hmm I don’t know if you write this but could you do bartender!Sirius with a reader who doesn’t really belong in the bar scene but starts to frequent it and then he figures out she’s got a little crush on him?
love your theme btw! 🧸
Thanks angel!
a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If you’re new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her vile agendas
cw: alcohol
Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 896 words
Etiquette can work differently in bars. On busy nights, Sirius only has to make eye contact with someone on the other side of the bar and they'll tell him their drink order; not for lack of politeness, just for efficiency's sake. Most of the time the first words he hears out of customers' mouths are "vodka," "gin," or "pint."
You always approach with "hi."
"Hi," you say, leaning your elbows on the bar while Sirius shakes with one hand and stirs with the other.
He spares a grin for you. "Hello," he replies. Purring a bit, because he can. "What can I get you?"
The smile you shoot back is gut-wrenchingly sweet. "Anything you'd recommend?"
"Well…" Sirius passes off the two drinks and starts on a pint. "What did you think of the one you had last time?"
Your eyes blink wide. "I, um. It was good. I don't remember what it was called…"
"Mojito," he supplies. A customer down the bar calls for his attention, and Sirius slides a napkin to you, his fingertips touching yours briefly. "Sorry, lovely, can you excuse me for just a minute? I promise not to forget you."
He gets that customer's order and a few others, pouring some shots quickly to quell the urgency surrounding the bar for a little while. While he darts around, Sirius is conscious of the feeling of your eyes following him, like a shiver held at the base of his spine.
"So," he says when he circles back, "what'd you think of it? The mojito."
You make a sound like a puff of air turned to a laugh. "I can't believe you remember that." Sirius raises an eyebrow at you while he pours vodka into a shaker, and you go on almost shyly, "You must serve so many people every night."
"You remember certain faces."
And Sirius remembers yours. He thinks of it as his right, after putting up with so much shit from customers, to pay the pretty ones a bit of extra attention. You came in first a couple of weeks ago. Since then, you've been back fairly regularly, though usually with various other friends. This is the first time Sirius has seen you here alone.
"You can tell me if you didn't like the mojito," he says, looking you in your eyes. Indulging in a private delight at the way your lashes flicker when you have his full attention. "I won't take it personally, promise. We can make you something else."
Honestly, Sirius hopes you didn't like it. Mojitos are a bitch to make. He'd do it again for you, though.
"No," you say, "I liked it. I'd have another, if—only if it's not too much trouble."
"None at all," Sirius lies, and gets out the muddler.
"Thanks," you say, with enough quiet sweetness to make him happy to do it.
He finishes the drink he was making, delivering it to its customer and starting on yours. You watch his wrist twist as he muddles mint in the bottom of a clean shaker. Sirius flicks his eyes up, and yours move away quickly.
"You don't seem like a barfly," he says.
"Oh?" You lean closer as if to hear him better. "I don't know, what makes someone a barfly?"
"Hours logged, I reckon. Gotta do at least ten a week."
Your eyebrows fly up. "Ten?"
"Ten's really on the low end."
"Oh—then, yeah. I guess I'm not one."
Sirius snickers. No shit—you don't even know what a mojito is. "You've been coming around a fair amount, though."
You hear the question he isn't asking. Your bottom lip dents sheepishly. "I just like it here, I guess."
The shiver chooses this moment to zip up Sirius' spine, the feeling tingling all the way to his fingertips. Despite your obvious bashfulness, you hold his gaze across the bar. He almost spills simple syrup on the counter.
"It seems like you're always here," you say after a moment.
"Well, I actually work here," Sirius tells you.
You smile. "I mean that you're here every time I've come in. Do you work every night?"
"From five to two," he confirms. Your smile dims a bit, and Sirius feels himself frown in response. He sets your drink on the bar. "Try that for me, lovely."
You pull the straw towards you dutifully and take a sip. The soft breath you let out after does something funny to his knees. "That's really good, thank you."
"Yeah? It's okay? We can try something else if you like."
"No, it's perfect. I think this is my favorite." Well, Sirius has done it now; he owes an apology to all other bartenders you encounter. But you smile at him again, your eyes crinkling endearingly, and fuck all other bartenders, actually. Sirius will get out the muddler for you as often as you like. "Thanks very much."
"You're very welcome," he tells you. Sincerely, though not without a heavy dose of flirting. Your lashes kiss at the corners. "I do work every night, but that means I'm free during the day. I like coffee."
