The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences announced on Wednesday that it has invited over 700 new members to join its prestigious organization. Among its 774 new members are Wonder Woman star Gal Gadot, Oscar nominee Lin-Manuel Miranda, Dwayne Johnson, Chris Hemsworth, Priyanka Chopra, Leslie Jones, Amy Poehler, Betty White, Naomie Harris, Donald Glover, Riz Ahmed, Adam Driver, Chris Pratt, Anna Faris, Margot Robbie, Channing Tatum, Kristen Stewart, Shailene Woodley, Ruth Negga, Edgar Ramirez and many more.

This year’s number breaks 2016’s record of invitees, which was 683. The new members come from 57 different countries, with a 359% increase in women and 331% increase of people of color invited to join The Academy from 2015 to 2017.



Y/N isn’t expecting for Harry to be surprised much, at least not for sneaking up on him.

“Y/N, love! I’ve missed ye’ so much, kitten!”

He tucks his phone into his back pocket before wrapping his arms around her waist and picking her up, a grin so wide and a feeling so comforting that nothing in the world could ruin the moment.

“Missed you loads, too, H!” She whispers into his hair, the feeling of his breath on her neck soothing her instantly.

Harry pecks at her neck before setting her back down, his eyes scanning over her every feature. His heart melts at the way she looks up at him, and when he sees her stand on her tip toes, he leans down to press his lips to hers.

It’s a playful exchange of kisses, with Y/N’s hands gripping at the sides of his printed shirt, and Harry’s large hands cupping her face. Kisses with open eyes and big stupid smiles. Kisses that don’t last longer than three second before their lips separate only to press together again. And in between them, Harry whispers ‘missed ye’ too much’ and ‘I love you’ in broken phrases.

Missed. Kiss. Ye’. Kiss. Too. Kiss. Much. Kiss.

He nudges his nose against hers lightly before pressing one last kiss to her forehead and wrapping an arm around her neck so it dangles over her shoulder as they begin to walk.

“Didn’t tell me ye’ were comin’ for a visit, love.”

Not that Harry minds, at all. He just would’ve liked to have been the first person she saw, not some random cabbie or whoever picked her up at the airport.

“Thought it’d be fun to pop by unannounced. Jeff pitched the idea after he overheard Mer talking to me over the phone. Said you could use a little company in that empty hotel room of yours.”

She bumps his hip with hers, giggling for a moment at the famous half smirk he gives her.

“Hm, well if tha’s why ye’ came here then I reckon we should get t’ tha’ empty hotel room, ehh?”

He’s stopped dead in his tracks, moving to stand in front of Y/N to look at her directly. And Harry can visibly see her tense up, the playful look she’d been sporting a few seconds ago gone.

“Y/N-” he begins, eyebrows furrowed into concern, only to be cut off.

“I’m sorry, H. I know it’s taking forever, but it’s just-” and she’s trying so hard not to disappoint him. She knows they’ve been dating far too long for intimacy not to be part of the relationship already, and it makes her mad that she can’t let herself love him in that way. Not because she doesn’t want to, she knows they’re meant to be together, she just doesn’t feel ready yet.

“No. No, kitten, you’ve got nothing t’ apologise for,” Harry’s hands rub at her upper arms soothingly, hoping to assure her that he’s okay with it, “m'not ever g'na rush this. I want ye’ t’ be sure when the time comes that you want it as much as I do.”

“But I know that it’s frustrating and-”

“-and m'g'na wait as long as I’ve got t’. M'not g'na love ye’ less b'cos of it. Jus’ wan’ ye’ t’ be sure, love.”

He gives her that smile. That toothy smile that can make all their problems fade into nothing. And so she smiles, too.

“Tha’s m'girl.”


“Well would ye’ look at this lovely picture.”

A 'wuh-PSSSH’ sound follows the comment, a voice too familiar not to notice.

“Still whipped, mate?”

Harry just smiles, unwrapping his arm from around Y/N to stand up and greet his friend in a proper hug.

“Oh, look at this,” Y/N can hear Harry coo before she’s even got the chance to slip out of the booth they’re currently sat at, “Freddie’s here!”

And to say he completely disregarded Louis at this point would be an understatement, he might as well be invisible now.

Harry stretches his arms out, and Louis complies at letting him hold his one year old.

“Nice t’ see ye’ too, Harry. I’ve been great, thanks mate.”

Harry pays the sarcasm no mind as he sets the baby on his hip, and instead smiles and coos at Freddie who looks up at him with happy eyes.

“Don’t worry, did the same to me earlier.” Y/N laughs at the thought of Harry having left her side with out a second thought to hold who she came to find out was an adorable little baby girl named Ruby.

Louis welcomes her into a hug, whispering a low 'outta have kids then’ in her ear.

And that warms her heart. To think that one day, she’ll be lucky enough to welcome a lovely little human that’ll be a mix of her and Harry, she honestly can’t wait. But now she feels even more guilty.

But Harry smiles at her adoringly, baby Freddie in his arms chuckling and trying to grab at Harry’s short but now longer hair.

“I see you two are still disgustingly sweet as usual,” Louis comments.

Just the way Harry looks at you, it’s unreal and anyone who knew you both would swear you were meant for each other, even before either of you realised it. And that’s exactly what your friends thought. Seeing Harry look at you the way he did at the many dinners and house parties everyone would gather for definitely added to those thoughts.

And you two have been practically inseparable ever since New York. You were glad Harry had gathered up the courage to find you that night, don’t know if you’d be in this position if he hadn’t. You were glad he was hell bent on not leaving that hotel room until things were cleared up because “really miss m'best friend. Tell me wha’ I did so I can fix it, kit'en.” And you were glad he’d said those three words that solidified the fact that he was there to make sure you were his, even though you had been all along.

“Will be. So long as this one will have me,” the press of Harry’s lips to Y/N’s has Louis grunting in pretend distaste.

“Better get going, don’ wanna interrupt Harry still being whipped.”

Harry hands Freddie over with a pout.

“Still no complaints though.”


To say everything is going perfect would be an understatement. Harry’s music is being praised and appreciated and Y/N can’t explain how happy it makes her that Harry’s happy. His performances are nothing short of amazing, and she loves seeing him gush over “they were singing along, babe! Just a great feelin’!”

She’s been flying back and forth along his side during all this. New York, London, Paris, and then back to New York. And Harry loves sharing this with her. He loves having her watching him from the side lines, singing along as she claps and gives him thumbs up and blows kisses at him for support. He loves getting off stage with so much adrenaline and kissing her so hard because Harry doesn’t take anything for granted, no. He’s thankful he’s getting to do what he loves and even more with his better half by his side.

“A'right. How do I look?” His jazz hands and that big smile plastered on his face are indication of just how hyped he is for this.

“I’ve never seen anyone pull off black better than you, H!”

And it’s true. Harry can pull off any colour. Blue, red, yellow, pink; you name it! But black. Black gives him a sexy sort of mysterious sophistication.

“Think so?” He looks himself over in the mirror, content at his choice.

