but i wish i could say the same for the show as a whole

Drowned in moonlight, strangled by her own bra.

The thing that is getting to me the most about news of Carrie Fisher’s autopsy report is not the results themselves, but the way the media is handling it. Like it’s a Gotcha moment—like somehow we were tricked into thinking she was a better person than she actually was.

And that is profoundly bullshit.

Carrie was open about being an addict. Her opening line from her iconic stand up show (and book by the same name) “Wishful Drinking” was quite literally, “Hi, I’m Carrie Fisher, and I’m an alcoholic.”

She talked at length and in often brutal depth about her problems with substance abuse, her compulsive self destructive tendencies, and her dependencies to both illegal and prescription drugs. She wrote about it in her books, she talked about it on talk shows. She made an entire comedic stand up performance out of it, detailing the lengths she went to in order to try and regain some semblance of safety and normalcy in her life. 

She was brutally honest that every single day was a struggle for sanity after years and years of attempting to self medicate a mental illness that for most of her life was mistaken for feckless lack of self control. 

You know how they way “Religion is the opiate of the masses?” Well I took masses of opiates religiously! -Wishful Drinking

She was bright, and beautiful and bold about it. And she didn’t have to be.

Carrie Fisher didn’t have to stand there and take the shitstorm of criticism people launched at her for decades, let alone turn it into humor. She didn’t. She didn’t owe anyone outwith her immediate family an explanation for her erratic behavior over the years, nor the flack she caught for it. (Think of all the male actors in Hollywood who are in and out of rehab centers so quickly they could harness the revolving doors as a wind turbine. Then tell me the media press about her life and now her death are fair.)

But she did it anyway, because she knew it was important. And she took those bright lights of Hollywood shining down on her like a ruthless, malevolent child holding a magnifying glass under the sun—and she turned that merciless heat and pointed it at things that mattered, often at the expense of herself, opening herself up to ridicule and the severe cruelty of others who lambasted her for everything, ranging from her weight, her mental illness or her audacity to simply grow old.

Is it tragic that her addiction likely cost her her life? Yes, of course it is. Does it invalidate any of her achievements? The strength and vibrancy with which she lived her life and touched the lives of millions around her for the better? 

“I call people sometimes hoping not only that they’ll verify the fact that I’m alive but that they’ll also, however indirectly, convince me that being alive is an appropriate state for me to be in. Because sometimes I don’t think it’s such a bright idea. Is it worth the trouble it takes trying to live life so that someday you get something worthwhile out of it, instead of it almost always taking worthwhile things out of you?” 

-The Princess Diarist

Carrie Fisher mattered, her voice mattered. The things that she said and did, mattered. They still matter. And they are no less true and poignant in the light of these revelations.

Addiction is a disease. It’s a dysfunction of the brain’s reward system which requires constant management and care and often goes hand in hand with other mental health disorders. It is not simply a question of willpower or the perceived lack thereof. And while sobriety is to be praised and encouraged—of course it is, of course it absolutely unquestionably is—you cannot possibly know what may cause a person to slip or to feel like they can’t cope without that crutch. And shame on anyone who says it was therefore deserved. 

Shame and my heartfelt wishes that you never go through the things that can lead to serious addiction. Or that you are ever abandoned, derided and regarded as less than human because of it and your death turned into a smear campaign against your memory for the sake of a sensationalist headline.

Yes. Carrie Fisher was an addict, she had drug dependency problems related to her mental health. There was a time she kept it hidden, but after she made the decision to come out about it, she stuck by that decision and became a champion, for herself and everyone like her who struggles. Because she never wanted anyone to suffer like she did in order to get help. And she did it with as much grace and humility as she could manage—and a whole lot more indignity, immodesty, crass humor and love as well. Because that’s who she was and she cared. 

And that’s a hell of a lot more than can be said for those crowing over her death like it’s just deserts.

Fuck you.

People do not exist to stand up to your demands of a perfect ideal of humanity. You do not get to place that burden on the shoulders of someone then tear them apart when they fall under that weight—famous or otherwise.

Fuck you and your whole pretense at moral piety and the horse you rode in on.

Carrie Fisher was not your unproblematic fave. She was in fact extremely problematic, and no one knew that better than she did. 

“I heard someone say once that many of us only seem able to find heaven by backing away from hell. And while the place that I’ve arrived at in my life may not precisely be everyone’s idea of heaven, I could swear sometimes—if I’m quiet enough—I can hear the angels sing. Either that or I fucked up my medication again.” 

-Carrie Fisher, Wishful Drinking.

Why the SPN mixtape scene from 12x19 is screenwriting gold, and should be taught to the next generations of screenwriters everywhere - analysis

20 seconds. Two lines of dialogue, three gestures, a couple more camera angles. Episode 19, season 12 of a genre TV show “Supernatural”. A single strike of screenwriting and cinematic genius. The mixtape scene.

Robert Berens and Meredith Glynn, I bow before you.

This scene should be used as an example for future screenwriters how you can put maximum of meaning into minimal time and dialogue. Should be analyzed and taught at universities everywhere, how to achieve the most using the least. How to write for TV, where you only have less than an hour to built something spectacular.

WOW.

Let’s just peel off all the layers of these 20 seconds of footage and these 13 words. 13 WORDS.

(Cas knocks, Dean doesn’t say anything. Cas opens the door, apologizes for disturbing Dean in his room, and then takes a cassette tape out of his left inside coat pocket, and puts it on the desk, while tapping the label on it that says “Deans (sic!) top 13 Zepp traxx”.)

Cas: Um, I just wanted to return this.

Dean: It’s a gift. You keep those.

13 tracks. 13 words. The future. So number thirteen is important for the future. I mean, are you trying to tell us something here, writers?

(Dean takes the tape, oustreches his arm, and gives it back to Cas. We see Cas’ hand grabbing the tape, and taking it back.)

That tiny scene is ENORMOUS from the perspective of the narrative and the characterization. Let’s see what we can get out of it. (Prepare yourself: it’s gonna be long. Damn, how much meta can you write based on 20 seconds of television and two lines of dialogue?) (Hint: A lot.)

Keep reading

Get Out.

Originally posted by tess453

Peter Parker x Reader

Request: Yes

Summary: Deciding to stay in for a date, Peter and the Reader are faced with annoying and embarrassing comments from the whole team, who are unaware of their relationship.

Word Count: 2,428

Warnings: language, fluff, annoying avengers (??), embarrassed!Peter, embarrassed!Reader, cuteness, LOTR trilogy. (Let me know if I missed any)

A/N: Alright homies, I apologize it has taken me so long to upload something. I’ve been reaally stressed. So hopefully this is okay? For the anon that requested this, I hope you like it. I’d love some feedback, as always. Enjoy reading!


Dark, gray clouds blocked any source of light from shining through the big, thick glass windows surrounding every inch of the building.

The entire tower was filled with a solemn mood that spread into every corner and room.

Most of the team dreaded days like these, since it put a damper on their mood, (especially Steve).

You, however, cherished days like these the most.

It’s where you find your peace and inner self, no matter how depressing that may sound.

It helps you relax and release any stresses that corrupt your thoughts.

But the best reason of all is that you don’t have to leave the house, even if you had a date with Peter tonight.

However, thinking that idea through, you realized something.

The whole team would be here.

With Peter and you.

During your date.

Well, fuck.

Keep reading

Risking it all in a glance

“Draco… Draco.” 

His father’s voice sounded strained, almost like a scared whisper. He hesitantly stretched out his arm, his hand balled into a fist. Draco swallowed hard as several heads turned towards him, watched him. He was sure they all expected him to walk across the courtyard without hesitation. It was where he belonged after all.

All these years he had done as his father had said. He hadn’t defied him once. But now, everything in him screamed to stay where he was, not to go to his father. It came too late. What was the point in defying him now?

Harry Potter was dead. There was no hope left.

“Draco.”

Draco’s eyes darted to his mother. Her voice rang through him and immediately found its way to his heart, squeezing it violently. She took a step forward, smiling at him almost sadly.

“Come.”

Hesitating only a second longer, Draco started moving, his head bowed. He didn’t dare to look anyone in the eye.

Harry Potter was dead. What was the point in fighting?

Draco’s body went rigid when the Dark Lord enveloped him in his arms.

“Well done, Draco,” he whispered into his ear. Draco thought he was going to be sick. Silently, he made his way to his parents, avoiding his father’s waiting arms and grasping his mother’s hand instead.

He tried to suppress a sob when his eyes fell on Potter’s lifeless body, held tight by the half-giant. It made him want to scream, to sink to his knees and beg the heavens to return him. What were they supposed to do without Potter now? What was Draco supposed to do without him?

For the rest of his life, he would be haunted by the knowledge that the last time he had seen Harry Potter alive, the Gryffindor had saved his life, had saved him from the Fiendfyre. And what had Draco done? He had simply grabbed his wand when it had fallen out of Potter’s hand and had made a run for it.

His hand tightened around the wood, making his knuckles go white. It didn’t even feel like his wand anymore. It only reminded him of what he had done. It disgusted him.

He could barely listen as Longbottom stepped forward and told them it didn’t matter that Potter was dead. His heart gave another violent squeeze. He wished he could go back in time. Draco doubted it was in his power to save Potter, but he should have at least told him that he… that he…

Draco saw something sparkly out of the corner of his eyes when suddenly chaos erupted. Longbottom was holding something; it looked like a sword. Draco looked around, taking in the shocked faces of the Death Eaters. That’s when he finally saw it; Potter, jumping out of the half-giant’s arms. In this mere second, Draco’s whole world shifted. It was as if time was standing still. Potter was crouching on the ground, his face full of determination.

Draco’s mind was completely blank. He didn’t think, he didn’t question it when his feet started moving of their own accord.

“Potter!” His voice was choked, desperate. The feeling only intensified when their eyes met. Draco hadn’t thought he’d ever see those eyes again. It made him shiver. He didn’t think about repercussions, about what his parents would say, what the Dark Lord might do to him. How could he, when Harry Potter was alive?

Without a moment’s hesitation, he lifted his arm above his head and threw his wand with all his might. His heart hammered wildly against his chest as he watched Potter catch it mid-air.

They were saved. He was saved.

Even though relief flooded through him, at this point, Draco really didn’t care what happened to him anymore. He had experienced what it meant to lose  nearly everything.

Harry Potter was alive and that was all that mattered.


So, quick intermission because there’s this song you could listen to real quick. Yes, this was indeed inspired by a song originally sung by the Backstreet Boys lol. BUT can you honestly listen to it and tell me this is not one of the most drarry songs you’ve ever heard? I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed before! So, with that in mind, the story continues…


It was quick, fleeting, but it made Harry stop dead, the air completely knocked out of his lungs. Grey eyes, hesitant, sad, locked with his.

Someone bumped into him, breaking the eye contact. Harry whirled around, the shopping bag in his hand hitting the wizard beside him in the back.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled. He quickly turned his head back down Diagon Alley, searching for grey eyes but there were just too many people.

Keep reading

Cosplay, Fanart and Plagiarism

(gif curtesy to Mel)


TL;DR: An artist traced (!) my cosplay photo without permission, gave me zero credits, sold the prints at a con and denied she’s ever seen my photo.

First, both of us, the cosplayer and the photographer, want to say that it would never have come to this if the artist would have immediately apologized to us in person, instead of being extremely rude to us and letting things escalate. A simple sorry and taking down the prints would’ve sufficed.

In the beginning of January, being hyped with the new SU episodes, I immediately fell in love with Blue Diamond and cosplayed her. Two months ago, a friend let me know that an artist she saw drew a fanart based on my photo. I was extremely flattered and happy, but also kinda sad the artist gave me zero credits. Us cosplayers and photographers work really hard to get a nice result, and everyone is happy when their photo serves as an inspiration for another artwork. I wrote a letter to her stating that I love her art, but I’d like her to credit me as a source of inspiration (adding the screen shot).

For two months, there was silence. I tried it again a few weeks ago, but again, no response. Okay, what can you do…



Last weekend we had a big con in Germany with a huge artist alley and both of us, the photographer and the cosplayer, attended. Suddenly, a friend came to us and said that there’s a girl selling this exact drawing. We were puzzled and decided to go to her booth and look at it ourselves.

