#bt: out of the clouds (ooc) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vemuabhi · 3 years

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I Ship Us - Oikawa Tooru

“Today might be the chance to grasp the chance to let your talent bloom. Maybe tomorrow, the day after, or next year… Maybe even when you’re thirty. I’m not sure if physique has anything to do with it, but if you think that it will never come, it probably never will.”

– Oikawa Tooru

Annyong Haseyo!! The summer event of @tooweirdforyou is open, Please join it if you can! This is my part for it. Damn this is my first time writing for Haikyuu and I am so happy to write for this event and also for Oikawa. I have a thing for jerks. and he is becoming one of my favourite jerks.

Pairing : Oikawa Tooru X Fem! Reader

Word count : 1.8K

Warnings : None, its all fluff

Summary : Oikawa never forgot you from your first meeting. After days, he meets you again in a beach. Will he be lucky enough to ask you out?

A/N : I head canon Oikawa as a mess when he is in front of his crush. so... I’m sorry if its too OOC. Please give this one shot a try!

I was listening to Butter by BTS and Trust me I love it!! Its released today and I am so smitten by it. Please give it a shot, you wont regret it.

“Iwa chan, I told you we could win todays match”, Oikawa wiped the sweat off his neck with the white towel in his hands.

Today Aoba Johsai had a practice match with Fukuoka Gakuen and Oikawa lead the team to the victory. The sky turned into the beautiful orange colour and the team decided to go home for the day.

Oikawa ran towards Iwazumi and placed his arm around his shoulders. “So let me continue the story from before Iwa chan, that fan was so into me and wanted to date me and I-”

“Um, excuse me”, A voice made Oikawa to stop his story for which Iwazumi was greatful. They turned around and saw you. Your eyes lit up seeing them so close. Especially that adorable player that you always admired for a long while. The captain realised you were a fangirl instantly as he saw the stars in your eyes.

Oikawa stepped towards you and said, “Ah, I’m sorry but, I am tired and can’t give you my sign right now”

“Actually, I didn’t come here to get your sign but, Iwazumi Hajime san’s”, you replied and Oikawa froze in his place while Iwazumi’s eyes widened. It was the first time where a person came towards him to take his sign and the first one who straight up said it to Oikawa, who always teased Iwa having no fans.

You went towards Iwazumi and took his sign, while all this time, Oikawa stayed like a stone. You smiled widely looking at the sign and after thanking him, you left. Iwazumi looked at Oikawa who was still staring at your back as you walked away. That was the first time, Oikawa felt his heart skip a beat for something outside Volleyball.

“Oye! DumbassKawa!! What happened?”, he said shaking him rigorously. The setter turned to his friend and saw the proud smile on his face.

“So, now you can’t say I don’t have any fans ShittyKawa”, he said and then saw that his captain’s cheeks turned red like a tomato. “Iwa chan, I don’t know why but, my heart is beating like crazy fast”, he confessed. Iwazumi understood what happened immediately and chuckled, making his captain even more confused.

“Wha… What happened Iwa chan? Why are you laughing?”, he asked without any clue. Iwazumi turned to him and said, “Looks like someone got a crush”. Then it hit Oikawa like a ton of bricks. He was definitely in many, like many relationships and just got dumped that morning. But it didn’t affect him in any way. ‘So… this is how a having a crush feels like’, he thought.

“And… don’t even make me mention those red cheeks of yours DumbKawa”, Oikawa’s thoughts were broken as Iwazumi stated and walked away from him.

“Ah!! Iwa chan! Wait for me”, the setter ran behind his best friend to catch up with him. But he wondered how to even see you again? Would you even appear before him? He didn’t even knew your name nor your high school name. He sighed and walked towards his house after he and Iwazumi took separate paths.

Even after many days, Oikawa didn’t forget about you but he didn’t let this bother his concentration towards the game. As they won another match, the volleyball team decided to go to beach to celebrate their win.

The gang went to the beach after dropping their bags in the hotel. They were so hyped up when they saw the beach before them. They all got chaotic and played in the water. As some of them played with a beach ball.

That night after having a great meal, everyone slept peacefully except for one. Oikawa couldn’t sleep, so he left the place and started to walk in the beach aimlessly. The beauty of the beach increased much more at night. It was calmer and peaceful, which lacked in Oikawa’s life as he was always surrounded by cheers and claps.