Your voice softens as though you're trading secrets. "You do?"
"I do."
"There's a coffee shop I like down the street from here. Would you want to go sometime?"
looking for somebody- send me a gif of a character and I'll write a little baby blurb for it
HOTSHOT | S.B.
word count: 0.9k
warnings: I got carried away, it's a fic now lol
“You have anything non-alcoholic back there?” you asked the bartender, quieter than you should be, probably just barely being heard over the rumble of the birthday party going on around you, the night just about ready to turn rowdy as everyone settled into the shots part of the night. You were clutching your clutch between your hands, looking down at the countertop of the bar, peanut shells and various unidentified liquids littering the messy surface and you tried with all your might to swallow a frown, squeezing between two bar stools to lean over the counter to check for yourself.
“What was that?” the man asked, in the middle of shaking up a cocktail, not bothering to look over at you while someone barked an order at him, clearly not all too phased by the fact that he was busy.
You felt for the man, throwing him a soft smile and a dismissive hand, knowing your order wasn’t all that important for him to try and manage it between everyone else’s. You wondered how he managed to do it all at once by himself, there was usually someone behind there with him- Sirius, you thought- he was quick on his feet and with his tongue, a regular flirt. You recognized him from high school, not sure how he’d ended up working in a place like this but something made you think he wasn’t all that fussed about how the place ran in his absence, in fact, you were quite sure he’d not mind at all if you jumped in to give the bartender a hand, someone surely should. Before you’d allowed yourself to process the thought, you were sneaking under the bar, fixing your hair, and hesitantly placing your clutch behind one of the blenders.
“Thought you needed a hand,” you smiled as the bartender in question turned to you in surprise, pausing for barely a second to hear your explanation and in the blink of it you saw his name tag, James, it read. You were sure you’d heard that somewhere. “I can’t do anything fancy but I could manage to open a bottle, pull a lever, or poor a shot,” you offered, already taking a bottle of something from the shelf behind you, not bothering to see what it was.
“Fine by me, just don’t break anything,” he sighed with a raised brow, stealing the bottle from your hand and replacing it with another. “Tequila, not water,” he deadpanned before going back to his cocktail, missing the embarrassed look on your face as you read the label. The first few order were simple enough, a few beers, some shots, and a random whiskey, it was starting to feel quite fun, despite the high demand and it was much better than trying to dance with a bunch of strangers.
“I’ll take one of those, love,” a voice demanded from behind you, the empty beer bottles you’d scooped up from the counter falling into the trashcan with an echoed glass thud. “Though, a full one might be better,” he added and you scoffed, pulling a full one from the fridge before turning around to see who the voice belonged to. You weren’t expecting to find the man whose job you’d momentarily stolen, a smirk bright enough to blind you dancing on his lips as you slid the beer over to him. “Thanks,” he took a sip, a slow one, far too simple a gesture to have your knees as weak as they were. “Now, you mind telling me what you’re doing behind my bar? Think I’d remember hiring a pretty little thing like you.”
“Your bar?”
“Last time I checked,” he was arrogant, not the type that had you balling your first and rolling your eyes, the type that had you leaning onto the very counter you’d been disgusted by an hour ago.
“James was struggling, thought I should offer him a hand,” you were finding your senses again, raising a brow as he looked around, the rush that sent you back here had passed, leaving a very manageable crowd for James to handle all by himself.
“I think he’d handled worse.”
“Maybe I just wanted an excuse to run into you,” you tried, surprised by yourself and by the almost animated laugh he offered you, so was he. “Getting behind your bar, getting into your bed, it’s all the same thing to guys like you, no?”
“Guys like me?” his tone dipped, eyes darkened as he leaned in as well, beer in hand as the other very daringly went to rest under his chin, showing you how interested he was in whatever you’d say next. “You don’t even know my name, darling, and you already think you know me?”
“I know your name,” you shrugged, grabbing your clutch before scurrying beneath the bar and out just as smoothly as before, smiling as you stood up directly next to his stool. “But I guess there won’t be any harm in getting to know you better, prove myself wrong.”
“I’m free right now,” he quipped and you shook your head, silently scolding him for being so presumptuous.
“No, you're not, you got to get to work, hotshot,” you informed him, a small scoff earned as he turned in his seat, making no effort to hide the way his eyes traveled down your body before meeting your gaze again. “See you around, Sirius.”
