amour :: marauder oneshots

𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚎 𝚛𝚞𝚗; 𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛!𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚞𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Description: In an attempt to escape the paparazzi Sirius Black hitches a ride with the first person he sees.

your fingers tapped idly against the steering wheel to the tune of the song playing through the car's speakers. you vaguely recognized it—a radio hit that you didn't really know but was played enough for you to memorize the chorus.

the bitter cold of winter had only just begun to lift, but you embraced it by rolling down your windows. the early spring air gently brushed against your skin as you drove, slowly coming to a halt as the traffic lights flicked from yellow to red.

it was just after rush-hour; the streets were still fairly busy, but not so much so to frustrate you. if you hadn't been driving to work, you might even enjoy this moment—with the sun just starting to descend toward the horizon, the fragrant air, the sky clear of any clouds. it was hard to find joy in the journey when you hated the destination, though.

beside you—a little ways down the road, near one of the many hole-in-the-wall restaurants lining this street—there's a commotion. it catches your attention, and you're curiously peering through your rearview mirror. there's a sudden throng of people jogging up the sidewalk, all carrying an array of expensive-looking cameras. they're all trying to peer over each other's shoulders, some lining up their cameras, others shoving to the front of the crowd.

blinking, you realize their chasing after a man—he's tall and mostly unassuming, with shoulder-length black hair and a leather jacket falling off one shoulder. he seems to be avoiding this group of people you quickly realize are paparazzi. he's only a few meters ahead of them, and he's swiftly increasing his pace as they attempt to catch up with him.

idly, you wonder if you recognize him. he's handsome—so much so that you're sure you'd remember his face if you'd seen it on your phone before. there are tattoos peeking up through the collar of his shirt and across his knuckles. you glance at the traffic light, vaguely satisfied that it was still glowing red—you were interested now, it wasn't everyday you spotted someone famous enough to have a crowd of paparazzi chase after them.

as he nears your car, he throws the middle finger over his shoulder at the paps, and you breathe a laugh. the paparazzi aren't deterred in the slightest—if anything, this only attracts them further, like sharks to blood.

the paparazzi begin to close the distance between he and them. they're shoving cameras and microphones in his face, demanding things you can't quite hear. his face twists into something angry, and he's shoving one of the cameras away.

when he's a short distance from your car, he catches your stare in the rearview mirror. you swiftly glance away, embarrassed, before there's a thump on the side of your car.

you jump, and when you instinctively search for the source if the noise, your met with the face of this mystery man. he's bent over at the hip, leaning into your passenger side window.

his eyes are a bright shade of grey, staring at you with a mixture of desperation and intrigue.

just as you're about to ask hey, what the fuck are you doing? he's speaking. "can i 'ave a ride, pretty?"

your brain short-circuits. pushing your sunglasses onto your head, you grapple for a response. "wha—?"

there's a sense of urgency as he glances behind him, then meets your gaze again. "a ride, please. just need you to drive."

"i don't—"

he glances backward again. "please."

you follow his sporadic glances to find the paparazzi converging on him once again, and before you can think much on it, you're nodding and unlocking the car doors.