As he walked he caught a glimpse of a person eating Popsicle. A lady, when he observed carefully. It could be because of his footsteps that made him to have eye contact with yours. His eyes widened at your sight, his heart started to beat faster and his cheeks turned red. This was so unexpected and he didn’t even imagine running into you here. He almost searched every high school he went for matches. Hoping you’d be in any and would come to meet Iwazumi again.

You recognised him and muttered, “Aoba Johsai Oikawa?!”, the moment he heard his name coming from your lips, he had to take even deeper breaths to maintain posture and not faint because you were here for real.

“You okay?”, you enquired as you moved closer to him as he seemed like in pain to you. He nodded his head and gave you a small smile. ‘TALK TO HER!!!!’, his head was exploding but, for the first time in life, Oikawa couldn’t talk.

“Great then. Need company captain?”, you asked and placed the Popsicle near your lips and stared at the sea.

He took the chance and stood beside you. ‘AHHH!!! She called me Captain! That’s so adorable! What should I talk? How should I talk’, his mind and heart were playing games with him till you initiated a conversation.

“Do you wanna have this?”, you asked as you offered him another popsicle which you had in your bag. He stayed still and didn’t answer making it awkward. Actually he was a mess, he didn’t even believe his eyes. You, his first and the biggest crush was now offering him a Popsicle.

“So… you don’t want?”, you raised an eyebrow at him as you started to pull your hand away but he stopped you.

“Wait!! I’ll take it!” he exclaimed as he looked into your eyes. You chuckled and handed him the Popsicle. He couldn’t even think properly now. ‘Ah great! I messed up’, he thought as he looked the sand underneath him.

“Its beautiful isn’t it”, you said and his eyes landed on you. He followed your gaze to the sea and smiled softly.

“Its peaceful and calming, that’s why I like the ocean so much. At night its beauty even increases”, you said making his smile even wider, because he thought the same.

“Especially the stars make it even prettier”, at last he said a proper sentence without messing up making you turn towards him. “That’s what I thought too”, you smiled at him not knowing, how much of an effect you had on him.

“So, what are you doing here?”

“Ah! My… My team won a match and we thought of celebrating so we came here. We will leave after a couple of days though… what are you doing here? Isn’t it dangerous this late at night”, he enquired wanting to know the answer. But internally he was grateful to meet you here.

“My friend’s brother had a beach wedding yesterday and she invited me too. I’ll leave tomorrow though. So I thought to look at the beach one more time before I left”, you answered and continued, “Maybe I really should go back now”, you said looking back at the hotel and he didn’t fail to notice it too.

“Let… let me drop you”, he said and walked with you towards the hotel. Still eating the Popsicle. “You people are really amazing players Oikawa san”, you said taking your last bite of the ice pop.

He heard this compliment from many people, but yours made a difference to him. He was on cloud nine when you said that.

“Thanks. May... I ask for your name”, he desperately needed to know about you.

“I’m Y/N L/N”, you replied making him light up.

“So, L/N san, Can I ask you what place you study at?”, he wanted to get as many answers as possible. Because he was scared. Scared that you may not appear again.

“Ah, its Fukuoka Gakuen, the place where we first met. Maybe you don’t remem-”

“I Remember!!! So, that was your high school”, he cursed himself for not guessing it, or even asking advice from Iwa chan.

“Woah! I’m surprised that you do”, you said as you gave him acknowledged look making him blush and smile at the same time as he ate the last bite of his ice pop.

“Ah, So… We are here”, you said as you stopped at the entrance of the hotel and but he got dejected at how soon you guys reached the place and how he had to let you go now.

“Thanks for accompanying me Oikawa san”, you said and walked towards the hotel. But suddenly you felt a strong grip on your wrist making you stop and look back. Oikawa was looking down but was trying to say something. His grip was strong but wasn’t harsh or hurting.

“Y/N san, do you think, if I come to your school, will you meet me?”, he didn’t look at you as he asked that.

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard it but, you had to reply, “Why does the Mr. Popular want to even meet me?”, you asked only for him to get closer to you. You knew he was taller than you, but… with him this close, you couldn’t avoid noticing that. You realised how the articles about him were all true on how handsome and well-built he was.