BITCH IM FUCKING—😵💫😵💫😵💫 this is too fucking much im blushing THAT HANDDDDDD ON HER THROAT!! I'm gonna write this im gonna write this im gonna write this going to the bar for your birthday or after a breakup and getting this treatment 😵💫 and then him fucking you in the back and asking you to come home with him IM SPIRALINGGGG
thinking about bartender!sirius pouring reader a blowjob shot…. watching shamelessly as she wraps her lips around the glass and throws it back, his cock stiffening when she sets it back down on the table and licks her lips clean of the whipped cream and booze that escaped
hi bub. i just turned 21 at the end of december but i was sick over my birthday so i just went out to a bar for the first time this past saturday (i live in the states). the bartender was blatantly flirting with me and now all i've been able to think about is sirius black as a bartender
pulling you up off your stool to dance if business is slow at that particular moment
recommending drinks and fixing you his favorite
making corny jokes ("call me a broom bc i'm about to sweep you off your feet") ( the bartender legit said that to me)
getting your number at the end of the night and maybe taking you back to his place
just so many thoughts
love always, 🌼
hi pretty
and aaaaaaaahhh thats so 😵💫😵💫 him being a shameless flirter?? just checking you out while you giggle and fluster <3 WANT
you talked about bartender!sirius in a previous post and omg i can't stop thinking about it!!! could you do a fic with costumer!reader and him being all flirty and stuff (maybe even angst where reader is really drunk or has come to drink all her problems away or someone icky is hitting on her or smth?? idk i trust your judgement<3)
litterly giggling and kicking my feet just thinking about it😭🤭
Thanks for requesting gorgeous <3
cw: alcohol
bartender!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words
There are three people working the bar, and you have basically no hope of ever capturing one’s attention. You’re not as assertive as the other patrons vying to get their orders taken, not willing to lean across the bar or shout like they are and perfectly willing to let yourself be pushed out of the way when one of them decides their cause is more prevalent than yours. It probably is. This pub is noisier and more rowdy than you’re accustomed to, and you’re not much of a drinker to begin with, only trying to pay your tax to sit with the friend that invited you here. You’re considering abandoning the endeavor entirely when the next man shouldering you out of the way gets waved off by the bartender nearest.
“Oi, she was here first.”
The bartender’s gaze fixes pointedly on you, which is kind of a lot. He has sharp gray eyes paired with superblack hair—like, the kind of black no light can penetrate—and a crooked smile, a handsome and somewhat menacing combination. He leans across the bar, lowering his voice as if he can tell that’s what you’d prefer.
“What can I get you, doll?”
You fumble for your tongue. “Um, can I have a citrus spritz, please?”
He grimaces. “Wish you could,” he says, “but we just ran out of that gin. Got a second choice?”
“Oh, uh...” You’d only found your first choice after perusing their menu and asking your friend what each thing was, so no, you do not. You take a step back from the bar, yielding your time. “Sorry, I’ll have to—”
“No, come on, it’s alright.” The bartender doesn’t move, but his voice is loud enough that it reaches you, gets you to turn around. He’s on you with that smile again, one hand beckoning you towards him. “We’ll figure something out for you, sweetheart. Come back here.”
You step up to the bar stiffly, more than aware of the irritated looks being shot your way by other patrons.
“What do you like?” he asks you.
You feel your eyebrows pinch, shaking your head helplessly. Your face feels like it could heat a small home. “I don’t—I’m not sure, sorry.”
“You’re alright,” he promises, grin vanishing for a moment as he cuts a glare towards a man trying to talk over you. It’s back before you can miss it. “A sweet kinda drink, yeah? Fruity? D’you want something else with citrus?”
“That sounds good,” you manage.
He winks and pushes off the bar. “Stay put, babe, I’ve gotcha.”
You do your best, keeping your front pressed to the bar even as everyone else moves around and into you. You feel like a rock in a stream. With no one else to talk to, you watch him work behind the bar. He grabs a bunch of bottles at once, pouring without measuring or counting or hardly even looking, and when he starts shaking it all in a metal cylinder you have to look away from how his tattooed biceps bulge from the short sleeves of his shirt. You’re scanning the rows of liquor behind the bar when he gets back, trying to will the warmth away from your face.
“Give this a try.” He sets the drink down in front of you. You notice it’s got a bit of dried fruit on top, and then he sets a small shot glass of something bubbly and transparent down next to it—you wince. A garnish and a side; probably not as cheap as you were hoping for. “If you don’t like it,” he says, glancing between you and the drink expectantly, “don’t tell me. Just bring it to the bathroom and flush it. My ego can’t take the rejection.”
