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when the passing of james and lily turns your world upside down, sirius is determined to face it with you, taking it upon himself to be the person that you need now that your older brother is no longer here.
amidst balancing shared grief, unexpected responsibilities, and a blooming familial dynamic with him and harry—you suddenly find yourself forging an unexplainable deeper bond with sirius that you’re not sure what to make out of, especially when other... odd emotions get involved that can’t be easily ignored.
pairing: sirius black x potter!reader
word count: 2.1k
rating: 18+
content: angst, fluff, nsfw | muggle au, modern au, brother’s best friend trope, forced proximity trope, childhood sweethearts trope (if you squint lmao), slow burn!!!! | ft. forensic scientist!sirius, artist!reader; philosophy professor!remus
warning/s: james and lily death (car crash, not detailed), grief, swearing, mature themes
[ chapter index. ]
CHAPTER ONE: YOU
The only thing grounding you at this moment is Sirius’ touch, his palms pressed on your knees as he’s crouched down in front of you. You’re sitting on the bench provided in the hospital hallways, still spiralling, still convincing yourself that maybe if you pinch your skin hard enough, you’ll jolt awake and all of this will be over.
“____,” he says your name, the sound of his voice enough to coax you to flutter your eyes open, meeting his gaze that is uncharacteristically soft.
You blink.
It’s funny, the more you think of it. The first person you never thought you’d call in an instance like this is Sirius. Mostly because… well, he’s Sirius. He’s the more annoying version of your brother, the bad influence, the one who only had to smirk and you’d automatically know that he’s trouble.
But perhaps if there’s also something you know about Sirius, it’s that his bond with James is something else. The two of them have always been more like brothers than friends, this unexplainable connection they had so seamless and natural that being part of Sirius’ life and him to yours was eventually easy too.
You feel his thumb gently rub against the material of your pants.
“Hm?” you weakly ask, dazed and exhausted.
“We have to contact Lily’s family,” he says. “I’m not sure if you have her sister’s number but—”
“I have it,” you say, sighing and rubbing your face with your palms. “I mean, I think I do. I used the number to contact Petunia before when I was helping out with Lily's bachelorette party, but she never responded.”
“Well, it’s still better to try.”
“Yeah, of course.” You take your phone out and go to your contacts, scrolling, but as you do, Sirius grabs the device from your fingers and moves to take the vacant spot beside you.
“I’ll handle it,” he explains, taking his own phone out and transferring the number to his.
You nod and go back to staring at the floor, no energy to argue when you can’t even think straight.
It’s a good thing that a pediatric nurse took Harry in the meantime as you gather your thoughts. She probably saw how messed up you were earlier when you were crying in Sirius’ arms, or maybe it was protocol for situations like these, when family members with children didn’t have the emotional capacity to look after them that they just volunteer to do the job for a few hours. You’re not sure. You’re just grateful that you don’t have to balance being a caring aunt and a mourning sister amidst everything at the moment.
“You want me to call Moony?” You hear Sirius speak again, your phone being handed back to you.
You swallow hard. More people being told about what happened would make it more real. Still, you nod. “Okay.”
“Alright.” He does a motion of standing up, though halts halfway, his bottom falling back on the seat as he touches your knee again.
You look at him. You see the cracks of pain in his eyes that he’s somehow doing a far better job with holding it together unlike you are. “Don’t,” you mumble and he raises an eyebrow.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t start saying sorry like the shit people do when they discover someone from your family died.”
A halfhearted snort escapes him. “That wasn’t what I was going to do.”
“No?”
“No.” He shakes his head, a few strands of his dark hair falling from where it’s tucked behind his ear.
You take a slow breath. “Then why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like a guy who’s concerned about you?” He points out. “I’m just making sure you’re alright, ____,” he says, his features softening up in a manner that appears so unusual, “which I know sounds stupid because it’s obvious that you’re not. Nobody in the right mind would be.”
Your eyes begin to water again, the reminder of why you’re in this horrible state filling up your head.
At the sight, Sirius curses under his breath, wordlessly bringing a hand on the back of your head to bring you closer, holding you as you pathetically find yourself crying for the hundredth time. “Look,” he begins, speaking against your hair, “you have me, okay? We’ll figure it out together.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. There’s no bloody manuals with these things, is there?”
“There should be. Something titled Grief for Dummies—or How to Survive When Every Family You Have Is Dead.”
“Stop that.” He hisses.
But it’s true, you want to say, with the exception of Harry, of course. Other than your nephew? No one is here anymore. Your mother died giving birth to you, your father died a few years shortly after, and now James is gone too. You’re having a hard time grasping how you’re supposed to live your life moving forward.
“I’m scared, Sirius,” you murmur, not knowing why you’re on the roll with the vulnerability tonight, but you can’t seem to stop yourself. “I wish… I wish this was just easier. That it didn’t have to happen. Or it was me who was—”
”Hey,” he interjects, pulling away and placing a warm hand on your cheek. It smells faintly of cigarettes, and if it wasn’t for the fact that your body seeks for comfort right now, you would have shoved it away. “I mean it. Stop it. I won’t tolerate this kind of shit talk.”
“Or what?” you deadpan. “At this point, what’s the worst thing that could happen?”
His lips press in a thin line. And then he brings you under his chin rubbing a thumb on your arm and letting you breathe in and out.
You don’t know how long the two of you sit there, but time has been moving far too slowly since James and Lily’s death. Eventually, you find yourself being led to the pediatric observation room of the hospital where Harry is, Sirius’ steady arm on your shoulders, like he’s afraid you’d collapse on the ground if he doesn’t hold you tight enough—which to be fair, you would agree with.