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RFA + When They Realize They’re In Love

ohhh, look a headcanon/scenario post! :D this was a whole lot longer than i originally planned, but oh well!! i played around with each of their stories, so i hope you don’t mind <3 <b>you can find JAEHEE, JUMIN and 707′s under the cut! if you have any requests, feel free to shoot them my way. anyway, i hope you enjoy!


RFA + THE MOMENT THEY REALIZE THEY’RE IN LOVE

YOOSUNG

Yoosung thinks he’s sick.

His heart starts palpitating, his palms grow sweaty and he’s so out-of-focus that he’s losing his streak on the LOLOL leadership boards. He downs a cup of coffee, glaring at his bedroom clock, which stared back with a 22:12pm in bright blue lights. It’s way too early to be feeling tired, he thinks.

He sighs, exiting the server and letting the game’s background music blast through his computer’s speakers. He places a hand to his neck, feeling for a warm temperature, only to end up confused as he realizes he’s not even remotely feverish. Worriedly, he calls her up, sure that she would know what’s up with him.

“Hey [Name],” he says, going back to his desk to take another swig of coffee. He joins another server, hoping LOLOL would help calm his nerves. Why was he always so nervous when he was talking with her? He prattles on about his supposed “symptoms” as he patiently waits to be connected to the server.

“Sounds like you’re in love,” she suddenly blurts out. He almost sprays his coffee all over his computer at those words. He can tell she’s joking. She was joking, right? Right? He tries to come up with a reply, but all that comes out of him is a strangled sound. He hears her laughing from the other end. “Ohhh, bulls-eye! Who’s the lucky person? Is it me you’ve fallen for?”

Yoosung’s eyes widen at this, and his heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest and start tap-dancing on his desk. He’s stunned to a silence; his mind is racing, wondering whether or not to confirm her statement. Well, that would certainly explain why he always felt so worked up around her. Before he could even answer her question, he hears her awkward laughter on the other end of the phone.

“Hey, I was kidding! Playing some LOLOL might calm your nerves, but I suggest not staying up too late. It might actually be a fever, after all.” Yoosung manages to quickly blurt out an apology as well as a thank you, before wishing her a good night and ending the call without waiting for her reply. He leans back on his chair, staring at the cream-colored ceiling above him.

It’s when he places both of his hands on his chest and feels the rhythmic thumping of his heart. It’s when he tries to steady his breathing, and when he finally does, he remembers what she said and wheezes. It’s when he realizes that he knows the answer to her earlier question, but he was too shy, too scared to actually answer her. It’s when he makes a promise to tell her, face-to-face and unabashedly, one day. Yoosung’s eyes linger to his desk clock.

It’s at 22:17pm on a LOLOL-filled Tuesday night that he realizes that he’s completely, head-over-heels in love with her.

ZEN

Zen can’t sleep.

He’s lying in bed, positively tired after a day’s work. He knew he did well earlier, yes, but his own self-reassuring thoughts did very little for his nerves. Ever since the whole hacking situation, he’s been on edge during his performances; he can’t help but be upset at himself for not giving his all for his audiences.

Despite being an “egotistical prick”, as Jumin calls it, he was often hit by waves of doubt during these late sleepless nights. His self-reassuring thoughts began to shift into ones of doubt, pushing him to twist and turn in his suddenly uncomfortable bed.

Was he a genuinely good actor? Did people watch his musicals for his talents or for his looks? Would he ever be more than just a handsome face up on the stage? He was jolted back to reality by the sudden ringing of his cellphone. He begrudgingly reached out to view the caller ID: [Name].

Without a second thought, he immediately answers the call. Her cheerful voice was tinged with a hint of her own weariness. He feels his heart begin to swell, savoring the way her voice says his name. “Can’t sleep either?” he says, genuinely happy to find her calling him out of all the other RFA members.

“Yeah,” he hears her say. “I was hoping you were awake. I’m glad I was actually right.” His chest tightens at this, and he can’t help but smile at the thought of her thinking about him at such an hour. He finds a sort of solace in her, thankful for her constant presence amidst all the happenings in his life.

The two converse, and he finds the weight on his shoulders gradually become lighter. His heart is both calm and erratic, and he finds himself laughing together with her, despite being miles apart. When he hears her congratulate him for the show he put on, for being such an amazing actor on-stage, for doing so well, even if he may not believe so, he almost starts crying.

“You’re doing so well, Zen. I’m sure all your fans can agree that you’re doing so much more. I mean that, truly. If you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m here. So is Jaehee and the rest of the RFA,” she says from the other end of the line, and he allows himself to think that she means it. No, he knows she means it; it’s in the way that she speaks to him that he knows she’s saying nothing but the truth.

It’s when she says her good night that he catches himself almost saying it. He purses his lips, blundering out a good night of his own before slamming the END CALL button. It’s when his eyes shoot wide open, and he feels a ditzy smile gracing his lips. It’s when his self-doubting thoughts are replaced by thoughts of her. He brings his pale hands to his hair, and he can’t help but marvel at how much she affects him.

It’s when he catches himself thinking about her in wonder does he realize that he’s crazy about her.

((more under the cut))

Keep reading

The night starts with a big, spicy Philly cheese steak. It’s about 6pm. I’ve been wanting to try the cheese steak from this corny, 50’s retro place for a long time. I gobble down the big greasy bowl of meat, hot sauce, and cheese, then head to the coffee shop for my weekly draw group. A little after I get home, about 10pm, a stomach ache comes on. “Damn, guess spicy foods are out.” I’ve been getting stomach aches every time I have spicy Thai or hot wings. I google search about spice pain- possible stomach ulcer? “I guess I have been stressed lately, but no more than usual I don’t think…” File under “Will investigate further later.“ According to the comments on this health website, a glass of milk will help. Gulp one down, go to bed.

Wrestle to sleep for about an hour. Realize the ache is just over the required pain threshold to keep you from sleeping. Do some work on my comic, more tired, but stomach worse. Will play batman until I fall asleep. I feel like I’m just running in circles… How many times have I failed this mission? Batman, batman, stomach now hurts too bad to enjoy an active task like video games. Deliriously tired. Would be great to sleep through the rest of this abdominal temper tantrum. Try the old “hot shower will make you sleep” trick. Take some Pepto-Bismol, and some generic acetaminophen. Out of the shower, hurts to walk around now, and to lie down. Guess I’ll have to wait it out with my eyes open. Call and leave my Doc a message, maybe will get a spot in there tomorrow. Need to get that ulcer discovered… Time to enjoy a passive task like watching TV. Breaking Bad feels like the right mixture of funny and painful, just like me and my burning spice belly. Damn, I can’t even enjoy that part where during Hank’s interrogation of that meth head, Wendy, she accuses Hank of trying to buy sexual services from her on behalf of an underage “football player” (a misunderstanding involving Walter Jr. from a few episodes before). Oh hell. Time to look up what time emergency medical clinics open. Guess I’ll have to pay out of pocket since I can’t wait for my Doc tomorrow.  It’s about 4am now. Earliest clinic opens at 8. Now hungry again, but can’t eat what with all the pain. One hour down. Man, this is really starting to hurt. Can I really wait 3 more hours? Sitting is starting to hurt as much as lying and standing. And I’m still not enjoying TV. Okay, I’ve come to a decision…. 

“Hey, Kayla, my stomach still hurts, I’m thinking about driving to the ER, do you wanna come?” “Oh! Ya, sure. What time is it?” “It’s 5:30”. I  call the hospital “Hey, I’ve had a pretty bad stomach ache all night, I’m thinking of coming by.” Operator: *long pause* “Haha, well, okay! We’re open all night, so just come on in.” 

Driving with a stomach ache is not so bad, because you’re already hunched over. Wish Kayla could drive, but she doesn’t really know how, probably would have a panic attack and would definitely crash. Interesting that they have ER parking, I wonder how many ER patients drive themselves here… All bodily positions hurt my insides now, signing in to this place sucks. Give Kayla half the paperwork to fill out, glad she’s here, or this would be really boring. Man, they sure take a long time for someone trying to get into an empty emergency room… Signing in with a nurse, she ask me my height and I say “ ‘5’’8”, but I notice she puts down “ ‘5’’7”… They want to look at my pee, they always want to see my pee. I pee, no blood, so whatever that tells them means I’m getting an ultrasound first. Then a young nurse named Ken, a cool Asian dude with screws through both ears, squirts so much morphine into my IV that I lean back and audibly say “oh my god.” I feel it ripple like a shock wave from my arm down to the ends of my body. My belly is feeling alright now. 

The ultrasound technician tells me that babies are the least common thing she uses ultrasounds for. My joke has fallen flat. Back in the room, the doctor and his manila folder tell me “Good news! No gallstones, there are kidney stones inside your kidneys, but since they are inside, you shouldn’t be feeling the pain from those.” “Wait, does that mean I have to pee those stones out at some poin–” It is not discussed again. Seeing that neither organ has the appropriate stones, Doc would “rather not expose me to more radiation than necessary” and is working on discharging me. But, “I won’t leave here without a diagnosis.” 

In I go to the CT scan tube. That hot squish of contrast dye spreading through my veins. “Okay, we’re moving you into a room upstairs.” Says a hippy technician. Upstairs in my sweet and swanky single with couch, a person I’m pretty sure is just a businessman disguised in medical scrubs types on a computer. He takes down my answers to what seem like pre-surgery questions. “Do you have anybody specific on file in the event you are medically unable to yield consent  for yourself?” This, combined fact that they won’t feed me, makes me wonder what it is I’m going into surgery for. I saw this same thing about a year and a half ago with the whole brain debacle, but that’s a story for another time. Several medical people dip in, sprinkle breadcrumbs of information; it’s like a game show challenge that combines a scavenger hunt with a jigsaw puzzle. You have to gather the pieces of information from their hiding places, then assemble them in the correct order to reveal an answer. A tech comes in and spoils the game, “You seem to have a lot of questions, so I just want to make sure, you know you have appendicitis right? We’re about to take it out.” “Thank god,” I think. “It’s not the spicy foods. Spicy foods are still in.” Downstairs, in pre-op, I complain to my plain-clothes surgeon about how analog tests like pressing on my stomach are remarkably inaccurate, since a doctor’s subjective interpretation of my poor description of say, “the pain is slightly higher” can rule out appendicitis, the same appendicitis that a machine might spot an hour later. I tell him that I almost got sent home. My surgeon tells me he’s been doing analogue tests for 30 years, and not to worry about it. I start to tell him how “my deadpan reaction to pain also causes a lot of people to misdiagnose me, that a lot of people laugh when I describe how I’m in pai–”, but he walks away in the middle to get dressed for surgery. The operating room has big TVs and lights, it looks like a set, and I consider the possibility of fake hospitals as the anesthesia takes the wheel.

In the recovery area, the nurse tells me how big, inflamed appendixes can be agitated by spicy foods, foods high in fat, and dense foods like heavy cheese. I see an image of a spotlit cheese steak appear in a black void. Nurse feeds me ice chips and tells me she craves ice chips when she’s dehydrated. I suggest that she only craves ice chips because she works in a hospital, that ice chips are too unsatisfying a thing to crave at random, and that most people would just crave water. She agrees. Back upstairs in my room, it is now 8pm, and it has been 26 hours since I’ve eaten. I’ve been hydrated only through IV’s. The driest mouth and the clearest pee. Because the lingering anesthetic can cause nausea and vomiting, they will only give me jello. I go nuts on the jello. They continue to give me every jello I ask for, one at a time, like a test. Way past where I though the cutoff point would be, the nurse tells me “That’s it! There’s no more jello! You ate all the jello on this floor.” You’re damn right I did, you’re damn right….

I know a lot of people are upset that we didn’t get to see Dean carry Cas’s body into the house—and don’t get me wrong, I wanted to see it too; but can you imagine them actually trying to film that scene? It would’ve been impossible!



Attempt 1:

“Okay—just jump up here” Jensen says, squatting down some and holding out his arms.

“No way!” Misha yelps instantly, backing up a few paces.