You press your lips together into something you hope approximates a smile and take a careful sip. It is sweet. You can barely taste the alcohol. You rub your lips together as you set it down, hoping you haven’t gotten foam on your mouth.
“It’s really good,” you tell him honestly, and he grins in response. You raise it to your lips for more. “What is it?”
“A pornstar martini.”
You nearly spit foam right at him, somehow reversing at the last moment so you take in a hearty sip instead. His grin widens, showing canines, like he knew the effect the name would have on you. It should make you feel childish, but he doesn’t seem like he’s laughing at you so much as with you.
“It’s good,” you say again, taking out your card. “Thank you.”
He holds up his hands, stepping away from your credit card like it’s a weapon. “Put that thing away,” he says. “You’re insulting me, dollface.”
You let your card hover in the air between you, unsure. “I can’t let you—”
“Sure you can. You have to,” he insists, setting both hands on the bar and leveling you with a significant look. You can’t look back for more than a second before your gaze flees downward. “If I can’t comp a pretty girl’s drink, what am I doing here?” He lowers his voice, leaning across the bar so his face is just a few inches from yours. “And if I can’t add a pretty girl’s drink to a tosser’s tab—” he flicks his gaze over to the man who’s been especially persistent in trying to get his order in over yours since you’ve come up “—then I may as well quit.”
You press your lips together, trying desperately to keep from looking as flattered and flustered as you feel.
“You don’t want to leave me without purpose, do you?”
“No.” You smile down at the bar, privately rolling your eyes. When you glance back up, there’s a waggishness in his eyes that suggests he saw. “Thanks.”
“Thank you. Have a good night.”
“You too.”
You turn, starting back for your table, but stall a couple of steps in. Your seat’s been taken by a man around your age, all smiley and nodding as your friend talks. They’ve both got their elbows leaned on the table, eyes locked like they’re in some sort of competition. And you may not spend a lot of time in pubs, but you know enough to stay away when two people are looking at each other like that.
You stand awkwardly on the fringes of the bar crowd, looking around for another empty table, but it’s too crowded tonight; there are none. You consider dropping by to tell your friend you’re leaving, but now you’ve got this full drink in your hand. Maybe if you finish it quickly…
“Hey!” You pivot, and the same bartender is looking at you again, craning his neck to see you over the crowd. “Hey,” he all but shouts to be heard, “come here.”
You’re nothing if not obedient, working your way through the crowd with murmured apologies and your eyes on the ground to ensure you don’t step on anyone’s toes. When you get up to the bar, he’s waiting for you, holding up a hand to pause the man—the tosser, he’d dubbed him—trying to talk to him. You wonder if he’d halted his order halfway through.
“What’s going on?” he asks, eyebrows twitching together. “You looked lost over there, babe.”
“Sorry,” you say, though you’re not sure what for. “I just—my seat was taken, so I was just trying to figure out—”
“You can sit here.”
You blink, and he motions to the stools tucked under the bar in front of you, the ones nobody’s using. “I mean, you don’t have to,” he says, the closest thing to hesitant you’ve seen from him yet, “but you’re welcome to. I could use some good-looking company. We’re severely lacking over here.”
“Fuck off,” says another bartender, skimming behind him to grab a bottle off a shelf.
“Not counting you, Marls.” He shoots a sharp-edged grin towards the blond woman before fixing it back on you. His eyebrow twitches slightly in question.
“Okay.” You pull a seat out. “Okay, thanks.”
“Don’t thank me, doll, you’re doing me a favor.” He sets his forearms on the bar, leaning towards you like you’re having a far more private conversation. “I’m Sirius.” Something about him softens when you tell him your name in response, and you get the sense he’s been waiting for it. He repeats it back to you like it’s something special. “Alright, y/n, enjoy your drink, and I’ll try to be as decent company as I can while dealing with these pricks.” He makes no effort to keep the man beside you from hearing, then turns to him with an extremely false-looking smile. “Hi, what can I get you?”
Even as the man starts giving his order, Sirius’ eyes flicker your way to see if he made you smile. He did.
doing this to bartender!sirius and then not being able to walk for a week
toxic!sirius and toxic!reader and whenever they fight she comes to his work and flirts with every man she can get her shape stiletto nails on <3333 dw he makes her pay for it later <333
