anonymous asked:

What happened, Sal, are you okay?

I’m fine! But one of the greatest things I averse is lying, it is one act that I abhor the most. Someone wanted me to act as an intermediator so that I can lie to another person on behalf of them, so I was a bit upset that I must put myself at a risk of dishonesty for the sake of their interests. So I explained to them that I can compromise with the person without resorting to dishonesty and they were upset that I would not act according to their wishes.

Lessons from Mrs Heteronormativity, Part II

Hi, this is ’Mary’ again. You already know who I am, don’t you? https://possiblyimbiassed.tumblr.com/post/158941695058/lessons-from-mrs-heteronormativity. So no need to expand on that. But since I’m now your obligatory storyteller, I’d also like to introduce my colleague to you: Mr Homophobia.

Mr Homophobia is the driver of this ride, and I’m the enabler. Together we have hijacked the story and derailed it rather beautifully. So do hop on board - it’s gonna be a bumpy ride!

Choo - choo!

When Mr Homophobia – let’s call him ‘Jim’ – made his first appearance in the show, he already managed to give HBTQ people a negative representation:

Jim lured Sherlock into deducing him and ‘outing’ him as a dishonest gay man in front of John (who we all know is a bit closeted) and Molly (who had presented Jim as her new boyfriend).

As a Consulting Criminal, Jim also ‘helped’ minor gay characters in the show to appear to the audience as murderous people seeking revenge:

Jim’s Consulting services even included persuading a lesbian woman to dissimulate “falling in love” with a man (albeit in a rather treacherous way):

Jim’s true mission was made clear already in Season 1, though:

The inclusion of hallucinatory drugs made Mr Homophobia into an increasing problem for Sherlock…

…until the time was ripe for The Fall:

The Fall consisted in Sherlock abandoning the love of his life…

…and leaving said love interest in my warm, heteronormative hands:

And then, after Sherlock’s complete heartbreak…

… some traditional, homophobic tropes could play out nicely in Sherlock’s mind, even without Jim’s physical presence:

The Depraved Homosexual trope  http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DepravedHomosexual

The Bury Your Gays trope http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BuryYourGays

And Jim has even made sure Sherlock thinks he deserves being beaten:

And even if Sherlock might have had his doubts…

He still succumbs to the general concept:

Isn’t it amazing just how much Jim managed to do to an otherwise rational mind - the famous Sherlock Holmes - in just five minutes?

So, as I was saying, this story is really a beautiful train wreck; a masterpiece of post-modern, cynical art. Mr Homophobia and I - Mrs Heteronormativity - make a wonderful, serial-killing couple together. In short: Jim instils the fear and I give it some social context; we are the perfect villains!

[Sorry about this rather bleak take on Moriarty, but this is basically how I see him; as a companion metaphor to ‘Mary’. And this, as it seems, is now the way that everything’s going to remain… At least until the moment that Sherlock – and the audience – finally decides to WAKE UP and get rid of these villains once and for all!]

Jungkook Scenario: Just This Close.

Request:  reader used to be popular/well-liked at her old school but after moving schools to a new country, she has trouble fitting in and making friends. Then she meets Jungkook, who is initially shy like her, but they both open up and become comfortable with eachother +  reader and Jungkook go to the same school but he is in the grade above. They were on casual, friendly terms before but a cute run-in with him in the library one day makes the reader see him differently now. She tries not to show it but she acts awkwardly around him and she senses that he knows. Ends with a private talk on the school rooftop

Genre: Fluff 

Adapting wasn’t all that easy, not really like everybody said. Of course you could come up to your new classmates and say a simple hi, try to maybe start a conversation but things around here were a little different than it was back home. You sighed and held onto the straps of your backpack, rushing through the hallway towards your assigned class room. You didn’t expect that transferring to a new school and a whole new country was going to be this hard, you’d always gotten along well with people, you had lots of close friends and were quite notorious in your old school, people wanted to be with you but here, everything was different.

You stopped for a moment under the threshold and scanned the available seats, here, people only side glanced you because you were new, because you still didn’t have a group or didn’t know any of the cool people. You had to take a step to the side when two running boys almost bumped on you and decided to take a discreet seat at the back. It was a little bittersweet because somehow it felt like with each passing day you were willingly making yourself invisible just because you didn’t quite fit in yet.

Decided to shove those thoughts away and stay positive you focused in your lesson. When the bell for the free period rang, you tried to find a quiet place to munch on the cereal bar you’d brought with yourself and maybe doodle a little on your books, so you avoided the cafeteria and went to one of the tables outside, finding a nice and shadowed one, you had twenty minutes left before your next class so taking some fresh air was nice.

There was a couple two tables away from you, and another boy who seemed absorbed in whatever was on his phone. You ignored them for a while until you noticed a sort of rhythm. When you raised your eyes form your doodles, the couple was gone and the lone boy was drumming against the edge of the table with two pencils. You giggled harder than you intended and he stopped, turning around to find you looking at him.

He looked at you with big surprised eyes and you were sure that he wasn’t expecting to see anyone behind him. – I got carried on…– he said softly, apologetically, still with his eyes big, or maybe his eyes were just super round and expressive like that.

–You have a nice beat – you managed to say softly, it was by far the first thing close to an interaction that didn’t leave the person you talked to looking weirdly at you.

The boy smiled a little and you did so as well, then he stood up and left and you focused again on your doodles, not really expecting to see him again until you actually found him drumming at the same table the next day.

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No Platform for Land: On Nick Land’s Racist Capitalism and a More General Problem

We invite the New Centre for Research and Practice, if they are to retain any credibility as a critical institution, to end their course taught by Nick Land (ongoing through March and April 2017). That students have paid for this course is not a problem they should be burdened with; a refund, whole or in part, would be the appropriate recompense.

Nick Land promotes racism, in its eugenic, ethnonationalist, and cultural varieties, and yet he continues to be feted in art and theory scenes. As the crisis lurches into the Frog Twitter presidency, the New Centre for Research and Practice hosts Land for a suite of eight seminars; Urbanomic, the experimental small-press, announces a reprint of Fanged Noumena, the Land collection that hooked-in his philosophy fan club; and an academic conference is advertised, in terms all too flattering, on Land’s ‘ferocious but short-lived assault’.

Is it that these institutions and projects are wittingly racist? No, they strike us more as Land’s ‘useful idiots’, enhancing the reputation, credibility, and reach of a far right racist while imagining his presence in their scenes furthers different agendas. Sure, they make the odd noise against his racism, when challenged, but it peeves them to do so, their hackles rise; racism is an irritant, the assumed radicalism of their projects seemingly absolving them of mundane responsibilities to investigate further, to reflect on their role, to cut Land loose. Instead, their cutting-edge philosophy morphs into liberal commonplace as they deflect opposition to the content and aims of Land’s racism and the means of its circulation and traction into abstract defense of the free play of ideas, of ‘reflect[ing] the landscape of contemporary thought’, of ‘working with controversial thinkers’. One wonders if this kind of philosophy reaches any point at which the content of an idea provokes critical opposition?