“Why not?”

“You’re gonna drop me!”

“I won’t drop you!” Jensen scoffs, opening his arms wider now and motioning for Misha to move.

“Hell no! As soon as I jump, you’ll drop me.”

“I’ve carried you before, man. Did I drop you then?”

“That was for photos and shit—two seconds tops. This is a whole scene!” Misha argues, putting his hands on his hips.

“C’mon, guys! Are we doing this or what?” Phil calls out from somewhere behind the monitors.

“Yep!” Jensen answers quickly and then motions to Misha again—this time, with an urgent look on his face.

Misha rolls his eyes but eventually moves in closer, bracing one hand on Jensen’s shoulder before throwing his own body into the air.

Jensen grunts.

They both immediately tumble to the ground.


Attempt 2:

“Dude—why are your arms around my neck?”

“I don’t want to fall again!” Misha whines, looking warily towards the gravel as Jensen scoots along.

Jensen breathes out a strained laugh at that . “Yeah, but you’re supposed to be dead. This is kinda killing the illusion.”

“I don’t think so” Misha mutters, obviously choosing to be difficult now.

“Seriously, dude? I can’t carry dead-Cas inside, bridal-style!” Jensen huffs, shifting his arms a little to try and keep Misha’s weight in the air.

“Why not? You carrying me to my death bed is pretty much the same as you carrying me to the marriage bed … especially on this show.”

Jensen quickly drops Misha again.


Attempt 3:

Jensen is out of breath—and his back is hurting like a mother fucker, but he hunkers down to lift Misha up once more.

And this time—Misha slumps his body backwards and completely relaxes his muscles, which nearly breaks Jensen in two.

Oof! God—damn!” Jensen grunts, trying desperately to step forward across the dirt and grass. “It’s like—ugh—carrying a—agh—a sack of wet leather!”

Misha slits one eye open and smirks at his costar. “You’re so sweet, Dean. This is why I fell for you in the first place.”

He’s prepared to be dropped this time, and he laughs as he rolls out of Jensen’s arms.

“What’s goin’ on, guys?” Phil yells out across the clearing.

“Nothin’!” Jensen wheezes, bending his body over his knees as he tries to catch his breath. “Just—just need a minute!”

A second later, Jared is bounding up to them. “Hey, y’all okay?”

Misha chuckles and goes over to pat Jensen on the back. “Yeah—someone just needs to spend more time lifting weights.”

Jensen immediately sneers up at the other man. “And someone else needs to lay off the pizza!”

“How about I be the one to carry him in?” Jared says suddenly—loud enough for Phil to hear it too.

“We could try that” Phil says, sounding frustrated and just eager to get this scene over with.

“What?” Misha yelps. “No way! No, no, no, no, no! No way Jared is carrying me!”

“Wha—why?” Jared asks, feigning some puppy dog innocence that is damn near Oscar worthy.

“You know exactly why!” Misha insists, taking several steps backwards to be out of the moose’s long reach. “Phil! You can’t be serious! Jared is just going to throw me in the lake if we do it this way!”

Jared’s face bursts into a giant grin, and his eyes sparkle like a Disney character whose wish just came true. “The lake! I didn’t even think of that!”

Misha groans loudly, and Jensen is laughing– all while Phil is angrily rubbing his temples behind the monitor.


Attempt 4:

“Are we ready yet?”

“One more sec, Phil!” Misha answers, turning back to look at Jared and Jensen with a face of warning.

“How about we both carry him in?” Jared suggests, and it sounds genuine but Misha still isn’t falling for it.

“No! Not gonna happen! Then you’ll both just throw me into the lake!”

Jensen rolls his eyes but he can’t stop himself from smiling. “No we won’t, man. Seriously—we’re losing the light here. We need to get this done.”

“I know that! Don’t you think I know that? But this is my dead body we’re talking about and I need to make sure it’s respected!”

“We’ll respect it” Jared insists.

“Since when have you ever respected it?” Misha counters.

“Okay! Alright! Just… Jared, get back there—we’re gonna try this again the way it’s scripted, okay?”

Jared holds up his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine, but I’ll be over here if you need me.”

“We won’t need you” Misha warns, knowing Jared’s deviousness all too well and it’s starting to make him break out in hives.

Jared laughs but finally backs away, until he’s far off on the other side of the set.

Jensen then takes a deep breath. “Okay, man. Let’s go. Let’s do this.”

Misha nods, and they both seem determined now.

With a heave and some careful balancing, Misha is once again in Jensen’s arms and Jensen is once again, huffing his way to the front door of the cabin. He’s huffing a lot … he sounds like he’s in pain.

“You okay?” Misha whispers, trying not to look up or move his mouth much—because, he is dead after all.

“Fine” Jensen wheezes shortly, but he doesn’t sound very convincing.

“You sure?” Misha asks again.

“Shh!” Jensen snips, trying to concentrate.

Misha finally peeks up at him. “Your face is really red.”

Jensen doesn’t answer, he just strains to keep Misha in his grasp.

“And your veins are popping out of your neck.”

“I’m acting” Jensen finally grunts.

Acting—constipated?” Misha asks.

“Shut up!”

“Ow—okay, now you’re pinching my ass!”

“Well, I need to hold onto something!”

“You need to hold onto my ass?”

“It’s got the most grip.”

“Okay … okay … now that just tickles!” Misha starts to laugh, squirming a little and it eventually  throws Jensen off balance.

“F—fu—fuck!” Jensen wobbles to one side and sends Misha rolling dramatically  onto the ground.

“I can help!” Jared yells out, sounding so excited, he might just burst.

“No … no, that’s alright, Jared” Phil cuts in, just as Misha is lifting himself from the dirt. “We’ve been talking and we think we’re just going to cut this scene. It’s uh … it’s not working out.”

With that, Misha throws his fist into the air victoriously, and Jensen drops exhaustively to the ground with the overwhelming relief—and Jared’s disappointed moans can be heard all the way on the other side of the lake; echoing out “Aw, man!”  and “Damnit” and lamenting all the glorious opportunity that he’s just lost.

Sleep tight

“This is ridiculous!”

For once in his life, Harry heartily agreed with Malfoy. This really was ridiculous. What was Dumbledore thinking? True, things had gone a bit out of hand after the last Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin but that didn’t justify… this!

“How am I supposed to concentrate on my O.W.L.s when I have to put up with a bunch of pillocks?!”

“Stop complaining, Malfoy. It won’t change anything,” Terry Boot called from across the dorm. Their newly shared dorm. One student from each house, that was the new rule. Dumbledore had announced it two weeks ago and Harry’s only consolation was that he was still in Gryffindor tower, in his own bed, while the other Gryffindors had moved into other dorms.

Harry still wasn’t convinced this would do anything for house unity. So far, Malfoy had picked a fight with Terry every time they were in the same room and he had even tried to hex Justin Finch-Fletchley once. As much as it annoyed Harry, at least it diverted Malfoy’s attention away from him. He really wasn’t in the mood to fight. He missed Ron. Seeing him in classes but not sharing a dorm just wasn’t the same.

“Potter! Get your filthy Quidditch robes away from my bed,” Malfoy growled, nudging the red and gold robes on the floor with his foot. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Will you relax? They’re nowhere near your bed,” Harry said exasperatedly.

“They are on my side of the room. Have you forgotten everything I told you about boundaries?” Malfoy fumed, drawing an invisible line between their beds with his hand, as he had done on their first day as dormmates.

Harry heard Terry snort.

“You’re one to talk,” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that”? Malfoy whirled around and gave Terry a dangerous look. Harry expected them to have another shouting match but Terry just shook his head and waved a dismissive hand in the air.

“If you have something to say, just say it!” Malfoy approached Terry, his hands on his hips.

“You of all people do not want me to say this out loud, believe me,” Terry said unblinking. Malfoy scrutinised him and Harry noticed a strange expression flicker across his face. “Unless you want to explain why these boundaries don’t seem to apply to you. Especially-”

“Are you trying to blackmail me? With something that you clearly imagined?” Malfoy interrupted him. His body was rigid and his face was inches away from Terry’s. The Ravenclaw smirked, his eyes darting over to Harry and then back to Malfoy.

“You know, Malfoy,” Terry said, crossing his arms in front of his chest, a smug expression on his face. “I always suspected you’d feel right at home in the Gryffindor dorms but I had no idea you’d get that cosy.”

Harry reacted on instinct when he saw Malfoy draw his wand. He grabbed his own from the nightstand and pointed it at Malfoy.

“Expelliarmus,” he yelled. Malfoy’s wand flew across the room and Harry caught it with his free hand. “Seriously, Malfoy? What is wrong with you?” Harry watched as Malfoy’s shoulders slightly slumped. Without another word he stormed out of the dorm, slamming the door behind him.

“What was that all about?” Harry murmured. He gave Terry a puzzled look. The Ravenclaw just sighed.

“Honestly, I don’t want to get in the middle of this, but Malfoy just… ugh!” Terry stomped his foot once and shook his head. “It’s really between the two of you.”

“The two of us?” Harry couldn’t imagine a scenario in which he and Malfoy could be referred to as ‘the two of you’. All he and Malfoy ever did was fight. Or ignore each other. Well, pretend to ignore each other would probably be more accurate.

“I really don’t want to be hexed in my sleep,” Terry groaned. “But… maybe try to be a bit more alert tonight, Harry. That’s all I’m going to say.”

Harry scratched the back of his neck, completely at loss.

“Okay,” he mumbled, wondering what on earth Terry was on about.


Draco sighed as he leaned his head against Harry’s nightstand. It really wasn’t fair. He watched as Harry’s chest rose and fell steadily, his face looking softer than ever in the moonlight. Why did he have to be so beautiful? Slowly, his fingers rose to Harry’s forehead to brush his bangs out of his face. He looked so peaceful.

It really wasn’t Draco’s fault he stayed up night after night to watch Harry sleep like a total creep. The first time it had happened, Draco had been wakened by a soft whimper. Investigating it further, he had seen Harry all sweaty and thrashing in his bed. Draco had intended to wake him, but as soon as he had leaned down, Harry had grabbed him and had pulled him down.

At first, Draco hadn’t been sure if Harry was awake or still asleep. He had gone very still when Harry had clutched at him until he had finally wrapped him in his arms and had almost strangled Draco. His face had been pressed against Harry’s chest, the Gryffindor’s heartbeat drumming against his cheek. It had been the most amazing thing Draco had ever felt.

He hadn’t dared to fall asleep that night. Seeing as Harry had finally calmed down with Draco in his arms, Draco had supposed it would be better to stay there until dawn. With Harry being restless in the bed beside him, he wouldn’t have gotten much sleep anyway.

After that, Draco had made a habit of watching Harry sleep. His touch seemed to calm the Gryffindor whenever he seemed to have a bad dream. But he hadn’t pulled Draco into his bed again. Draco didn’t want to admit to himself that he was secretly waiting for it to happen once more but he found himself leaning closer to his so-called enemy with every passing night.

As his fingers continued to stroke the soft curls, he frowned. No, Harry wasn’t his enemy at night. During the day, Draco kept up his snarky attitude and his animosity. But at night, there was no need for that. At night, he could simply stare at the boy who made his heart beat faster, who made his scalp prickle and who was responsible for the smile Draco had to hide once dawn was breaking.

Sometimes, Draco wished he didn’t have to hide it, could show it openly and let the stupid git know.

It really wasn’t fair.


Harry held his breath when he felt Malfoy’s fingers brush his ear. His heartbeat picked up instantly and he was pretty sure he was blushing. His cheeks suddenly felt really hot, as did the rest of his body.

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Mute

- Where Harry doesn’t talk and falls in love with Y/n.

Masterlist linked in bio


It’s Monday, which means that Harry has to start his week with Physics class.

Harry doesn’t mind the subject itself, he actually has come to the conclusion that it’s the class he’s most interested in—it’s more so the three-hour lab that couldn’t seem to end soon enough. Physics lab means three hours of group research, which requires an abundance of group participation and discussion—all of which makes Harry want to crawl out of his own skin.

And despite Physics holding Harry’s highest grade in university, everyone in that class only hopes to not be paired with him.

