ROMANCE . . . oneshots

♡ my oh my ♡

sirius black x reader imagine ; in which the reader somehow gets caught up with someone they shouldn't have.
— this has been many different oneshots. like, too many. whoops. everything's written in american english because i cannot get used to british english. the characters are probably ooc bc i don't write hp. also you have a preset last name bc sacred 28 things sorry. slytherin!reader. probably female coded because i'm used to writing females whoops. reader canonly likes boys and girls. implied smut, sexual innuendos.

❝ i swear on my life that i've been a good girl
tonight, i don't wanna be her ❞

YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN the angel, the good child. It's what came with the territory of being a member of the upper class Sacred 28, with rigid traditions and terrible consequences.

Your brother was long married off, and although you did enjoy the company of your sister-in-law, they had to network amongst the usual crowd of Purebloods at this boring as hell ball. You were supposed to, but frankly you were annoyed with talking to the same people over and over again, so you settled down at a table with a plate of hors d'oeuvres, examining the bland tablecloth intently. How could the Greengrasses choose such boring decor? What if they . . . you know . . . put green grass in the ballroom? That would be infinitely more annoying but entertaining.

No. You were thinking like a trickster would. Someone who finds joy in someone else's misery. Someone who thinks that they can get away with everything because of their pretty smirk and honey-dripped words.

Someone like . . .

"What's someone like you doing at a ball like this all alone?"

Someone like Sirius Black.

You've never talked to him much; he's a year above you in Hogwarts, a Gryffindor that openly despises Slytherins, and a disgrace to his family. Yet, he hasn't been disowned. You figured it was going to happen one day.

And it couldn't have been before today, when he was sitting next to you with his typical black leather jacket even in a formal setting and his typical charming smirk. You weren't affected by it; you'd seen it directed too many times to teachers and boys and girls alike.

"Tired of the company," you replied, strongly hinting for him to leave.

He did not take the hint. "Well, good for you, because I'm here now."

"I'd prefer if you weren't."

"Are you suggesting for my death?" He asked incredulously.

"Gee, where'd you get that from?" You drawled, leaning back in your chair.

He barked out a laugh, which sounded real, unlike polite laughs you heard whenever someone tried to pull off a joke. "Is that sarcasm I hear?"

You shrugged innocently. "I don't know, are you hard of hearing?"

"The opposite, in fact, love," he smirked, like you were sharing an inside joke. "I think that you're going to be the only reason why I survive these events. If you're here for more of them, I mean."

You'd rather die than go to another one of these events, but you had to go to them anyway. You were dreading the next one. Get through this one first, you scolded yourself.

"Bold praise," you commented, "for a guy like you to give."

"I give my praise to those who deserve it," he declared, looking at you with a confused expression. "What do you mean by 'a guy like me'?"