It is suggested that lack of critical attention to Land’s racist scene allowed it to proliferate unchecked, that, as the New Centre puts it, ‘the political left’s dismissal of right accelerationism and neoreactionary thought [i.e. the Land camp] is one of the many reasons as to why we are seeing an unchallenged rise of fascism and white nationalism in Europe and North America’. Quite so, they are right to highlight this lapse of attention. Though they have missed the logical conclusion of their observation: that we should critically oppose all the means by which far right racists rise and gain credibility, including when the means locate themselves on ‘the left’ or within experimental philosophy.

We are accused of not reading Land, of a failure to understand him, but the only defense we can see of those who are yet to cut loose from Land is that this failure of understanding lies with them. So let us clarify a little with some brief exposition of Land’s far right racism. We hope it will also be of use to others concerned about the spread of the far right under cover of esoteric philosophy.

Nick Land advocates for racially based absolutist micro-states, where unregulated capitalism combines with genetic separation between global elites and the ‘refuse’ (his term) of the rest. It’s a eugenic philosophy of ‘hyper-racism’, as he describes it on the racist blog Alternative Right, or ‘Human Biodiversity’ (HBD). Here, class dominance and inequality are mapped onto, explained, and justified by tendencies for the elite to mate with each other and spawn a new species with an expanding IQ. Yes, this ‘hyper-racism’ is that daft – and would be laughed off as the fantasy of a neoliberal Dr Strangelove if it didn’t have leverage in this miserable climate of the ascendant far right. Regarding the other side, the domain of the ‘refuse’, Land uses euphemism to stand in for the white nationalist notion of a coming ‘white genocide’: ‘demographic engineering as an explicit policy objective’, ‘steady progress of population replacement’, is the racial threat he describes on the bleak webpages of The Daily Caller.

It is claimed Land has a superior philosophy of capitalism (‘accelerationism’ – you’ve heard of it – the topic of his New Centre course). But like the Nazis before him, Land’s analysis of capitalism produces and is sustained by a pseudo-biological theory of eugenic difference and separation: the redemptive productive labour of well-bred Aryans, for one, the escalating IQ of an inward-mating economic elite for the other. There’s no ‘philosophy’ here to be separated from Land’s far right ‘politics’; the two are interleaved and co-constituting. ‘More Capitalism!’ has always been the essence of Land’s supposedly radical critique, from his early philosophy at the Cybernetic Culture Research Unit (CCRU) to now. Hence it’s little wonder that his philosophy is inseparable from the racism that has always accompanied capitalism as an integral dynamic – from chattel slavery and the blood-bath of colonial expansion, to the passive slaughter of migrants in the Mediterranean and Black populations at the hands of the police, their mundane exposure to death calibrated to the crisis of the labour form. Land’s oh so virulent assault on the ‘Human Security System’, as he framed it in CCRU days, thrilling those who thought him the transvaluation of all values, is revealed to be the latest in a long and monotonous line of tropes that would disqualify the life of particular humans – the working class, minorities, and other ‘refuse’. For hyper-racists can rest assured, the elite’s ‘Human Security System’ is to be bolstered, by capital accrual and the proliferation of hard micro-borders.

That Land’s chosen people are internally homogeneous global classes of high ‘socio-economic status’ and not exclusively ‘white’ should not be the distraction he intends; the physical and psychological violence of racism has its own sorry architecture, but it has always closely partnered with the production and perpetuation of class privilege and pleasure. And inevitably, more traditional racist tropes of fear, hatred, and ridicule of Black people and Muslims, of ‘cucks’ (as the alt-right call those who would live without ‘race’ boundaries), feature with enough regularity in Land’s blog and Twitter (Outside in, @Outsideness, @UF_blog) that his ideas can merrily slop around on social media with the full gamut of racisms.

Take an example, posted on the day Land gave his third seminar at the New Centre, as if to rub their noses in it. On 19 March he tweeted favourably to a rabidly racist blog that explained German crime rates as the result of the supposed innate propensities of ‘races’ (and not, as anyone with a critical philosophy of capital knows, a result of racism, insecurity, and poverty); ‘Blessings from the Maghreb’, Land captioned it, with a wit worthy of Nigel Farage. Another chimed in to this dreary taxonomy of racial types with the observation that the Chinese ‘are impeccably well behaved’, to which Land’s response: ‘90% of my racism is based on that fact’. Don’t be mistaken to think the latter is some kind of light-hearted humour, for Land adopts – and teaches his junior interlocutors by example – a calculated ambiguity to his racism, all the better to broaden the milieu within which his odious ideas can circulate unchallenged.

Then there’s Land’s broader neoreactionary scene. For instance, he converses with Brett Stevens on Twitter as interlocutor, not opponent, and the two spoke as part of the ‘neoreaction conference’ (Stevens’ description) at LD50 in summer 2016. Stevens is a self-declared white nationalist whose ideas influenced Anders Breivik and who, in turn, praised Breivik’s murder of 77 people for, in Stevens’ eyes, being an attack on ‘leftists’: ‘I am honored to be so mentioned by someone who is clearly far braver than I,’ Stevens wrote of Breivik. ‘[N]o comment on his methods, but he chose to act where many of us write, think and dream’.

It is surely apparent from all this that any appeal from Land or his advocates to ‘free speech’ is a dissimulation, willed or accidental, that aides his efforts to extend the reach of his racism. It’s only those at the greatest remove from the violent impact of racism who don’t see that ‘free speech’ is repeated by the alt-right to such a degree – always front and centre in their profile – that it has become integral to their reproduction and dissemination. As ever, the art scene and liberal media have trouble seeing what’s right in front of their eyes. Look at Frieze’s recent effort, the magazine’s will to promote ‘free speech’ taking the form of a stacked ‘survey’ about the anti-racist shutdown of LD50, with an unbalance of three to one of those unable to fathom why it’s ill advised to give far right racists and their apologists a free pass through east London, the art world, and the university.

It has been said that we should learn from Land’s purportedly well-honed critique of the cognitive ecosystem of ‘the left’, the rather limited view that those who would overcome the violence, exploitation, and tedium of capitalist society are all just whingers. But the readiness of people to be impressed by this point suggests they may already be on the slippery slope to the right. For it would take little effort to find a wealth of critical work from radical theory and practice – from feminism, post-colonial theory, anti-racism, queer theory, Marxism, critical theory, communism – on the limitations of our scenes. That has always been a feature of radical currents, the ‘ruthless criticism of all that exists’, where ‘all’ includes the standpoints from which that critique is made (in contrast to the drab inviolate principles of the far right: bourgeois individuality, race, nation). Undoubtedly, this critical capacity needs honing. Sustained critical and experimental engagement with this conjuncture and our limitations is sorely wanted, for there is much worse in the world today than Nick Land. But part of that critique should be opposing the presence of Land and his ilk in experimental scenes, rejecting the idea that we have anything to learn from these narcissistic, racist identitarians – nothing except how they came to proliferate so unopposed.