Not one student has heard him utter a single word, which ultimately led them to believe that his lack of participation will jeopardize their already mediocre grades. But Harry always finds himself writing all the data information to make up for his lack of discussion, even if he hated it.

So inevitably, Harry lets out an inaudible sigh when he settles into his chair, hair a bit disheveled and eyes still watering from the early hour. And he mentally curses himself for sleeping in a couple extra minutes because now he hasn’t gotten a single ounce of caffeine to help him feel more prepared for the next three hours.

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Note: this is a continuation of a post // extremely long

101 reasons why Jikook/Kookmin is my ultimate OTP
or 101 times Jikook made my heart flutter (Part 2)

PART 1

51) A jikook compilation wouldn’t be a compilation without THE back hugs.

Hands on waist…

Chin on shoulder…

52) Not long after Jimin tweeted a pic of ramen, Jungkook indirectly replied to him by posting FOUR selcas of him along with a message telling him his ramen looked bland. idk about you but i found this interaction cute.

53) The artistic couple.The muscle pig and manggaetteok drawings that were featured in Snow App. They even drew the chicken drawings on the menu at Isac. I can imagine them sitting and drawing random things together. ㅠㅠ 

54) Jimin posted not one but three videos on Jungkook’s birthday, which means he wished Jungkook three times on SNS and made my head spin thrice.

55) Jimin and Jungkook took photos of each other sleeping.

56) When Jungkook thought there was no camera around when they were rounding the corner so he went up to Jimin and slid his hand around his waist. Little did he know they got caught on camera. I’d like to thank Yoongi’s vj for this awesome footage.

57) The many times Jimin has summoned Jungkook for Armys. In simpler words, Jungkook always tweets something after Jimin, and we all know how seldom he appears on Twitter.

58) “hyung has cute toes” Okay but like who lingers around his friend’s photo shoot and randomly blurts out that he has cute..toes????

59) The look! Jungkook’s expression when he’s feeding Jimin earns him a spot on this list haha. Tbh They’re kinda like eyefucking eo when jimin’s being fed. look at Jimin’s eyes. Apart from that I like how Jungkook fed him.

60) Their interactions the whole ISAC. Masterlist 👣

61)  How can I miss this? Jikook in Japan..this one has a special place in my heart. Back in 2016, it had been just a casual discussion between me and my friends on kakao. Never thought jikook would continue displaying PDA every single time they go to Japan. What’s more when they have very strict no-camera policy during concerts.

62) The amount of heart eyes they shoot at each other.

63) When they had a dinner date in the dorm to promote Mala Hot Chicken. What baffled me was that Jungkook mentioned beforehand he wanted to sleep but he still accompanied Jimin. I’m soft.

64) Jimin has made it very apparent, truly obvious that he likes jungkook. Whether it’s liking him as a dongsaeng, or just someone he’s extremely comfortable with, Jimin always, without failing, reminds us who he dotes on. “Why do I like you so much?” Lately, I’ve been crazy because I like Jungkook so much. I think of this as a start of something beautiful, and I am so glad Jimin didn’t even hesitate in expressing his feelings towards the maknae. I think this might have helped jungkook unwind. Look at jungkook now. That’s some character development right there :)

65) Massage. Quoted line from AHL mentor, Tony Jones “They are very touchy feely and to them, it’s nothing. I’d walk into the room and Suga’s massaging V’s neck or Jimin’s giving Jungkook an intimate back massage..”

66) When Jungkook bent down so he would get closer to Jimin and put the rein-kook headband on Jimin’s head. They’re separated a lot of times during fansigns but somehow they managed to get tgt at the end.

67) When Jungkook blows a kiss, then turns to Jimin whose lips are puckered and does the same to him, using the same fingers he used earlier. Okay I’ve been meaning to say this. Realistically speaking, if you pucker your lips and you put your fingers on them, wouldn’t your saliva stick to your fingers? I’m not trying to imply anything here, just genuinely asking haha.
140529 Ameba Studio

68) When a webtoon artist gave Jimin two dolls, but Jimin decided to give one to Jungkook. She even posted a webtoon of them. To be honest who wouldn’t?

69) *screams to the people in the back* ALL-NIGHTER FRIENDS!!! As written by the man himself, “ALL the time, it’s just the two of us doing something at night. I don’t know what we do”

70) Jungkook scribbling hearts all over Jimin’s birthday drawing. He’s one whipped man.

71) Just other instances Jungkook and Jimin flirting on stage. 

//gif above isn’t mine//

72) When Jimin and Jungkook chose each other when asked “if you were a girl, who would you date?”

73) The shocking fact that Jungkook demanded an apartment from Jimin as a graduation gift. Like, apartment? of all things? What kind of domesticity is this?

74) The way Jungkook takes care of Jimin even though he’s the younger one, and how Jimin is there when he’s the one seeking comfort.

75) I will never forget the Gayo Back hug, ever. I’ve mentioned back hug somewhere above, but this is different.This deserves a point of its own.

76) When Jimin took off one of his rings at the airport and gave it to jungkook.

77) When Jungkook stopped in front of Jimin during his part in For You at Osaka concert, and kind of directed the lyrics for Jimin. Jimin just couldn’t stop smiling afterward :(((
The lyrics are:
It smells like you
The road that I walk on
I plug my earphone to my status
My true feelings lie beyond there

78) When Jimin and Jungkook steered away from the bunch and instead opted for some alone on the cruise. people say you smile the brightest when you’re with someone you love, yes?

79) The fact that Jimin wanted to become napa cabbage after seeing Kook dressed up as a bunny, so he could eat him, albeit choosing to be cheese initially. What even is that statement lol 👣 

80) The morph of their dynamic. I kind of miss their old moments, when Jimin was bolder, more carefree, and Jungkook seemed to be too shy to reciprocate. (on camera). Now they have matured. They have grown up well. A wave of nostalgia sweeps over me. The transition of their relationship is extremely beautiful.

81) When Jimin became Jungkook’s makeup artist for a day, hovering around the set, even drawing a pic of a bird that’s used as a prop later.

82) their size difference might be exaggerated at times, but you really can’t deny that it is cute, even if it’s not much.

83) When Jungkook changed the lyrics in Spring Day to Jimin.                      
Like a small piece // Of Jimin // That floats in the air 

84) When Jungkook showed to the world what a sweet boyfriend he is,making jimin laugh, sitting him on his lap, hugging him on his birthday. Sweet sweet jungkookie.

85) Let’s state the obvious- 21CG choreos!!! i love how they evolved, just like their remarkable, legendary nmd lift.

86) Their sensual dance covers.

87) When Jungkook guides and encourages Jimin during games/missions.

88) The many times Jimin has been spotted wearing Jungkook’s clothes, despite the well-known fact that Jungkook doesn’t share clothes. Newsflash: Jungkook wears Jimin’s too!

89) We know Jungkook knows Jimin like the back of his hand, but that doesn’t mean that Jimin knows any less. I think they spend time together way too much.👣

90) How often the word “JIMIN” trips off Jungkook’s tongue- this what fascinates me the most. At one time he even mistook Jin for Jimin.

91) Jimin’s eagerness to kiss Jungkook for his Coming of Age, being the first one to hold out a hand for a game of Rock Paper Scissors. Bon Voyage season 1

92) When Jimin waited over an hour for Kook to finish filming BTS Flower Boy mini drama, even though he’d finished his part. Jimin couldn’t even stay mad at him for not telling, like how fond is he?


93) The fact that Jungkook is more than comfortable speaking in banmal with Jimin.He once said in Idol Party that he prefers talking in jeondaetmal (polite language) with his hyungs but look at the amount of times he’s dropped the honorific and called Jimin by his name. uhm, let’s talk about treating the other as equals?

94) Jimin and Jungkook, the human embodiment of Piske Usagi.

95) When Jungkook’s bro drew Jungkook as Muzi and Jimin as Con, the inseparable duo on Kakao. Bro knows. 👣

96) In Kkul FM 2016, When Jungkook and Jimin nearly intertwined their fingers . Scoffs bh seemed to think it’s okay to abruptly cut off their scene. What intrigues me most is that they weren’t even looking but their hands still somehow managed to find their way around. Also other instances they hold hands. I love how Jungkook’s slightly bigger hands envelop Jimin’s smaller ones. *Jimin’s pinky tho!*

97) How they’re destined to meet. The fact that they’re both from Busan, have matching moles, Jungkook’s bro named Junghyun and Jimin’s bro named Jihyun..imagine what would’ve happened had Jimin not been the last one to enter Bangtan.

98) When Jimin said he’d be looking at the ocean with Jungkook but Jungkook straight up rejected him and chose to go on a trip with his bro instead. It was quite a strong statement but a moment later Jungkook proved it wrong by reaching out and squeezing Jimin’s hand underneath the table, kinda like a reassurance that it’s all part of a joke. He cares. He truly does.

99) During Jin’s birthday prank at MAMA, these two couldn’t keep their hands off each other. The moment they entered the bathroom, they almost shut everything out-talking to themselves, picking on the cake- until the members gave them the signal to stop w/e they’re doing. Months later Mama kindly revealed another footage, this time consisting of just them, in the bathroom, jungkook right in the middle of buttoning up his jacket, wearing nothing underneath. How was I supposed to sit still?

100) When Jungkook and Jimin take skinship to a whole new level, or simply put, the times Jikook makes us question the real intention behind their acts and excessive skinship.

101) Last but not least, Perhaps my all time favorite moment- When Jungkook was caught observing Jimin’s every move, literally had his eyes only on him.

(Mark 1:17 onward)

I super love this video bc the song chosen matched so well with the situation- like they wanted to reach out but couldn’t so they stayed put, could only observe the other from far…

and that’s it!
thank you, you made it to the bottom of this post! In short, everything about jikook makes me feel content. I had thought of doing more  but despite my brain literally screaming at me “Include this! You forgot this!”, I had to stick to 101. Anyway, I hope this mends your longing hearts. Have a lovely day! Thank you for reading!

Bonus because I have to:

when the members revealed on BTS KKul FM 2017 that Jungkook bought a birthday present only for Jimin. Am I your favorite hyung?

When Jungkook, the youngest in the group, called Jimin who is 2 years older than him a baby. 애기야가자 !

Reasons why Bismuth deserved better

A long, comprehensive list by yours truly

  • Reformed while still in the mindset of being attacked, immediately calms down when she sees a child
  • Is lost and so goes wandering around in unfamiliar territory looking for said child
  • Calls said child “little friend” and is very nice to him without him having said a word to her
  • Look at her interactions with Pearl and Garnet and tell me she’s evil just look me in the eyes
  • “Your Ruby is showing”
  • Calls Steven a meatball and is altogether a gracious guest
  • Her initial shock finding out Pearl and Garnet never learned about her
  • L A U G H
  • She breaks the house but it’s fucking adorable
  • Had nicknames for her comrades apparently? Pure
  • Her reaction to the deaths of said comrades is honestly the strongest, most powerful reaction to anything thus far and actually made me tear up
  • FUCKING HOT
  • The most chipper, optimistic warrior in the world, tells war stories
  • Going through the warp pad “brings back memories” for her
  • JOKES
  • Took a gotdam lava shower for no apparent reason. Just likes lava I guess
  • Molded a sword by hand. Like, with her hand. One hand
  • Had enhancements for her friends? What a good friend
  • Saw that Amethyst was left out, found/made something for her on a spot
  • Also dude what the hell does “deep cut” mean? She’s so good
  • Made Amethyst do the star eyes thing, one of the few times nowadays that it’s actually charming
  • BATTLE RITUALS AND PEP TALKS
  • “Pearl I didn’t ask you to bring me a spear”
  • WE ARE POWERFUL! WE ARE IMPORTANT! WE ARE THE CRYSTAL GEMS!
  • Joins Steven in his mild ass rituals and enjoys them, makes a damn good pizza
  • Has the same outlook on Lonely Blade that I would. She’s right.
  • Decides she’ll try sleeping which is?? Great??
  • Best you-are-not-rose-quartz talk ever. Sure wish we’d retained that lesson over the episodes
  • Decided within a day of meeting Steven that he “deserves a better weapon” than Rose’s Sword, her self-proclaimed finest piece of work
  • Wanted to liberate everyone by shattering a very select few as opposed to the millions that the fandom claims
  • Surprisingly patient with Steven when he pulls the whole “a crystal gem would never!” thing on her. I would’ve dropkicked him into the lava tbh
  • Really only gets mad when he says SHE can’t use it either, which is extremely reasonable. A weapon you made that could end the suffering of millions that a child (who has never seen war) tells you you can’t use? I’d be pissed too.
  • Only starts attacking when she thinks he’s Rose
  • Is right. What kind of leader sabotages her own army by forbidding them to win?
  • Throws a stone dummy at Steven which is honestly Iconic
  • Asks BEGS to be shattered as opposed to being put in what’s essentially a coma, as opposed to living with the fact that she was ignored in favor of Rose’s shitty pseudo-individualistic ideology
  • Her final speech murdered me just like she asked Steven to murder her
  • HER PRIDE AND JOY WAS THROWN IN THE LAVA
  • UNBUBBLE HER YOU SICK FUCKS
  • WHY ARE THE CGS JUST OKAY WITH THIS

@gameofthronesimagine: Could you do something with Harry Hook and the reader is from Auradon and is lifelong friends with Ben and she’s Tinker Bell’s daughter??


