So I’m making this post to talk
about the good things that BigHit does in this time of lines and screen time feud. BigHit
entertainment is one of the best and least restrictive companies I have come to know.
Since BTS are their only artists, the amount of freedom and close knit
management they get is amazing.
There is no dungeon that the boys can
disappear into, and there is constantly new content for the fans. Sure
there are some things that happen that we nor the boys like, but then
they are dealt with. Yoongi complained about his scalp, and BigHit
relented, allowing him to stay dark for the past couple of comebacks.
They also allow the boys to use expensive equipment write and produce their own
music to release as non monetized mixtapes or song covers. They even fully funded the MVs given to both Yoongi and Nams for their mixtapes, and that is something they didn’t have to do.
The boys are
given the best produced music videos, and are allowed to create cinematic masterpieces with a deepened meaning. They not censored in the types of
lyrics that they write, despite how controversial in Korean culture.
this may seem trivial to you. All these small things are nothing
compared to the injustice that the members face. How dare they give
Jungkook all the lines and leave everyone else out in the cold! 2Seok
was basically missing this entire comeback!
Ok I hear you, but at the
same time, consider the fact that this is the first (and probably the
last) time Hoseok gets few *cough cough none cough cough* individual lines in a song. Spring Day was a more
vocal based song, so they decided that he should use his vocal talent to
back Jungkook rather than add another rap verse. It makes sense to me,
and it gives him the opportunity to show his vocal talent on stage if he
and Jungkook harmonize live as well.
And then there is Jin. It seems
that he always gets the short end of the stick. The amount of individual
screen time he got was unfair yes, completely. He is officially a
visual of the group, and if anything that should be the place he pops up
the most. But at the same time, Not Today was more a dance video, and he and
Nams are well, not the best dancers, so they wouldn’t put them in the
middle on all the dance shots.
Also look at the I Need U and Run comebacks, the entire story in the music videos clearly revolved around him and his character, something that the fans were quick to point out and appreciate. For those comebacks, he was in the center.
This is still not a justification, but
simply a reason for why they might have chosen to edit the video like
Next moving on to his line distribution. He notoriously along
with V get the short end of the stick when it comes to lines. And I
think it is simply because of the way the industry works.
You know how
sometimes Jimin and Jungkook switch lines because Jimin is better at the
high notes in the studio, but Jungkook hits them better live? The same
thing goes for most line distributions. What voice works the best for the feeling they want to produce? Who can hold the notes the best on stage? Like I said before, Jin is not
the best dancer, and their dances are HARD, so most of his time probably goes
towards practicing the choreography rather than nailing his vocal stability on
He objectively doesn’t have the best or most stable voice in the group, as
often times on live stages he is out of breath by the time his lines
do come up, and that is completely understandable. It’s the reason why
so many (even the more experienced) artists lip sync to certain performances.
Dancing while singing
is hard, and maybe it’s just not for Jin. Maybe, just maybe, he decided himself
that his voice was better suited for slower songs with less choreo so
that he can really focus on nailing his vocal performance. I mean in the solo he got to produce himself he chose a more soft ballad song rather than a more hard hitting one like Jimin’s because that just suits his voice better, and he knows it.
That’s why he got a lot more lines in “Butterfly” a slower ballad with less complex dancing and softer vocals, right where Jin thrives, but not really the typical image BTS produces musically.
Once again this isn’t a justification, and more a reason why he might get fewer lines. It is true that the line distributions are unfair and I agree with that, but it’s also a question of the industry standards, and the fact that sometimes it might be the best solution to a shitty problem.
I know I’m
probably going to get some flack for this one, but it’s just something
that needed to be said. Us fans really need to step back and appreciate
not only the boys, but the company that helped make them.
A/N: Aw, anon, your English is perfect, don’t worry ^ - ^ Thanks for stopping by and leaving a request <3 I’m sorry that this is embarrassingly late, I hope you enjoy it anyway~
Jin: “Why do you have to dance with him?” Jin pouts, as you crouch
to lace up your trainers for dance practice.
“It’s only for one stage,” you soothe, standing up and
closing the short distance between you and your boyfriend. A chaste peck on his
lips has the frown smoothing into a smile.
“I know,” he says, “I just wish it was you and me together.”
Your face falls at this, as your mind seeps with concern. Jin always puts on a brave face for you, but you know there
are a lot of feelings he keeps quiet to save you the worry. You worry anyway, of course, because that’s just who you are.
He picks up on your change of mood, and gives your cheeks a
poke, forcing the corners of your lips up into a grin. “Hey, none of that,” he
says, “If I practice enough maybe it’ll be me dancing with you next time.” To prove it, he takes a
step back, and breaks into his famed traffic dance. It never fails to have
you spluttering with laughter, and soon you’re joining in, flailing your limbs
about in time to your own rhythm.
You collapse against each other, shaking with fits of the giggles. “Oh, boy, I don’t think the world is ready for our traffic
dance collab,” you sigh, resting your forehead against Jin’s.
“Maybe not,” he murmurs, “Some day though. Some day.”
You chuckle. “Some day.” One more kiss, then it’s time to
leave for practice.
Yoongi: From his spot by the bar, Yoongi keeps his gaze rooted to you.
When you asked to go clubbing with him, this isn’t exactly what
he had expected. In his mind, you had your arms wrapped around each other, floating in your own calm world, amidst the chaos of thumping music and flashing
Yet here he is, sitting alone while you shake your hips, surrounded
by a swarm of slobbering guys. The only thing keeping Yoongi calm is the diss
track he’s composing in his head for the crowd of fawning men. He should write some of
this stuff down - it’s gold.