Oikawa looked deep into your eyes and replied, “I never once forgot about you from the day we met. Trust me, I wanna take you out. I’m worried if I even will get another chance, so please tell me”, it seemed more like pleading in the end.

You gulped and nodded, “I’ll meet you, if you come to my school”, and failing to hide your blush you covered your face with your other hand. He lit up and thanked you. After he let your hand go, he tricked you to give your number to him by using puppy eyes at you. Damn it was impossible for you to say no to him at that point.

He waited for you to get into the hotel before walking towards his hotel. He felt warmth in his heart as he looked at your number in his phone. And you also felt your heart beat becoming faster as you thought about him.

The next day you did get a text from him telling you to save his number too. And from then you messaged each other. And after 4 days he even came to your school to meet you. Damn you got stares from many people but neither you nor he cared, because it was turning into something just as the beautiful as the sea view you saw together.

You both walked side by side with each other as he sneakily slid his hand into yours and linked fingers together. When you gave him a questioning gaze, he just smiled brightly and walked ahead. “I ship us”, he murmured making you blush even more. It was definitely turning into something beautiful.

Thankyou for reading. I hope you liked it!!!

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inyoursheets · 4 years

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8 12 18!

Do you listen to music while you write? If so, share a song that’s been inspiring you lately.

i do, at least 90% of the time. you can blame hozier for the angsty turn warm water took. it started out so fluffy and then one night i listened to some of his music while the sun set and suddenly Feelings Happened and i changed it drastically.

Is there a trope you haven’t written yet but really want to?

hmmmmmm well i don’t have any i desperately wanna write – plenty i desperately wanna read tho. but maybe a good old-fashioned soulmates!AU???? i don’t wanna have a long wishlist of tropes to write bc im not good at balancing multiple WIPs and rn i really don’t wanna start something new, which i might do if i think about this question too much. but there are a lot of tropes that i love!

What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

uhhhhh well since im pretty proud of managing to write rhea, rio and beth having sex in a way that doesn’t feel too OOC to me, here’s a scene from the instigator with DVD commentary.

Taking in the lines of her face, Beth feels giddy with relief. She can’t even begin to express how grateful she is they can have this, this inexplainable, twisted relationship that shouldn’t spark as many feelings deep down inside her as it does. God, she hasn’t had a relationship as difficult to navigate as this one since—

Oh.

Oh no.

so this sort of…….happened by accident? part of the dialogue i mean. part of this i had planned out – i wanted beth and rhea to talk about rio, i wanted to really dive into the complex relationship between beth and rhea and i wanted beth to feel some type of way about rhea and rio, but it wasn’t until later that i realized how easily i could draw a parallel between beth and rhea and beth and rio, which is how this line happened.

“You and him… What are you exactly?”

She looks over her shoulder, up at Rhea’s face. Rhea scoffs, but she smiles down at her, knowing immediately who she’s talking about.

“We’re parents. We’re exes. It’s not that complicated. Unlike you and him.”

Beth grimaces.

“Don’t remind me.”

She leans back against her legs, closing her eyes after taking another sip of the brown liquid Rhea often complains appalls her senses. She’s always quick to pipe back about Rhea’s penchant for rosé, but more often than not she gets reminded of how she brought the first bottle, making her the instigator.

Isn’t that what she always is? The instigator?

roll credits! i think i had the title in mind/was mulling it over and then this line just fit perfectly here, really demonstrating how i view the relationship between beth, rhea, and rio in this fic.

She wants to ask so much more. How often do they see each other? How often do they talk? How well does she know him? Does she like him, or does she simply tolerate him, as the father of her child? Still, the first question that makes it out of her mouth doesn’t revolve around that at all.

“What’s the last time you two…” Her voice trails off, as it should. Dear God, what is she thinking?

“What, fucked?” She can hear the smile in Rhea’s voice. “What’s it to you?” Beth’s cheeks redden quickly.

so in order to get from point a to point threesome, as the prompter put it, i needed to get sex on the table. in a way this is a ridiculous question to ask, but i also think this is the easiest one to voice out loud out of the others going through beth’s head at this point.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure there are miles and miles between our entanglements with Chris.” She’s not sure what that was supposed to reassure either of them of. Or if it’s intentional, how loaded the words sound. She swallows.

“When was the last time? What was it like, I mean.” She can’t help herself. She just has to know.