And that is a lesson for the future too. As the crisis deepens, we will be seeing more of these far right ideas disseminated under cover of ‘controversy’ and ‘free speech’; right wing ‘solutions’ camouflaged with leftist flavours; reactionary conservatism masquerading as techno-futurism; left wing scenes adopting right wing metaphysics; fantasies of social collapse arming the status quo, etc. Not that we’ll have to look too hard. Nick Land openly declares his racism, and yet critical institutions continue to promote him. Can they ride out opposition to Land and sail again on philosophical waters untroubled by the realities of class exploitation and racism? Perhaps, but it’s unlikely. Instead, we invite them to ditch their positive association with Land, before their credibility is tested beyond repair.


Perfect - Request

Requested by @fandom-queen-of-the-world:  may I request a Sherlock (BBC) and reader fic where the reader has trouble liking her body (as in she is slightly plus size) and sherlock shows her how much she means to him?

Pairing: Sherlock x reader

Word count: 1,116

Warnings: Insecurity (?)

A/N: Tiny and fluffy, just for you. Also, to whoever feels related, know that you are beautiful. The fact that we are beautiful in different ways doesn’t make us less or more beautiful from one another. We are all snowflakes, and snowflakes are gorgeous no matter what.


Originally posted by sherlockspeare

She was once again standing in front of the mirror. The magazine laying at her bed was full of women with bodies so fit they made one feel like starting a diet right away.

They were beautiful, skinny, tall… Everything a woman would love to be.

She looked at her own body. Stretch marks, a bit of cellulite even, and her love handles were huge, as well as the fat rolls on her belly that had once been un-existent. She was ordinary, not a gorgeous face, so her looks didn’t work to dissimulate her extra weight.

Suddenly, Sherlock’s face appeared on the mirror behind her.

He placed his warm hands on her shoulders and then slid the down to her waist. “So beautiful.” He whispered on her ear as he placed a feather-like kiss on her cheek.

She sighed heavily. “Mind knocking next time?”

“And miss the chance to see you in your underwear with a lot of light? I’m afraid I can’t do that.” He replied and wrapped his arms around her waist. “What’s wrong?” He asked, noticing the sad look on her face.

“I’m wrong.” She answered bitterly.

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Carried to her coronation in an open chair, enormously overweight and virtually an invalid at thirty-seven, Anne could congratulate herself that she had survived to see this day. She had betrayed her father, cast doubts upon her brother’s [James Francis Edward’s] birth, quarreled with her sister, resented her brother-in-law, lied and dissimulated, ruined her health to provide an heir to the crown. Now she had no children and ignored her brother’s right, despite promises made to her father. But she had the crown. Maureen Waller

Seokjin Scenario: The Rhythm Of The Rain - Part 1

Request: Can I request a Bodyguard AU. Where Seokjin is Y/N bodyguard and at first Y/N was too scared to talk to him but realize one day he is actually a goofball and kind hearted person. Y/N warms up to him and eventually falls for but promise not to tell him because it would risk his job. But something happens and risks his life protecting y/n. You end up confessing to him. Please surprise me in the ending? It can be tragic or a happy one. Thankies~

Genre: Romance / Drama - Bodyguard AU

Part 2

How many types of torture could your tutor pull off? You were sure the old woman had some horrible things under her sleeves, you were going to have nightmares about her making your life miserable and you were sure she would have a blast with that. You covered your yawn with your book while she went over your exam. Truth be said, you loved to learn new languages but not with that lady, she just made it all the most boring and painful. Maybe if you tried to convince your father that you already knew enough you could get some time off from your German lessons, you giggled and dissimulated it with a cough when she turned to look at you.

You sighed while she went about why you weren’t making any advance from the basics and how the daughter of the ambassador should know more than to just introduce herself in German by know, you refrained yourself from huffing and instead focused in how pretty your sparkly pink pen was; you already knew enough languages and weren’t only taking German but also French classes and you were sure she barely knew two and was just being a bitch on purpose while you were still jet lagged by your last travel with your father.

– I’m going to the bathroom – you showed the most faked smile ever and stood up without waiting for any type of permission, overly satisfied with the way your heels echoed with each step while you made your way outside. –Stupid witch, god how I hate her –

You threw the door harshly at your back and almost fell if it wasn’t for the pair of arms grabbing you before you could touch the ground. Why were you even wearing heels inside? That pair was as marvelous as they were unstable and you should have known better than to forget about the carpet outside in which you unceremoniously got tangled with.

You held onto the arms holding you but instantly let go when you saw to whom they belonged to and almost fell again in the process. You stumbled a little onto your feet again and brushed some invisible dust from your pants, your heart was beating faster than it should for only almost falling onto your bodyguard.

–I’m sorry…– you looked down feeling stupid out of the blue, why was it suddenly harder to breath? You fisted your hands to get a grip on yourself and looked at him in the eyes. The guy was new, barely had a month there and you didn’t even know his name yet but he was… distressing, unsettling, scary and so stoic, like he only stood there like a statue, a good looking one you could agree but still, so cold. But every single one of the bodyguards you’d met was like that, so you didn’t understand why you felt so intimidated and scared by him.

He nodded and went to his usual position once again, hands laced behind his back, chin tipped up, eyes lost somewhere to the front in a sort of calm alert, with that type of seriousness that made you feel childish out of the sudden in the middle of your outbursts, so you just turned around and literally flew upstairs towards your bedroom and as away from him as you could be in that moment.

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anonymous asked:

“Truth at last cannot be hidden. Dissimulation is of no avail. Dissimulation is to no purpose before so great a judge. Falsehood puts on a mask. Nothing is hidden under the sun.” Leonardo da Vinci

Sasuke  and Naruto High School Relationship Headcanons

I had so much fun writing this, that Tumblr decided to delete them so I could write them again :) 

The second part is sarcasm, but I actually loved these two headcanons

Originally posted by ashiros

Naruto Uzumaki


• He is an awful student. Most of the time, he doesn’t care about it, but after he fails every exam possible, Naruto wishes he could put all the books on his head and learn by osmosis -at least he knows that concept-. So most of your dates before Exam Week are study sessions. Despite all your efforts, they aren’t very efficient: the first hour, Naruto calls you sensei and laughs after every word you pronounce; after that, he gets tired and protests until you take a break.

• Loves when you bring him lunch. Although it is not ramen, Naruto thinks your bentos are the most delicious thing ever. He especially likes when you decorate them and make small bears with the rice, or when you put ‘Naruto’ on his plate. You’ll eat the food together, with Naruto trying to steal your part in not very stealthy attempts.

• Takes you to Ichiraku very often after school. There you two eat lots of ramen and blurt bad puns and laugh at your own silliness. Naruto finds incredibly cute when you get some food on your cheeks; he’ll only tell you at the end of the date and smile at your embarrassment, depending on his mood, he’ll either help you to clean with a napkin or lick it clean. After you leave the restaurant, he always kisses you.