Y/N looks at him through the mirror from where she’s sat on the couch of his dressing room, nodding a yes as she gets up to stand on the furniture.

“Please no stage diving today?” She’d be all for it, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s already tried it and it didn’t go as planned. She really doesn’t want him or any of the fans getting injured.

Harry only chuckles and nods in embarrassment as he strides over to stand in front of her, his head tilting up just a bit to look at her since she’s standing on the cushions.

“M'serious, Harry!” But she smiles anyway, arms lazily slung over his shoulders and around his neck. She brings a hand to tug at the hairs at the nape of it as Harry sets his at either side on her hips, thumbs rubbing at her hipbones.

It’s the last listening party before the album is released, and Harry’s pretty sure the second he mentions stage diving, Jeff will have him pulled off stage. Or carried because it is Jeff after all.

“I’ll try not to, kit'en.” Harry doesn’t know why it was a good idea to do it in the first place. But he had all that adrenaline and he was just so excited. Y/N of course had scolded him and slapped his arm after he got off stage because, “you could’ve broken something Harry!!” But he’d kissed the small amount of anger away.

“I’ll be watching from the sides?” Every time before a performance or an interview she says that, and every time she does Harry smiles just as big.


“Congrats, Ni!!!!!”

Finally, after a few months of all the boys doing their own thing, everyone’s finally got a chance to gather up at a small venue for Harry’s pre-launch party. Jeff had asked Y/N for help in terms of invitees, and it’d be outrageous not to have Liam, Niall, and Louis attend.

And so Niall is the last to arrive, and the moment he walks through the door, a very tipsy Y/N can’t contain her excitement at finally reuniting with another one of her friends.

“Oí, have enough drinks for the rest of us have ya?” Niall just about tumbles back with the sudden weight of her body as she throws herself at him, but he catches her in his arms and steadies her.

“You’re late mister,” she’s slurring just a bit, words somewhat coherent.

“Does 'arry know you’re drunk??”

He wraps an arm around her waist for support, in fear that she might be too over her head to even walk with out tripping and falling.

“Drunk? M'not drunk,” she pokes at his chest, and Niall only now notices the red cup in her hand threatening to spill over his shirt, “you’re just sober.”

He lets out a lively laugh. Drunk Y/N is something else, and he’s only ever seen her like this when Harry’s not really paying attention to her.

She hiccups and continues with a pout, “he’s over somewhere. With some girl,” she motions her hand around and nowhere in particular, again, the drink sploshing around in the red cup.

Harry hadn’t meant to leave her alone, he’d been pulled away from her side by someone he can’t even recall the name of, because that’s how out of it he is. So he’s been handed drink left and right, downing them with out retaliation because he doesn’t wanna seem like a downer. And although he really should go find his Y/N, he doesn’t think she’d mind if she’s having fun too.

But she’s not. At least not as much as she’d like. All she wants is for Harry to kiss her and hold her hand, because they’re both affectionate drunks, and it’s always a plus to annoy their friends in that way. But she hasn’t seen him in a while. Last she caught a glimpse was about an hour or so ago, when he was being led over to a group of people she doesn’t really recognise, and it made her notice how out of it she is. She doesn’t remember inviting half the people in the room, but the little attention Harry seems to be giving her has her drinking with out a purpose.

It reminds her of when they were only friends. In the same circumstance, she’d drink the night away in hopes of erasing the image of Harry smiling wide, eyes crinkled because some girl was whispering god knows what in his ear. He’d be hunched over just a bit to give the girl better access as she mumbled and giggled. And Harry would nod slightly before moving to whisper something back, face too close to her liking. But it, too, was always nothing, because shortly after she would have to turn away. Try to hide the fact that yes, she might have been staring at Harry for much longer than she’d ever admit to. And when he’d catch a glimpse of her doing just the same with a guy, giggling and whispering and smiling like crazy, he’d make his way over. Weaving his way around dancing bodies to get to her. And he’d smile that drink infused crooked smile of his before whispering something like “let’s get ye’ home, pet,” and leading her out of the place with his palm to her lower back.

So yeah, this sort of reminds her of old times. Only this time, they’re actually dating and he’s nowhere to be found.


Harry doesn’t remember getting home. He doesn’t remember taking off his clothes either.

In fact, the last thing he remembers is Y/N kissing at his neck and tugging at his pants.

And..oh no. If that’s how…if they were both drunk and-ah shit! Neither of them were suppose to be drunk when it finally happened. Harry wanted to make sure she would be okay with everything going on. He would have wanted to whisper how good she was taking him. Wanted to assure her that he was there with her, that all he wanted was to make her feel good. Harry just wanted to make love to her the right way.

And now he doesn’t even remember half the night.

So he brings his hand over his face, because not only does he not remember, he also doesn’t recognise the room he’s woken up in.

And then he looks beside him at the body under the white sheets.

He doesn’t recognise the person he’s woken up next to.

That’s not his Y/N.

Whipped…Boyfriend!!! Pt.2

  • Kimberly: [sleep-over voice] are you awake
  • Jason: [sleep-over reply voice] yeah
  • Trini: [regrettable sleep-over invitee voice] you guys SHH
  • Zack: [confused sleep-over voice] what is the meaning of life
  • Trini, again: [annoyed sleep-over voice] dude shut up
  • Billy: [sleep-over host voice] you guys be quiet my moms gonna hear us
  • Rita: [unknown sleep-over voice] you kids wanna buy some doughnuts
Bonding time in Wakanda, part ii
  • Steve: [sleep over voice] are you awake?
  • Wanda: [sleep over reply voice] yeah.
  • Clint: [regrettable sleepover invitee voice] you guys SHHH!
  • Bucky: [confused sleepover voice] what is the meaning of life…
  • Sam: [annoyed sleep over voice] dude shut up.
  • Scott: [sleep over host voice] you guys be quiet, your highness is gonna hear us.
  • Tony: [ sleep-over voice ] hey you awake
  • Steve: [ sleep-over reply voice ] yeah
  • Bucky: [ regrettable sleepover invitee voice ] you guys SHH
  • Vision: [ confused sleep-over voice ] what is the meaning of life
  • Clint: [ annoyed sleep-over voice ] dude shut up
  • Peter: [ sleep-over host voice ] you guys be quiet my aunt's gonna hear us
  • Baron: [ unknown voice ] you kids wanna work for Hydra
  • jace: [sleep-over voice] are you awake
  • simon: [sleep-over reply voice] yeah
  • raphael: [regrettable sleep-over invitee voice] you guys SHH
  • meliorn: [confused sleep-over voice] what is the meaning of life
  • alec: [annoyed sleep-over voice] dude shut up
  • clary: [sleep-over host voice] you guys be quiet my moms gonna hear us
  • magnus: [unknown sleep-over voice] you kids wanna buy some drugs
  • Nikki : [sleepover voice] Are you awake?
  • Space kid: [sleepover reply voice] Yeah.
  • Nerris: [regrettable sleepover invitee voice] You guys SHH.
  • Preston: [confused sleepover voice] What is the meaning of life?
  • Max: [annoyed sleepover voice] Dude shut up.
  • Neil: [sleepover host voice] You guys be quiet David's gonna hear us.
  • Quartermaster: You kids wanna buy some drugs?
Just for Tonight (m)


Words: 16,826 (welp rip me).