“Aren’t you full of questions?” Rhea nudges a knee against her, then sighs. “Hmm, I think it was Marcus’ fifth birthday party. We’d been split up for a good while at that point, and we were good, but we were feeling sentimental. A little drunk, too, and it just felt natural, to go there.”

She’s quiet for a moment.

“It felt good, you know? Familiar. Like catching up with an old friend, one you once knew like the back of your hand.”

She sounds a little wistful, like the thought of seeking out that familiarity again has crossed her mind more than once. It makes Beth tense up unwillingly, the creeping sense that she doesn’t know this man she’s been complicatedly entangled with for what feels like a lifetime as well as she thinks she does, as she hopes she does, clouding her mind.

so i know a lot of readers can feel a sense of….. threat, maybe, whenever rio is paired w/ anyone but beth. ive got a lot of theories about why that is and i understand that instinct, as much as i wanna hush it myself, personally. but i really don’t wanna portray rhea as….completely unaffecting rio? i don’t want to write a fic where the man is the prize, the one whose approval other characters try to win the most. so i didn’t wanna write rhea as still harboring feelings for him, but at the same time i do really envision them as having a sense of comradery, of friendship and familiarity, and i think that would extent to sex.

i wanted beth to feel left out of what rhea and rio have, but at the same time make it clear that what rhea and rio have versus what beth and rio have versus what rhea and beth have are very different things and they’re almost incomparable. like, rhea and rio have history and friendship and trust in a way that beth lacks with both of them – something i also tried to convey when they actually get down and dirty, but as rhea says herself before, they’re exes, they’re parents, it’s not that complicated. what they feel for each other isn’t complicated, unlike what rhea feels for beth, unlike what beth feels for rhea, unlike what beth and rio feel for each other.

Rhea studies her face, her silence. “What’s it to you?” she repeats, voice not unkind. Beth shrugs.

“I’m just trying to understand, I guess. Make sense of him.”

“Good luck with that,” Rhea snorts, knocking back her glass of wine in one go. And just with that, the clouds dissipate, the sun back into view.

with all that i said before in mind – i also didn’t want beth to actually be threatened by rhea and rio’s relationship. it's fine for her to feel threatened – that’s actually fun to write and came in handy later, also in part two – but i wanted to make sure beth and rhea aren’t in some sort of competition for rio – which is why i literally made the clouds dissipate here. if anything, i wanted rio and rhea to be in competition, which, in a way they actually are in this fic! but again as i said before, the different relationships between the characters really aren’t all that comparable, so there is no real competition, not in any ‘direction’.

i really enjoyed diving into the different relationships and i wanted to give all of them their own appeal. i think what rhea and beth have is something unique and fascinating, something rio can’t touch or fulfill, just like beth can’t ever have with rio what rhea and rio have, exactly, just like rhea isn’t what rio is for beth. im trying to dive into that even more in the second part, also considering what the prompter asked (rio and beth confronting their feelings the day after), meaning there is brio endgame. but……i love beth and rhea together too much to just completely upend everything i built for them, so…………….. as my fic notes say, marcus, baby, you have some parenting throuple action in your future.

thank you so much for asking and letting me ramble!!!!

fic bts questions

#ask #ask games #sothischickshe #my fic #brio fic #GGPAT2020

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thrashff · 7 years

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Comeback

Word count: 4,300~

A/N: So my friends and I were feeling particularly soft after Yoongi’s post on fancafe, wondering how all the boys must be feeling right now. One of them asked me to write this drabble about the night before their comeback and this is what happened. If you like it then please give @putsugaonme some love on Twitter, and if not then I claim full responsibility on @thrashff! :)

Arranged out of order so it might be a little confusing, but the real sequence is Seokjin, Hoseok, Jungkook, Jimin, Taehyung, Namjoon, then Yoongi.

Warnings: Cursing, slightly (hopefully not!) OOC and might (hopefully yes!) leave you feeling soft as well :3

Taehyung

Storm clouds. They’re all Tae can think about as he stares at the ceiling, the quiet ticking of the clock on his bedside the only thing keeping him grounded because he swears to god if it wasn’t for that sound, that small, stupid, inconsequential sound rushing to keep time with his heartbeat, the storm clouds in his head would have swallowed him whole by now. They’re there every time he closes his eyes to blink; fat, purple-gray monsters roiling over a violent, green-black ocean, their colors bleeding together like a fresh bruise, crackling with so much unshed possibility that he can feel the surge right down to his fingertips, to his toes, to the fucking ends of his fucking hair.