But then he sees one of the guys getting too close, placing his
hand on your waist, then sliding it lower. Oh, there’s no way in f-ck he’s
getting away with that!
Without a clear idea of what he’s doing, Yoongi pushes himself away from the bar, ploughing through the swarm of sweaty bodies, and
thudding a heavy hand into the man’s chest. “Hey, keep your hands off what doesn’t
belong to you,” he snarls.
The man stumbles back, gives Yoongi a once over, and decides
it’s not worth it. The crowd oozes away from the area, till you and Yoongi are
left, invisible in the corner of the club.
“Um… thanks,” you smile sheepishly, “I had it under control
“I know,” Yoongi says, “I just… couldn’t help myself. Creeps
like that make me furious.”
You bite your lip. “Wanna get out
Hoseok: Hoseok doesn’t mind. He really doesn’t mind… Well, okay, maybe a little… But it’s hard to watch you (the love of his life) dancing (the second love of his life) with another
man. It should be him leading you
as you follow the complicated steps, that cute, concentrated look on your face, that he’d just love to kiss
away. But instead, it’s Jimin by your side. And
seeing his hands on your waist has something
sprouting in Hoseok’s heart. A seed of… jealousy? It isn’t a feeling he’s used to – it’s odd and constricting, crushing him from the inside, and forcing the air out of his lungs in a long, loud sigh.
“Hey, honey, what’s wrong?” you sink down beside him on the dance studio floor, cheeks pink from practice.
“Nothing,” Hoseok forces a smile, which you see
through with one blink and one shake of your head:
“Come on, you can tell me anything, Hoseok.”
“He’s jealous because you’re dancing with me.” Jimin sends a Cheshire cat grin your way.
Hoseok doesn’t respond, just picks at the laces of his
shoes, and then mutters, “You guys should watch your footwork at the beginning of
the second verse. It gets a little sloppy. Yours especially Jimin.”
Jimin laughs this off. “Oh, I was just about to pack up for
the day… But if you think we need improvement, maybe we should practice for another couple of hours. What do you think, Y/N?”
Hoseok’s ears turn red at Jimin’s teasing. “No,
on second thoughts, I think you’ve done enough for one night.” He slides his hand into yours. “Let’s get out of here, what do you say?” A nod from you, accompanied by a kiss on the nose is all he needs to perk up.
Namjoon: Namjoon has decided to start going to the gym more often. This has nothing to do with the fact that you’re now getting dance
lessons from Jimin. It’s just a weird coincidence that he wants to life more weights after hearing you wax lyrical about your dance partner’s body. (“And then Jimin taught me how to do lifts. He’s so strong. Have you
seen his arms? Wow.”) It isn’t that Namjoon’s self-conscious, but
the thought of you spewing praises over him like you do with Jimin is certainly a good motivation to exercise.
Finally, he’s in a position to say: “Hey babe, check this out,” and
show off his arms, in close-fitting tank tops. This is a sure-fire way to keep
your eyes trained on him, and no one else.
“Have you been working out?” you ask, eyeing him as he flexes.
“Yep,” he pops the ‘p’, looking pleased with himself.
The frown that clouds your features is not the response
he was hoping for. “Is this because of me and Jimin?”
you probe, lips thinning into a straight line.
Namjoon’s smile fades away. “Maybe.”
You shake your head sadly. “Baby, you know that no matter
what I say about the other members, or any other man for that
matter, you’re the only one I’ll want.”
Namjoon did know that. But it’s always nice to hear you say it.
Jimin: Seeing you at dance practice with Jungkook had given Jimin
That’s why, when you come home from work that evening, you’re greeted by a trail of rose petals at the door. A smile curling your lips,
you leave your bag in the hall, and follow the scatterings of pink and crimson to
the living room where Jimin’s standing in a suit, a flower in one hand.
“What’s all this?” you ask, breath releasing in something between a gasp and a sigh.
“I’m teaching you how to ballroom dance,” he announces, eyes
scrunching up as a smile stretches his lips. Crossing the room, he flicks on the stereo,
and a few strains of stringed instruments start up. “Ever since I
saw you dancing with Jungkook, I couldn’t stop feeling
jealous, which is stupid… I know,” he goes on to explain, holding out his hands, which you grab onto, pulling him in until he’s no more than an inch from you, “I decided that teaching you some of the most romantic dances I know would cure me of the green-eyed monster.”
You duck your head, gently bumping your forehead against his
chest. “You know you never have to worry about me spending time with other
“I know. But I worry anyway. Since you’re the most
precious thing I have.” These are the last words he murmurs before the
music drowns all else out, and you get carried away in a flurry of melodies and the golden sparks in your boyfriend’s eyes.
Taehyung: Seeing you dance with another boy makes Taehyung feel… weird.
In the scattered rainbow of disco ball lights he can see your smile growing wide while this guy – who is he, anyway? – spins you around. With those simple gestures,
Taehyung’s heart twists and turns - a writhing dragon, growling to break
free from his rib cage.
There’s only one thing to do.
He strides towards you, pushing through the crowd until he’s by your side, where he feels at home. Then he does the only thing he knows how to do. Making you smile: his specialty. As the music picks up, he moves along with it, limps flapping, head bobbing.