“Alright, here’s what we’re going to do,” he says just as you’re about to approach the doors leading to where your nephew is, “I’ll handle James and Lily’s funeral arrangements. I’ll be in charge of calling any relatives or friends that may want to know about their passing too.”
You open your mouth to speak but he shakes his head, continuing on.
“If you’re worried about the expenses, I have it handled. We can talk about the cost after everything is done if you want to split it—or not. You don’t have to pay it back, I don’t really care. I just want you to know that you don’t have to think about that right now, ___.”
You frown. It seems too much to let Sirius handle like that when technically it shouldn’t be his responsibility. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Okay, but—” you sigh, combing your fingers along your hair— “if you’re short on money or whatever—I’m not sure how much it’s supposed to cost—just tell me, okay? Maybe they have life insurance that we can—” You feel like rambling again and it’s Sirius’ hands on your shoulders that grounds you back on your feet.
“Hey,” he says and when you look up, there’s a hint of that familiar mischievousness in his eyes, “do you really think I would run short on money?”
You scoff out a halfhearted laugh, the first of the evening. “Show off.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know who you are.”
“That’s not—” He chuckles, rolling his eyes, while the ends of your mouth twitch. “Anyway, we’re clear on that, okay? I handle the funeral arrangements.”
You nod. “And what about me? What am I supposed to do?”
“Start finding a lawyer. For legal custody over Harry.”
Your head begins to pound at the reminder of another thing you have to stress over. “Yeah, fuck. I thought those things were automatic.”
“I can give Regulus a call. He might know someone.”
You can’t help but gape at him. “Since when did you become all chummy again with Regulus?”
“Since Walburga died.” He shrugs, mentioning the name of his mother without any hint of sadness or regret. “Turns out having both of our parents dead would make it easier to be brothers.”
Your mind flashes back to four years ago when Walburga died. You discovered it through James who broke the news like he was only informing you that your favorite cereal was out of stock at the market. And you can’t blame him for the showcase of indifference, not when to his eyes and yours, the rest of the Black family are not exactly the type of people you’d mourn about.
You knew that from the moment Sirius, at the age of 16, arrived at the doorstep of your household, announcing that he ran away from home and that he could no longer live in the same space as his horrid parents.
Still, you sent a text to Sirius when you heard about his mother’s passing, and he replied with a remark about finally being a freeman that you snorted to when you read it.
“So, you want me to call Reg?” he asks, and the nickname throws you off a bit.
You take a long inhale. “You’ve already been doing so much for the last five hours.”
“And?”
“And I think I can handle finding a lawyer on my own.”
“You think?” His piercing gray eyes analyze you like he has you memorized inside and out. “You might be forgetting, but my family has a law firm. One that Reg is co-managing right now.”
“Stop flexing how rich you are, Sirius,” you say as a joke.
He smirks. “It’s not a flex, it’s a fact.”
“Shut up.”
The smirk widens. “That settles it then. I’ll call Reg too, and I’ll forward you the number when he refers me to a competent family lawyer.”
“You don’t have to—” You stop talking when he raises a brow. “I just—it’s too much. You’ve already been doing so much,” you reiterate.
“____,” he says your name in a gentle tone, a tone that doesn’t match the ruggedness of his exterior, “let me do it. I’m not only doing this for you and Harry. I’m doing it for James.”
Your throat tightens and there’s a pressure building between your eyes.
“He wouldn’t want me to let his kid sister do this on her own,” he adds.
You huff, staring upwards and blinking to prevent any tears from spilling once again. “I’m not a kid.”
“I’m well-aware.”
With that, the conversation leads to you giving him the greenlight to talk to Regulus about finding a capable family lawyer, and Sirius gives you a tired smile before heading to the parking lot to make his calls and probably to have a smoke too, judging from how he’s already placing a stick between his teeth as he stalks off.
That leaves you to enter the pediatric observation room where Harry is bundled in, sleeping and completely unaware that it’s just you who he has now. You talk to the nurse and thank her, saying she can take a break and that you’ll call her again when you need her, and she nods and offers a warm smile.
Once the door closes, you look at Harry, caressing his head as a shaky breath escapes you.
He coos, opening his green eyes for a millisecond and then reaching out, causing you to go ahead and present an index finger to have his little hand fist around it.
At that, your heart melts and your eyes begin to get glassy once more. Suddenly you find all the motivation you need to keep going, to push back any selfish and negative thoughts you had earlier about not knowing what to live for now that James is gone.
Your mind brings you back to when your father died and James was perhaps in the same position you are at this moment, clueless at the age of 20 on how he’s supposed to take care of himself and his younger sister without the guidance of anyone but Google or Reddit. Even though he and Lily were already together, and that her presence gave him all the comfort and strength to be strong, you understand now how it must have taken all his courage to step up and never let you see even an ounce of devastation in his state.
“Guess you’re stuck with me, buddy,” you murmur.
Harry’s hand tightens.
You try to hold it in, but a sob escapes, shaky and quiet. You wipe them away with your free hand hastily, promising that as soon as you wake up tomorrow, you’re going to get your shit together and be the best person your nephew will have by his side.
Just like James was.