• After he realized his feelings, he immediately confessed. Naruto was very surprised when you returned his feelings, as he told you with the certainty of failure. How would someone as beautiful, intelligent and gentle as you care for someone like him? He was on cloud nine. That day Naruto told everyone you were together, interrupted with his laughs several classes and gave you countless kisses.

• Tried to be the class president to impress you. The school was full of Vote for Naruto posters, he even made a list of campaign promises. He was desolated when Sasuke won. His friend didn’t even try, Sakura – to Sasuke’s chagrin – proposed him and all the class, except for you, voted for him. You spent several days cheering Naruto up and stopping him from fighting with Sasuke.

• You have lots of couple stuff. Almost every week Naruto appears at your desk with a big grin and a gift. You have couple rings, bracelets, phone decorations and shirts. Those little trinkets enthusiasm him a lot, for Naruto, it is a reminder of your love.

Originally posted by narutokunaii

Sasuke Uchiha


• He confessed to you in an attack of jealousy. Sasuke already knew he liked you, but he didn’t have the time to care about it then: exams were coming, and he had to get a higher note than his brother had five years ago. However, when the rumor that you were in love with Naruto Uzumaki starting traversing the corridors, he couldn’t stop himself. After classes, Sasuke dragged you to the back of the main building and kissed you, he kissed you until his lips were sore and his lungs stung. You didn’t need another word to understand: “I like you too, Sasuke.”

• Sasuke is a busy student. He is the captain of the judo club, goes daily to cram school and then studies until midnight. If you were in a relationship, Sasuke wouldn’t be around you all the time. Actually, your dates would be really scarce. He is not going to throw away all that he has worked for his father’s recognition, and he needs you to understand.  But, every minute you spend together is precious to him.

• He will religiously walk you home every day, even if that means returning to school afterward. It’s the only regular time you can spend together, and he loves the closeness that you have then. He’ll invariably wait for you outside the classroom, leaning against the wall like he doesn’t care about anything. His eyes light up when you appear, but he dissimulates it with a commentary of how tired you look, which also serves him as a reason to carry your bag. He’ll wait until you are out of the school grounds to take your hand, but Sasuke isn’t going to let it go until your doorway: he likes the warmth and the soft texture of your skin and the small tugs when you get a little bit behind.

• Sometimes, you find small gifts in your desk. No name. They are Sasuke’s. They are usually small things you find cute in the walks back home. When you thank Sasuke for them he denies their true value: “that trash? Isn’t important.” You know he’s happy you liked him for the smirk that creeps to his face abruptly in class.

• There is no PDA at school. Sasuke has some rabid fangirls and he is afraid they are going to harass you. All your contact in classes is reduced to slight touches of hands and short glances. Sometimes, in the middle of an exam, you can feel his eyes in your neck. However, he takes you to the roof for lunch every day.

• Sasuke hates school festivals. It’s a day less for studying and the whole celebration is useless. The worst part is that his class always votes for some kind of performance that includes him with his torso naked. He always manages to escape in the middle of the event, though. He usually spends the rest of the day in the roof, eating onigiri and listening to your impressions of the festival.

Taehyung Scenario: You Can Be The Boss.


Genre: Fluff - CEO Reader AU

It wasn’t even nine in the morning and you’d already had to handle two emergencies through your pone, sometimes you thanked the heaven for living in a time were connections were easily handled. The quiet background buzz at the reception felt like home, and you greeted the secretaries there wit a quick nod and a short good morning, walking straight to the elevators while your heels clicked on the polished floor.

Some days, you still couldn’t believe how far you’d gotten, and other days, just like this one, you were proud of yourself, of being able to laugh at the faces of those who only thought you were simply a dreamer, that women couldn’t make it far into the business world. You looked at the reflection that the elevator’s doors gave you and smiled satisfied. This was your world, you’d taken onto it with a lot of brain, charm and effort, you weren’t the CEO of your own telephone company for nothing.

Your office was located at the fifteenth floor, you enjoyed a pretty view of the city from the huge glass windows and it was decorated to your own liking. It was just nice to be the boss. When the elevator reached your floor and you made your way to your office, some of your employee’s greeted you, some others just got to the side to let you pass and maybe they were just a little scared you thought, intimidated more likely but you’d stopped being worried about that, whoever got past the initial prejudice and supposition would know that you were just a normal girl in a position of power and control, not a monster in disguise.

The door to your office was opened and you eyed your assistant’s desk but he wasn’t there, he was the most capable person you’d had on your side, sharp minded, witty, managed to keep almost every one happy and delighted them with a quick chatter. You stopped your train of thoughts when you saw a coffee mug ready and waiting for you at your desk, accompanied by some biscuits.

–Good day sunshine! – oh, there he was. Taehyung was like no other worker you had, that for sure, with his deep voice and animated demeanor that sometimes bordered on overwhelming. You dissimulated your smile while taking off your long coat and giving a sip to your coffee; it was perfect, Taehyung never brought it wrong.

–It’s really inappropriate of you to call me that Taehyung, I’m your boss – he just smiled at you, all teeth and joy so you looked down at the papers in front of you to stop yourself from staring. –With that being said, what do we have for today? –

–Meeting at nine thirty with the chief engineer about the new program he’s working on, reviewing on two new apps by ten and a half, have a call with the investors so I reserved you forty minutes after eleven for that, oh and the new interns arrive today, I did a preselection and reduced the group to five and they’ll have a private interview with you starting at two so you have enough time to go to see your parents after midday because their anniversary is today – he said, already on his efficient mode.

You gulped on your coffee, looking surprised at him. –Oh my god, I forgot… I need to get them a gift Taehyung –

–I already did – Taehyung said, signaling to one of your couches where a box with a pretty ribbon laid. –Since I knew you were most likely going to forget it, I took the liberty of planning a one week trip for them, and they should have a special lunch delivered with the catering service at their house by twelve, so you only need to take the box with you to give them their tickets and congratulate them –

You stared dumbfounded at him, sometimes, Taehyung went too fast but that was good, that was specifically good when he never let escape details like this and managed to save your day. You stayed silent for a moment and Taehyung talked again, he wasn’t one to do well with silence.

–Don’t you have the greatest assistant in the country? – he smiled again while looking at you. His tie was a little crooked, and who wore ties with little comic whales to work? Taehyung, that’s who; the indeed greatest assistant in the country who worked for you.

–Thanks Taehyung, you did well – you smiled softly at him and Taehyung shrugged.

–At your service boss, call me if you need me – he checked something else on his iPad and then exited your office, leaving you wondering how you’d managed to do without him before.

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anonymous asked:

Anything with blindfolds/sensory deprivation?

  • Touch by @kyluxtrashpit - 5k, Rated E, No Archive Warnings Apply
    When Hux finds himself falling into bed with Kylo Ren, he wants nothing more than to completely take Ren apart. He finds a way to do just that. 