Catching his movements, you grin, and seeing
that he’s made you happy, Taehyung keeps on going, exaggerating his movements, until you’re
bent over with laughter, the other guy completely forgotten. Then you take Taehyung’s hand, and begin to sway with him, lighting up a fire inside him. This is how it should be. Only him. Only you. And no one in between.
Jungkook: Smile. That’s all Jungkook has to do. Smile as he watches you practice with Hoseok for set rehearsal, allowing his heart be pricked like a pincushion, again and again. Smile as your eyes scrunch up, gracing your dance partner with their warmth. He knows it doesn’t mean anything, and that at the end of the day, when
the sun sinks low in the sky, it’ll be you and him going home together,
hands intertwined. But waiting for that moment is torturous. Just a few more hours, he reminds himself. Just a few more sets of sixty minutes. He’ll count every one.
You glance his way, as the managers call time-out. Slipping from the group, you run over to him, and satisfy his need with a tight bear hug.
“Hey,” you whisper.
He grins into your shoulder. “Hey.”
You break apart before too many curious eyes dart your way.
It’s not a secret that you’re dating, but you’d rather not parade it around in
front of everyone. There’ll be plenty of time for all the needed touching,
kissing, loving when you’re alone. For now, you give Jungkook’s hand a squeeze that promises: “soon”. Then you’re heading back for another rehearsal.
It’s enough for Jungkook. He’ll keep on smiling till you’re back in his arms again.
“To the Nine-Nine!” Let’s all raise our glasses in honour of B99′s return tonight!!
(I already had the intention of sharing this today even before I heard about this #B99Week so since today’s a free day I thought it would be the perfect ocassion to share it now – by combining the two.)
A/N: I have decided that there aren’t enough burr imagines out there, so i made one! i am proud of this, so enjoy!
You’ve checked your wrist hundreds of times, seeing if your soulmate would get any closer to you. But since you were born, your wrist read 1500 miles, 1500 miles away from the one you were meant to be with, 1500 miles away from seeing their face.
It was strange, sometimes you thought that your clock was broken. It hasn’t changed in miles, so either you haven’t gone anywhere in ages, or the person didn’t move out of their one-mile radius.
Most of your friends found their soulmates, they were lucky enough to live within a hundred-mile radius of one another. But you, you weren’t so fortunate. You had states to travel, hundreds of dollars to spend to see them. You wondered whether it was worth it. But you saw the happiness on Elizabeth’s face when she met Alexander and their immediate connection that you continued to think otherwise.
Yeah, just that! You all should have the best day possible! If you’re feeling sick, it will go away. If you’re tired, just get done what has to be done and then cuddle up and sleep. Sometimes, we need some time for ourselves. If you’re tired of living or just sad and exhausted, then remember: This will all go away soon. There are periods in our lives when we feel like nothing works. Like we’re not worth anything. But remember, you’re worth more than one could count! Your impact on the world is as important as the ones from the person you admire. And now, go on. If you’re struggling, you will get out of where you are.
Sometimes, we can’t be happy at that exact moment, but we can and will be in the near future. So go on. Have a wonderful day. As wonderful as the day can be. And when you’ve done that, don’t think you wasted your time with little things. Just try to be happy. Spend time with your friends or alone. Just like you want in right now. You’re all amazing and important and loved. Never forget.
3 times simon flirts with jace in serious situations + 1 time jace gives it a try
“Sorry. I know it’s kind of messy.” Jace murmurs as he pushes the door to his room open and leads Simon inside. He normally doesn’t invite people inside his personal quarters, but if he has to see Simon covered in blood for another second he’s going to lose it.
Simon looks around with an arched brow. “Messy? Dude there’s like, two shirts on the ground and some empty water bottles. You should see my room, the floor is covered entirely by like eight feet of clothes.”
“I have seen your room.” Jace reminds him. “When you–”
It’s stupid that he can’t finish the sentence, but he can’t. The word “died” burns his throat and it just feels wrong to say for some reason, like when he was younger and he cursed to act tough around Alec even though guilt burned in his stomach.
Simon seems to pick up on his hesitance and, thankfully, doesn’t continue the conversation. Instead he points at the door to their left in question, and Jace nods.
“I’ll try not to use up your expensive shampoo and conditioner.” Simon promises as he heads into the bathroom.
Jace can’t muster up the strength to quip back. He lays back on his bed and stares up at the ceiling while the sound of the shower drowns out some of the noise from downstairs. He should probably be down there, but Magnus told him to take some time away from all the bodies and he’d quickly accepted that instruction. He feels like a sham, running away from the people he killed while the people most affected clean up his mess.
Jace just wants it to be over. He wants to be years away, or lives away. He wants to be reborn as a mundane whose problems don’t go beyond things like family drama and relationships. Boys his age are supposed to be in college, drinking and partying and flirting. Not killing people accidentally because their evil dad tricked them into touching a magical death sword.
The running water stops abruptly after ten minutes and Simon emerges again, now clean and free of blood. He has a towel wrapped around his waist and Jace realizes that he never gave the guy any clothes, so he rustles through his closet while Simon stands frozen near the door, probably wondering how he’s ended up naked in Jace’s room.
“Here.” Jace throws him grey sweatpants and a green shirt, which Simon appears puzzled over.
“Have you ever worn this?” He asks. “Have you ever worn any color at all?”