You’ll spend the rest of your life making sure of it.
note. see the parallel???? SJDSHDJS just dropping by to say that i’m so excited for this series but also want to apologize if updates go really slow sometimes!! unfortunately my day job also requires a lot of writing so please forgive me if i do not have the brain cells to write for this one <3
gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡
when the passing of james and lily turns your world upside down, sirius is determined to face it with you, taking it upon himself to be the person that you need now that your older brother is no longer here.
amidst balancing shared grief, unexpected responsibilities, and a blooming familial dynamic with him and harry—you suddenly find yourself forging an unexplainable deeper bond with sirius that you’re not sure what to make out of, especially when other... odd emotions get involved that can’t be easily ignored.
pairing: sirius black x potter!reader
word count: 2.1k
rating: 18+
content: angst, fluff, nsfw | muggle au, modern au, brother’s best friend trope, forced proximity trope, childhood sweethearts trope (if you squint lmao), slow burn!!!! | ft. forensic scientist!sirius, artist!reader; philosophy professor!remus
warning/s: james and lily death (car crash, not detailed), grief, swearing, mature themes
[ chapter index. ]
CHAPTER ONE: YOU
The only thing grounding you at this moment is Sirius’ touch, his palms pressed on your knees as he’s crouched down in front of you. You’re sitting on the bench provided in the hospital hallways, still spiralling, still convincing yourself that maybe if you pinch your skin hard enough, you’ll jolt awake and all of this will be over.
“____,” he says your name, the sound of his voice enough to coax you to flutter your eyes open, meeting his gaze that is uncharacteristically soft.
You blink.
It’s funny, the more you think of it. The first person you never thought you’d call in an instance like this is Sirius. Mostly because… well, he’s Sirius. He’s the more annoying version of your brother, the bad influence, the one who only had to smirk and you’d automatically know that he’s trouble.
But perhaps if there’s also something you know about Sirius, it’s that his bond with James is something else. The two of them have always been more like brothers than friends, this unexplainable connection they had so seamless and natural that being part of Sirius’ life and him to yours was eventually easy too.
You feel his thumb gently rub against the material of your pants.
“Hm?” you weakly ask, dazed and exhausted.
“We have to contact Lily’s family,” he says. “I’m not sure if you have her sister’s number but—”
“I have it,” you say, sighing and rubbing your face with your palms. “I mean, I think I do. I used the number to contact Petunia before when I was helping out with Lily's bachelorette party, but she never responded.”
“Well, it’s still better to try.”
“Yeah, of course.” You take your phone out and go to your contacts, scrolling, but as you do, Sirius grabs the device from your fingers and moves to take the vacant spot beside you.
“I’ll handle it,” he explains, taking his own phone out and transferring the number to his.
You nod and go back to staring at the floor, no energy to argue when you can’t even think straight.
It’s a good thing that a pediatric nurse took Harry in the meantime as you gather your thoughts. She probably saw how messed up you were earlier when you were crying in Sirius’ arms, or maybe it was protocol for situations like these, when family members with children didn’t have the emotional capacity to look after them that they just volunteer to do the job for a few hours. You’re not sure. You’re just grateful that you don’t have to balance being a caring aunt and a mourning sister amidst everything at the moment.
“You want me to call Moony?” You hear Sirius speak again, your phone being handed back to you.
You swallow hard. More people being told about what happened would make it more real. Still, you nod. “Okay.”
“Alright.” He does a motion of standing up, though halts halfway, his bottom falling back on the seat as he touches your knee again.
You look at him. You see the cracks of pain in his eyes that he’s somehow doing a far better job with holding it together unlike you are. “Don’t,” you mumble and he raises an eyebrow.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t start saying sorry like the shit people do when they discover someone from your family died.”
A halfhearted snort escapes him. “That wasn’t what I was going to do.”
“No?”
“No.” He shakes his head, a few strands of his dark hair falling from where it’s tucked behind his ear.
You take a slow breath. “Then why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like a guy who’s concerned about you?” He points out. “I’m just making sure you’re alright, ____,” he says, his features softening up in a manner that appears so unusual, “which I know sounds stupid because it’s obvious that you’re not. Nobody in the right mind would be.”
Your eyes begin to water again, the reminder of why you’re in this horrible state filling up your head.
At the sight, Sirius curses under his breath, wordlessly bringing a hand on the back of your head to bring you closer, holding you as you pathetically find yourself crying for the hundredth time. “Look,” he begins, speaking against your hair, “you have me, okay? We’ll figure it out together.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. There’s no bloody manuals with these things, is there?”
“There should be. Something titled Grief for Dummies—or How to Survive When Every Family You Have Is Dead.”
“Stop that.” He hisses.
But it’s true, you want to say, with the exception of Harry, of course. Other than your nephew? No one is here anymore. Your mother died giving birth to you, your father died a few years shortly after, and now James is gone too. You’re having a hard time grasping how you’re supposed to live your life moving forward.
“I’m scared, Sirius,” you murmur, not knowing why you’re on the roll with the vulnerability tonight, but you can’t seem to stop yourself. “I wish… I wish this was just easier. That it didn’t have to happen. Or it was me who was—”
”Hey,” he interjects, pulling away and placing a warm hand on your cheek. It smells faintly of cigarettes, and if it wasn’t for the fact that your body seeks for comfort right now, you would have shoved it away. “I mean it. Stop it. I won’t tolerate this kind of shit talk.”
“Or what?” you deadpan. “At this point, what’s the worst thing that could happen?”
His lips press in a thin line. And then he brings you under his chin rubbing a thumb on your arm and letting you breathe in and out.
You don’t know how long the two of you sit there, but time has been moving far too slowly since James and Lily’s death. Eventually, you find yourself being led to the pediatric observation room of the hospital where Harry is, Sirius’ steady arm on your shoulders, like he’s afraid you’d collapse on the ground if he doesn’t hold you tight enough—which to be fair, you would agree with.