  • Every Inch by @huxplicit - 3k, Rated E, Choose Not To Warn/No Warnings Apply
    Hux realized that he could happily spend his life memorizing each scar, dip, mole and freckle on the body below him

  • Branching Out by Ylevihs - 5k, Rated E, No Archive Warnings Apply Kylo convinces Hux to try out something new

  • New Sensation by @theearlgreyalpha, @gentleman-caller -  5k, Rated E, No Archive Warnings Apply
    He let his tongue trace along that crease, flickering out against his overheated skin before he let his bearded cheek drag over the same path. And by that point, he knew Ren had to be so hard it was nearly uncomfortable. Perhaps it was about time for his torture to come to an end. Eventually. 

  • Dissimulation by h-uxed -  3k, Rated E, No Archive Warnings Apply 
    For Hux, there’s freedom to be found in knowing only the mask; a fact Kylo Ren is willing to benefit from.

  • A Change Of Plan by @ginger-ai - 8k, Rated E, No Archive Warnings Apply
    The whole idea is to make Hux wait for it. Leave him stranded for hours completely unable to help himself and then return when he needs it most. Kylo lives for the range of emotions Hux experiences through out it all, feeding off it until the very end. But who says it needs to end once they’ve fucked? Hux is here at his mercy for the next few hours at the very least. They have time.
Whichever You Ship

It doesn’t matter wich ship you ship, a good FIC is a good FIC.

There are my top 5 ZoSan Master Pieces:

1. Spit It Out. Created by: (HellAuditore- @marimoyaro) A03 and FF.net 

2. Do it Right. Created by: @zosanlaw AO3

3. Hereafter.  Created by: @aevium @riotoftime @mihawking AO3

4. Fluency. Created by: Unda. AO3

5. Shackled Dissimulation. Created by @auspizien AO3

You, people, are amazing. 


Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

Originally posted by whatabigpairofgifs

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

Originally posted by queenbeyoncegkc

Originally posted by heckyeahreactiongifs

Originally posted by badoca

Originally posted by sgmcvintage

Seokjin Scenario: Cheap Thrills.

Request:  A scenario where Reader and Jin are heirs to a rivaling company. You both pretend to hate each other infront of your family but are secretly going out and one day something happens between the two of you(a baby). You’re both forced to reveal your relationship to both your parents (which causes more problem with each other) however the results ended up in to having a merger turns out it was th best decision for both company.

Genre: Romance / Drama

–I see the host wasn’t as selective as I thought he would be – you laughed softly, mockingly, taking a little sip from your cup of water and side eyeing Seokjin, who was passing by your table with his father at his right.

He smiled, fixing his tailored suit jacket. –Obviously not, since we have the unpleasure of meeting –

He said nonchalantly, and you smirked, smoothing down your dress and not bothering in looking at him anymore, it was hard to attack him verbally while looking to his eyes.

–Are things so bad at home that you came for free food? – your mother laughed softly next to you and Seokjin’s father turned red with what was most probably anger. –That wouldn’t happen if you just stepped out of the way of my family and let the business to people who clearly know what they’re doing better than you–

–Oh you wish that dear – This time Jin approached you, standing behind your chair and bending down to speak close to your ear, and you pretended that his closeness didn’t affect you at all. –We’ll be around for a while so get used –

–You’re disgusting, and clearly not aware of the sense of personal space – you frowned at him standing up, and your mother did so as well.

–Don’t lose your time Y/N, they’re hopeless – she was saying but your head was only focused on the light dizziness that took over you, so much that you had to hold onto the edge of the table while feeling the blood leaving your face.

You saw Seokjin’s eyes change, the slightest bit, a hit of worry clouded over them but he couldn’t approach you, not right there in front of everyone, so you steeled yourself and swallowed harshly.

–Yes, they are – you retorted, but it didn’t sound as bitter as you wanted it to be, you turned around quickly to search for the bathroom. You’d been feeling nauseous since the morning and you supposed the strong smell of the food served at the party made it all wrong.

You pressed a hand drenched in cold water to your forehead and waited a few minutes for you to calm down before going out again, and you found Seokjin outside, focusing on his phone and trying to dissimulate the fact that he was waiting for you.

–Are you alright? – he asked in a whisper. The hallway was empty and you walked slower than usual.

–I don’t feel too well, but I’m a little better now – His eyes focused on you with the usual warmness and tenderness that he looked at you in private, when nobody else was seeing and you didn’t have to conceal the feelings you had for each other. He took the few steps separating you and his hand caressed your cheek gingerly.

–You’re so pale Y/N – you rested your face on his palm and nodded, rejoicing onto the touch for a few seconds before stepping away and looking to the other direction.

–I’ll be alright, much better when I see you later – you smiled to yourself, caressing your perfectly styled hair and Jin laughed under his breath. Walking away from you to the opposite direction.

–I’ll leave before the clock hits twelve, so you won’t have to wait long for me, it’s a promise –

It didn’t matter to you anymore that all your dates and escapades were in secret, you always did the most of those moments and you’d been craving for Jin’s company for a week already. You nodded with the smile still on your lips, Seokjin was wearing the tie you’d given him, the one that matched perfectly your dress and whoever looked at you would think that it was an unlucky coincidence the fact that you were dressed as a couple, even your mother had laughed at that, oh if she knew, the you had fallen in love with the only man you weren’t supposed to.

Keep reading

The queen had no great regard for the pale, lanky, red-haired son-in-law of the Noailles, whose pointed nose and receding forehead made him look like a bird. Few of the people at court admired him. Indeed, the air of quiet reserve which he always maintained made some of his companions feel that he was constantly brooding over some deep dissimulation. The marquis was conscious of this suspicion but explained his introspective nature to himself as the effect of secret pride, sensitiveness about his awkward manner, and a tendency to be observant.
—  Lafayette in America by Louis Gottschalk
Mind Reader - Dean x reader

Imagine: Dean, your crush, takes a potion to read minds in order to solve the case you’re working on. However, your thoughts are too loud and dirty for him to ignore.

Characters: Dean, Sam and reader.

Warnings: A few dirty thoughts and a bit of fluff, I’m sure you can handle it.

Word count: 2,934

A/N: Yes, I interrupted the Sam spam for this but I couldn’t help myself. I was watching TV with my brothers and I saw this guy who could read minds (on a cartoon) and thought “this one could work” and I couldn’t imagine it with anyone else but Dean. 

Requests are open! 

**The dialogs written in italics are thoughts.

None of you were sure the spell would work, but Dean took it anyways. You were hunting down a vengeful spirit, even had a few guesses on whose bones to burn, but no one in that goddamn town dared to say anything; they covered each other up. Therefore, when Sam suggested that one of them took a mind-reading spell to see if that worked, Dean didn’t thought twice.

“Feel anything?” Sam asked. Dean shook his head.

“It tastes like crap.” Dean complaint.

“Maybe because it does have crap.” You muttered and Dean almost fainted at the thought. Sam chuckled and palmed his brother’s back.

“Easy there, Dean. Don’t throw it up, maybe it ends up working.” Sam said and his brother nodded.