Word Count: 5251

Also, warning. I started out thinking this would be cute and fluffy. It kind of turned a little angsty.


“…What? This is a joke, right?”

You stared at Ben, trying to mask your horror with denial.

Ben – for his part – looked sheepish. “We need to mend ties with the Isle, and compromise is the best way to do that.”

“So, if Uma asked you to release Chernabog from the Isle, you’d be totally for it?”

“No, of course not–”

You rolled your eyes. “No, of course. Just the guy that tried. To. Kill. You.”

“Things are different. Uma and Harry don’t have any power in Auradon, and it’s not like I’m totally defenceless,” Ben pointed out, nodding to his two huge bodyguards stationed at the door to his office.

You briefly glanced at them, before looking back at Ben. “Anyone else. You could have released anyone else. What about that Gil guy? He sounded harmless. Or some of her pirate groupies.”

“She wanted Harry,” Ben said simply, taking a sip of his tea. “She wouldn’t budge on that.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Wow. Great compromising there.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I know we're all dead but can we talk about how cute it was that he said thank you when she took her top off? And how intimate that moment was when he just took a second to look at her, to breathe her in, to confirm that this was really happening? Cause of death: Olicity.

Oliver was the perfect gentleman throughout that entire scene. 

Starting from the beginning, he was… everything. He was a man who was clearly still in love with this woman, but he’d also heard her last season when she said she was, for all intents and purposes, done. He was a man who was willing to get every tiny scrap of her natural sunlight, no matter what the cost for himself. Y’all are lying to yourselves if Felicity wasn’t doing exactly what Curtis suggested when the idea of her trying the salmon ladder came about. She’s all cute and flirty and doing something that shows a lot of skin, and yet, the entire time, Oliver was just so sweet. He didn’t push it, he didn’t take what are pretty obvious signs, he didn’t do anything without her explicit permission and direction. They went through two bottles of wine, my friends, they were quite a few sheets to the wind and still, he was the perfect gentleman. Even when she asked him to help her down, when he grabbed her waist, when he held her close, letting her down gently, cradling her like she’s the most important thing in his entire world (she is)…

(src)

He was just… 

(src)

… so Oliver and so respectful and I loved it so much.

But then it gets better.

Felicity finally makes the first move, she kisses him and remember the way he responded? 

(src)

(wow they kiss really well like damn well done a+)

He gives it his all because that’s all he wants to give her. He messed up so much in the past, and while the source of those issues are deeply buried and require a fucking bulldozer to unearth, it doesn’t change that it effectively ruined the best thing in his life. But now, now he has her back and it’s everything. Yes, the wine has stripped their inhibitions, but it just scratched off the surface, revealing what they’ve always, always wanted.

(src)

(src)

(This was cute af, anon, I so agree. He’s so totally getting swept up in the sensation of having her in his arms again, of kissing her, tasting her, feeling her, and it’s intoxicating. It takes over everything, leaving no room for anything but continuing to feel those wonderful things. We see that in the way he suddenly spins her, with so much intent, so much purpose - I know I’m not the only one who thought that was going somewhere else - but then he’s so painfully gentle with her. He could absolutely rip her sweater to pieces if he wanted to and he knew she probably wouldn’t complain one bit until later, but he didn’t, because remember, this is the Oliver who has been in love with this woman forever and he lost her and he’s been respecting her wishes in not pursuing a relationship and suddenly she’s here and she’s with him, but that doesn’t change where they are mentally, where he’s at mentally. (Wow, tangent.) It’s marked with that soft, adorable smile of his - that happy smile of his - and the way he says, “Thank you.” It’s really as if he’s thanking her for giving them this chance again.)

And then…

(src)

The passion is back, brimming over, all-consuming, burning them from the insides out, taking over everything, pulling them together like the magnets that they are…

But that’s not all it’s about, not quite. It’s about that, oh yes, but it’s also about connecting again, not just physically but emotionally and mentally, with their very souls. This isn’t just physical for Oliver, nor is it for Felicity, which is what he needs to double check, he needs to see, to make sure that… 

Well, that this is happening, that it’s what he thinks it is, that she’s on the same page, that she wants this, that she wants it as badly as he does, that she’s doing it for the same reasons, that… 

(src)

(the way he whispers her name, a gasp, a breathless plea… a prayer…)

He has to make sure. He has to. One, because it’s Oliver and when it comes to Felicity, there’s never been a halfway. 

Which is so very interesting considering what happened tonight - thinking about it from Oliver’s perspective, he honestly thought he was giving Felicity everything he could. He didn’t know at the time that he was only giving half of himself, only giving her the pieces he felt worthy of her, not realizing that he was hiding things from her, all under the guise of trying to protect her, in his own warped way. He has been broken, in his mind, for so long, but it’s only when he’s whole within himself that he can finally be with her, which we’re finally seeing, thank goodness.

He’s all in or he’s all out and he needs to know that Felicity is there with him.

(src)

But not a simple “Are you sure this is what you want,” no, it’s more than that.

(src)

It’s about them, and their love for each other.

(src)

And there it is. She’s right there with him, her love for him shining through, bathing him in its purity, a cleansing feeling that shines light in the darkest corners of his being (even if he doesn’t recognize it until much much much later). 

Cause of death: Olicity 

Indeed, anon. Indeed.

#pining!draco #parseltongue #quidditch

Prompts: @yxxn-g1
Author: @queenofthyme

There may have been fourteen players on the field but Draco only had eyes for one. Fast, lean, focused, Potter was like a bullet the way he shot across the Quidditch pitch. The other seeker didn’t stand a chance. 

“No wonder you didn’t want me to come,” Blaise said from beside Draco, breaking him from his trance.

It was true – he didn’t want Blaise to come. Some of the eighth years had set up their own Quidditch club. Draco wasn’t a part of it, of course, but that didn’t mean he didn’t wake up ridiculously early every morning so he could watch them, well, Potter, play.

Draco, of course – he had the worst luck, made the mistake of stepping on that creaking floorboard by Blaise’s bed – he usually avoided it but the early starts had started to make his brain a little foggy.

Blaise hadn’t been too happy at being awoken before the sun itself, but the more Draco pushed for him to go back to sleep, the more curious he had become. In the end, he insisted Draco take him with him.

Draco forced his eyes to land on another player before replying. "What do you mean by that?“

Blaise snorted. "Come on, Draco, it’s pretty obvious why you’re here.”

Draco kept his face straight ahead, avoiding Blaise’s knowing eyes. “I enjoy Quidditch.”

“Maybe you enjoy it a little too much.”

Draco averted his eyes as Potter flew into his line of vision. That was hardly his fault. He turned to Blaise. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Blaise smirked. “I think you know exactly what I mean.” Blaise jerked his head out to the field. “Heads up, lover boy.”

Draco turned back to find Potter hurtling towards them, the snitch at the edge of the pitch where they sat in the stands. With his Quidditch robes flying behind him and a fierce determination in his eyes, Potter looked like a dream. In fact, Draco had had this very dream, maybe with a few minor adjustments to the rest of Potter’s clothing. (What clothing?)

Potter’s hand closed around the snitch – close enough that Draco could have leaned forward and snatched it up himself – and a low hissing sound escaped his mouth. Draco felt the sound in his entire body.

Potter twisted his broom with ease, avoiding impact with the stand, and flew back to his team, his hand raised high, showing off his win.

Draco slumped back – he had somehow found himself at the very tip of his seat, leaning into the pitch. His heart pounded against his chest, as if it wished to escape.

“What was that?” Blaise asked.

Draco waved a hand dismissively, focusing on calming his heartbeat. “It’s parseltongue. Potter use to – does speak it.”

“That’s not what I –“ Blaise paused. His voice grew mocking. “Oh no.”

Draco looked over to Blaise, alarmed. “What?”

Blaise smiled – it stretched over his face slowly. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

“No, I didn’t!” Draco crossed his legs nervously. He immediately regretted it when Blaise’s eyes were drawn to the action, widening at the implication.

“You did!” Blaise clapped his hands together. He was enjoying this. “You pervert! Potter’s snake tongue has got you all hot and bothered.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Draco insisted. “Why would – “ Draco spotted Potter flying back up to the stand and his voice faltered. The snitch was nowhere to be seen.

Blaise leaned into Draco to whisper: “Better keep your legs crossed.”

Draco blushed. “I AM NOT HA - Potter!” Draco yelled as Potter approached. “Good catch.” Great form. Amazing body.

Potter dismounted his broom, considerably less gracefully then he flew. “Thanks, Malfoy” he said, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “I didn’t know you were - I mean, did you want to play? Is that why you’re here? Because I can – “

“I’m fine,” Draco interrupted. He didn’t fancy making a fool of himself.

“Draco prefers to watch,” Blaise added. Draco shot him a murderous look. Blaise. Was. Dead.

Luckily, Potter didn’t catch on to the meaning. He shuffled on the spot. “Oh, okay then. If you change your mind, let – “

“Why do you - when you - why do you do that?” Draco blurted out before Potter could leave.

Potter tilted his head, staring at Draco intently with puckered eyebrows, confusion clear on his face.

“He means why do you speaks parseltongue when you catch the snitch,” Blaise translated.

Potter’s face relaxed; he laughed sheepishly. “You heard that? It’s just something that happens when I’m not concentrating on what I’m saying.” Potter paused to think about it. “You know, when I’m reacting instinctively.”

“Reacting instinctively hmm?” Blaise repeated, his whole face alight. “That must happen quite a bit huh, Potter?” Blaise said with a painfully obvious wink, nudging Draco as he did.

“Yeah, actually, it’s – “ Blaise’s implication must have hit Potter a second too late. He fumbled over his words. “What are you - Oh I didn’t mean - that’s not - I mean, you don’t need to - um.” Potter closed his mouth firmly, a blush creeping over his cheeks. Draco could see the cogs in Potter’s mind working overtime, trying to find an escape. Draco felt quite the same way. Blaise was worse than dead.

“I should get back to the team,” Potter said, after a telling pause, mounting his broom.

“Bye, Potter,” Blaise said sweetly. “Draco looks forward to the opportunity to hear your parseltongue once more.”

Potter hissed again, low and breathy. Draco didn’t require a translation to know Potter was swearing.

“He means during Quidditch,” Draco quickly covered up, crossing his legs tighter and internally vowing to destroy Blaise for the most mortifying experience of his life.

“No I – “

Draco clapped a hand over Blaise’s mouth before he could ruin Draco’s day further. Draco tried to smile at Potter, his face burning.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Potter said, his face just as aflame as Draco’s. “Our next Quidditch meet,” he explained when Draco remained silent.

Draco nodded a little too enthusiastically once he understood Potter’s meaning, already anticipating the next time he might hear Potter make that hissing sound again. “Yeah, see you tomorrow, Potter.”

more like this l @queenofthyme

Sick of Losing You

Plot: Harry and Y/N lost each other when he found someone else.