“Alright, here’s what we’re going to do,” he says just as you’re about to approach the doors leading to where your nephew is, “I’ll handle James and Lily’s funeral arrangements. I’ll be in charge of calling any relatives or friends that may want to know about their passing too.”
You open your mouth to speak but he shakes his head, continuing on.
“If you’re worried about the expenses, I have it handled. We can talk about the cost after everything is done if you want to split it—or not. You don’t have to pay it back, I don’t really care. I just want you to know that you don’t have to think about that right now, ___.”
You frown. It seems too much to let Sirius handle like that when technically it shouldn’t be his responsibility. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Okay, but—” you sigh, combing your fingers along your hair— “if you’re short on money or whatever—I’m not sure how much it’s supposed to cost—just tell me, okay? Maybe they have life insurance that we can—” You feel like rambling again and it’s Sirius’ hands on your shoulders that grounds you back on your feet.
“Hey,” he says and when you look up, there’s a hint of that familiar mischievousness in his eyes, “do you really think I would run short on money?”
You scoff out a halfhearted laugh, the first of the evening. “Show off.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know who you are.”
“That’s not—” He chuckles, rolling his eyes, while the ends of your mouth twitch. “Anyway, we’re clear on that, okay? I handle the funeral arrangements.”
You nod. “And what about me? What am I supposed to do?”
“Start finding a lawyer. For legal custody over Harry.”
Your head begins to pound at the reminder of another thing you have to stress over. “Yeah, fuck. I thought those things were automatic.”
“I can give Regulus a call. He might know someone.”
You can’t help but gape at him. “Since when did you become all chummy again with Regulus?”
“Since Walburga died.” He shrugs, mentioning the name of his mother without any hint of sadness or regret. “Turns out having both of our parents dead would make it easier to be brothers.”
Your mind flashes back to four years ago when Walburga died. You discovered it through James who broke the news like he was only informing you that your favorite cereal was out of stock at the market. And you can’t blame him for the showcase of indifference, not when to his eyes and yours, the rest of the Black family are not exactly the type of people you’d mourn about.
You knew that from the moment Sirius, at the age of 16, arrived at the doorstep of your household, announcing that he ran away from home and that he could no longer live in the same space as his horrid parents.
Still, you sent a text to Sirius when you heard about his mother’s passing, and he replied with a remark about finally being a freeman that you snorted to when you read it.
“So, you want me to call Reg?” he asks, and the nickname throws you off a bit.
You take a long inhale. “You’ve already been doing so much for the last five hours.”
“And?”
“And I think I can handle finding a lawyer on my own.”
“You think?” His piercing gray eyes analyze you like he has you memorized inside and out. “You might be forgetting, but my family has a law firm. One that Reg is co-managing right now.”
“Stop flexing how rich you are, Sirius,” you say as a joke.
He smirks. “It’s not a flex, it’s a fact.”
“Shut up.”
The smirk widens. “That settles it then. I’ll call Reg too, and I’ll forward you the number when he refers me to a competent family lawyer.”
“You don’t have to—” You stop talking when he raises a brow. “I just—it’s too much. You’ve already been doing so much,” you reiterate.
“____,” he says your name in a gentle tone, a tone that doesn’t match the ruggedness of his exterior, “let me do it. I’m not only doing this for you and Harry. I’m doing it for James.”
Your throat tightens and there’s a pressure building between your eyes.
“He wouldn’t want me to let his kid sister do this on her own,” he adds.
You huff, staring upwards and blinking to prevent any tears from spilling once again. “I’m not a kid.”
“I’m well-aware.”
With that, the conversation leads to you giving him the greenlight to talk to Regulus about finding a capable family lawyer, and Sirius gives you a tired smile before heading to the parking lot to make his calls and probably to have a smoke too, judging from how he’s already placing a stick between his teeth as he stalks off.
That leaves you to enter the pediatric observation room where Harry is bundled in, sleeping and completely unaware that it’s just you who he has now. You talk to the nurse and thank her, saying she can take a break and that you’ll call her again when you need her, and she nods and offers a warm smile.
Once the door closes, you look at Harry, caressing his head as a shaky breath escapes you.
He coos, opening his green eyes for a millisecond and then reaching out, causing you to go ahead and present an index finger to have his little hand fist around it.
At that, your heart melts and your eyes begin to get glassy once more. Suddenly you find all the motivation you need to keep going, to push back any selfish and negative thoughts you had earlier about not knowing what to live for now that James is gone.
Your mind brings you back to when your father died and James was perhaps in the same position you are at this moment, clueless at the age of 20 on how he’s supposed to take care of himself and his younger sister without the guidance of anyone but Google or Reddit. Even though he and Lily were already together, and that her presence gave him all the comfort and strength to be strong, you understand now how it must have taken all his courage to step up and never let you see even an ounce of devastation in his state.
“Guess you’re stuck with me, buddy,” you murmur.
Harry’s hand tightens.
You try to hold it in, but a sob escapes, shaky and quiet. You wipe them away with your free hand hastily, promising that as soon as you wake up tomorrow, you’re going to get your shit together and be the best person your nephew will have by his side.
Just like James was.