Tick. Thump. Crackle. Tick. Thump. Crackle.

He’s been in this position before, and those same damn storm clouds have always kept him company. Like fucking harbingers of doom, but instead of four horsemen he gets an entire army ushering in the apocalypse. He figures to anyone else they would seem pretty menacing—a threat, even, but Tae just licks his lips, the corner of his mouth quirking into a small smile as he welcomes them into his head and down his chest, spreading through the rest of his limbs like medicine, like poison, like lifeblood. They rush through him, descending like a heavy woolen blanket on his skin. The whisper of fabric on flesh, is it time?

Storm clouds. They’re all Tae can think about, and his entire being vibrates with the electricity from them, with all that unshed possibility.

The clock beside him stops ticking, and in the awful, awful silence Tae’s heart whoops and soars. He swings his legs out of bed, socked feet sparking with static as they touch the carpet. Is it time? The storm clouds roll over in his stomach, thunder, demand. Isittimeisittimeisittimeisittimeisit—

A knock on the door, and Tae’s face breaks into a grin. It was time.

Seokjin

Seokjin doesn’t know how many times he’s played the Bowser In The Sky boss level on Super Mario 64, but he’s played it on every night before a comeback and like hell he wasn’t going to play it tonight. As he steers Mario off a tilting platform and onto another block, effectively avoiding a Piranha Plant in the process, a small part of his brain reminds him that he should be worried that the house was so quiet, that the great room was empty and where the hell is everyone?

The thought is so distracting that he misses his jump from one spinning disc to the next, and he stares at the screen of his DS in disbelief for a few (okay, a lot of) long moments. He finally sighs and shuts it, tossing it onto the cushions like it had offended his mother, rubbing at his face tiredly with one hand. He doesn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a full night’s sleep, the last time any of them had gotten proper rest at all for that matter, but he doubts it’s going to happen tonight.

The evenings before a comeback were always like this. Everyone would go their separate ways, thinking that they could deal with their nerves and feelings on their own: Namjoon would retreat into his bedroom and listen to music on his headphones so loudly sometimes Jin worried he would go deaf, Hoseok would saunter into the garage and return two hours later covered in sweat, Taehyung would go catatonic in his bed for an hour before flitting from room to room like the freaking Tasmanian Devil come to life, Jungkook would be on his cellphone watching videos of himself as some weird method to self-soothe, Jimin would work out until he injured himself or broke something (sometimes both), and Yoongi would pace tracks into the hardwood of his bedroom floor until he eventually exhausted himself into a near-catatonic state. Eventually, though, each member would find their way here, to the great room where Seokjin was, where Seokjin always was, ready with a joke to lighten the mood.

There were a lot of things he didn’t understand about his housemates in general, owing primarily to the fact that they were all slightly insane, slightly evil musical geniuses, but he especially didn’t understand why they worked themselves up to the point of breaking before a comeback. It wasn’t that he himself was possessed of any supernatural ability to remain calm in a stressful situation; it was just that Jin wasn’t scared. He was nervous, sure, but he was nervous every day that he was with BTS. He was nervous for concerts and performances, photoshoots and hell, even guestings and interviews, but he wasn’t worried when it came to releasing new music because he had the utmost faith that whatever they had come up with was the best version of itself it could possibly be. How could it be anything but, with how much love and devotion each of them had poured into it?

Sure, there would be people who would love it and people who would hate it, but none of that mattered to him. He was happy when people liked it, sure. He loved being able to use his platform to express himself, loved the journey he was on with his Bangtan brothers and every member of ARMY, but all of it paled in comparison to how ridiculously proud he was to be part of the whole machine. He was proud of the way Yoongi obsessively wrote music into the wee hours of the morning, the way Namjoon fretted over every arrangement, how Hoseok would practice the same move hundreds of times before he was satisfied with it, how Taehyung would spend hours digging through the internet for music that would inspire them, the way Jimin would work so hard to keep himself strong because he loved them so much he didn’t want to disappoint them, and how Jungkook worked twice as hard as every one of them to prove himself worthy of his role in a family and in a life that he still had trouble accepting as his.

