Request: About the Sirius x Slytherin Reader idea,
maybe it could be an imagine where they always compete with each other, trying
to be the best, like rushing towards the potions cupboard to get the
ingredients first or in charms class when one raises their hand so does the
other without particularly knowing the answer or even snogging someone random
at parties because to make each other jealous, but the biggest competition is
on the quidditch field, both of them being chasers they practically raise hell
A/N: changed it a little, I hope you like it!
The minute Slughorn gives them the signal, Y/N
jumps out of her seat and races towards the cupboard like a madwoman. “Fluxweed…
Finally spying the bottle with the
ingredient, she reaches out to grab it with a triumphant smile on her face –
only to be met with another hand grabbing the bottle at the same time. She
stares at the large hand trying to pull the bottle out of her grip, and casts
her eyes up the well-muscled arm and into the face of –
“Black,” she mutters, staring at his smug
“Look like you weren’t first this time,
love,” Sirius says, smirking at Y/N and making her blood boil.
“Let go, Black,” she growls through
clenched teeth, but Sirius simply cocks an eyebrow and stares at her. Then,
with a sudden display of force, he rips the bottle from her grasp, leaving her
clutching empty air.
Y/N gasps, staring wildly from where the
bottle was before to where it is now – encased in Sirius’ long fingers. She
narrows her eyes, then with a toss of her hair, stalks back to her table
without a backwards glance. Oh, she would definitely get him back for this.
When Y/N walks into charms, she makes a
beeline for a specific desk in the back of the room – a desk that had an open
space next to Sirius.
“Buzz off, Potter,” she says in challenge
as James makes to sit in the seat first. James raises his eyebrows and backs
off with his arms raised, then takes a seat next to Lily and casts an amused
glance back towards his best friend. Sirius looks quite apprehensive at the
sudden turn of events, and leans over to whisper to Y/N as soon as she is
“Listen, love, about potions –” he starts,
but Y/N shoots a smirk at him and interrupts his sentence.
“Don’t worry,” she says lowly. Then she
reaches out and places a hand rather high on his thigh, squeezing it lightly. “I’m
Sirius stares down at the placement of her
hand in shock, trying desperately to keep his cool. Throughout the lesson, Y/N
slowly inches her hand higher and higher until it is mere inches away from his
crotch. She smirks at the way Sirius is trying to control his breathing, then
using a finger, gently scratches his leg, making him groan quite loudly.
Professor Flitwick’s head snaps towards the
boy and he points at him. “Mr. Black! I take it you know the answer?” Y/N
fights to keep from laughing as Sirius turns rather red and shakes his head.
“Er – no, sorry professor…”
The minute class is over Y/N rips her hand
from its tantalizing position and gathers her books. Before running out of the
room, she leans over and whispers in a shell-shocked Sirius’ ear. “See you on
the pitch, Black.”
Y/N trudges into the Gryffindor common
room, shoulders slumped as she recalls the match. She had tried her hardest to
best Black, stealing the quaffle from him at almost every turn and sinking shot
after shot into the hoops, but it wasn’t enough. And when Potter caught the
snitch – well, it was over.
But the Slytherin team still decided to
attend the party, even if it’s only to forget the events of the match
Y/N grabs a bottle of firewhiskey and leans
against a wall, taking swigs until her throat burns. She watches the throng
of people in the middle of the floor, all writhing against one another, and
decides that she wants to do that too. She sets her bottle down on the nearest
table with a bang and totters over to the dance floor, blinking rapidly to try
and rid herself of the blurriness in her eyes.
“Well, hello there.” The random boy winks
at Y/N, looking her up and down with lust in his eyes. She is about to reject
his advances when she spies something over his shoulder. Black near the fall wall, some
skank trailing her fingers over his arm and her ridiculously large chest
threatening to spill out of her top.
She feels her blood begin to boil and looks
back at the boy who approached her. “Why the hell not?” she thinks, then
grabs him by the collar and pulls him towards her. Grinding against him in time
to the pounding music from the speakers lining the walls, she ghosts her lips
over his, giving him an open invitation – which he takes rather spectacularly.
Crashing his lips to hers, Y/N and the boy are soon in a full out snogging
session in the middle of the dance floor.
Y/N can taste the firewhiskey on his
breath, and revels in the feel of his tongue exploring her mouth, when he is suddenly ripped away.
“What the hell is going on here?” someone
roars. Squinting, she sees that it’s none other than Black himself.
She stalks closer to him and leans in
close, their noses almost touching. “I’m having fun, Black. Leave it alone.”
She turns around to get back to the boy, but is pulled back rather roughly.
Y/N stares at the hand on her arm – the same
hand that had rudely wrenched the potions ingredient away from her in the
morning, the same hand the clenched when she was teasing him in charms, the
same hand that she repeatedly tried to steal the quaffle from. This time, when
she looks at the face attached to the hand, she sees more than just anger.
“I’m the only one who gets to touch you
like that,” Sirius says in a low growl, then pulls her against his chest and kisses
her. Hard. He nibbles at her bottom lip, seeking entrance, and Y/N gladly allows
him to deepen the kiss. His hands are running over her waist and her back, and
her hands are stroking through his hair, and god, it’s likely the best
kiss that she’s ever had. When they resurface, Sirius looks at her through
hooded eyes and speaks in a low, hoarse voice.
i stopped picking scabs, stopped resorting to the past, realized this part of me isn’t bruised anymore; what’s left is just a memory of where the bruise used to be. and sometimes that memory haunts me, but not all night. not all day. maybe there’s still a scab, but it doesn’t bleed.
so i listen to the songs that make me think of you and i feel nothing but the soothing sound of your voice when it was beautiful to me, my memory racing to the passenger seat of your car. so i answer your text messages with something dumb and i laugh when i hear your response. so this isn’t filled with sadness anymore. it isn’t a gaping hole anymore. we don’t talk about serious things. we pretend we forget.
and i miss you, but i’m glad you’re still in my life. and i miss you, but i won’t die without you.
I wanted to make a text but didn’t know how to do it and this happened. I’m sorry, I haven’t written in eons and am still getting back into it. shoutout to @fanglesbleach15 for being my reader. Yoongi Drabble. word count: 642
The moment they started their walk off stage, you were out of your seat and racing for backstage. Flashing your pass at the security guards, you held it tightly in your hand as you ran through the countless hallways and make shift pathways until you found the small tunnel the boys would be coming out of.