You’ll spend the rest of your life making sure of it.
note. see the parallel???? SJDSHDJS just dropping by to say that i’m so excited for this series but also want to apologize if updates go really slow sometimes!! unfortunately my day job also requires a lot of writing so please forgive me if i do not have the brain cells to write for this one <3
gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡
I think I made my last anonymously but omggggg can you please tag me in the next part? I personally believe this will keep me alive for a little longer 😭😔
hehehe yes of course!! thank you so much for the enthusiasm already <33
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
when the passing of james and lily turns your world upside down, sirius is determined to face it with you, taking it upon himself to be the person that you need now that your older brother is no longer here.
amidst balancing shared grief, unexpected responsibilities, and a blooming familial dynamic with him and harry—you suddenly find yourself forging an unexplainable deeper bond with sirius that you’re not sure what to make out of, especially when other... odd emotions get involved that can’t be easily ignored.
pairing: sirius black x potter!reader
word count: 1.5k
rating: 18+
content: angst, fluff, nsfw | muggle au, modern au, brother’s best friend trope, forced proximity trope, childhood sweethearts trope (if you squint lmao), slow burn!!!! | ft. forensic scientist!sirius, artist!reader; philosophy professor!remus
warning/s: james and lily death (car crash, not detailed), grief, swearing, mature themes
[ chapter index. ]
PROLOGUE: SIRIUS
Sirius is a bit buzzed when he receives your call.
It’s a miracle how he managed to notice it, given how the pretty blonde perched on his lap is whispering filth in his ear as he grins, nursing his drink and squeezing her thigh underneath the table. It’s Friday night, and after a long week of dealing with cases and colleagues who seem to have a contest of who can test his patience the most, he feels like going into a pub and finding a pretty thing he can take home is the way to remove all the stress in his system.
“You gonna take that or what?” the blonde murmurs against his ear, her red lips brushing against his skin while she traced a finger along the collar of his leather jacket. “Seems important.”
He gives her a lazy grin. “Possessive already, are we?”
She hums and places an open-mouthed kiss on his neck. “Just don’t want to have to compete for your attention tonight.”
Sirius lets her continue her ministrations, smirking, squeezing her flesh, and finally gets his phone inside the inside pockets of his jacket.
It flashes your name for a few seconds before his screen goes black. He raises an eyebrow, no longer focusing on the girl on his lap, and taps on his phone—only to see that you’ve left him six messages and 10 miscalls already.
Was he that distracted to not notice you’ve been spamming him with texts and calls?
A weird feeling twists in his gut. He knows you, knows that the last thing on earth that you would willingly do is call him. He can’t blame the dedication, really—it’s what keeps an insufferable person like him going, truth be told, knowing that he can still elicit an entertaining reaction from you even though the both of you are no longer 13 and 10. It’s practically embedded in him now, and he can’t let go of his title of being the designated annoying best friend of your older brother since the moment he realized that your comebacks to his teasing remarks were amusing as hell.
Your name lights up again and he answers without further delay.
“Hey—”
“Sirius,” you say his name, uttering the syllables with a tone that makes him tense. Your breathing is ragged and from how your voice cracks and sounds muffled, he thinks that you’re in tears. “Fuckin—finally, I’ve been trying to—” you cut yourself off, struggling on speaking coherently. “Why the fuck weren’t you answering?”
His typical response would be a smart retort, a comment that he knows would have you swearing at him more, but from how you’re talking to him already, he can’t bring himself to be an arse.
“I—I need you,” you add after a few seconds when he doesn’t reply. His grip tightens over his phone at the admission and the sudden showcase of vulnerability. “James is… James—” You don’t finish the sentence once more, a choked sound being heard instead. You’re breathing too hard against the other line, like you’re having a hard time getting the air in and out of your lungs.
“James is what?” Sirius stands up so fast that the blonde slides off, almost landing harshly on her bottom.
“He was—he was with Lily. Date night. I’m babysitting Harry. And then—” More heavy breathing. More crying. Sirius no longer hesitates and dashes towards the exit, not even looking back, not even saying goodbye to the girl who’s now shouting something behind him that he can’t hear. “Then… then someone calls me… James’ phone… says something about a car crash—”
He curses under his breath. You don’t need to be a genius to piece everything together.
“I’m in the hospital. They’re trying, trying to stabilize them,” you say, the noise in the background being more prominent now that he has a clearer idea of where you are. He can distinguish other indistinguishable voices, shoes rapidly padding on the floor, and high-pitched crying, perhaps Harry. “But it doesn’t—fuck, Sirius, it doesn’t look—I saw them, they don’t—” You don’t get to finish for the nth time that evening, only sobbing that makes Sirius want to fucking teleport to where you are.
He reaches his motorbike in fast strides and does everything at twice his usual speed, hopping on the vehicle and grabbing his helmet. “Text me the address. I’m coming.”
“I already did. I did it before calling you.” You croak, annoyance lacing your tone once more, and he wants to apologize if it isn’t for his growing frantic state. “Can you hurry? I–I don’t know what to do.”
“I’ll be there, ____.” He kicks the stand. “Hold on, alright? I’m coming.”
“Okay.” Your breath shudders, a clear indication that you’re barely holding it together.
In one swift motion, he wears the helmet and speeds off.
****
Sirius arrives too late.
He wants to pretend that he’s overreacting, that he’s got plenty of time, that he’s reading into it wrong.
As far as he’s concerned, it took him less than 15 minutes to arrive at the hospital, a duration that should have been enough to see James and Lily while their hearts were still beating. He was under the impression that he’ll still get the chance to demand the people in charge of stabilizing to be better at their jobs, to go to James and demand that he wakes up, to tell Lily the same and do the shitty thing of guilt tripping her by saying that they can’t leave their one-year-old son alone.
But when he finally spots you—crouched on the floor with your hands tangled in your hair, a doctor in front of you, and a kind-looking nurse holding Harry—his stomach drops. A wave of nausea rises in his throat, the acid burn making him want to vomit as it dawns to him what’s happening right now.
“____,” he calls your name, his voice eerily calm despite the war going inside his mind and chest.
Your head snaps up, following his voice.
