer, the pull became unmistakable, a magnetic force guiding them to their soulmate. 

At least, that's what you've heard from those who have experienced it firsthand.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that.” You confirm, and Lily sends you an understanding look. Neither of you had found your soulmates, while Marlene had found her soulmate in Dorcas.

The timing of finding one's soulmate varied greatly from person to person. Some discovered theirs early on in life, while others didn't find theirs until mere days before their 18th birthday. It all depended on the person and how open they were to the connection.

"We'll be going through it together." Lily says, her smile soft as she bumped her shoulder against yours. It did offer some comfort. Lily Evans had been your best friend since first year, and the thought of her being by your side made the upcoming year feel a bit more bearable.

"What if James is your soulmate?" You ask, your tone laced with playful teasing. However, Lily's hopeful expression catches you off guard, prompting you to shift your gaze towards Marlene in shock. Across the table, Marlene and Dorcas appear just as taken aback by Lily's unexpected reaction. It's a stark contrast from the adamant denials she would have offered last year.

"Maybe he is." Lily says quietly, her tone nonchalant as she offers a simple shrug, as if what she just said isn't a big deal.

“Are you..When did this happen?” Dorcas asks, and you and Marlene eye Lily curiously.

Since the moment you met him, Lily had been skillfully evading James's advances, urging him to seek out his true soulmate rather than pursuing her. Despite Lily's dismissals, James remained steadfast in his belief that she was the one destined for him. Deep down, you sensed a potential soulmate connection between them, but you never brought up the subject with Lily, knowing she would vehemently deny the idea.

Lily looks up with feigned innocence, “What?”

Marlene sighs, “Lily Evans, don’t you dare play dumb. When did your feelings towards James change?” 

"I don’t know. Over the summer, I guess, I realized I’ve been a bit unfair to him," She sighs. "He’s been nothing but kind, and I’ve just blown him off. And honestly, he was on my mind most of the summer."

"Merlin, we've barely been here for two hours, and the soulmate bonds are already starting." Marlene grins, amused.

"I didn't say I thought he was mine!" Lily cries out.

"You said maybe. That heavily implies that you do." You chuckle at the panicked look on Lily’s face, fully aware that she's going to be teased about this relentlessly.

"Have you felt a pull with him?" Dorcas asks, and Lily's cheeks flush with a delicate shade of pink.

“I mean, yes. But couldn’t that just be the annoyance I feel towards him half the time?” Lily asks.

"With that logic, you and Sirius are soulmates." Marlene interjects, her grin mischievous as she takes a sip of her tea, her gaze fixed on you over the brim of her mug. Your expression sours at the mere mention of his name, a subtle shift in mood palpable in the air.

“There is no way that Sirius Black is my soulmate.” You snark, the mere thought of Sirius causing your stomach to knot with intense emotion. Hatred, you conclude.

It's the mere mention of Sirius Black that tends to stir up the worst in you. His name alone triggers a cascade of emotions within you, igniting a visceral reaction that you struggle to contain. Just the thought of him is enough to set your nerves on edge, reminding you of past conflicts and tensions that still linger beneath the surface.

It's not as though you hadn't attempted to be friendly with Sirius. Shortly after your arrival at Hogwarts, James Potter had introduced himself to you and Lily in the Gryffindor common room. He was accompanied by Remus, and while James eagerly engaged Lily in conversation, you found yourself drawn to Remus, the two of you hitting it off. You chatted for what felt like hours, so engrossed in your conversation that you barely noticed Sirius and Peter entering the common room.

However, the moment your eyes landed on Sirius, it felt as though the air had been knocked out of your lungs. For a brief second you had wondered if he was your soulmate. Everything blurred into a hazy backdrop, your eyes unable to part from his figure.

Remus didn’t miss the way you seemed to drift away from the conversation, your gaze fixed on Sirius as he made his way over to where you all were seated. You and Remus occupied the couch, while Lily and James were comfortable in their own armchairs. Sirius and Peter hovered nearby, a curious expression etched across their features, clearly unsure who the two unfamiliar girls engaged in conversation with their friends were.

Remus had introduced you while James and Lily remained preoccupied, not yet noticing the two boys, "Mates, this is Y/n," Remus had said, his warm smile welcoming.

Peter had been friendly and eager, extending his hand with enthusiasm as he shared a bit about himself. But Sirius remained silent, his expression etched with a subtle frown. When you attempted to engage him in conversation, he responded with curt one-word answers, leaving you feeling increasingly self-conscious, questioning what you might have done wrong.

Remus had assured you that Sirius wasn't usually like that, and he promised that the next time you saw him, he would likely be more talkative and outgoing. You clung to hope, eagerly anticipating a change in Sirius' demeanor, only to be met with disappointment when his behavior remained unchanged. In the company of others, he exuded friendliness, cracking jokes and radiating outgoing energy. 

Yet, when his attention turned to you, he completely shifted, hardly communicating and barely sparing you a glance.

You couldn't figure out what you might have done wrong. From the moment you met Sirius, you had been nothing but friendly, offering a warm smile and introducing yourself with genuine enthusiasm. Lily, who shared many similarities with you, greeted Sirius in much the same manner, yet he responded to her without hesitation. It left you wondering: what had been so different about your interaction with him?

Over time, frustration crept in, and you found yourself growing increasingly sarcastic or curt in your interactions with him. Before long, your relationship devolved into incessant bickering and exchanging snide comments.

Any inkling that Sirius might be your soulmate was swiftly forgotten.