“I was saving that shirt for the event that you might need to wear my clothes. Black isn’t your color.” Jace responds and he’s supposed to be sulking, goddamn it, but he can’t help it. Teasing Simon is like blinking or breathing. An involuntary function.
Simon briefly enters the bathroom again to change and then pauses in front of the mirror that hangs over Jace’s dresser, staring at his own reflection solemnly.
Jace is about to make a joke about vampires and mirrors but Simon beats him with a quiet question.
“Is it ugly?”
Jace shakes his head immediately. “It’s badass. Really wicked. I’ll teach you how to use it to pick up girls.”
“Not really on my radar at the moment.” Simon dismisses. Jace watches him trace his finger over the long silver scar that stretches from one side of his neck to the other, which will probably be almost entirely invisible once he has enough time to recover and replenish his blood. According to Magnus.
“Did it hurt?” Jace asks, which is a stupid question. The smirk on Simon’s face is proof that it was a stupid question.
“When I fell from heaven?” Simon finishes, and Jace has to swallow the laugh that’s trying to surface. He knows it’s fucked up, because there’s so much death and misery downstairs. But upstairs it’s just him and Simon, who has the most amused grin on his face.
So everything’s okay upstairs.
Alec is genuinely about to murder someone, and Jace doesn’t blame him.
“I swear, we’ll find who’s doing this.” He declares with the blaze of righteous justice in his hazel eyes. Magnus is looking up at him from where he’s seated with a mix of admiration and sympathy. He reaches up and tugs weakly at Alec’s shirt to get his attention.
“Whoever’s doing this hired a warlock. And the warlock is probably long gone.” Magnus explains. “You won’t be able to find which Shadowhunter is doing this out of everyone in the Institute. It’s the needle in the haystack, darling.”
“But it’s terrible.” Alec insists. “Putting a ward up that makes Downworlders sick when we’re on lockdown? You guys can’t even leave to feel better! I’m going to find them–”
“Alec.” Luke says, putting up a placating hand. “It’ll wear off in a few hours. Until then we’ll just wait it out, alright? No need to kill anyone.”
Knowing his brother, Jace is surprised that Alec manages to actually calm himself down. Maybe it’s the effect of seeing Magnus and Luke, two seemingly invincible people, weak and sick from the effects of the ward that’s currently enclosing the Institute.
“Okay.” Alec finally agrees, crouching down beside his boyfriend, who leans into him immediately. It’s unsettling seeing Magnus look so pale and exhausted, and the smudged make-up on his cheek is so out of place that Jace feels the urge to wipe it off for him. “I’ll take you to bed.”
As soon as Magnus nods, Alec scoops him up entirely and starts off in the direction of the elevator, his boyfriend carried bridal style against his chest. Clary helps Luke to her room and then it’s just Jace and Isabelle, who share a look with each other.
“I’ll be valiant and get Simon.” Jace offers. “Because I don’t want to owe you.”
“You bet your ass you don’t want to owe me.”
He finds Simon looking miserable and exhausted in the library. He’s sitting in one of the overstuffed, comfortable-looking but not actually comfortable armchairs. He looks the same way Magnus and Luke looked: tired and sick.
“Time for bed.” Jace announces, swiftly grabbing Simon by his shirt sleeve and hauling him into an upright position. Simon looks up at Jace as if he’s seeing someone from a parallel universe, his eyes wide and astonished.
“Some asshole put a ward up. You’re feeling sick because of that, so are Magnus and Luke. There’s no point in suffering through it, might as well sleep it off.”
“But I don’t have a room here.”
Jace rolls his eyes. Does Simon think Jace came all the way down here just to tell him he has to sleep on the floor? “You’re lucky I live here, then.”
He drags Simon through the halls and into the elevator, where Simon slumps heavily into the wall and doesn’t even bother to make a snappy comment, which is further proof of how awful he feels. Jace guides him into his bedroom and peels back his blankets, watching Simon make himself comfortable.
“You’ve gotta stop inviting me up to your room.” Simon mumbles sleepily as Jace pulls his armchair up beside the bed and takes a seat, reaching for the book he’s halfway through. “What book is that?”
“The Song of Achilles.” Jace responds, showing Simon the cover. “I’ve read it before. I re-read the beginning, sometimes I skip the end. It’s too sad.”
“Then why do you keep reading it?” Simon asks, looking up at Jace with sleepy eyes. He looks kind of adorable, and Jace is glad that he took care of this rather than letting Isabelle do it.
“Because I guess…I guess I always think maybe it’ll be different this time. Like maybe he’ll save Patroclus. Just because he didn’t do it the first time doesn’t mean he can’t figure it out eventually.”
Simon sits up, supporting himself with his elbow. “Books don’t change.”
“Real life does.”
Simon stares at Jace for a few moments. He seems to be thinking it over, trying to figure out what Jace means. Jace doesn’t even know what he means, but it’s the only way he knows how to express the conundrum. The story of Achilles and Patroclus never stuck with Jace before, but recently he’s been thinking about it a lot.
He snaps out of his musings when he notices the light flush over Simon’s nose and cheeks. Jace leans forward to press a hand lightly to Simon’s forehead and he frowns.
Simon’s smile is instantaneous and Jace immediately realizes his mistake, but it’s too late.
“You’re not too bad yourself.”
“Oh my God. Go to sleep.”
“Alright.” Isabelle runs her hands together and looks absolutely deadly. The shine in her eyes is like the reflection of light from a blade, beautiful but clearly lethal. Her wip is in her hands and her fingers carefully stroke it, delicate with the leather. “I’m taking Clary. Boys, you go everywhere below 14th street and we’ll meet up later.”