When you meet his gaze, your expression crumples up, a choked sob escaping your lips. You don’t give it a second thought as you force yourself up to your knees and run towards him, wounding your arms around his neck and sobbing against his shirt.
“They—they…” you stammer, clutching to him so tight that it hurts his shoulders a bit. “They didn’t—they’re gone, Sirius.” You gasp in between tears. “James and Lily—they’re… they’re—” You can’t even bring yourself to say it out loud, knees buckling and he instinctively tightens his arms around your body, a hand behind your head pressing you closer as you break down.
It’s a mystery to him how he’s not falling apart himself, but he reckons it’s his body telling him to prioritize you at this second.
In all the years that he’s known you, you have never been this hysteric. You’ve always been the composed one, the rational one, the one who can stop for a moment and think of the consequences before going forth with a plan. Hell, he doesn’t even think he’s seen you cry before. You were always too strong and independent for your own good; the walls you’ve surrounded yourself with are too high and sturdy for anyone else to shatter.
Sirius looks at the nurse holding Harry, a silent question if she has his godson—who he realizes will never get to meet his parents—handled, and when she nods, he focuses his attention back on you. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t say comforting words, but just embraces you, aware that it’s not something that you need to hear right now. You just lost your brother after all, the only living relative you have, and he can’t imagine what’s going on inside your head as that realization sinks.
“Sirius,” you say his name for no reason at all, maybe a silent plea to tell him that this isn’t real, that you’re in some fucked up nightmare—and his chest aches even more.
“James—” You cry your brother’s name— “it’s too—too soon—”
“I know, I know.”
You whimper, a few more tears falling from your eyes. You say something else, but it’s too muffled as you bury your face against his chest, and the room is beginning to close in that makes it harder for Sirius to breathe too.
Then, without warning, he feels you slack in his arms.
He exhales shakily, hoisting you up the best that he can.
James and Lily are gone. Harry is left orphaned. No doubt you’ll be taking custody as he’s fairly certain that Lily’s sister wouldn’t willingly take in her son. And there’s nobody else that you can actively rely on. You might think that you’re essentially on your own now for fuck’s sake—and Sirius knows it’s going to take a lot from you to begin raising Harry on your own amidst your own grief and the obvious fact that you have no clue about being a parent.
So, as you’re hanging against him and as he hears his godson beginning to wail in the busy hospital, he vows to himself that whatever happens next, you won’t definitely go through all of this alone.
He’ll spend the rest of his life making sure of it.
gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡
when the passing of james and lily turns your world upside down, sirius is determined to face it with you, taking it upon himself to be the person that you need now that your older brother is no longer here.
amidst balancing shared grief, unexpected responsibilities, and a blooming familial dynamic with him and harry—you suddenly find yourself forging an unexplainable deeper bond with sirius that you’re not sure what to make out of, especially when other... odd emotions get involved that can’t be easily ignored.
pairing: sirius black x potter!reader
rating: 18+
content: angst, fluff, nsfw | muggle au, modern au, brother’s best friend trope, forced proximity trope, childhood sweethearts trope (if you squint lmao), slow burn!!!! | ft. forensic scientist!sirius, artist!reader; philosophy professor!remus
warning/s: james and lily death (car crash, not detailed), grief, kinda unresolved inner trauma, swearing, mature themes, implicit and explicit sexual content in future chapters
THE PARTS. ( 02 / ?? )
✧ PROLOGUE: SIRIUS
✧ CHAPTER ONE: YOU
author’s note. i don’t have a solid plot for this yet hehe but i do have some scenes i want to write so let’s just see where this story will take us!
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SIRIUS BLACK is a lot of things. he’s reckless, impulsive, handsome, charming, the epitome of trouble—yet what he refuses to be is disloyal to his friends, and that remains to be one of the few things that others can at least commend him for despite his questionable reputation.
however, his moral compass wavers a bit every single time he catches a glimpse of you, a fellow gryffindor whose laughter sounds like literal music to his ears whenever you’re near in the common room and whose smile can make him feel things that he isn’t sure he’s familiar nor okay with for that matter.
it’s mushy… fluttering… too soft for a git and well-known casanova like him who moves from girl to girl like a quaffle during quidditch.
but he can’t deny that when it comes to you, there’s an undeniable pull that he can’t seem to shake off no matter how hard he tries. it’s as if even if he makes a conscious effort of not staring at you, or tuning your voice out during class recitations, or choosing to step away when the only seat left in the gryffindor long table is next to yours—you still end up lingering in his mind after school hours, making him wonder what it would be like if he just succumbs to his desires.
which is wrong. on so many levels.
because peter pettigrew likes you, and if there’s one thing that sirius hates the most, it’s willingly betraying your friends.
so, why does it feel this bloody good to kiss you like this?
“okay, fuck—” sirius pulls away, restraining himself from deepening the kiss and pressing you harder against the wall he’s caging you in. “you—you absolute dangerous little thing—” he tries to complain, but you tug him by the collar of his shirt again, kissing him once more which sirius groans against your mouth to, his head tilting to the side to kiss you better nonetheless.
everything happened so fast.
one second the gryffindors are celebrating a quidditch win in the common room, the next he finds himself standing next to you by the fruit punch that might have been spiked by james and himself, and then by the following hour or so, he’s seeing you flirt with him and he can’t resist the urge to flirt back, not when it’s you who’s smiling at him and batting your eyelashes in a way that definitely makes him stare far too long on that pretty face of yours.