Genre: Fluff, smut.

Summary: Jungkook plans on getting into the annual secret underground party for his birthday and you can’t help but tag along.

A/N: A fic for Jungkook’s birthday (I know I’m late, shh). Inspired by the movie Nerve. Thanks for helping me @pjmfantasy + @minsfires!

Keep reading

  • Shiro: [sleep over voice] are you awake
  • Matt: [sleep over reply voice] yes
  • Pidge: [regretable sleep over invitee voice] you guys SHHHHH
  • Lance: [confused sleep over voice] what is the meaning of life
  • Keith: [annoyed sleep over voice] dude shut up
  • Hunk: [sleep over host voice] you guys be quiet or Allura and Coran might hear us
  • Zarkon: [unkown sleep over voice] hey do you guys wanna hand over voltron?

anonymous asked:

Sorry I don't get it. Was it really Louis' account sending those messages? Urghh why does this stupid shit still need to happen??? This is so embarassing. These messages to fans about her.... And like asking them to delete the pics?!? Looool couldn't she be the one asking them?? Since they are her fans???? And why ask in the first place?? She was literally at the event to be seen. -.- god, this is all so stupid. And the "she's amazing" -.-

Anyway you slice it it’s the height of embarrassment. If it’s @louis then it’s embarrassing because can she not just ask for herself or are you embarrassed because of how she looks and really you find these bad but not the ones of your son or the ones that disrupt your privacy by showing your home?? If it’s the UA faking the DM, which I think is the most likely, then what desperate sad little liars, that think this is somehow #goals. And at the end of it all how embarrassing for Eleanor, you only go to these events to get attention (all after she tried to play it off as if she was an invitee not just a guest of Sophia’s) but once she gets pics they are super unflattering and clearly show how she edits/photoshops her photos to appear skinnier and more photogenic. It’s all so embarrassing.

  • Natasha: [sleepover voice] Are you awake?
  • Anatole: [sleepover reply voice] Yeah.
  • Dolokhov: [regrettable sleepover invitee voice] You guys SHH.
  • Pierre: [confused sleepover voice] What is the meaning of life?
  • Hélène: [annoyed sleepover voice] Dude shut up.
  • Sonya: [sleepover host voice] You guys be quiet Marya's gonna hear us.
  • Balaga: You kids wanna buy some drugs?

For the anon who requested the bed-sharing trope. It kind of turned out peculiar.

“make it look pretty, but train it to kill”


The timer sharply ran at ten o’clock, and Nesta plucked the micro-device out of her ear, tossing it onto the soiled Earth. Her heels crushed the piece of tech, and soon her legs stalked forward, hands holding the edges of her ruby gown swishing around her. Once her high-stiletto shoes reached the marbled tiles, she dropped the silky fabric, a slight breeze in the crisp night kissing her skin.

Rounding the corner of the castle grounds, her eyes darted over the faceless security patrols who spared her a passing glance, some daring glance over the high slit of the dress on her right leg. She merely smiled prettily, running a tongue over her lower lip, painted with blood-red lipstick. Her fingers dipped into the curve of her breasts, and she smirked at the dazed and glazed looks cresting over the younger guards marching past her. Snapping the golden embroided invitation out of her bra, she winked at the flustered males, and continued her walk. Fanning the invitation against her face, she studied the towering columns and dark, tinted windows peeking from the upper walls.

Flipping her brown strands gleaming with golden flares, Nesta Archeron stalked to the entrance, listening to the faint whispers of orchestra’s melody and courtesan’s small talks.

She considered it a shame midnight would end with cacophonies and rumors. Pressing the papyrus into the butler’s white gloved hands, she stared down the escort who stepped from the long line of males and held out his elbow to user her up the gilded stairs. The escort swallowed and she dismissed him with a sparse look, striding up and into the gleaming castle. Inside, drafts of warm currents pierced her flesh, the beating sounds of blended notes spiraling throughout the domed room with glass chandeliers sparkling from several quadrants. Low murmurs arose as she stalked through the entrance, a bland smile curled onto her face. When an arm reached out, slightly bent, Nesta gladly took it, and stepped into the lines of circles to dance. Faces turned away from her, the attention of wave’s receding lapping into the back of the mind, as she disappeared from the main sight, and the next guest walked in.

“You didn’t walk with an escort,” the male voice murmured. “Meaning your date’s not here or you want to be scooped up by some other higher ranked—more than a courtesan in the royal courts could offer.”

Nesta offered him a sharp smile, one cultivated from dancing with the viper and drowning in poisons. Her eyes turned towards the warm body offering pouring heat, and blinked at the hazel eyes intently studying her under those dark brows that framed his rough, unshaven face. Wide shoulders corded with thick muscles roped around to his arms, and the black coat hung unbuttoned across his buttoned shirt.

He dipped her low, and leaned back as his eyes skimmed over her exposed collarbone.

“If it’s the first, I frankly don’t believe you’d be stood up,” he leaned down to caress a breathe against her collarbone. “But you already look powerful enough to not need someone else. So what is it?”

They arched back up, and resumed their small circles of steps and little twirls.

A third option, she silently mused, allowing the music to bounce around them, their bodies swaying together in synchrony. Noting the guards slipping behind the curtains and hugging the shadows along the walls, she cocked her head. A distraction fit perfectly as all the royals would be dining and dancing in the other secluded areas, choosing to grace the other invitees later on in the night.

“Want to go somewhere else?” she murmured, weaving her around his chest, each step they took too precise and full of the tensions lurking beneath the luxuries exteriors.

A flash of a grin. “Anything to loosen you up, sweetheart.” A hand strayed near the small of her back, guiding her to one of the dimly lit hallways. Goosebumps flew over her skin as she felt focus slipping from her.

A hush fell over the crowd, the faint tinkling of the glorious music halting. From the opposite direction of the entrance, two goldened and darkened double doors had flung open, one shadow of a figure descending the curve of slanted stairs.

A crown of pure obsidian—no fringe of gold or silver or diamonds or rubies. Not when the King’s own phantom absorbed all darkness and riches. Not when the King’s soldiers had pillaged her own village, one lower-ranked cornering her into the barn the night her house had been set afire. Not when she’d been separated from her own sisters, and then sought her revenge for seven years.

A cold smile settled on that square face—ancient and heavy, full of curses and endurance, eliciting pulses of hatred and demise to pound through her veins and echo within the crevices of her own heart chamber.

Every shape and figure bent, bowing to the King. Nesta let out a low hiss, clenching her teeth.

The music began, sharper and faster, and clean cut blade caressing her ear.

“You still want to get out of here?” the male muttered, not bothering to mask boredom.

“I’m going to greet the King of Hybern,” Nesta said, and started to detach herself from the male’s arms.

A hand wrapped around her wrist. “This is your first time attending this type of event, isn’t it?”

“What?” she snapped.