“I don’t understand why you get to choose pairs now that you and Clary are dating.” Alec complains, and it’s a little obvious to everyone that he’s more than a little jealous of Clary taking up his brother-sister bonding time.
“When Simon and Jace start dating, I’m sure they’ll do the same thing.” Clary offers in consolation. Jace looks over at Simon, who winks. Alec looks up at the sky, probably praying Magnus will make a sudden guest appearance.
They walk in the direction of their first target, Alec walking a few paces ahead while he chats on the phone with Magnus. It’s as if he’s taking a relaxed stroll through Central Park, not heading toward a demon infestation.
“So uh, what’s the plan?” Simon pipes up. “I know you guys don’t always do plans, but while we have this convenient extra time I figure it wouldn’t hurt. Not that I’m worried or anything, but you guys can still die so I’m just looking out for you–”
“Shush.” Alec says, but there’s no menace in his tone. He’s grown to like Simon, whether he’ll admit it or not. “Jace, make a plan.”
“Just wait for the right moment.” Jace says with a shrug. “And then attack. You’ll know it when you see it.”
“Right, right, cool.” Simon nods. “But what if I don’t?”
Simon does not. It’s fascinating, actually, how oblivious he is to dangerous situations. Jace supposes he can’t blame Simon, because Simon hasn’t been learning this his whole life like Jace has. He’s been playing D&D, sure, but it doesn’t count.
So when there’s a demon advancing rapidly toward Jace and Simon, who has a great vantage point from the top of the fire escape he’d scrambled up to avoid getting bitten, fails to realize what he has to do, Jace is forced to yell out instruction.
“Simon!” He hollers to get attention. “Go down on it!”
Without hesitation, Simon jumps over the railing and lands squarely on the demon that’s now only held away from Jace by a few inches on his blade. There’s a few seconds of struggle before the gnashing teeth near Jace’s face disintegrate into black ash, and Simon looks up from where he’s crouched in the middle of it.
There’s ash in his hair, ichor on his clothes, and a bright smile on his face.
“Want me to go down on you next?”
Jace has to physically force himself to look away and jump into the next attack. Goddamn it.
“Okay. Don’t panic. It’s fine.”
“I don’t think it’s fine. This is right out of The Walking Dead or some shit, Jace, oh my g–, do you think they can pry the door open?”
Jace hits the lock button on the driver’s side door, but nothing happens. Figures the car they chose to hide in during a demon horde passing was a lemon. It was just their luck.
“They can’t pry the doors open.” Jace announces. “They don’t know we’re in here. They can’t see us, so we’re not here.”
“Great. Great. This is just…”
“Great?” Jace finishes. He feels bad for Simon because he knows about his anxiety, about his panic attacks, about how both of those things are more likely to become a problem the longer the demons are outside the car. He looks around for something to distract Simon but comes up empty.
“Hey, I read a book I think you’d like.” Simon says abruptly. He sounds strange, like he’s reciting lines in a play. He’s forcing himself to calm down, Jace realizes. So he plays along and says his line.
“Oh yeah? What is it?”
“The Five People You Meet In Heaven.” Simon responds. “It’s sad, too, but it’s kinda about what you were saying the other day. About getting second chances and having different endings and stuff. It’s–it’s really good. You could have my copy.”
A thought forms in Jace’s head and his lips move before he can stop himself.
“You don’t have a copy from the library?”
Simon looks over, confused. “What? No. I wouldn’t lend it to you if it was from the library.”
“Well–well you should come to the library. With me. So that we–so that I could check you out.”
There’s a brief silence during which Jace considers opening the car door and letting the demons have him for dinner, but Simon’s sudden bursting laugh halts any and all thoughts.
“Dude.” Simon heaves between laughs, wiping at his eyes. “Oh, Jace, that was so bad. Oh man, oh Jace. Oh no.”
“It wasn’t that bad!”
“It was!” Simon wipes at his eyes again.
“Stop that! Your eyes aren’t even watering.”
“They are!” Simon snatches Jace’s hand and pulls it over to his face, forcing Jace to realize that okay, fine, his eyes are watering just a little. But they shouldn’t be, because it wasn’t that funny, and Jace slowly begins to realize that his hand is still resting on the side of Simon’s face and it’s not moving, and Simon isn’t making it move, and they’re staring at each other and leaning in and then,
“Oh.” Jace gasps after kissing for what had to be five minutes. “Wow.”
“Good thing you’re better at kissing than flirting.” Simon laughs, and Jace’s lips burn to be back where they just were.
“Hey. You’ve been flirting with me for weeks, but the very first time I flirt with you…” Jace presses a short kiss to Simon’s lips again. “This happens.”
Summary: You and Namjoon belong to a close-knit trio of underground musicians. Everything changes when Namjoon lands a major record deal.
Word count: 1.5k words
Namjoon let his head fall onto your shoulder, his eyelids drooping with exhaustion. You peered at the clock hanging on the wall of your “studio”–it was really just a shabby apartment you shared with two other musicians. It was just past three in the morning.
“Yoongi, our collab can wait a few more hours,” you groaned, sinking further into the tattered couch. “Let us sleep.”
“I have an early shift. Need to do this now,” Yoongi grunted, still smashing away at his keyboard. “Plus, inspiration is a fickle mistress.”