"Oi! Princess! You talking about me over there?" Sirius' voice cuts through the chatter, drawing your attention to the Marauders down the table. His cocky smirk meets your gaze, and for a fleeting moment, you wonder if he overheard your conversation. But he's too far away to have eavesdropped, yet close enough to call out to you, and his voice effortlessly grabs the attention of quite a few other students at the Gryffindor table. 

The students in your year hardly flinch, accustomed to the heated banter that often erupted between you and Sirius. Observing the familiar fighting between you and Sirius was almost expected; it wouldn't have felt like the first day of school without it for some of the students.

“Not everything revolves around you, Black.” You retort, rolling your eyes at his arrogance. Anger begins to simmer within you, heat radiating through your body as frustration builds.

You assume he must have just noticed you, considering you've been had a peaceful morning so far. But little did you know, Sirius had fixed his gaze on you the moment he entered the hall, and he's been eager to get under your skin. Anything to capture your attention.

Sirius, undeterred, flashes a grin that seems to stretch from ear to ear. “So mean already. Didn’t you miss me? The months without you were unbearable.” He calls, his tone dripping with amusement, clearly deriving great enjoyment from riling you up.

“Do you really think I spend my free time thinking about you?” You're sending him an irritated frown, but your eyes are lit up with a fire that's reserved only for him. It's the same look you get every time the two of you fight, and he loves it.

"I think you do, princess. I think I drive you crazy.” He declares with that smug grin plastered on his face, igniting a burning sensation in your stomach.

You remain silent, too consumed by anger to muster a response. His words strike a chord because, deep down, you know he's right. He has a way of driving you to the brink of frustration. You have wracked your brain, relentlessly trying to decipher why he harbors such animosity towards you and where you might have gone wrong with him.

You're momentarily caught off guard, your mind racing to come up with a response that doesn't betray your irritation, much less let Sirius think he's gotten to you. Fortunately, Remus swiftly engages him in conversation, likely sensing the tension brewing on your face.

"I'm telling you, there's a connection there." Marlene insists, and you shoot her a glare, prompting a laugh to escape her lips.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

The initial night back at Hogwarts always proved the most challenging for you. It took a few nights before you could finally settle into the unfamiliar bed and drift off to sleep without difficulty. The weight of it being your final year lingered heavily in your mind, along with the daunting task of uncovering your soulmate.

Seated before the crackling fire, you enveloped yourself in the warmth of your blanket, captivated by the dancing of the flames. Your silent wish lingered in the air - that, perhaps, if you remained in this cozy atmosphere long enough, fatigue would gradually claim you.

"Up late thinking of me, princess?" Sirius's voice breaks the silence, causing your body to tense reflexively. You shoot him a glare over your shoulder as he settles into the floor beside you, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames instead of meeting yours.

"What are you doing?" You quip, your tone laced with irritation. Sirius glances in your direction, leaning back on his palms with a subtle smirk playing on his lips. Amusement dances in his eyes as he takes in your furrowed brows and the unmistakable look of irritation etched across your features.

“Warming up. It’s rather cold in the dorm,” He says, before glancing down at the blanket that’s wrapped around your figure. “Care to share? ”

“Get fucked,” You huff, pulling the blanket tighter around your figure, your gaze fixed on the fireplace as you ignore Sirius's laughter, “Why are you sitting here? Go somewhere else.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I’m not in the mood to deal with you.” You snark, your hopes of relaxing by the fire dashed by the unexpected disruption.

“And when are you?” Sirius's tone carries a teasing edge, and a mischievous grin tugs at his lips as he observes your bristling reaction. 

He longs for you to turn and meet his gaze, to shoot him the scathing glare he's so accustomed to receiving.

You turn sharply, your eyes narrowing into thin slits as you fix them on Sirius, a silent warning brewing in your gaze. There she is, he thinks.

“Go somewhere else.” You repeat, staring Sirius down.

“No.” He declares, shifting his position to squarely face you, leaving no doubt that he has no intention of backing down or leaving anytime soon.

“What’s your problem?” You grit out your words, and Sirius narrows his eyes at you as though you've struck a nerve. His reaction is swift, catching you off guard. While you and Sirius have always engaged in banter, he had never looked at you with such palpable hatred before.

“You.” He snaps, his voice dripping with disdain, devoid of its usual teasing lilt that never fails to irk you. Instead, his expression morphs into one of genuine animosity, a stark departure from the usual banter that fuels your frustration.

“Why? What have I ever done to you?” You're worked up now, your heart thumping with frustration as you pivot to fully face him. In your angered state, you miscalculate the proximity between you, and you're startled to find yourselves mere inches apart. Neither of you budges, both refusing to back away, as doing so would feel like conceding defeat.

Neither of you speaks, the air heavy with tension as you stare at each other through narrowed eyes, chests heaving with unresolved emotions. And in a heart-stopping moment, you feel it—the undeniable tug, the unspoken connection between you.

Your mouth parts in surprise, caught off guard by the intensity of the moment. Before you can truly react, Sirius rises abruptly and strides back to his room, leaving you sitting in stunned silence by the fireplace.

TAGS: @daisiesformylove @idkbbyx3 @dreamingofmarauders @siriuslyjanhvi @urmomw4ntsme @arwensloanebarnes @harahettania @kitchenbread @ghostheartbeat @dovahqueen22 @y0urm0m12 @thebiggestnaturaldisaster @opalesquegirl @galaxystern08 @scvtdy @123iloveyou456

🏠 🚧₊  ᱸ𓈒 SPIDERVERSE

TIME STAMPS

❏ 4:30 am — miguel o'hara

HEADCANONS

❏ coming soon

FICS

❏ daily routine — miguel o'hara (in the works!)

OTHER (brainrot / smau's)

❏ coming soon

WAIT WHAT!!!