After a few hours of waiting, Dean was positive that the spell hadn’t worked at all. Sam and you groaned and went back to doing research, looking for something else to make the natives speak. Dean walked toward the mini bar at the hotel room and kneeled down to grab a beer, everything was fine until he heard a voice on his head.

Is it bad that I like his ass so much? I mean, just look at it, he fills his jeans perfectly.” It was your voice, “And oh my God, his eyes are so pretty, like how can someone have that colour of green… ugh… You’re wandering again (Y/N). Maybe if he wasn’t that handsome I could focus on the research, poor Sam is doing the whole work again… Fuck Dean Winchester and his fucking perfect ass and eyes and… Oh yes, fuck him, I want to…” Dean blushed fifty shades of red and snapped his head at you. “Oh fuck, he’s looking over. Act normal, (Y/N).” You looked down at you laptop and started reading the text in front of you.

Ugh, they’re doing it again.” Now it was Sam’s voice, “Their eye sex thing is killing me. Next time I’ll get my own room… I’m sick of those two, why don’t they kiss already? They’re both stubborn asses, maybe I should find a way of getting them together.” Dean stood up and drank his beer completely before speaking.

“Um… My head aches, I’m going to sleep early… Er… (Y/N), are you sharing bed with me or with Sam?” The hunter asked, barely looking into your eyes.

YOU, PLEASE, YOU OH MY GOD. I don’t know, Dean. Whatever you guys want. I don’t mind sleeping on the couch especially if you’re by my side… For God’s sake, control yourself (Y/N)!” You replied calmly, although your thoughts were beginning to become dirty.

“Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d rather have you share bed with her maybe the proximity will convince you to stop being an ass and confess your feelings for her” Sam gave Dean his best puppy eyes.

YES! YES! Good job, moose! That’s why you’re the smart one!” Dean furrowed at your thoughts.

“Hey!” He bursted offended and you and Sam gave him a curios look. “Sorry, the spell is playing with my brain… I thought I heard (Y/N) say I… I smell like… Never mind.” Dean stuttered.

If only! You smell like whiskey and leather and… Okay, calm down, breathe. Oh wow, well I was actually thinking that we could search for a truth potion… Like the one in Harry Potter?” You explained.

Liar. Oh yeah, sure… You look for that, I’m off to bed.” Dean excused himself and left. His head ached so much he fell asleep almost instantly, and didn’t wake up until two hours later when you joined him.

Oh my God, he looks so cute when he sleeps. Fuck, you woke him up! Shhh Dean, it’s me. Sorry I woke you, go back to sleep.” Dean nodded and relaxed again, unconsciously pulling an arm around you. “Yeah, I can definitely get used to this… Hell, I would kill to have this daily! Good night, Dean.”

The next morning, Dean woke up first. He was glad to be able to breath without your thoughts smashing inside his brain. He took a quick shower and, by the time he came out, you and Sam were already awake.

Hottie! Morning, Dean.” You said, brushing your hair in front of a mirror close to the bathroom door.

“Morning, sweetheart.” He replied, walking past you to leave a small kiss on your cheek.

OMG Dead, I’m so dead… He can call me sweetheart any time he wants… Although he already does that, but yeah.” You smiled at him like that was the most normal thing to do in the world and kept brushing your hair until it looked like you wanted.

Great, they’re doing it again. You might as well just have kissed her on the lips, jackass! Moring, Dean. Like, you’re so comfortable flirting with girls, why don’t you ask her out already?” Sam said with his usual morning voice.

“Hey, lil bro.” Dean cheered.

You big goofball, I can’t believe I took advice from you! That’s why I never got a decent girlfriend. You suck at girls, did you know that? You’re acting weird, are you okay? Or did you have a wet dream of (Y/N) again? It would be a lot better to do it in real life you know?” Sam inquired, frowning at his brother’s strange behaviour. Dean was smiling like an idiot.

“I’m great, Sam! Except…” Dean leaned closer to his brother, “I don’t like to be called a big goofball, I think asshole describes me better.” Dean whispered, winking his eye at his brother. Sam’s eyes opened widely.

Oh, crap.” Dean chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought when the spell started working.” Sam started opening his mouth to ask questions, except that Dean could read his mind and answered before Sam could even finish formulating the question. “I got it yesterday… Yes, I heard everything… No, I won’t tell you what I heard… I didn’t hear anything while you two slept, why are you so worried about that? Oh, that’s disgusting, bro.” Before Sam could ask more, you joined them.

“Hey, boys! Is everything okay? Sam looks weird, what’s up with him… Maybe Dean, oh Dean, told him a dirty joke and… dirty…” Both brothers looked at you. Dean had a dirty smirk on his lips while Sam was looking as pale as a ghost.

“The spell worked.” Sam simply said and your mind stopped thinking. Your cheeks blushed red for a split second and you had to shake your head in order to dissimulate.

“Really? Fuck!” You asked, trying to act as normal as possible.

“Really, sweetheart.” Dean replied, dragging the last word seductively. This time, the blush on your cheeks appeared redder, there was no way in hell you could cover it.

Fuck, fuck, fuck… Since when?” You asked, moving your head so that your hair fell and dissimulated your redness.

“Last night.” Dean had a very cheeky smile on his face, which only made it a hundred times worse because you knew very well what you had been thinking about.

I’m screwed, like super screwed. Oh crap; shut up, he can hear us… you… me… whatever, shut up. That’s great! We can now interrogate the locals and finish this case.” Dean chuckled and licked his lips.

“Oh for God’s sake, would you stop? It’s making me uncomfortable. Dean just buckle up and tell her…” Sam rolled his eyes and Dean snapped his head towards his brother.

“Shut up, Sam.” Dean said, “I’m going to get suited up and then we can go back to interrogate.” Dean winked at you and walked over to his duffel bag, grabbing his suit and locking himself in the bathroom. Your mind had been silent until then.

“What the actual fuck, Sam?” You whispered and Sam shrunk his shoulders.

“I don’t know… He won’t tell me what he heard and… I don’t know; just try not to think much until the effect is over.” He advised and you gave him a death glare.

“Oh yeah, sure. I’ll just turn my mind off, no big deal!” You replied sarcastically.

“Just, try to.” Sam insisted and you nodded. Dean came out of the bathroom, with his suit on and his hair fixed in place.

How ho… How excited I am for finishing this case! Really, (Y/N)? Omg shut up!” You thought and Dean laughed, he obviously heard you.

“Ready, Sam? Sweetheart?” Dean asked, again dragging the word on purpose.

“Sure!” Sam and you both said, stiffening and giving Dean a forced smile.

You were now on the car, listening to The Doors play swiftly on the radio.

Don’t you love her ways? Tell me what you say. Don’t you love her madly? Wanna be her daddy?You sang in your head, “Why doesn’t anyone love me like that? Is it because I’m weird? Maybe that’s why I’m such a perverted… If I had had a few more boyfriends in high school… Nah, Dean had a lot of hook ups and girlfriends and he’s still a dirty bastard.”