“bloody hell,” he curses, dragging his mouth away from your lips, his forehead falling on your shoulder where he takes even breaths.
he hears you breathe with him, chuckling, before the palms of your hands find his cheeks, softly cupping them and forcing him to look at you.
you both stare at each other, and sirius scans your features—your shiny eyes, the strands of hair that fan your face, the way your lips appear sinful being swollen and red like that, as if begging him to make it worse.
you smile and pull him in for one more kiss, a soft kiss that he melts into and renders him completely helpless under your touch.
when you pull away, resting your forehead against his, he whispers something that one definitely shouldn’t say after a moment like that:
“peter likes you.”
you continue to gaze at him, raising an eyebrow. “what?”
“peter likes you.”
“yeah, no—i mean,” you laugh a bit, your hands falling on his shoulders, “why are you telling this?”
“because he’s…” he swallows hard, looking pathetic or like he doesn’t want to say his next words out loud, “he’s a mate of mine. and this—this thing that just happened between us—it shouldn’t have happened.”
“oh.”
you don’t seem like you’re hurt by his words. if anything, you’re confused, and he gets why. the infamous sirius black isn’t exactly recognized for taking the high road.
“yeah, so.” he clears his throat and steps back (grudgingly, his feet protesting while he does so), unsure of what to do other than leave. “i’m sorry. i just…”
he feels foolish as he tries walking away. but he doesn’t even get to feel foolish for that long because the moment you call his name, he doesn’t even think—he just stops and turns to you once more, curious on what you have to say.
you’re still leaning against the wall, your hands behind you, and you’re looking at him in a coy manner that his inside feels goddamn weird again.
“i don’t like peter,” you say.
sirius inhales sharply.
“i like you.”
his hands form into fists at his sides, every bit of restraint crumbling as you stare at him like that.
and then with the press of your lips, you deliver the final blow.
“don’t you like me too, sirius?”
he sighs, the innocence and sweetness of your tone causing him to close his eyes for a moment, further sending him spiraling due to his dilemma of being a good friend or having you for himself.
but then he hears you call his name again, with that breathy voice that he knows he’ll replay in his head for nights to come, and throwing every last bit of moral he has in his system, he curses under his breath and dashes towards you, kissing you senseless with much more fervor and want.
your lips curve upwards against his and he groans.
“have me wrapped around your finger, have you?” he says.
your victorious laugh echoes in the dark hallway.
gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡
SIRIUS BLACK is a lot of things. he’s reckless, impulsive, handsome, charming, the epitome of trouble—yet what he refuses to be is disloyal to his friends, and that remains to be one of the few things that others can at least commend him for despite his questionable reputation.
however, his moral compass wavers a bit every single time he catches a glimpse of you, a fellow gryffindor whose laughter sounds like literal music to his ears whenever you’re near in the common room and whose smile can make him feel things that he isn’t sure he’s familiar nor okay with for that matter.
it’s mushy… fluttering… too soft for a git and well-known casanova like him who moves from girl to girl like a quaffle during quidditch.
but he can’t deny that when it comes to you, there’s an undeniable pull that he can’t seem to shake off no matter how hard he tries. it’s as if even if he makes a conscious effort of not staring at you, or tuning your voice out during class recitations, or choosing to step away when the only seat left in the gryffindor long table is next to yours—you still end up lingering in his mind after school hours, making him wonder what it would be like if he just succumbs to his desires.
which is wrong. on so many levels.
because peter pettigrew likes you, and if there’s one thing that sirius hates the most, it’s willingly betraying your friends.
so, why does it feel this bloody good to kiss you like this?
“okay, fuck—” sirius pulls away, restraining himself from deepening the kiss and pressing you harder against the wall he’s caging you in. “you—you absolute dangerous little thing—” he tries to complain, but you tug him by the collar of his shirt again, kissing him once more which sirius groans against your mouth to, his head tilting to the side to kiss you better nonetheless.
everything happened so fast.
one second the gryffindors are celebrating a quidditch win in the common room, the next he finds himself standing next to you by the fruit punch that might have been spiked by james and himself, and then by the following hour or so, he’s seeing you flirt with him and he can’t resist the urge to flirt back, not when it’s you who’s smiling at him and batting your eyelashes in a way that definitely makes him stare far too long on that pretty face of yours.
“bloody hell,” he curses, dragging his mouth away from your lips, his forehead falling on your shoulder where he takes even breaths.
he hears you breathe with him, chuckling, before the palms of your hands find his cheeks, softly cupping them and forcing him to look at you.
you both stare at each other, and sirius scans your features—your shiny eyes, the strands of hair that fan your face, the way your lips appear sinful being swollen and red like that, as if begging him to make it worse.
you smile and pull him in for one more kiss, a soft kiss that he melts into and renders him completely helpless under your touch.
when you pull away, resting your forehead against his, he whispers something that one definitely shouldn’t say after a moment like that:
“peter likes you.”
you continue to gaze at him, raising an eyebrow. “what?”
“peter likes you.”
“yeah, no—i mean,” you laugh a bit, your hands falling on his shoulders, “why are you telling this?”
“because he’s…” he swallows hard, looking pathetic or like he doesn’t want to say his next words out loud, “he’s a mate of mine. and this—this thing that just happened between us—it shouldn’t have happened.”
“oh.”
you don’t seem like you’re hurt by his words. if anything, you’re confused, and he gets why. the infamous sirius black isn’t exactly recognized for taking the high road.
“yeah, so.” he clears his throat and steps back (grudgingly, his feet protesting while he does so), unsure of what to do other than leave. “i’m sorry. i just…”
he feels foolish as he tries walking away. but he doesn’t even get to feel foolish for that long because the moment you call his name, he doesn’t even think—he just stops and turns to you once more, curious on what you have to say.
you’re still leaning against the wall, your hands behind you, and you’re looking at him in a coy manner that his inside feels goddamn weird again.