“Talk to the King and have your head disconnected from the rest of your body.” Those hazel eyes stared down at her, contemplating more than she liked.

She arched a brow, and debated whether slipping out her opinion. She refrained.

“No one’s allowed to infect his presence,” the male recites. “Unworthy to near his space, and worthy to watch from afar.”

That complicated things for a bit. Her information briefing hadn’t been exactly accurate, it seemed.

“But if you want to catch his attention, I suggest you tug down that dress.”

Nesta shot the male a sharp glance. “Excuse me?”

A shrug. “These things get quite dull. I wouldn’t mind a little blood spilled.”

She matched his grin, and they sashayed towards the fringes of the east hall. Rolling her shoulders, she tilted her head, and watched the dark robed King stalk through the corridor, the backs of guards swallowing up his form.

She pressed her hands against the male’s chest, and said a bit loudly, “Let’s find some privacy.” Tucking her face in the crook of the male’s neck, she allowed him to guide her into the darkness and away from the glamor of the middle of the ball.

“Anything you want, sweetheart,” he whispered, stroking her hair.
Nesta noticed the patrols closing in towards them, most likely about to command them to return back into the ballroom. Nesta wrapped her leg with the open slit around the other male’s, and kissed him fully on the lips.

A cry of protest rumbled from the male’s throat, but he quickly absorbed her lips, wrapping her around him, one hand grounding around her hips, the other pressing against the small of her back. A low growl thundered from the base of his throat as they broke apart for air, a crazed and wild look flailing within those hazel eyes, and those orbs raked across her form as if seeing her for the first time.

He leaned down and slammed her against the wall, the shadows of metal and steel streaming away from them. Nesta watched a guard retreat from them, shaking his head, and resumed soaking in the warmth of the stranger of a male. He held her tightly, emanating warmth beyond her once dreams, and devoured her. She groaned as he slowly nipped his way down, exposing the pale column of her throat. A thumb stroked lower from her waist and fingered the fabric of her gown. Her finger lashed out and she tilted his head back up, capturing his mouth within hers, and they waged their own war between teeth and tongue, soiled in the seconds of heat and devourment. His own fingers travelled up over the curve of her shoulders and down, leaving lingering sensations of desire and need erupting within every pore.

A loud crackling sound of metal grinding had Nesta peeling away from the male and mentally scolding herself. She’d gotten too cooped up in the moment, and allowed herself to become too exposed. By the cold, dark eyes of the one wearing the blackened and solid crown, the King of Hybern had spotted another prey, those fathomless eyes staring at her tousled state.

He jerked his chin at the male embracing her, dark eyes flickering. “Out,” he droned.

The hazel eyed male smoothed his hands down her back and tightened his hands on the small of her back, grasping the folds of the back of her gown. A second later, he abruptly released her and stalked into the light where the tinkering of music sounded.

Coldness flooded her once again, an emptiness settling within her core.

The King stalked towards her, and Nesta flattened her back against the wall. She knew that predatory look, the one who forged her into the pillar of ice and steel.

Her hand itched down, as if covering her slit in the dress.

“You dare disrupt my halls,” the King mused. “To lose yourself in feeling.”

Dark eyes, dark heart.

“I wonder what it would be like for a damsel to lose all sense of feelings,” the King pondered.

Nesta spotted the syringe, and danced around the first stroke.

Cold eyes, cold heart.

“You cannot escape,” the King warned, and reached out a hand, which Nesta realized was dripping with blood. “The end of this hallways lies for my…experiments. You’d do your country an honor to join them.”

Nesta knew, knew of the experiments, of the agony, of the horror, of those who walked out there, and were never the same.

Not when Tomas, her first lover of six years, had volunteered service to the King, and returned with dark eyes, a dark heart, cold eyes, and a cold heart.

Nesta unsheathed a dagger from her knife strap, and allowed the reflection of the blade to arc within the darkness.

A weapon to match that inked soul.

A sick smile. “I see,” the King said slowly, and tossed the syringe to the side, the sound clattering.

He lunged towards her, and grabbed her wrist so harshly the knife dropped. He tossed her against the wall, her head colliding with the hard surface. He reached down and ran a finger against the blade.

The strength the King possessed—but the deed had been done.

Nesta smiled, and watched the King prick his finger.

Dark to flame, shadow to madness, lunacy to bone.

Nesta stalked to the syringe and tucked into into her thigh strap securely. Then she strode the King of Hybern, who stared at the domed ceiling with criss crossing beams with an empty look. That ancient face now glazed over, the pulse at his neck fading.

Nesta leaned in. “Not so fun to be experimented on, is it now?” she whispered. “Took me six years to concoct.”

Blood gurgled from the King’s lips, the strangled sound lighting her veins.

“I know you’re going to die. Slowly. But I have to leave now. So,” she twirled the hilt of the dagger around her fingers, her red nails flashing in front of the King, “I’m going to have to speed up the process.”

Nesta Archeron drove the blade. Not through the heart where layers of armor awaited, but across.


She’d practiced this move too many times for too many years.

In utter patience into utter completion, where the head flew across the spine and body and rolled across the ground, coming to a halt. The crown slithered off the black hair and crashed against stone, the sound of the rim of the onyx and ink symbol echoing through the corridor.

The King’s body crumbled at her feet.

Dark eyes lolled up and dark heart unbeating. Cold eyes ripped from this world and dark heart ceased. Picture perfect.

Footsteps neared, and Nesta braced herself.

She stared at the hazel-eyed man, who merely looked at her, and then at the body—and the head.

“Cauldron boil me,” he managed to gasp out, and crossed his arms.

Nesta waited, finding herself oddly rooted to the ground.

“What the hell?” the man snarled, and Nesta angled the knife carefully under her arm and wrist. “You killed my kill, with less blood. Damn my ego and mission.”

She blinked, and stared at the large sword in his hand.

Too obvious, yet obviously typically male.

She silently scrutinized the male in front of her, hearing the distant and clunky patter of footsteps. Slipping the knife into his free hand and damning the aghast look on his chiseled face, Nesta tossed herself against the wall, mustering one of the facades she knew too well.

“Hands up!” Large seas of coats and suits swam through one end of the hall, swords, metal, and steel pointed towards them.

A tear leaked down her face, and Nesta reminded herself to not wear waterproof mascara again. By the looks on the castle’s guard’s face, she’d successfully portrayed herself as the damsel in distress.

“He—” she hiccuped, and stared at the body and head, waving her arms frantically. “He killed the King of Hybern!”

Nesta booked it, slipping out and pushing past the guards, slicing those limbs who reached out to ensnare her. It was another maddening dance, one learned from monstrosity, and living as a corpse within.

She hurried away, away from the male and from the dead and from the memories.

Her eyes turned away from the castle as she stalked away and leaped out the entrance, the stares of many driving her away. Hitting the rendezvous point, she didn’t cast a look back at the towering, tall, and dark castle. She slipped off her shoes and unhooked the rope wrapped around the stern of a slim boat, and pushed the vessel into the river, quickly jumping in. Balancing the boat, she picked up the paddle and rowed, ignoring the beat of the drums of the peals of alarms.