“I heard that!” Dean spoke and you let your head fall on the edge of the window, hitting your forehead.

Sam had chosen to read during the whole trip, that way his mind would be focused on images, which Dean couldn’t see, instead of thinking.

Yup, Sam is very smart… I wish I had brought a book… Ugh, stop thinking!” You groaned. Dean laugh filled the car. “What are you laughing at?” You asked Dean, leaning over to be closer to him.

“Oh nothing, just you trying to stop your loud mind to stop thinking.” Dean mocked.

“It’s not funny!” You argued in a childish tone.

“Yes it is! We can never get you to stop talking; I can’t imagine how hard it is for you to shut up your own mind.” Dean laughed again.

Do I speak a lot? Is that why nobody likes… SHUT UP FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE, (Y/N)” Dean laughed again. “Stop it, Dean!” You pouted and Dean turned to look at you, his green eyes hypnotizing you for a second.

“I don’t think so… Sweetheart.” You blushed heavily and pressed you back to the seat, looking out to the window in order to let your blush fade. Dean chuckled and focused back on the road.

The interrogations were so easy for Dean, he ended up doing them alone. Sam and you just stood behind him while he and the suspect sat at the metal table to talk.

“So, Mr. Collins, where were you the night the murders took place?” Dean asked in his FBI agent voice.

“I was at home Queen’s crown pub, with Phyllis.” The last suspect was a lot dumber than the first three Dean had interrogated already.

“Right, and what did you order to drink.” Sam smirked, knowing his brother was about to close the case.

“A pint of… wait what? He discovered you, he know you and Phyllis were lovers” Dean leaned back on his chair.

“Sir, we know you and the victim were lovers, also that you too were at the Queen’s crown pub. What I don’t know is who killed Mr. Winston, any ideas?” Dean had his eyebrow lifted, you swore the suspect was about to pee himself.

“I know nothing! Phyllis did I swear! I’m innocent because Phyllis killed his husband! Please let me go!” Dean chuckled.

“Thank you for your time, sir. You’re free to go.” Dean got up and guided the man out of the room, closing the door quickly. “So, Collins and Phyllis are lovers, Phyllis kills his husband and then the dead husband comes back and kills Phyllis; afterwards, he goes to slaughter Jon, Phyllis best friend who also happens to be the one who introduced Collins to Phyllis. Then the ghost attacks Collins but he manages to escape… Now, I calculate we have like three hours before it attacks again.” Dean sounded like the cops on TV, so smart and so hot.

Fuck me. Good, we already know where the husband is, so let’s go. He is so hot while he’s suited up and acting like a real life cop… SHUT THE FUCK UP” The brothers nodded and the three of you walked towards the door, Sam walked out first and Dean kept the door open for you to cross it.

“Before I forget: thanks.” Dean winked and you furrowed your eyebrows. “I never liked being suit up but I guess I do, in fact, look hot.” You blushed instantly and walked out of the door, looking down to the floor not daring to meet those green eyes ever again.

After the easiest salt and burn on Earth, the Winchesters and you came back to the motel to spend the night before driving to the bunker the next morning.

“Um… I’m hungry, I’ll go get something to eat.” Sam said and both Dean and you nodded. “Make your move now or I swear I will tell her when I come back.” Dean pulled his middle finger out for Sam before he left.

“So, you’ve been quiet. Managed to control your mind, already?” Dean asked, walking over to your shared bed, where you were laying playing on your phone.

“Yeah, I guess I found a way of shutting me up.” You chuckled.

“That’s a shame; I really liked hearing all those dirty thoughts about me.” Dean laughed and, once again, your cheeks turned bright red. “You’re pretty when you blush, you know that?” You grabbed a pillow and covered your face with it, your mind started talking again.

Fuck, fuck, fuck did he really just say that?”

“Yes, babe, I really did.”

Babe? Fuck! Shut up, okay shut up, you can do it.”

“Please don’t.” Dean whispered, pulling the pillow away from your red face. He moved your chin forward as he scooted closer.

He’s getting close; omg is he really going to….”

“Yes.” He said and captured your lips with his.

Oh my…” Your mind stopped talking; every thought was shaken and thrown again by Dean’s lips.

You grabbed his shirt between your fists and pulled him even closer. He was literally above you, kissing you like no one else had ever kissed you before. His tongue didn’t let a single inch of your mouth unexplored, and his lips moved in perfect sync with yours. You were in heaven. Suddenly, a terrible idea invaded your mind.

Maybe he just wants a one night thing… Do you really want that? You would never feel the same around him and maybe it’ll screw up everything… Just…” Dean broke the kiss and stared into your just opened eyes.

“Don’t think that, (Y/N). Don’t ever think that, ever again.” His voice sounded somehow sad.

“Dean, I…” You started but he interrupted.

“I’ve had feelings for you from the second I laid eyes on you. Sam has been ranting about how much of an ass I am for not telling you and he even left us alone for me to make a move. You’re not a one night thing, you’re not even a two month thing… I want everything with you.” You shivered at his confession. His eyes were watery and he looked so vulnerable.

“Dean…” You whispered and pulled him closer to kiss him again. This time, the kiss was sweeter, more romantic and it lasted hours. You would only break it to get air and then immediately get back at it.

I will definitely get my own room next time. Although, I’m glad the old man finally got her.” Dean broke the kiss and snapped his head to the door where Sam was standing awkwardly.

“Who are you calling old man, bitch?” Dean asked, acting like he was offended.

“You, jerk.” Sam chuckled and the three of you laughed.

Dean helped you up from bed and led you to the table, where Sam had placed the food he had bought in. You all sat down and had dinner before going to bed. It was the best night ever; you could finally cuddle Dean without worrying if you were being too obvious and the fact that you could now kiss him anytime just took a big frustration of your shoulders.

The next morning, you were packing up our stuff. Dean and you sharing glances from across the room; you were thinking loudly on purpose, trying to tease Dean.

You know, when I pushed you to confess your feelings to her, I was thinking this whole eye fucking thing would stop, but now it’s worse.” Sam complained loudly.

“Shut up, Sam. I’m trying to listen to my girl.” Dean punched his brother’s shoulder and looked back at you. A smile formed on your lips at the sound of him calling you his girl.

You know, when we get to the bunker we should do that thing where…” You started, but suddenly Dean stopped listening. It took him five seconds to notice that the effect of the spell had passed.

“No! No! God, no!” He shouted and you immediately changed your flirty smirk to an embarrassed one, thinking that the thing you suggested was way past Dean’s limits. “I can’t hear you anymore!” Dean pouted and you relaxed. Sam laughed loudly and his brother gave him a death glare.

“Poor thing.” You mocked, “You’ll have to guess what I’m thinking from now on.” You winked and grabbed your bag, walking out of the room sassily.

“Good luck with that, man.” Sam chuckled and he too left the room.

“Son of a bitch…” Dean mouthed.

What a fun ride that was going to be.