“Dude, our stage isn’t for another two weeks,” Namjoon argued tiredly. “Our set’s pretty much complete, anyway.”
“If you guys are tired, just go to bed,” Yoongi sighed, finally turning to look at you. “I’ll finish as much as I can now and we can work on it tomorrow.”
You and Namjoon leapt up at Yoongi’s dismissal, eager to go to bed. Namjoon practically sprinted out of the living room, disappearing into your bedroom with a loud crash. The sound of Namjoon’s muffled cursing carried throughout the flat.
Before you turned to follow Namjoon, you paused and looked at Yoongi. His eyes were ringed with purple and he had lost weight. Frowning, you walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Get some rest, okay?” you asked quietly, squeezing him gently. “You need to take care of yourself.”
“I will, Y/N,” Yoongi said with a small smile. “Go fucking spoon your boyfriend now, or whatever it is you two do.”
“We’re not dating!” you called over your shoulder as you walked away. That was the truth–sure, you were intimate, but Namjoon didn’t like to label things. And, well, you liked Namjoon.
In your room, Namjoon was already half asleep, nestled underneath a mountain of blankets. He roused at your entrance, his eyes opening slightly. You slipped into the bed with him, Namjoon’s arms wrapping around your waist instinctively.
“Night,” you whispered, leaning into Namjoon’s larger form. He radiated warmth, lulling you to sleep easily.
“Goodnight,” he replied, his voice gravelly, and kissed the back of your neck. His arms tightened around your body as you both slipped into a deep slumber.
The next morning, you slowly slipped from the covers of sleep. You were met by the sight of rays of golden sunlight streaming in through the open window, casting the room in a warm glow. Nearby, you could feel the constant heat of Namjoon’s body, although he was no longer laying beside you.
“Namjoon?” you called groggily, pushing yourself upright.
He was sitting at the foot of the bed, hunched over looking at his laptop. Namjoon’s eyes were wide, and his shoulders appeared to be shaking.
“Are you okay?” you whispered, crawling towards him. You hugged him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder. “What’s up?”
“I got the record deal,” Namjoon said, his voice coloured with disbelief. “T-they emailed me this morning. They want me to go to Gangnam to discuss contract terms.”
“Holy shit,” you gasped. “Oh my god, Namjoon! That’s amazing!”
Namjoon turned to you, a huge smile finally illuminating his face. His cheeks dimpled endearingly. “I did it, Y/N,” he laughed. “I’m gonna make it.”
You laughed with Namjoon, wrapping your arms around his neck. He pushed you down so he was laying on top of you. With some difficulty, he kissed you, smiling too much for it to last long. Nuzzling into the crook of your neck, Namjoon sighed in contentment.
Tugging at the bottom of Namjoon’s shirt, you bent your head down to whisper into his ear. “I think this calls for celebration, no?”
Much later that morning, you found yourself curled against Namjoon’s chest. The heat between your bare bodies was both comforting and overwhelming. He traced patterns against your back, his fingers travelling across the ridges of your spine. You practically melted into his touch.
“I’m so proud of you, Joonie,” you mumbled into his skin. “The world’s finally ready for you.”
“You’re going to be right there with me,” he replied with conviction. “If I can make it, so can you.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice,” you giggled. A darker train of thought passed over you. You bit your lip nervously. “But if that doesn’t happen, don’t forget about me, okay?”
“Don’t talk like that,” Namjoon scolded gently. Then, he pressed a kiss against the top of your head. “But how could I ever forget about you?”
“About us, I mean,” you said, blushing slightly. “What’s going to happen with us?”
“We’re going to be just fine,” Namjoon replied. “Our situation might change, but that doesn’t mean we have to as well.”
Two weeks later, Namjoon was in Gangnam and you and Yoongi were still in the sketchier parts of Seoul. You had to rearrange your entire set, awkwardly trying to fill in the gaps Namjoon’s absence had left.
When you and Yoongi performed, you made a good duo. The audience responded enthusiastically to the harmony of Yoongi’s raspy, carnal rap and your sweet melodies. But you both felt wrong–something was missing. To date, it had been your worst performance.
That night, you and Yoongi took the bus home. How glamorous, you thought bitterly, replaying the video’s Namjoon had sent you of his new dorm. It was small, but still much nicer than the tiny, rundown apartment you used to share with him. Since Namjoon was no longer contributing rent money, you and Yoongi took on extra shifts at your part-time jobs.
But difficulties aside, you simply missed him. Your blankets still carried his rich scent, his belongings were still scattered throughout your room. His sweaters hung from chairs and his shoes still sat in the doorway. Sometimes, it seemed like he never really left.
Your cell phone vibrated. It was a text from Namjoon.
RECEIVED 4:18 AM
How’d the show go, babe?
SENT 4:19 AM
it was ok. it’s weird performing without u
RECEIVED 4:21 AM
Don’t get used to it! We’re gonna make it big as a trio
SENT 4:21 AM
of course joonie~ go get some sleep now ok?
RECEIVED 4:22 AM
I will. Talk to you tomorrow
You looked up from your phone, watching familiar scenery roll past the windows of the bus. Beside you, Yoongi had fallen asleep, his head being jostled with every bump in the road. When the bus finally reached your stop, you shook Yoongi gently. The two of you walked the rest of the way home in companionable silence.
Two months later, you and Yoongi were stuck in the same position–the one you had been in for years. You and Yoongi released more and more recordings online, which brought little to no recognition and even less income.