She didn’t bother to catch her breathe her arms continued to move in synchrony, once to a longing beat of music and desire. The cold air kissed her skin, whispering little slivers of words and gentle caresses.

Nesta stared at the moon as she quickly rowed, hours seeming to pass by as she passed by, listening to the chirping of crickets and unidentified howls. In the wilderness, she coexisted.

The vessel hit the edge of the river, and she dragged it under the cover of mosses and overgrown leaves. Trudging up the bank, Nesta listed the edges of her gown, and slipped back on her heels.

She caught the light from the distance, and followed it, ignoring the branches reaching out with ghostly hands to chain her back. Nesta picked apart the sharp tendrils and trudged forward.

A hand wrapped around her elbow, and she jerked back to no avail, only to have her entire body encased by another towering one.

Her body flared in response to the other male’s heat.

She stopped squirming and hissed lowly.

“Kill the King,” the voice snarled. “And frame me? Whose damned side are you on?”

She shrugged as well as she could. “Saw the opportunity and took it.”

“Took what?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She twirled around, not before she shot him her infamous viper’s grin, her knee flashing out.

Through the darkness, the moon shining down faint rays of shine, Nesta could recognized the hazel-eyed male.

“How’d you escape?” she bit out.

A roll of eyes—that much she could decipher. A closer look, and she saw flecks of blood coating his hands.

She walked forward, her back to him.

Nesta didn’t understand the underlying feelings running undercurrent through her, her heart vying to trust him, her mind accepting him.

She continued her trek forward.

Those bloodied hands found the small of her back.

“You wondered about the contact who gave you the false invitation?” the male murmured. “That was me. My dealings include women desiring to meet a courtesan or indulge in royalty for one night. Their fantasies fill my pockets with gold.”

The orange glow grew brighter, and Nesta picked up her pace, the male behind her easily matching her strides.

“I didn’t pay your dealer one trove of gold to merely worm into a man,” she noted.

A pause. “No. I plan on returning the trunk to you.”

Nesta faltered a step, and the male crashed into her. His arms instantly wrapped around her, and she sucked in a breath.

“Because you killed the man that killed my parents,” he murmured against her ear. “For having more balls than I.”

Nesta could make out the lanterns of the inn, and jerked her head to it.

The male released her and gave her a nod.

They stalked through the clearing, and Cassian opened the doors.

The receptionist gave them wary looks, observing the muddied fringes of Nesta’s gown and the red painting the other male’s black tux.

“A single room,” said Nesta.

“A single room for me as well.” Cassian winked at the receptionist, while Nesta surveyed the dimly lit entrance, too small for a large command of troops to search through. The back alleys had potholes to impeded vehicles, while the insides did have the array of tables and chairs to use as shields and weapons if utilized correctly.

The receptionist coughed. “I only have one spare room available. You’ll have to share.”

Nesta glared at the male next to her. He merely held up his palms and leaned across the front, winking at the receptionist. “Are you sure?” he said lowly.

The other woman flushed. “I’m sure.”

Nesta held out her hand. “I asked first. Give me the key.”

Cassian slapped a bloodied hand over her palm. “No way. You owe me.” His eyes bored into her.

The receptionist coughed, and Nesta reached out with her other hand for the key.

Cassian’s other hand went into his suit and came out with a thick wad of bills. “One night, one room. Give me the key.”

The traitorous female handed him the key, and Nesta’s jaw hardened. She attempted to disentangle her hand from the male, but he gripped her tightly.

The receptionist took out a pen, and scratched something down. “Name?” she asked.

The male looked at Nesta, full of surety. “Cassian,” he drawled out, and stroked a thumb down the back of her hand.

The receptionist cleared her throat, and eyed both of them. “The room may be single, but has a King’s bed.”

Cassian dragged her deeper into the inn, a cocky grin etched onto his face. No doubt the fate had worked in his odds.

“Release me,” Nesta snapped, but her heart snapped back the opposite. Cauldron, what was happening to her?

The male released her hand, but wrapped an arm around her waist. “You think I’d let you sleep in the wild?” he asked, and guided her up the first step of stairs. “We’re sharing the bed.”

“No,” she simply said.

“Oh really?” he arched a brow. “But who paid for the room?”

Nesta said nothing, and stalked down the hallway until he reached her, those hazel-eyes dancing over her.

“You owe me,” he repeated. “You killed the man I wanted to kill.”

“The King was not a man,” she sneered. “A monster beyond humanity.”

The male inserted the key through the last door, and pushed it open. He beckoned her in, and she pushed past him.

“I don’t see why you’re full of ire,” Nesta continued. “When you were the one who allowed the King to look at me.”

“Because I decided to have you use your feminine wiles so I could get close to him. You think I expected you to be the King’s assassin?”

“Sad you didn’t claim the title?”

Cassian leaned forward, his nose pressed against her forehead. “I’m sad that you’re going to make me sleep on the floor, Nesta Archeron.”

Her eyes flashed. “How do you know my name?”

That cocky grin. “I do make it my business to know those who request false papers, sweetheart.”

She crossed her arms and kicked off her heels. “How’d you escape?”

Cassian unabashedly started to undress himself, shrugging off his coat. “While I didn’t have a damned boat, I did have legs that walked at the same snail pace you were rowing.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. “Excuse me?”

Cassian leaned down and took of his shoes, displaying the soles, beaten and reinforced with secondary material. “Once I killed the guards, I followed the trail of red, and followed the sounds of the rowing through the river.”

The male flicked the buttons of his shirt, and displayed the toned and muscular, thick skin underneath. Nesta felt her body warm up, and she took a step back when he stalked towards her.

A hand yanked the frills of her dress up, wielding the torn scraps of fabric. “The layers of your gown were my breadcrumbs.”

Nesta cursed. This was too sloppy.

Cassian seemed to read her mind, and shook his head. “Looks like you’re going to have to destroy that dress, sweetheart.”

Before Nesta could open her mouth, Cassian ripped her dress off of her.

Nesta’s knee lunged up again, but he caught her kneecap. “A cheap shot.” His hands released her knee, and he grinned. She steadied herself, and grabbed a pillow and blanket, tossing them on the floor. Within the movements, she stuffed her thigh strap within the pillow covers.

She wouldn’t risk more mistakes tonight.

“What are you doing?” Cassian growled.

Nesta stripped the remains of her gown, and yanked the complimentary bathrobe, hanging over the single chair, over her shoulders. “Sleeping on the floor.”

She laid on the floor, ignoring the cramps shooting through her back from the paddling, and wrapped herself within the blanket.

Seconds later, her body was lifted within her cocoon of warmth, and tossed onto the bed. The pillow slammed into her face a beat later. Snarling, Nesta started to disentangle herself from the blanket, but a body hovered over her.

“I will not force anything on you, if you are worried about that,” Cassian snarled equally back. “You are meaner than you demons, Nesta.”

Her name sounded seemed to be filled with more life, rolling off his tongue.

“You don’t know me,” she hissed. “Who I am, what I’ve done, or what I will do.”