Sirius Black Imagine: “Bets”

Can you a SiriusXreader imagine, where the y/n is the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain so James and her has this kind of friendly rivalry going on. Sirius has a crush on y/n because she’s very fierce, funny and flirty and they start dating in the end?

Requested by anon

Notes: hufflepuff quidditch captain reader

“We are winning this match, Potter. Gryffindor doesn’t stand a chance. Stop fantasizing,” you bragged.

James pretended to be hurt by your comment and answered in a dramatic way, “I am so sorry you believe that, [y/l/n]. You’re gonna be soooo disappointed when you realize how wrong you are.”

You raised an eyebrow and challenged, “Wanna bet, Potter?”

Your hands were placed on your hips and your [y/e/c] eyes held a mischievous twinkle. By his expression, you could easily tell that he was taken aback. However, his shocked face soon turned into a cheeky one. Nothing in the world could erase the sly grin his lips had formed.

“You know what? Let’s do this.”

“Excellent. If Hufflepuff wins, you are going to leave my friend Lily alone. She doesn’t fancy you, for Merlin’s sake!”

He couldn’t help but sneer at that. “You are horrible at this, [y/l/n]. Even if I leave Lily alone, she will come to me. You are right. She doesn’t fancy me; she loves me, although she still is too damn proud to admit it.”

You rolled your eyes at his arrogant behavior and controlled the urge to face-palm.

“Whatever you say, Potter… What happens if Gryffindor wins?”

His smirk enlarged. “Why? This is the best part. If Gryffindor wins, you will go on a blind date.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Blind date? That’s all you got? Fine. Be prepared to lose, Potter.”

“Likewise, [y/l/n].”

You were cursing inside. The seeker of your team had been ill this week and she hadn’t been at her best during the match. Hence, Gryffindor had won. Why the hell did you think it was a good idea to make a bet with that conceited brat in the first place? Anyway, there was nothing you could do now. Potter had teased you to no end and told you that you should be in the Three Broomsticks for lunch for the blind date. A blind date. You had thought that it couldn’t be that bad, but who would come? Would you know him? Would he be a complete stranger? All you knew is that whoever he was, he was late. You had been waiting and looking at the menu for so long you had memorized it. What if it had been a trap? What if Potter just wanted to make fun of you? It wasn’t normal to wait for more than thirty minutes, was it? You were about to leave and save the little dignity you still carried with you when a voice stopped you.

“Really, [y/l/n], I thought that hufflepuffs kept their promises. You lost the wager, remember?”

You reprimanded the need to groan.

“Well, Black. I have been waiting for my date for more than half an hour. I am tired. Tell your friend Potter that it wasn’t funny to make me wait for a ghost.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow and joshed, “Well, gee, [y/l/n]. Last time I checked I wasn’t a ghost. I am alive, thank you very much.”

Your eyes widened as your cheeks heated up. “Pardon me?”

There was a smug look on his face as he replied in an amused tone, “I am your date, [y/l/n].”

Now you felt butterflies in your tummy. Just what you needed. You opened your mouth, desperately trying to articulate a sentence, but it was worthless.

“Shall we take a seat?” he inquired barely hiding his amusement.

You could only nod. Once you sat down and ordered your meals, you couldn’t help but wonder, “Why were you late?”

The animagus blushed deeply and confessed, “Remus was sick and I stayed with him in the infirmary. I didn’t realize the time until it was too late. I am sorry, [y/l/n], I didn’t mean to make you wait.”

You smiled softly at that. Everybody believed that Sirius was an egotistical boy, but the way he cared for his friends told you otherwise.

“Don’t apologize, Black. You were looking for your friend.”



“You are my date. You can call me by my first name.”

You smirked and replied, “Call me [y/f/n], then.”

The grin that he offered you made you melt, even though you wouldn’t admit it.

You and Sirius were walking back to Hogwarts. The chilly wind from December made you shudder. The boy must have noticed it, since he put his jacket over your shoulders.

“There, [y/n]. You don’t have to act strong all the time and pretend you aren’t cold.”

“I’m not cold,” you countered back, but your fingers grasped the material tightly around you as a freezing gale blew.

He looked at you with an arched eyebrow, clearly not believing a word you said. Trying to dissimulate, you kept clumping, leaving footsteps on the snow. His hand snaked around your waist and for a moment, you couldn’t feel warmer, despite the icy weather.

“You liked the date, didn’t you?”

“What makes you say so?” you teased, playing hard to get. 

“I am a Black. Everybody loves me.”

“You are so full of yourself,” you said shaking your head.

“I wanna make a bet…”

You had the impulse to refute, but then you remembered than even when you lost the last wager, you had ended up winning. The date had been great, even though you wouldn’t confess it.

“A bet about what?”

“I can beat you in a snowball fight.”

You burst out laughing. Really? Now he wanted to behave like a six-year-old?

“You better laugh now, [y/n]. I will win.”

“Just you wait, Sirius,” you retorted. “If you lose, you’ll have to stay silent for a week.”

His eyes widened. “What?! How do you expect me to do that?”

“What’s wrong, Sirius? Are you afraid? Maybe the sorting hat was wrong…” you joshed with a mischievous smile. He was a boastful and talkative person, it would be fun to see him struggling.

He narrowed his eyes. “Fine. If you lose, you’ll let me kiss you.”

Your heart stopped beating. Damn this boy. Why did he have this effect on you? Now you couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to taste his perfect lips, to cup his face as his hands settled on your waist. All of sudden, you wanted to lose the bet.


And so the battle began. He was playing hard, and there was a part of you that didn’t want to surrender so easily, no matter how much you wanted that kiss. You flung snowballs at each other for a few minutes, filling the wintry landscape with gurgles of laughter and squeals. Your bodies were covered in slush, but you didn’t even feel it. You hunkered down to scoop up another handful of snow, when you were pushed on the white blanket under your feet. Sirius was on top of you, his hands on each side of your head. His nose was red from the freezing breeze, and you found yourself thinking that he had never looked so handsome. You lifted your fingers until they touched his rosy cheek. He shivered at the touch, even though you weren’t sure if it was for the cold of your hand or for something else. He bent his head down to the point that your noses were brushing. His breath was hot and it mingled with your own. Before your brain could process what was happening, his lips landed on yours, firmly. He was in no rush, and neither were you. For a moment, the world disappeared. Only Sirius existed. The kiss ended sooner than you would have liked. There was a goofy grin plastered on his features which made you simper. You waited for him to say something, for you were still assimilating that this was real.

“I won,” was all he said.

You rolled your eyes at this and he chuckled. “[Y/n], don’t make me bet again so that I can finally become your boyfriend. I’m tired of pretending.”

You smiled softly, your heart was fluttering. You batted your eyelashes, feeling flirty, and teased, “Well, I’ve discovered that I quite like bets, even if I keep losing them… I don’t know. Maybe we should really make another and-“

His lips were on yours before you could finish the sentence. You couldn’t help but feel thankful for losing that Hufflepuff vs Gryffindor match.

Originally posted by your-harry-potter-imagines