So Seokjin was content and happy and the farthest thing from scared because he had Bangtan by his side. Everything else was just a bonus.

He leans back into the couch cushions, propping his Mario-slippered feet on the coffee table. He eyes the clock on the wall across from him and waits for his brothers to return.

Jimin

It wasn’t his fault, Jimin thinks as he stares at Jin’s favorite frying pan in his hands. Formerly favorite, he corrects himself. Former frying pan. The handle had melted clean off the rest of it where it was supposed to be attached to the actual pan, because how the hell was he supposed to know you weren’t supposed to pre-heat a frying pan to 350 degrees and that it only applied to ovens?

Jimin sighs, dumping the slightly twisted pieces of metal and plastic into a bottom cabinet, wondering if he could get it to Hoseok to fix before Jin found out and gutted him like a fish. The thought makes him shudder, and he pouts at his reflection on the granite countertop. It wasn’t his fault, he thinks again. All he wanted was a goddamn cookie and to decorate it with the ice cream sprinkles Namjoon had brought home the week before, to take a picture of it and send it to ARMY to reassure them that he was fine, that they were fine, because sugar and sweets made everything better and Jimin was absolutely screwed if he wasn’t going to be fine instead of the mess of feelings he really was right now, raw and bare like an exposed nerve ending.

Because, frankly, Jimin wasn’t good with feelings. Jimin wasn’t good at a lot of things, if he was being perfectly honest with himself, but he was good at working them off in the gym and dancing from his demons instead of with them. Right now he was too tired to work out and too wired to dance with Hoseok and too much of everything, really, to do anything but stand like an idiot in their big, empty kitchen and want, with every fiber of his being, a stupid cookie to shove into his mouth.

He wanders from the kitchen like a lost puppy, unsure where his feet are taking him until he reaches Jungkook’s door. Jungkookie would understand, wouldn’t he? Jimin nervously fingers the ARMY necklace around his neck, chewing on his lip, before shaking his head and continuing down the hallway. He wouldn’t know what to say to him anyway, because sometimes words weren’t enough, couldn’t possibly be enough to explain how badly he needed a hug, how he felt like there were butterflies the size of Boeing 747 airplanes in his stomach and that they were threatening to lurch up his body and escape into the hallway like ashes from a fire, staining everything they touched with soot and fear and maybe the dirtiest thing of all, failure.

Namjoon

The house is full. It’s an odd realization, but it’s the first time in weeks that Namjoon feels like it is in every sense of the word. The analogy is so cliché he almost kicks himself for it, but it’s exactly what it feels like: a pot that’s about to boil over—like Jin forgot to tilt the lid on a pot of noodles and all that starch was coming to the surface, bubbling over and flooding out the fire below it, effectively ruining dinner to a chorus of Does this mean we can get takeaway from Taehyung and I’ll eat it if no one else will from Jungkook and Jesus fucking Christ, Jin-hyung from Yoongi like he could do any better.

If he closes his eyes he feels like he can almost imagine where each member is in the house—like if he reaches for the wall or the floor he can tell just by the vibrations what music Hoseok is dancing his nerves out to, if it’s Jungkook or Taehyung that’s winning their videogame, if Jin is on the couch on his DS or his iPad, how many push-ups Jimin has done to work off his excess energy, if Yoongi has broken anything in his room yet from the stress.

Leadermon, he thinks wryly, face screwing up at the role that had always and probably would always make him uncomfortable. He hadn’t asked for it, yes, of the personal belief that if anyone should be the leader, it should be Yoongi with his proclivity for creative curse words and magical ability to keep even Taehyung in line with just a glare. But after all these years Namjoon had grown into the role to the point that he couldn’t even think about himself without thinking of everyone else in this full-to-the-brim goddamn house. Between the stress and tension and hope and heartbreak and fucking love he wonders how any of them even fit, if they’ve somehow mastered this virtual game of Tetris and the lines at the bottom just continue to disappear, like only an act of God is even allowing them any room to breathe above it all.

He rips off his headphones, the cacophony of bass and treble and how in the hell does that growl even come from Tae echoing in his ears as he abandons his attempt at a nap for a bad job and makes his way to the great room.

Leader, he thinks with each echoing thump of his clumsy feet on the stairs as he hurtles down them. He was their fucking leader and right now the guilt over thinking he could leave them alone on the night before a comeback and nap, of all the impossible, improbable things, instead of be with them is making his stomach twist.