Still, you mailed out CD’s and emailed files relentlessly. It felt like you sent hundreds out a day. Sometimes you’d receive a response, only to be invited to auditions with kids who were still in elementary school. You’d scoff at that.
“We should just make our own fucking label,” Yoongi would say sometimes, bitterness seeping into his tone.
At this time, Namjoon hadn’t been in as frequent contact as before. He texted less and hardly ever called. But he was training hard, and he sounded exhausted whenever you did talk to him.
By now, the sheets had lost their scent. You and Yoongi quietly packed away the remainder of Namjoon’s belongings–the one’s he didn’t deem important enough to bring with him, but were the world to you. They sat in a box, pushed into a dark corner of the apartment.
Slowly, Namjoon began to fade out of your life. The first time you walked into your flat, not expecting to see Namjoon spread across the sofa or on the floor, you realized that he was truly gone.
Two years later, you and Yoongi were working as songwriters. You sold your demos to some substantial companies, making your revenue off royalties. It was enough to make a living, and you could quit your day jobs.
Also, Namjoon had finally debuted.
You found out when one of the accounts you followed on Twitter shared a news article about him. Since Namjoon had stopped talking to you, any information you received was secondhand.
His music was nothing like you were expecting. It sometimes sounded manufactured, and his lyrics were no longer dark, cynical, or meaningful. He called himself Rap Monster, but his music was still tailored for the masses. It sounded like hip hop, but it didn’t feel like it.
Namjoon got popular pretty quickly. Soon, you could hear his music on the radio and he appeared on TV. Every time Yoongi heard him, he would change stations.
“Sellout,” Yoongi would spit.
But when you were alone, you would listen to Namjoon’s music. The familiar deep drone of his voice and the rapid, piercing intonation of his rap–it was a quiet comfort and a painful reminder. You missed the rapper who would perform passionately beside you. You missed the boy who would kiss you goodnight and good morning. Most importantly, you missed Namjoon, who would make you laugh, think, love, and cry.
The brightest boy in your life had left you with nothing but unwanted belongings and unanswered “what ifs?”
- Girl in Luv
Writing angst physically hurts me. My heart…it’s dead. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Our requests are open, so send us anything or reference our prompts page if you’d like. Thanks for the support!
“It’s not enough.” The long haired blonde with the dangerous green eyes bit out, her fingers tight around the suitcase and her eyes locked fiercely on the man in front of her. He was nervous, she could tell, after six years with the Serpents she could practically smell the anxiety when people caught sight of the twisted snake on the back of her leather jacket.
“What.. what do you mean? This is what you asked for.. $50,000. It’s all there..” the older man stuttered, his hands twitching in desperate need of a fix. He was pathetic, bloodshot eyes and rotted teeth, He was a dealer and he was looking for a new supply, the price : $75,000. And Betty was in charge of this deal.
“You owe me $25,000, I could get someone out here right now and just take the money, never hear from you again, I’m sure nobody will miss you.” She sneered, button nose scrunching and wild honey blonde curls flinging angrily behind her. The man before her nearly dropped to his knees and pleaded
“Please. I’ll get it. I’ll have it by the end of the week. Please show mercy.” He cried at her feet.
It was a pitiful display of reduced manhood but.. Betty was human, behind the leather and knives she was just a seventeen year old girl who had found her place far too soon.
Nudging him with the toe of her combat boot Betty sighed
“You have four days, lucky for you my boss is giving you til next week, god forbid I want to do it a little early. If you try and run. I’ll find you, personally.” She hissed, pocket knife drawing dangerously close to his neck, a wicked smirk on her painted red lips.
The man mumbled something that sounded like a promise before he was off, scrambling over his feet as he shoved the suitcase back in her hands.
“I’m so sick of this shit.” The tired blonde moaned, leaning against a nearby motorcycle, her eyes shutting tight as she clutched the suitcase to her chest. It was currently two in the morning and she had school at eight, she was growing bitter, that much was known. Betty Cooper had no friends, no family, her mother was Alice Cooper, former Serpent leader and current housewife of some rich lawyer in Barbados, she didn’t know who her father was but it didn’t matter, she handled herself, took care of business and came home every night to an empty trailer and a bookcase filled with novels that she could get lost in.
Taking the short walk home, Betty couldn’t wait to get to sleep, if even just for a few hours.
“I’ll be fine dude. I’ll fly low and I’ll meet you right after school for burgers at Pops. It’ll be like nothings changed.” Jughead promised into his old flip phone, his voice steady and reassuring as his redheaded best friend nearly lost his mind on the other line.
“You don’t understand! I’ve heard the stories. I just don’t get it! You could just stay here with me and my dad.”
Jughead ran a hand down his face
“You know I can’t do that arch, state laws. I’m fine, I’ll sleep over, it’ll be totally normal, now I gotta go I’m about to walk into what you refer to as “the pits of hell” I’ll see you later Pal.“
After listening to his friends all shout goodbye in the background, Jughead shut his phone and entered Southside High, his calm facade wavering slightly as he went through the metal detector.
Almost instantly he was shoved into a locker, a group of burly looking boys all sporting matching leather, glanced at him in curiosity before walking away with a familiar lazy swagger he had thought he had trademarked, Cole to think of it, everyone here looked like him, flannel and denim, even a few beanies, the haven’t showered in days look was apparently very popular in this part of town.