Warnings: None aside that it kinda broke my heart.

Playlist to the one shot: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL2S-tehb1XqDqkmE4xnz7-SciJy61soVf

Thanks to @interfectorems for being such a good friend, supporter and for requesting this. 
Songs that are mentioned but not on the playlist are “Out of the Woods” by Taylor Swift & “If You don’t Know” by 5Sos.

Pic of this beauty isn’t mine.

I watched from a far how he held on to her hand, his fingers grasping and squeezing hers gently while his eyes never left her pretty face. He watched her speak with such an intensity in his green eyes, as if he literally saw nothing other than her. His girlfriend. Not me.
I took a deep breath, swallowed the thick lump building in my throat and turned away from the sight.
Exactly three weeks ago, Harry and I had shared a kiss. Our first kiss, which had been exactly how I’d secretly always wished for it to be. Of course it had been. Every time you get to kiss the person you love is special and like fireworks painting colors into the sky.

He’d been talking and listening to me all night, similar to how he now was with her and had at some point reached out to hold my hand, just like he was holding hers in this moment.
When the time felt right, he’d leant in and had captured my lips with his. Needless to say, Harry was a phenomenal kisser. He knew when to press further, when to use how much tongue and was very attentive to how my body responded to his. Whenever I thought about it now, my cheeks tingled with the memory of his hands cupping them gently as he cradled my face to keep me close. He’d been so soft, so perfect. Harry had touched me with a tenderness, I thought it’d break my heart. I remembered wrapping my arms around his neck and feeling like they belonged there, like I was meant to hold him close.
Only that I wasn’t. The girl he was with now only proved how insignificant I was.

I couldn’t help peaking and looking over at him again. Harry’s lips. I knew exactly how they felt when pressed against my own, knew their taste and shape. Their warmth. Harry’s touch was impossible to forget.
I watched him kiss his girlfriend with a mesmerized stare, before moving away and into the kitchen, leaving the small gathering of our friends with a murmured excuse that I needed to get a refill of my drink, when in reality I couldn’t bear seeing the man I loved sharing affectionate kisses with someone else.
But not even the kitchen was a safe area for me. t had been this exact kitchen, the one in Harry’s house, where he’d pulled me aside and told me about her for the first time.

“It’s difficult” I think he said. “It’s my fault that this situation has become so messy.”

Was it silly that I could actually still remember every word he spoke to me? That I’d engraved every pause, every take in of breath he made, deeply into my head?

“Listen, Y/N… You’re important to me. I care about you. Need you, it’s just… There is someone. Someone who could be a chance for a relationship and I really want to give this a go. Give her a go, I mean. You can understand that, right?”

At first it’d felt like none of it was real. Because how could he be serious?
Harry. My best friend, Harry.
Only three days after our magical first kiss, three days full of us talking and flirting and texting constantly, he was telling me that he wanted someone else. Her name was Ira. And though he was seemingly behaving the same way with her he had been with me, we weren’t the same. In fact, she was everything I wasn’t. So when he told me he wanted her and not me, that he was picking her over of me, how come I’d been surprised?

I would never be his first choice, not when there were thousands of others he could choose from. And it was time for my brain to learn to not interpret every kind gesture, time to learn to stop overthinking every word. It was time for my head to accept, that there was no way Harry Styles could possibly want me.

So… I had been understanding. Kind even.
I’d lied and told him that yes, I agreed that our kiss had been a mistake. We shouldn’t have done any of that and instead thought of our friendship first, rather than our impulses. I’d kept a smile on my face throughout the entire talk and even finished the short chat by wishing him good luck with her. Another lie.

My fingers shook and so I set the empty glass of my drink down quickly, worried for a moment that I might otherwise spill the last few drops. I didn’t think much when I reached for the bottle of vodka on the counter. There was no getting through this night if I didn’t have something proper to drink. If only I remembered the recipe….

“Need help?”

My shoulders tensed. It couldn’t be him. Please… anyone, literally anyone, but him.

However when I turned around, Harry was there. He stood tall and beautiful, his short hair soft and wavy. Harry’s compelling eyes held my gaze with such a tender rawness in them, my knees weakened. All my body burned for was to wrap my arms around his shoulders and have him embrace me, have him tell me that everything would be okay again. I felt like I needed it, but knew that this was a wish I would be denied. Harry must have felt it, too. It was in the air around us. It had changed and… buzzed. As if being in each other’s presence made the world halt still for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” Harry chuckled lowly when I didn’t say anything. How could he smile like everything was alright?

And what was it he was apologizing for? Abandoning our friendship? Ruining any hope I’d had to find a partner in him? Shattering my heart? Hardly.

“For scaring you,” Harry elaborated, a sudden hint of guilt in his eyes, almost as if he’d read my thoughts.

“It’s fine, Harry,” I muttered, bearing a false smile, “All good.”

It was hard to look at him. Especially his eyes. They burned a whole into my chest whenever my own orbs found them. They reminded me of the Harry he once was, the one I could always come to and rely on.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, his head nodding towards the bottle of vodka. His forehead furrowed in a worried expression and I quickly set the container back down.

“I wanted to make myself a drink, but the recipe slipped my mind. I’m not as much of an alcoholic as it must look like.”

“Good to know,” Harry chuckled, then, visibly thinking about it first, took a step forward. “I remember what you like in your favorite drink. Could make you one.”

From how close he was standing, it was easy to notice every detail of his skin. Every curve of his lips, every hair of his barely-there beard. My stomach turned.

“That’d be nice.”

Harry smiled and nodded. “Okay.”

We avoided any touching. I was leant against the counter, he stood with a safe distance between us and only came closer when he needed a different ingredient that happened to be near me. It was awkward and… weird. It didn’t feel like ‘us’. The friends we’d been once seemed to be two completely different people. I knew him and felt he was familiar, but there was a emotional distance between us I knew neither of us could overcome. And still, I was with him and even if we behaved like strangers, being with Harry was nice.

“I think that’s it,” Harry said, breaking the silence. His eyes were set on the pink-orange liquid in my glass, then they drifted to my face. A proud smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“You 'think’?” I challenged shyly.

I took the glass from him (cautious not to touch his fingers) and took a sip. It tasted great.

“M'not big of a show off,” Harry grinned, “S'it good?”

I nodded and stirred the colored liquid once more. “Thanks, Harry.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” His voice was soft and his gaze shy.

The air around us shifted once more. My eyes teared up. What had happened to us? Harry and I… we used to be the kind of friends who didn’t stopped talking to each other for hours. At first, we’d be loud. We’d laugh and giggle so much eventually both of our tummies hurt. That was when we’d change the subject and speak more quietly, until several hours later our conversations drifted to topics only we were allowed to hear. Then we’d be whispering and sitting closer together, always an eager sparkle in the other’s eyes as we both listened with interest about what was being said.

I quickly turned away and pretended to yawn. My eyes blinked rapidly and I willed them not to cry in front of him. Not because of embarrassment, but because I couldn’t do that to him. I’d given him my okay. I had no right to be mad at him for having found someone else. Harry remained standing close and with his hands in the front pockets of his black jeans.

“I think I should go,” I muttered.

I held my head low and took a deep breath before looking at him briefly. Harry’s eyes held concern and his fingers twitched, as if he longed to reach out for me.

“Y/N, love,” he began lowly, “Do you think we could talk for a bit? S'been a while since I got to see you. Hear your voice. I missed you.”

This time when my eyes met his green orbs, I didn’t look away, even though I could feel the tears forming and coming closer to spilling over. Harry’s whole expression changed. His cheeks paled and his forehead furrowed deeper.

“I miss you, too, Harry,” I admitted, my weak voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” he mumbled, shaking his head slowly, sorrow deeply set in his eyes. His feet stepped closer and his warm hands touched my flushed cheeks before I even had the chance to back away from him. The unexpected closeness caught me off guard and had more tears coming, this time because of how much I hated how uncommon this sort of care from him had become.

Harry embraced me. His head buried itself into my neck and both arms wrapped themselves around my waist so he could lift me up from my feet. “Please no, Y/N, Sweetheart. Don’t cry.”

I couldn’t help it. My heart, the final bit that had been whole still, broke in his caring hands and I was overcome and pulled under a wave of grief. That was what I was doing. I was grieving our friendship and the lost hope I’d had for a relationship with him. And he allowed it. He let me cry against his collarbones without any complaint and instead began to hum quietly, knowing how much his voice always soothed me. Pain shot through my chest. He probably did the same when she was upset.

“I can’t-” I cried, but got cut off by my lungs that burned with need for air.

Harry hushed me, his hold tightening, “Don’t, Y/N. It’s going to be alright.”

I shook my head and loosened the hold I’d taken around his neck. My hands momentarily brushed his soft hair, then I pulled away. Harry hesitated but allowed me to step out of his hold.

“I can’t take it anymore, Harry,” I confessed, my voice breaking halfway through the sentence. I reached up to brush my cheeks with the end of my sleeve and hiccuped. My head felt numb and I knew if I didn’t get out of this kitchen soon, he’d witness a break down I wasn’t comfortable with him seeing.

Harry’s hand reached for my arm. I didn’t fight it when he pulled me closer to him, but avoided his eyes when he leaned down to find my gaze.

“Y/N,” he spoke, his voice rough with emotion, “I promise you, it’ll be alright. M'not leaving, okay? M'not. We’ll figure this out.”

I wanted to scream but all I could was shake my head rapidly. “Figure this out how? What have we become, Harry?”

Another sob wrecked through my chest.

“I don’t know,” he confessed, “But we’re going to find each other again, okay? I promise. Let me say goodbye to the others and then we’ll go for a walk or something. We’ll talk. About everything and nothing at all… Just like we always used to, yeah?”

Used to. So long ago, it seemed.

“Okay,” I whispered, my burning eyes set on my feet. My skin shivered under his warmth and my lips hurt from how much I was bitting them.

I flinched when his mouth pressed a kiss to my head. The skin was left with a burning sensation. “Wait for me here, love.”

Harry’s quick feet carried him out of the kitchen and left me standing by the counter with my heart at the pit of my stomach. I stood up straight and brushed the few remaining tears from my cheeks. My skin tingled and I felt the hint of a smile on my lips, even though my body ached.
Looking back now, I wish I would have stayed put by the counter and had waited for him just like he’d asked me to. I wish I hadn’t been impatient and eager to reunite with Harry, because that eagerness drove me to exit the kitchen shortly after him and turn the corner, allowing me clear view into the living room.
There he stood. His arms around her thin form, his hands in her long hair and his lips kissing hers. All air was knocked right out of me. I could see how his hands gently moved against her neck, bringing her in closer and their bodies flush together. When their lips parted for a moment, I could see how he let his tongue run along his lower lip, as if he wanted to make sure he got all of her taste. And I could see him smile warmly at her, right before he leaned back in to connect their mouths once more. This sight… it burned.
I didn’t wait for him. Because I had been wrong before. My heart wasn’t truly broken until that moment, witnessing the man I loved with my everything, kissing a woman who wasn’t me. And if he wasn’t going to leave me, if he was just going to keep me close and allow my heart to shatter over and over again, then I supposed I would have to be the one to go first.
So that’s what I did. I walked back to the entryway, slid on my jacket, picked up my bag, and left the house. Left, to never come back to Harry Styles.

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Bts | Reaction | Checkmate✔️

[ i live for these mafia/gangsta aus! thanks so much for requesting this, i love you so much, enjoy :)) ]

Seokjin

➸ You hadn’t caught his eye just yet, him merely seeing you as another waitress threatened with your life to serve him anything he desired. This business meeting was nothing but intense, the atmosphere suffocating as the topic was on murder. Now, for a normal servant they wouldn’t even bat an eye on the conversation - but that’s just it. 

You were new. 

And it probably was just your luck to be working on the day they decided to be…descriptive as to what they planned to do to the rat among them. A little squeamish, you couldn’t help but shake uncontrollably when you poured Jin another glass of wine, biting your lip with so much strength that you were sure it was bleeding.

“Yoongi, for the last time, we are not using acid. I almost lost my fucking arm trying to clean it up the last time we used it.” Namjoon groans, rubbing his temples in aggravation. “What is it with you and melting skin?” 