“i don’t like peter,” you say.
sirius inhales sharply.
“i like you.”
his hands form into fists at his sides, every bit of restraint crumbling as you stare at him like that.
and then with the press of your lips, you deliver the final blow.
“don’t you like me too, sirius?”
he sighs, the innocence and sweetness of your tone causing him to close his eyes for a moment, further sending him spiraling due to his dilemma of being a good friend or having you for himself.
but then he hears you call his name again, with that breathy voice that he knows he’ll replay in his head for nights to come, and throwing every last bit of moral he has in his system, he curses under his breath and dashes towards you, kissing you senseless with much more fervor and want.
your lips curve upwards against his and he groans.
“have me wrapped around your finger, have you?” he says.
your victorious laugh echoes in the dark hallway.
gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡
oh my god this is DELICIOUS. the tension the yearning. reader being like "um excuse you mf i'm literally kissing youuuu...." i will be thinking about this fic for DAYS. beautiful work!!!! <333
Hi there! I recently read your Oliver wood Blurb, and I was wondering if you had a tag list I could be added on to be reminded if you post about him again? Thank you!!🤍
hi, anon! i unfortunately do not have a taglist hehe,, but thank you so much for being interested enough in my work to ask about it 🥹💗
SIRIUS BLACK is a lot of things. he’s reckless, impulsive, handsome, charming, the epitome of trouble—yet what he refuses to be is disloyal to his friends, and that remains to be one of the few things that others can at least commend him for despite his questionable reputation.
however, his moral compass wavers a bit every single time he catches a glimpse of you, a fellow gryffindor whose laughter sounds like literal music to his ears whenever you’re near in the common room and whose smile can make him feel things that he isn’t sure he’s familiar nor okay with for that matter.
it’s mushy… fluttering… too soft for a git and well-known casanova like him who moves from girl to girl like a quaffle during quidditch.
but he can’t deny that when it comes to you, there’s an undeniable pull that he can’t seem to shake off no matter how hard he tries. it’s as if even if he makes a conscious effort of not staring at you, or tuning your voice out during class recitations, or choosing to step away when the only seat left in the gryffindor long table is next to yours—you still end up lingering in his mind after school hours, making him wonder what it would be like if he just succumbs to his desires.
which is wrong. on so many levels.
because peter pettigrew likes you, and if there’s one thing that sirius hates the most, it’s willingly betraying your friends.
so, why does it feel this bloody good to kiss you like this?
“okay, fuck—” sirius pulls away, restraining himself from deepening the kiss and pressing you harder against the wall he’s caging you in. “you—you absolute dangerous little thing—” he tries to complain, but you tug him by the collar of his shirt again, kissing him once more which sirius groans against your mouth to, his head tilting to the side to kiss you better nonetheless.
everything happened so fast.
one second the gryffindors are celebrating a quidditch win in the common room, the next he finds himself standing next to you by the fruit punch that might have been spiked by james and himself, and then by the following hour or so, he’s seeing you flirt with him and he can’t resist the urge to flirt back, not when it’s you who’s smiling at him and batting your eyelashes in a way that definitely makes him stare far too long on that pretty face of yours.
“bloody hell,” he curses, dragging his mouth away from your lips, his forehead falling on your shoulder where he takes even breaths.
he hears you breathe with him, chuckling, before the palms of your hands find his cheeks, softly cupping them and forcing him to look at you.
you both stare at each other, and sirius scans your features—your shiny eyes, the strands of hair that fan your face, the way your lips appear sinful being swollen and red like that, as if begging him to make it worse.
you smile and pull him in for one more kiss, a soft kiss that he melts into and renders him completely helpless under your touch.
when you pull away, resting your forehead against his, he whispers something that one definitely shouldn’t say after a moment like that:
“peter likes you.”
you continue to gaze at him, raising an eyebrow. “what?”
“peter likes you.”
“yeah, no—i mean,” you laugh a bit, your hands falling on his shoulders, “why are you telling this?”
“because he’s…” he swallows hard, looking pathetic or like he doesn’t want to say his next words out loud, “he’s a mate of mine. and this—this thing that just happened between us—it shouldn’t have happened.”
“oh.”
you don’t seem like you’re hurt by his words. if anything, you’re confused, and he gets why. the infamous sirius black isn’t exactly recognized for taking the high road.
“yeah, so.” he clears his throat and steps back (grudgingly, his feet protesting while he does so), unsure of what to do other than leave. “i’m sorry. i just…”
he feels foolish as he tries walking away. but he doesn’t even get to feel foolish for that long because the moment you call his name, he doesn’t even think—he just stops and turns to you once more, curious on what you have to say.
you’re still leaning against the wall, your hands behind you, and you’re looking at him in a coy manner that his inside feels goddamn weird again.
“i don’t like peter,” you say.
sirius inhales sharply.
“i like you.”
his hands form into fists at his sides, every bit of restraint crumbling as you stare at him like that.
and then with the press of your lips, you deliver the final blow.
“don’t you like me too, sirius?”
he sighs, the innocence and sweetness of your tone causing him to close his eyes for a moment, further sending him spiraling due to his dilemma of being a good friend or having you for himself.
but then he hears you call his name again, with that breathy voice that he knows he’ll replay in his head for nights to come, and throwing every last bit of moral he has in his system, he curses under his breath and dashes towards you, kissing you senseless with much more fervor and want.
your lips curve upwards against his and he groans.
“have me wrapped around your finger, have you?” he says.
your victorious laugh echoes in the dark hallway.
gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
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