The body rolled off of her, and daftly whacked her with a pillow.

She arched off the bed and crossed her arms.

The male laid across the bed, his chest decorated with scars. His eyes locked on hers. The pillow rested within his fingers again, and when he moved to whack it again, Nesta pounced, and landed on top of him.

Cassian stilled. And then slowly reached out to move a piece of hair that had fallen across her face. “Who says I can’t try to learn?” His breath fanned across her face. “I want to know the woman who can dance like hell and put a royal in hell.”

She laid a hand across his chest, and traced some of the scars, noting the rise and fall of his chest.

“I don’t think—”

The pillow hit her squarely across the jaw.

“I’m trying to knock some sense into you.” He chuckled, the sound vibrating from his chest, deep and rich, and full of life. “Don’t think,” he whispered, and dropped the pillow. “Feel.”

Nesta looked into those hazel-eyes and damned her brain.

She leaned down and kissed him fully, and surely, staring into those warm eyes and warm heart that opened for her, and felt her veins spark with the sensation of desire, shivering into the heat and security in the single room with a King’s bed.
Gal Gadot, Dwayne Johnson Among the Record 774 Academy Membership Invitees

Among potential new faces in the Academy’s acting branch (members are not confirmed until they accept their invitations) are Kristen Stewart, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, Betty White, Riz Ahmed, Priyanka Chopra, Aishwarya Rai, Maggie Cheung, John Cho, Chris Pratt, Gal Gadot, Wanda Sykes, Naomie Harris, Janelle Monaé, Jon Hamm, Molly Shannon, Amy Poehler, Aishwarya Rai, Armie Hammer, Chris Evans, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Adam Driver, Elle Fanning, Anna Faris, Rupert Grint, Donald Glover, Phylicia Rashad, Chris Hemsworth, Anne Heche, Keegan-Michael Key, Sanaa Lathan, Zoë Kravitz, Leslie Mann, Kate McKinnon, Sienna Miller, Elizabeth Olsen, and Margot Robbie.

Directors on the list include Barry Jenkins, Jordan Peele, Kim Ki-Duk, Theodore Melfi, David Ayer, Emmanuelle Bercot, Fatih Akin, Derek Cianfrance, Patricia Cardoso, Garth Davis, Lav Diaz, Tom Ford, Anna Hui, Kleber Mendoça Filho, Takashi Miike, and Guy Ritchie, among others; Additionally, Jimmy Jam, Nick Cave, Angelo Badalamenti, Justin Hurwitz, Mica Levi, Lin-Manuel Miranda, and Justin Timberlake were invited by the music branch.

Writers with an offer to join include Simon Pegg, Katie Dippold, Mike Mills, Taylor Sheridan, Joss Whedon, and Peele, who was invited by multiple branches.

According to the Academy, between 2015 and 2017, the number of women invited into AMPAS has increased by 359 percent, while the number of people of color has jumped 331 percent across the same frame. Seven branches have also invited more women than men, namely the actors, casting directors, costume designers, designers, documentarians, executives, and film editors.

Waltz - Request

Requested by @smoking-cigarettes-is-my-hobby​:  Can you write something about Sherlock dancing with reader, and make it like this dance for them is something very different and life changing. Perhaps they are always arguing and stuff but they have to dance bacause it’s Molly’s wedding and reader don’t want to upset her so she forces Sherlock to dance. They are dancing so gracefully that everybody is stunned, and they start to feel something towards each other during this dance. :D

Pairing: Sherlock x reader.

Word count: 1,681

Warnings: Quite fluffy.

A/N: I’m feeling fluffy today (for obvious reasons) so I hope I got Sherlock right :’v


Originally posted by anything-sherlock

“Stop thinking!” Sherlock groaned as his eyes landed on the girl in front of him.

“We are analysing a clue.” She hissed in a whisper, “I won’t stop thinking.”

“Get out.” Sherlock ordered, pointing at the door of the lab.

“You get out.” She pointed at the door as well.

“This is my case.” Sherlock fumed.

“No, this is my case; I just came here with you because Greg wanted to see what you have to say.” She clenched her jaw.

“Well, I can tell you after you leave and let me think.” Sherlock insisted.

“You’re impossible.” And with that she left.


“Sherlock, don’t touch the crime scene for the love of God.” She sighed heavily.

“This isn’t the crime scene.” Sherlock insisted as he touched the strange substance that dripped from the burned car in front of them.

“Yes it is.” She insisted angrily.

“No, the victim was murdered there,” Sherlock pointed to the opposite direction, “this isn’t the crime scene.”

“I hate you.” She hissed.

“It’s mutual, now turn over you’re putting me off.”


“Are head? In your fridge? You can’t be serious!” She exclaimed, shutting the refrigerator’s door loudly.

“It’s an experiment.” Sherlock rolled his eyes, “But of course a mind as primitive as yours wouldn’t understand.”

“You’re disgusting.” She stormed out of the flat.


Always fighting, always arguing, and always insulting each other. That was how Sherlock and (Y/N)’s relationship went. They couldn’t be at the same room without rolling their eyes at the other or bombarding them with snazzy comments.

Worse thing was that they didn’t really hate each other because Sherlock was mean or because (Y/N) was a common human. No, in fact, they disliked the other because they were too similar.

Everyone knew it, it was impossible not to notice, but no one dared to say a single word because they knew them too much and had a pretty graphic idea of what would happen to them at the slight mention of the subject – they just have to go to the morgue.

Everyone was getting sick of them, obviously. But the fear to their rage was bigger, and they all enjoyed living in harmony… Harmony when (Y/N) and Sherlock weren’t working together, that is.

Then Molly got engaged and her wedding arrived sooner than expected. As usual, Sherlock didn’t have a company and so was (Y/N). The storm was expected, because no one would ask them to dance and they would have to sit at the same table… Oh, the chaos.

The music was loud, and everyone was at the dance floor. (Y/N) and Sherlock were at their table, only separated by a white chair that was used to hold Mrs. Hudson’s bag.

“That girl’s dress is hideous.” Sherlock mumbled.

“I think it’s pretty.” She replied bitterly.

“You’ve got an awful taste then.” Sherlock licked his lips and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Maybe the one with the awful taste is you.” And so she mimicked his moves unconsciously.

“Then your dress would be awful, because I think it’s pretty.” (Y/N) furrowed at his words but didn’t say anything else.

Keep reading

  • Mitch Marner [Sleep over voice]: Are you awake?
  • Kasperi Kapanen [Sleep over reply voice]: Yeah..
  • Zach Hyman [Regrettable sleepover invitee voice]: You guys..SHHH!
  • William Nylander [Confused sleepover voice]: What is the meaning of life…?
  • Connor Brown [Annoyed sleep over voice]: Dude shut up.
  • Auston Matthews [Sleep over host voice]: You guys be quiet, my mom is gonna hear us.

Something about… wax seals lately… like imagine pre-FAHC Gavin. High and mighty powerful foreign sort that made his way to the states For Fun. And by fun of course I mean crime.