“He’s a sadist, that’s why.” Jimin snickers. “I say we cut off the fingers, one by one. Then, leave him to bleed out - slowly.” 

You couldn’t help but gulp at the mere thought of someone’s fingers being cut off, or their skin melting off; what was wrong with these people? Do they find it entertaining doing these things-

“Yah!” 

The abrupt shout coming from Jin shocks you back into reality, as your heart drops at the sight of the overflowed wine glass, now all over the white table cloth and his dress pants. Losing the ability to breathe, you stand there with your mouth agape in terror, eyes wide like a deer in front of headlights. Sputtering out apologies left and right, you set the bottle down to hurriedly clean him up as much as you could with the hem of your dress - it being the only thing available. 

“I-I’m sorry, please, forgive me - I didn’t mean to, I was only just-” 

Before you could finish your plea, your breath is once again caught in your throat as rough fingers grip your jaw, lifting your head back up so he could get a good look at you. The room is now silent, which you concluded to be much worse than their conversation. You didn’t even notice you had tears until he used his other hand to wipe them away, gently. Never had you ever been so confused until this very moment - Jin was never gentle. You know from witnessing what he was really capable of.  

“Calm down, it’s alright. It was only an accident, right?” You take a minute to nod slowly, but once you did, he smiles. That only seems to scare you rather than put you at ease. “No need to be scared. Why don’t we get you cleaned up, hm?” 

Before you had a chance to answer, Jin had already latched onto your forearm, while standing from his seat. It was as if wine had never been spilled as he gave the conference table one last look. “Continue without me, I’ll be back shortly. And get someone to clean up this mess.” 

Taking a look at them as well, you didn’t understand as to why they all had knowing grins as they waved the two of you off. What was going to happened to you? Was he just playing tricks, was this the end for you? Your breathing only came in chops as he escorted you out of the room, the tears cascading down your face as you whimpered. 

“Please, don’t kill me! I have a family, please, I didn’t mean to spill-” You were cut off once again, only this time in an incredibly different way. Blinking rapidly, you moaned in surprised as his lips crashed onto yours, his hands rested on your lower back, pulling you in close. 

What was this you were feeling? 

This wasn’t the Kim Seokjin you’ve come to know for the past week, he never even gave you a passing glance - he didn’t know you existed until today. How come this kiss felt like he’s known you forever? 

After a few minutes, the two of you pulled away desperately in need for air, his hands now finding a new area to caress as he stared into your eyes. 

“I..I don’t understand…” 

“Have you any idea how long I’ve been searching for you? How long I’ve waited, and yet here you were this whole time - serving me wine.” Seeing that you were still confused, Jin chuckles softly. “What’s your name?” 

“Y-Y/n…”

“Y/n.” He repeated, allowing the name to slip off his tongue, like butter. “Such a pretty name, it suits you.” 

“So..you’re not gonna kill me, or cut my fingers off, or bathe me in acid-”

“Now, how could I do that to my soulmate?” Feeling your heart nearly stop, you practically choke on air at the word. “Sorry you had to hear all of that, from now on, you no longer have to serve me. And you have a family, you say? I’d like to meet them, they shall be protected for as long as I’m breathing, as well as you.”

“Whoa, wait, slow down. I-I’m your…b-but how could you possibly know?! Just five minutes ago, you didn’t know who I was, and now all of the sudden we’re soulmates? I just…I don’t understand.” Yes, everything was crashing onto you all at once, but you didn’t pull away from him. You let him continue to hold you; his presence oddly feeling right.

Jin couldn’t help but to laugh, the feeling of relief that he finally found you was enough to put him a constant good mood. Not even you’re obliviousness could annoy him; whether you believed him or not, he would get you see someday that he was made for you.

“There’s plenty of time to explain all of this - but wouldn’t you rather get cleaned up? This wine is starting to feel a little sticky.” 

The events of earlier almost made you forget the small slip up you made - realizing that it all came down to just overfilling a wine glass. If you hadn’t have been so careless, would you be in this situation? Would everything had been different if you hadn’t have screwed up? 

Was this fate? If he wasn’t going to kill you, why not at least see where all of this was going to lead. What was the worst that could happen? 

Nodding slowly, this time he went for your hand, leading the way to what you assumed to be his bedroom. 

“We are meant to be, my love. I’ll show you.” 

Yoongi 

➸ If there was anything else Yoongi could do, he would pick it in a heartbeat. He’d rather watch paint dry than wander around this party, surrounded by a whole bunch of idiots who were drunk off their asses while carrying lethal weapons. If anything, he feared for his life rather than enjoyed the event. To be honest he couldn’t even remember why he was there in the first place. 

“Attention, could I have everyone’s attention. I would like to thank you all for attending this special occasion. The day my only child takes over the family business.”

Ah, that’s right. He was sent to put in a good word for вts to the new mafia boss of BigHit; just to make sure there continued to be no bad blood between them. He didn’t know what the big deal was, just some guy getting a new position in something that was merely child’s play - in his opinion. Why was there a need for such a big fuss over one dude? 

Man, was he in for a kick in the balls when you walked out. You were far from being ‘some guy’ or a ‘dude’. You were a woman. And the ‘big fuss’ was because BigHit had never been run by a woman before. Especially not a woman that looked like pure sex. Yoongi nearly choked on his drink when you strutted out for the whole party to see, cheers erupting all around him, yet he couldn’t hear a thing. It was like all his senses were circled in on you, even senses he didn’t know he had were all focused. 

“My daughter, Y/n, the first female to ever run the empire. Babygirl - make daddy proud.” Yoongi couldn’t help but to fantasize about saying those final words to you someday, biting his lip as his eyes scanned you up and down. Definitely a sight for sore eyes, that’s for sure. He could only pray to the man in the sky, thanking that Jin-hyung made him come to this event.

Clearing his throat, he joined in the claps that congratulated their new boss, all sending their best wishes and positive vibes. Honestly, he couldn’t wait to be alone with her to discuss ‘business’. He watched you intensely as you made your way down the stairs, dress flowing behind you so elegantly it should be considered illegal to look as good as you did. You greeted anyone that was in your path - from hugs, to handshakes, to the friendly kisses on the cheek. 

But, as soon as you got to him - everything stopped. As if your brain had completely shut off, and you were merely a hallow shell. You didn’t even blink, your mouth hanging open like a fool as you stood in front of him with your arms open. 

If he hadn’t cleared his throat, you probably would have been stuck like that for a little while. Shaking your head, you chuckle nervously, reaching over to shake his hand. 

“So sorry, I don’t know what came over me for a second. You must be Yoongi, Seokjin told me that you would be attending tonight. Pleasure to finally put a face to a name.” When his hand had finally connect with yours, you could have sworn a bolt of electricity sprung up your right arm, almost making you jump back in alarm. Almost

“Pleasure is all mine,” Yoongi pulls you in closer by the hand, leaning down to place a light kiss upon your knuckles. “Miss Y/n.” 

The way your name fell from his lips nearly made you weak in the knees. Blinking a couple of times to compose yourself, you gesture with your other hand in the direction where your new, private office was located. 

“Shall we get down to business, then?” 

Tightening his grip on her hand, he nods slowly as a grin forms upon his lips. “Lead the way.” 

Namjoon 

➸ You two had made eye contact the minute you hit the stage. It was your first night being the main dancer, feeling so confident in yourself that you decided to wear a little something more than inappropriate - snagging Namjoon’s attention in under a second. Not only had he never seen you before, but you did something to him the same way a drug would do. His heart started to race, his palms sweating, everything around him going silent and his vision tunneling in on you and only you. 

For a moment, you forgot your whole routine, or that there were other men in the room you needed to interest; not just him. But, your mind felt as if he was all the attention you wanted - needed, even. You didn’t know what is was, but when the music started, you had no choice but to get into character and finally break eye contact. Namjoon leaned back into his chair, eyes still trained on your swaying figure as you started to dance, licking his lips slowly at your movements being so smooth and precise. 

“Behave yourself, Namjoon, we’ve only just arrived and you’re already eye-fucking one of the dancers.” Jin playfully punches his shoulder, him not flinching. “Yah, what’s the matter with you?” 

Tugging at the sudden tightness at his collar, Namjoon finds the strength to pull his eyes away from you, them now clouded with lust as he tried to allow his heart to slow down. Jin had seen this look before, many times actually, him having had the same look not too long ago. Nodding to his friend, slowly, Jin only chuckles as Namjoon spilled everything without having to say one word. 

“Ah, I see. You think she’s the one?” 

“I don’t think. I know she is.” He notices that your dance was coming close to an end, him not wasting a moment before standing up and adjusting himself. “Don’t wait up, I’m coming home late.” 

“Be gentle with her, Joonie~” Jimin giggles, chugging down yet another shot with Taehyung. “We don’t call you ‘God of Destruction’ for nothing.” 

It was as if you were expecting him when you descended from the stage, already signaling him to follow you to the private section of the club, a teasing little smirk creeping upon you face as you made sure to swing your hips with exaggeration as you walked. Raising an eyebrow in interest, Namjoon couldn’t help but chuckle darkly as he happily started to follow you. 

“I think she can handle me.”  

Hoseok 

➸ Hoseok knew this was coming, eventually. He drank his poison and merely waited for it take effect, it was only a matter of time. He knew his wife was going to rat him out the minute she discovered the secrecy he’s kept from her for so long. 

“I hope that bitch was worth it, and that you rot in hell, Jung Hoseok!” 

He would only roll his eyes, as the police finished handcuffing them all, escorting them outside. There were millions of flashing lights as soon as they stepped foot through the doors; from reporters to people with camera phones, all taking pictures of the notorious mafia gang finally being brought to justice. 

Hoseok couldn’t help but to smile. These poor, naive fools.

People continuously shouted at them, from insults to curses, all saying this was a new beginning - now that the terrorists were finally going to be put behind bars, once and for all. Once the doors to the van were slammed shut, the seven of them looked at each other before all busting into a fit of laughter. The sound of the engine starting was loud enough to drown it out from anyone of the outside, driving away at lightening speed until the flashing lights of the cameras were submerged to nothing but tiny specks in the distance. 

For a straight ten minutes into the drive, they couldn’t keep from laughing - the whole situation seeming unreal and just hilarious to them. It wasn’t until the van had come to a complete stop did they all finally compose themselves enough to catch their breaths. Opening the double doors, they were greeted by a silhouette covered from head to toe in black, wearing a police helmet to hide their face; the laughter then returned once again. 

“Stop looking so fucking intimidating, your Oscar for world’s best actress is in the mail, Y/n.” Taehyung sarcastically remarked, you chuckling in response as your remove the helmet. Climbing into the van, you go over to Hoseok first, leaning downward to kiss him passionately - the guys not missing a beat to let out groans of disgust, mixed in with their laughter. 

“I always knew that tramp would sing like a canary. Not my fault her husband happened to my soulmate - and I sure as hell wasn’t going to share you for much longer, Hobi~” You unchained him from his handcuffs, so he could hold you properly as the two of you shared another kiss. 

“Yah, you two can ravish each other later! Right now, we gotta move, before the police realize this van never showed up to it’s original destination.” Namjoon warned. 

Pecking his lips one more time, you rush over to uncuff the rest of вts, them not wasting time to strip out of their suits. Putting on the casual clothing you had packed for them ahead of time, Yoongi then spread the inside of the van with gasoline as well as their previous clothing. Helping to push the vehicle into a nearby ditch, Hoseok held up a box of matches, his eyes piercing into your own. 

“Y/n. It is your choice if you want to continue on with us, or not. I’m going to be honest, once the feds catch on they will hunt us down like dogs, and it’s not going to be easy. I won’t make you do something you don’t want to-” 

You kiss him hard on the mouth before he could finish his speech, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold him close, signifying that you weren’t going anywhere. After pulling away from the passionate kiss, you happily take the matches from his hand, striking one of them - watching the flame come to life in the dark night. Taking a deep breath, you throw it toward the van, it perfectly landing on the roof of it. Not even seconds later did a blanket of fire start to spread around the vehicle, it being completely engulfed into the flames. The maknaes hoop and holler at the moon, dancing around with each other as the rest of you merely watched it burn. 