But they weren’t like him, no, they were angry and dangerous, even though he had been raised on this side of town he had been lucky enough to grow up in Riverdale, sleepovers at Archie’s ensured he was never there for any of the things these kids had seen, F.P had made sure he grew up away from it all, he was a good father.. minus the gang affiliation.
Speaking of Serpents, Jughead felt his stomach lurch every time he saw the Serpent logo proudly displayed on someone’s back, messing with these people had gotten his father out in jail, landing him here. He was going to do everything in his power to stay away from anything and everything to do with the Serpents, that was a fact.
Apparently class didn’t really happen at Southside High, teachers didn’t show up and students roamed the hall at all times of the day. After checking into home room he quickly realized he was the only one in the classroom, the teacher was sleeping soundly on a broken down desk and every other seat was empty.
So he left, no point in staying in a classroom and not learning anything, plus this would give him the perfect chance to find a hide away. A place to escape to, kind of like his office in the Blue and Gold. He ran the school paper by himself and he found solice in the quiet little space he called his own. Jughead Jones didn’t like people, he didn’t trust them. Why should he? Everyone he had ever loved had left him, minus of course Archie.
Most of the classroom were deserted, of course the lunch room was filled to max capacity and outside was crowded with children. Then he found it, a spray painted sign hung over the door, window shattered slightly but otherwise secure.
The dark haired boy scurried in, his eyes scanning over the books in front of him, they had a good selection, rows upon rows and aisles on aisles. Most of the books were donated, he assumed this was the town “doing there part”
He looked over the hard covers hungrily, grabbing and replacing books.
“You could just take one and read it, might save you time from reading all the titles”
The quiet voice from below him startled Jughead into nearly dropping all of his books to the floor, what he saw next ,however, nearly had him dropping himself to the floor.
She was absolutely gorgeous, the biggest green eyes Jughead had ever seen, shiny with flecks of gold, her lips were lined with blood red and he could nearly see himself in the glossy reflection. She had long blonde hair falling nearly to her waist in waves that reminded him of silky fabric, her tan skin was glowy and the plain white tank top she wore made her appear that much more ethereal. Her tightblack skinny jeans covered legs that seemed to go on for days, tucked into black combat boots. She was like something out of a magazine, he wanted to write it down, every feature.
“You can’t talk? You a mute?” The voice questioned again, drawing Jughead from his trance.
“I could only wish, the things I could get away with.I was trying to pick a book. You guys have a good selection , at my old school we weren’t allowed to have Poe, too morbid,” Jughead rolled his eyes, a swell of pride filled his chest when he saw the girls lips twitch slightly.
“You’re a north sider, you came from that fancy school Riverdale High right?” She questioned lazily.
“Yeah. Jughead Jones.” He stuck his hand out, Betty stared for a moment too long before dropping her own tiny hand in his.
“Betty Cooper. You F.ps son?” There was something in her eyes, not quite pain but something familiar.
“That’s my old man, you probably heard of him because he’s some kind of big deal with the Serpents. I’m not like him, I don’t want anything to do with them, they’re nothing but trouble my goal is to just get through this and avoid the gang at all costs.” He reassured her, he didn’t want to come off on the wrong foot, make this beautiful girl think he was in some kind of gang, he wasn’t anything like his father.
Betty scrunched her nose again, the act would have been adorable if her eyes hadn’t darkened at his words, he could practically feel her walls building right in front of him. What did he say?
Betty picked up her books and stood
“Well Jughead Jones it was nice meeting you. I’ll try and stay out of your way, wouldn’t want to cause any… trouble.” She grinned sarcastically, pulling something from the table behind her, when she turned around Jugheads eyes nearly fell out of his head.
As the beautiful blonde walked away from him he could see perfectly clear the heavy leather jacket with the familiar S logo.
Summary: No one had time for love in this day and age. Everyone was busy paying off loans, working hard to stabilize their life, and concentrating on not snapping at their boss and potentially losing their job. No one had time for love but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen.
Your pen carefully touched the blue, cloud-shaped sticky
note. You placed all your concentration on the pen, willing yourself to make
your handwriting the best it could be after years of rushed note-taking. You
pulled back with a satisfied smile once you had finished, clicked your pen, and
placed it down on your desk.
Warnings: fluff, Dean as Jody, Jody as Dean, awkwardness
you do a fic where Jody and Dean get body swapped by a witch, and the reader
dates Dean and things get weird?
Author’s Note: If you want to be a Queen or a Dean Bean, let me know and I’ll add you to the lists! So sorry this is out so late, I hope whoever requested it, that you like it!
Feedback the glue that holds my writing together
Tags at the bottom
“Dean, I’m sure that it’s nothing. You know how many times
we’ve dealt with witches throwing shit at us and nothing happened? I’m sure
this was one of those times.” You assured your boyfriend, walking back into the
Bunker. You were hunting with Jody this time since was close enough to help
since you were dealing with not one but two covens and you needed the extra man
After a torturing 24 hours, you were back at home, ready to
go to sleep for days to come. You had Sam promise that he wouldn’t go looking
for new cases until, at least, the weekend was over. After that hunt, you
needed the weekend to settle down and relax.
“You say that every time and it’s always something.” Dean
said, walking into your shared room.
“I’m sure this time. Plus, she didn’t get to finish her
spell so it probably didn’t work.” You said, dropping your things by the end of
“We’ll see.” Dean said with a sigh. You walked over to him
and wrapped your arms around his neck.
“Have I ever steered you wrong?” You asked, smiling at him.