So like… Golden Boy, right? Imagine his glistening aesthetic flaunting down the more popular streets of Los Santos yeah? But no body buys it or even looks his way because it’s fucking Vinewood. Everyone’s trying to look like anyone here. So he’s like… “Okay,” with his wicked smug grin and heavy accent.

The fucking wank, he throws a party. Party of the century. Flashiest venue in Vinewood. High budget shit. So you know Geoff’s heard of it. And is insulted that he didn’t receive an invite. As most stories go with that sort of thing, boss cleans up real nice and heads to a country club or two, just to swipe one of these hand sealed envelopes off of a less deserving scum bag.

Keep reading

Newt: [sleep over voice] “Are you awake?”

Tina: [sleep over reply voice] “Yeah.”

Queenie: [regrettable sleep over invitee voice] “You guys SSHHHH!”

Credence: [confused sleep over voice] “What is the meaning of life…”

Percival: [annoyed sleep over voice] “Merlin’s beard will you all be quiet.”

Abernathy: [sleep over host voice] “You guys be quiet, Sera’s gonna wake up and kill us all.”

Seraphina: [demonic sleep over voice] “Shut the fuck up and go the fuck to sleep.”

A Night With The Boys

word count: 2.3k

warnings: implied smut, pervy!jungkook

pairings: wheetae, hwamin

“Who are you texting?” Wheein asked, coming out from the bathroom. This was how Hyejin knew she was bored out of her mind since this was about the tenth time she’d asked in the last four minutes.

Hyejin looked up from her phone and smiled. “Huh? It’s just Jimin. He keeps whining about how bored he is.” Her acrylics tapped on her phone screen quickly, creating a clicking sound that she had fallen accustomed to.

“That makes two of us,” Wheein sighed, hopping into the couch with Hyejin, laying her head onto her best friend’s lap. “Please let us do something today.” She pulled out her phone then suddenly gasped as an idea popped into her head. “We should have a sleepover!”

“Moonbyul and Yongsun already planned to go out with the others already. I’m sure they wouldn’t like to switch up their plans just now,” Hyejin replied, looking down at Wheein whose eyes were still excited despite what she just said.

“I meant with the boys! It’s been a while since we’ve had them over. And the last time we did it was supposed to be a dinner but then…” Wheein trailed off pointedly.

Hyejin immediately caught on, her face blushing at the comment. “It was an accident! We just…wanted to…get to know each other better.”

“I don’t think Jimin putting his tongue—”

“So a sleepover!” Hyejin interjected, slapping a hand over Wheein’s mouth. “Who are the invitees?”

“Your man, Tae, and just invite Jungkook since he’d tag along anyways.” Wheein sat up and tucked her legs under her body. “We have enough snacks right?”

“For me and you, yes. Not for those three grown men coming over. Those appetites are monstrous.” Hyejin reminisced the dinner party, shuddering at the thought.

“Okay so I’ll get snacks and drinks and you make sure to get the times settled and stuff.” Wheein jumped up from the couch, zipping up her jacket and slipping on her sneakers. “This is going to be so much fun,” she giggles before grabbing her keys and rushing out the apartment.

“Yeah right,” Hyejin mumbled, adding the three boys into a groupchat on her phone, “she’s only saying that because she gets to see her little boyfriend again.” Yet Hyejin couldn’t help but feel a little joyful herself.

About two hours later, Wheein came back to Hyejin’s apartment with her arms full of groceries. She set them on the countertop with a huff unzipping her jacket and throwing it on a chair. Hyejin had moved the table from the middle of the living room to the side and set out a bundle of blankets and pillows.

Right after Wheein set out the snacks and drinks, Hyejin came out of her room with a full set of pajamas on, throwing another set at Wheein.

“They’ll be here in like five minutes. Taehyung said he’s bringing his laptop so we can hook it up and watch some movies,” Hyejin said while tying her hair into a high ponytail.

“It’s not like you’ll be watching away,” Wheein teased, setting down another bottle of juice. A stinging pain lingered on her butt where Hyejin’s angry hand had just been.

“Ouch!” Wheein turned to Hyejin and glared at her heatedly. “I’m just telling the truth!”

“You watch yourself tonight before I embarrass you in front of Taehyung.”

Wheein rolled her eyes, stealing a chip from the bowl. “We’re only friends unlike you and Jimin who—if I remember correctly—had you half naked in your room not too long.” She purposely munched on a chip right in front of Hyejin’s face before marching off and changing.

Hyejin crossed her arms and looked down at the floor. “Stop bringing that up or I swear!” She huffed and sat crisscross on the floor unfolding each of the thick blankets.

There were three rhythmic knocks on the door when Wheein finally had changed into her sleepwear. Hyejin stood up from the floor and sauntered over to the door, checking the peephole before unlocking the door and opening it slowly.

“Noona!” Jungkook came crashing into Hyejin’s arms, embracing her with all his might. He smelled moderately of cologne and had a simple grey t-shirt accompanying his black shorts. Hyejin choked a laugh, patting his muscly back just as he let go. “It’s been a while huh. Ya know every since the dinner party and stuff.”

“Nice to see you too kid.” Hyejin messed his hair knocking him to the side to greet to older men behind him.

“Jinnie!” Tae exclaimed, enveloping her into a hug just as Jungkook had done before.

Hyejin laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him back. “I’ve missed my shopping buddy.”

“Well we have a few days off. If you do too, we can take a little trip down to the District,” Taehyung smiled happily once Hyejin nodded, agreeing to his plans.

Noticing Wheein behind, struggling with Jungkook, he walked over to her and pulled Jungkook away, circling his arms around her petite waist and bringing her close enough for her to feel his body warmth, as well as every dip and curve under the flimsy shirt he wore.

“I’ve missed you,” Taehyung whispered into Wheein’s neck, his lips brushing lightly along with each word he spoke. Wheein ducked away, giggling, her hands on his biceps trying to push him away.

“Stop Tae, they’ll see.” Wheein barely got him to budge as he pouted, bringing her closer.

“What? You don’t miss me?” Taehyung whispered jokingly, his hands slipping dangerously down Wheein’s back.

“Tae!” Wheein accidentally squeaked a little too loudly, making the other three turn to them. She hurriedly slipped from his hold and chuckled nervously. “Have some snacks!” She gestured towards the food on the counter. There, Taehyung had come up behind her, trapping her between the granite and his body.

“What if I have something else in mind?” Taehyung asked, strategically placing his face near Wheein’s. “Something much more to my liking.” The innuendo seeped through Wheein’s mind quickly, heat rushing to her cheeks.


Jungkook popped up next to them, grabbing a bowl of chips and a bottle of juice. “Are you guys done flirting? I have this scary movie I’ve been dying to watch with my girls.”

Wheein removed Taehyung’s arms from around her and followed Jungkook to the couch.

“We weren’t flirting and I don’t like scary movies that much. You know that Jungkook.” Wheein frowned, sitting down on the fluffy blankets that were laid out.

“Ah me neither Jungkook,” Hyejin pointed out. After an awkward greeting with Jimin, they both had sat down a respectful distant from each other though Jimin was trying his best to get closer without making it obvious.