Hoseok wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in close to place a kiss on your forehead. “This isn’t going to be fun, you know.”

You chuckle, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “If you’re trying to scare me into leaving, it’s not gonna work. I’m with you till the end, Hobi, until the day I die.” 

He could only smile, your response making his heart race uncontrollably - something his wife could never do. You were the breath of fresh air he’s been looking for. Sure everything he’s worked for is practically gone thanks to you, but he didn’t mind starting over. It was a small price to pay, for you. 

“I love you, Y/n. Until the day I die.”

Jimin 

➸ Unfortunately, you were on his hit list. Someone had called him in to finish the job, getting rid of the witness who had gotten away with too much information. But, there was no record that you even existed, besides a name and the location where you worked. You kept a low profile, due to your reputation of being a well known snitch, only the last thing you spied on - you were sloppy. They saw you sneaking out of the window when you felt like you’ve gotten all that you needed. They didn’t see your face, but they knew enough to track you down - for him to track you down. 

Jimin entered the bar, dressed in nothing but black as he scanned the area. Checking over the exits, giving an educated guess of how many people were in the place, playing out all the possibly scenarios that could unfold tonight. The worst that could happen is that the police could get involved, allowing you to get away, and fail the mission. But, Jimin was a lot of things; a failure wasn’t one of them. 

The only information he was given was that you were either a server here, or a performer in one of the cages that hung from the ceiling. He knew that no one had seen your face before, but he felt that he could put a name of a face. Jimin wouldn’t be good at what he did if he couldn’t. Scanning the cages, none of the girls that shamelessly flashed their naked bodies seemed to fit the small profile. Huffing, he crosses the cages out; only one thing left to investigate. 

Sitting at one of tables, he pressed the button in front of him to gain service from one of the waitresses that would migrate all over the place. It took no more than five minutes for one of them to finally make their way over to him, notepad in hand, with sweat glistening off their face and nearly exposed torso; he nearly giggles at the faint appearance of glitter. It wasn’t until his eyes had landed on your face did the look of amusement completely melt from his features, quickly replaced with the blank one he had came in with. Trying to catch your breath in the stuffy bar, you didn’t even notice his face yet in the dimly lit area where the table was located. 

Jimin gulps, trying to keep himself calm before his heart nearly busted out of his chest. It couldn’t be you, it just couldn’t. He prayed to god that it wasn’t, that you were someone random who worked here, that his instincts were wrong this one time. When you had finally caught your breath, chuckling softly, you politely bowed in apology - still haven’t lifted your head up to look at him. 

“I am terribly sorry to have kept you waiting, sir. My name is Y/n, I’ll be your server for tonight, what can I get for yo-…” You had then looked up, your professional smile dropping to a look of pure terror, as you took a small step back. Jimin’s blank expression switched to something that seemed as if he were in physical pain, tears forming in his eyes as he couldn’t bear to look into your terrified ones. 

You knew who he was, and what he was there to do. That only seemed to pain Jimin even further as the rapid beating of his heart only confirmed his worst nightmare: he’d have to kill his soulmate. 

“Y/n, I’m begging you…please run.” 

Taehyung 

➸ Taehyung had a reputation of being incapable of feeling anything. Emotions he once had in the past completely erased from his genetic code thanks to the rough teachings from his father. He grew up with no warmth of a mother’s touch, no grandmother, nor sister, just merely male presence for as long as he can remember. 

He hated smiling. Anytime his father caught him even so much as grinning, he earned himself a beating. He hated laughing. Anytime he would laugh for having fun, another beating, then no dinner. He hated crying. Anytime Tae would cry after a beating, or from hunger, he would only get beat even more - and possibly the loss of food privileges for a whole week. After a while, Kim Taehyung learned to not feel a thing. It’s the only thing that kept him alive. 

When he arrived at the party, he was greeted with friendly smiles, warm welcomes, you name it - they wanted to make him feel special. After his father’s death recently, he had been promoted to head boss - taking the news with a blank expression and curt nod. Never shed a tear about his father, or for this grand opportunity he’s been trained for since birth. He felt nothing. 

Jin accompanied Taehyung, being his ride to the event. Jin’s job was to be his smile, his laugh, anything that had to do with emotion - Jin was the man to be called. But, if the eldest didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn he had seen Taehyung grinning at something when they entered; for a split second. 

“I’m gonna go scout for the others, and find our reserved table. Don’t do anything rash, remember your temper.” 

“Aish, Jin-hyung, you’re like the mother I never had.” Taehyung spoke with monotone, his hooded eyes never faltering. “I’ll be a good boy.” 

Jin raises his eyebrow in confusion. “Did…Did you just make a joke?” 

Blinking a couple of times, Taehyung turns away from him while looking anywhere else to distract this tingly feeling at his finger tips. Shrugging slightly, he starts walking away without another word to Jin, leaving him to stand there for moment. Scoffing softly, he just shakes his head. He would forever be a mystery to him. 

Taehyung walked forward with no particular destination, but he couldn’t stop. He was looking for something, someone perhaps, he just didn’t know who. It wasn’t until he had ran into a server with a tray in their hands did he snap out of his zombie-like state. A small gasp made him look down at the mess he had created, the girl in front of him looking as if she had just seen as ghost. Bowing multiple times, you apologize multiple times in one breath, lowering to floor to quickly gather everything you dropped so you could escape his sight before he could catch a good look at your face. The last thing you needed was to turn up dead the next day all because of a clumsy mistake. 

But, it wasn’t your fault, and he knew that. 

Everything around the two of had stopped, everyone staring in equal shock and sympathy as they all concluded that you probably just made the biggest mistake of your life. Taehyung stared down at you once more, eye twitching slightly as tears cascaded down your face as you practically begged for forgiveness for getting his blazer all messy. He didn’t like the sight, not in the slightest - usual he would find joy in someone pleading for mercy, but coming from you - it didn’t leave the right taste in his mouth. 

Without hesitation, Taehyung drops to his knees, helping you pick up the shattered glass piece by piece. You lowered your head even further to keep from making eye contact, afraid to see the look of rage in his eyes. He looked you over for a moment, seeing multiple cuts all over your hands from picking up shards of glass with your bare hands in such a hurry to get away from him. You looked so fragile, so scared, so…cute. It had been a while since he’s seen something like that. Gently as he could, he gripped your chin, lifting your head up to finally make eye contact with him. 

Gasping softly once again, your breathing stops altogether when you see all the emotion held in such soft brown eyes. They were so wide, so curious, nothing like in the stories people would gossip about on the streets. Tears still leaked from your eyes as you sat still, in fear that one wrong move could set him off. Taehyung on the other hand couldn’t understand this rapid beating in his chest, the same way it did when he first saw you when he came in - you were the one Jin almost caught him grinning at. 

“What’s your name?” He finally spoke, voice low so not to frighten you. “Please, tell me your name. I’m not going to hurt you, just please…” 

Gulping, you blink away a few more tears, sniffling before answering. “Y/n. My name is L/n Y/n. I’m 19 years old, I have no family except my little sister at home who needs me, she’s only 6, I bed you, please don’t…”

You start to choke on your own words at the tears once again started to flow, clenching Taehyung’s heart to the point he was extremely confused as to what this feeling was. Never has he experienced anything like this before, it being so long to where he’s forgotten the name for it. Pain? Anger? Sadness? 

Whatever it was, he didn’t want you expressing it any longer. Not wasting another moment, he picks you up into his arms, practically cradling you in way he could only wish someone did for him growing up. He not only surprised those all around him, and you, but himself as well. Blinking a couple of times, he glares.

“Don’t you all have work to do?” 

Just that alone was enough to make everyone practically sprint in different directions. Taehyung only scoffs before heading the direction went in, making you tense up in his arms more than before. 

“W-Where are you taking me?” 

He doesn’t answer, just keeps walking forward. When he had finally come across the rest of his group, they all stared up at him with either confusion or surprised; perhaps a combination of both. Tae takes his seat, not even considering their feelings about how this must look to them, now resting you on his lap. You practically vibrated in his hold, very confused as why you were there or what he wanted from you. What really shocked you the most would be how he wrapped his arms around your middle, hugging you to his chest while nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. 

Looking over his table for any explanation, you weren’t expecting them to all sudden have some kind of mental understanding as to why he was acting this way. Taehyung leans upward until he felt close enough to your ear, whispering softly into your ear that made your blood run cold. 

“I’m keeping you. You make me feel again.”

Jungkook 

➸ Jungkook was to be on his best behavior at this dinner, having been told that it was a meeting between long term rivals to finally end any bad blood that was between them. He understood completely; don’t be disrespectful, no dirty looks, don’t even so much as open his mouth. If they wanted this to be a sure thing, then he needed to be the golden maknae he’s been trained to be. 

Sure, that seemed like an easy to do, it’s nothing new to be told those rules whenever there was a meeting of importance. The only difference in this particular meeting that almost made shit hit the fan - their rival’s daughter was not only smoking hot…but also his soulmate. Now, Jungkook being the youngest, it was a whole lot harder to hide intense emotions that finding your soulmate could do to you. Just the sight of you made his heart race, his only focus being you as all his thoughts were only interested on what your name was, where had you been all his life, and how did you like your eggs in the morning after spending a night with him? The longer he looked at you, the more sinful his mind turned - to the point Jimin had to pinch him in the arm to bring his focus back on the meeting before anyone noticed. 

“What the hell could you possibly be staring at that hard?” He hissed under his breath, before blushing hard and looking elsewhere. “Are you aroused? Right now, are you fucking kidding me, Jungkook?” 

“It’s not my fault!” He bit back, blush covering his face as well. Wincing slightly at the sudden pain in his ankle, he jets his eyes to his left to see that Yoongi was give the two of them a warning glare. Jungkook couldn’t help the increasing tightness in his pants, having to bite his tongue to keep from whimpering at the slight throb. “Oh, fuck, it hurts…” 

He tried with all his might to hold in any noises he wanted so bad to let out, having to rest his head in his hands to take deep breaths to calm his racing heart. It wouldn’t have been overlook if his elbows hadn’t have slammed into the table - the sound echoing around the once tranquil meeting that was now more of an awkward silence. Jungkook could practically feel all eyes on him, and hear the faint sound of Namjoon face palming. Lifting his head up slowly, he sheepishly smiles. 

“S-Sorry…migraine.” He quickly covered, the boss not seeming to look fooled. But, with a small nod, he gestures for someone to come forward. Jungkook nearly choked on his spit when you walked past him, swearing that you had just ran your finger tips over his back. When you made it over to your father, he whispered something in your ear - you soon nodding that you understood. 

Walking over to him yet again, you placed your hands on his shoulders, leaning down to flash him a warm smile that nearly made him faint right then and there. Without speaking, Jungkook stood, crossing his hands in front of his crotch area to hide the evident bulge that was forming. Following your lead, the two of you exit the room to let them continue the meeting in peace. Once he was positive you were no longer within earshot of the room, he didn’t hesitate to pin you to the wall. 

“What did your father say?” He all but groans in your ear, making sure to grind his lower half into yours to let you know all that you’ve done to him without even touching him. “Does he know you’re my soulmate?” 

“N-No. He just said ‘take care of him’. But, he never specified on how.” You breathlessly spoke, holding onto his broad shoulders as you slowly started to lose your train of thought. The minute he walked in, you were intoxicated. Your vision became blurry, your palm sweaty; your mother had told you all the symptoms, you just never knew they would be this intense. “They way you looked at me, I knew you felt it, too.” 

“Why send you to escort me out, then? Not that I’m complaining.”

You moaned softly as his lips found that one sweet spot near your ear, it becoming harder and harder to think straight. 

“He wants me to learn the family business. He wants me to teach you a lesson, I-I guess - punish you f-for interrupting.” 

Jungkook grins slyly as he finally pulls away from the now purple mark blossoming on your neck. Your flustered state was definitely something he could get used to seeing - even if it had to be behind his hyungs’ backs, or your ruthless father. You were so worth it. 

“Well then…punish me, baby.”