Ever since the dinner party there had been some kind of unspoken tension between the two. Jimin had tried his best to bring it up in their conversations, but Hyejin dodged them with quickness, changing the topic abruptly.

“Well that’s too bad,” Jungkook mocked Hyejin’s voice, “my laptop, my choice.”

“I brought my laptop though, didn’t I?” Taehyung said, walking to where the bundles of blankets were.

“Then why did I just log in with my password?” Jungkook rose an eyebrow waiting for the rebuttal, but all Taehyung did was shrug and cuddle up to Wheein.

Hyejin leaned closer to Wheein and jokingly whispered, “Just friends huh?”

“Fuck off,” Wheein sneered, “I hope you can actually keep your clothes on the whole night this time.”

“Okay! I found it!” Jungkook kneeled next to the television and connected the cord to the laptop, clicking play when it showed up on the flat screen.

The dark ominous music already had Wheein pulling the covers up to her face. Taehyung chuckled and pulled her closer until she was laying on his chest comfortably.

Jimin watched the two with envy, looking at the distance between him and Hyejin with distaste. She had her knees up against her chest, her feet laying on top of the other for warmth. Jimin noticed and grabbed a blanket, covering both of them.

“Thank you,” Hyejin mumbled, her eyes glancing briefly at Jimin then back at the movie.

“No problem.” Jimin gulped and dragged his body closer bit by bit.

Hyejin noticed but didn’t object, accepting that she would jump next to him in the long run. She felt his arm creep around her shoulder and his body move, his thigh touching hers.

The sudden loudness of the music form the movie made the two women cringe, burrowing themselves closer to the mean beside them, leaving Jungkook cold and lonely in the middle, chomping down on the chips.

“What is actually wrong with you Jungkook? This is what you watch on your free time?” Wheein asked, covering her face with the blanket.

“Well this and watching—”

“I’m gonna have to stop you there buddy,” Wheein laughed smacking his arm.

By the end of the movie, Taehyung found himself nearly cradling Wheein, Jungkook—surprisingly—had Hyejin huddled up against him while Jimin had eyes the two jealously throughout the whole movie.

“Ah my hair is bothering me,” Wheein announced as the credits rolled in. “Excuse me while I go get a hair tie.”

“I’ll go get one, I need to grab my phone charger anyways.” Hyejin removed herself from the covers, stepping carefully over them. She entered her room, not bothering to turn on the lights since she already knew how easily she could find the two objects. She grabbed the hair tie, sliding it onto her wrists, shuffling to the side to unplug the charger.

“Hyejin.” A voice sounded out gruffly from behind her, her body straightening out immediately at the noise.

“Jimin what are you doing?” Hyejin heaved, turning around to face him. He towers only a few inches above her, his aura dominating the space around them. “Did you need anything.”

His piercing stare had Hyejin backing up, her back meeting the wall at an unfortunate circumstance.

“Yes and no,” Jimin’s voice had dropped an octave, shocking Hyejin completely. “That night at the dinner party, if Wheein hadn’t found us…” he trailed off, his body standing right in front of hers. “…would you have let me continue?”

Jimin snuck his hand around Hyejin’s waist, pulling her lower body into his, a gasp escaping from her lips, knowing he remembered that night very well.

“What,” he tightened his clutch on her waist, his head lowered to her neck, his lips planting small kisses, “would you have done?”

Hyejin let out a small whine, her hands clutching the collar of his shirt. “Jimin, the others—”

“Can hear us I don’t care. Tonight I’m finishing what we started.” Jimin gripped the back of Hyejin’s thigh, hooking it around his as he pushed her against the wall, a small thud emitting.

“Jimin! Be quiet,” Hyejin said in a hushed voice.

Outside the door, three ears were pressed up against it, listening intently.

“They’re totally going to fuck,” Jungkook said a little too loudly.

Wheein smacked his back, walking towards the snacks. Just as she was about to grab a drink, Taehyung walked up next to her with a mischievous smile.

“Wheein didn’t you say you had something  wrong with your desk? You can show it to me now if you want,” Taehyung hummed, grabbing Wheein’s free hand in his giant ones.

“Nope.” Wheein slipped her hand from Taehyung’s, a pout forming on his face. “If you’re just going to try and get my pants off, I’m sitting next to Jungkook for this movie.”

“I like the sound of that,” Jungkook drawled from the couch.

“Hands to yourself,” Wheein warned. She sat back down on the floor, bunching up the blanket between her and Taehyung. Jungkook mindlessly browsed the movie section on his laptop clicking through the movie title until he heard Wheein scream out frantically pointing at the movie Jungkook had the mouse on.

“That one!” she exclaimed.

Jungkook’s face scrunched in disgust. “A romantic comedy? How typical for—”

The bedroom door suddenly opened, Hyejin strolling out, her black hair down and mussed. She had a small smile on her face even though the tips of her ears were reddening with embarrassment. Slowly sipping on a cup of juice, she settled down next to Wheein, as silent as could be.

As if she hadn’t just finished fucking a close friend in her bedroom just five minutes ago.

“Um where’s Jimin?” Taehyung questioned, searching behind Hyejin for his best friend.

“Sleeping,” Hyejin answered, licking her lips to rid them of the sticky juice.

“Wow noona, I didn’t know you had it like that. That pussy—”

“Don’t finish that sentence or I will hurt you,” Hyejin threatened, throwing a pillow at Jungkook. “Just put on the movie already.”

Jungkook followed orders, clicking the movie Wheein had suggested earlier, falling his way into Hyejin’s lap on his way back to the blankets. He grabbed her hand, settling it into his ruffled hair, gesturing for her to run her hands through.  Almost two minutes later, the boy’s eyes began to flutter, urging to put himself to sleep.

Taehyung was heavily immersed in the movie, following the actor’s every action with a small gasp here and there.

“You are totally going to tell me everything later,” Wheein whispered into Hyejin’s ear harshly.

“You just covered my ear with your spit and of course I will, just wait until the boys leave.” Hyejin nudged Wheein lightly, leaning over Jungkook’s face to see if he was still asleep. There was a 99.9% chance he wasn’t and wanted to just listen in on any potential conversation, but she wanted to believe with that .1% that he was. Hyejin blew out a big breath, bringing her attention to the big screen.

So much for a peaceful sleepover.

[sleep-over voice] are you awake

[sleep-over reply voice] yeah

[regrettable sleepover invitee voice] you guys SHH

[confused sleep-over voice] what is the meaning of life

[annoyed sleep-over voice] dude shut up

[sleep-over host voice] you guys be quiet my moms gonna hear us

[unknown voice] you wanna buy some death sticks?

Sam: (sleepover voice) are you awake
Miles: (sleepover reply voice) yeah
Amadeus: (regrettable sleepover invitee voice) you guys SHH
Viv: (confused sleepover voice) what is the meaning of life
Scott: (annoyed sleepover voice) dude shut up
Kamala: (sleepover host voice) you guys be quiet my moms gonna hear us
Gwenpool: (unknown voice) you kids wanna buy some drugs