He reaches Taehyung’s door first, and to his surprise the maknae is already standing there, his arm outstretched for the doorknob if only Namjoon hadn’t gotten to it first, the slightly unhinged and manic glint in his eyes sending an involuntary shiver of fear down Namjoon’s spine.

“Is it time,” Tae asks, his voice sounding like it was coming from everywhere but his mouth, and Namjoon nods his head, dislodging the thought as an auditory hallucination from how much sleep he hasn’t been able to get.

“C’mon, let’s get the rest of the boys.”

For some reason, with V at his back, he starts to feel like Dante descending into hell.

Jungkook

Whatever the fuck Hobi is doing, Jungkook wishes he would keep it down because it sounds like he’s dropping hundred pound weights onto a concrete floor in an empty room. He regrets, not for the first time, calling dibs on the first-floor bedroom closest to the garage. At the time, it had been a purely knee-jerk reaction born of convenience: closest to the garage, closest to bed. He hadn’t, however, anticipated Hoseok turning part of said garage into a practice space, or that being next to a big, empty room would send the strangest sounds throughout his.

A loud bump is followed by what sounds like cymbals crashing, but none of that made any sense because Hobi’s space was literally empty and where in the world would he even get a drumset in the middle of the night?

The sound of flesh hitting cement echoes through the wall, and Jungkook decides that he’s just about had enough. While he typically let his hyungs have the run of the house and do whatever they wanted, he wasn’t having it tonight, couldn’t have any of it tonight. All Jungkook wanted was some peace and quiet and maybe even a little room to think about how just when he was getting the hang of things, it was all going to change again, leaving him the only upright thing in a topsy-turvy world. He just wanted to be prepared. Jungkook liked being prepared. He didn’t like being caught off guard and he didn’t like not knowing what he was supposed to do or say and he especially didn’t like not knowing what the hell was going to happen now.

Yeah, he was the youngest, but that didn’t mean he didn’t get tired. It didn’t mean he was as secure as his hyungs in what they were doing, as confident in moving about the world they had created for themselves. It wasn’t his fault that these things came easy for him; they asked him to sing and he sung, to dance and he danced, to rap and he rapped. Seokjin would probably berate him for his hubris, but that was the way it was and so that was the way Jungkook regarded them. He hadn’t fit in in the normal world, where these things came by through hard work and practice. Jungkook was used to trying something a couple of times before getting the hang of it, and if Jin or Yoongi or Tae called him conceited for it and gave him shit then he supposed they could—they were his hyungs and he wasn’t in any position to tell them otherwise.

All of those things came easy for him, but the one thing Jungkook struggled with, the one thing that he could never get the hang of no matter how hard he worked or how much he practiced, was being part of Bangtan. He hadn’t fit in with the outside world, and so to find a place, a home, with six other impossibly talented and skilled men who were all older than him was just something that he couldn’t believe, couldn’t get used to, couldn’t get the hang of. Even on good days he always felt like he had one foot in and one foot out, constantly wondering in the back of his mind what he would be doing, what he could be doing, if he wasn’t with Bangtan.

He had realized over the course of his first year that there was a difference between being good at something and wanting to be good at something. He just so happened to be good at these things and so he did them, and this was the only thing it made sense to be. But being around all of them had infected him with their impossible work ethic and passion, and over time he had learned to love it, all of it, this life and the music and the fans and performing just as much if not more than they did. They had taken care of him, helped him grow, turned him into the man he now was. He worked hard to be worthy. How could he not?

But then he would watch them develop a new skill or discover a new talent and wonder how in the world he was supposed to keep up, if he even could keep up, worried that he had already given the extent of his abilities, unraveled too soon, reached his limit, shown his full potential and now, this, this is where it stops. This is where it would end, and his hyungs would leap even farther ahead and leave him behind.

He groans and flips over to his stomach, burying his face into his pillow and shoving another over the back of his head as Hoseok’s noise turns into a steady thump that makes his walls vibrate.

He just wanted to be prepared, and here was this whole other chapter waiting to be turned and all Jungkook wanted was to slow time down and maybe even press pause if he could, just to breathe and remind himself that he could do this, that there was nothing to be scared of, that his hyungs were right outside his door, waiting for him.

Hoseok

Hoseok isn’t sure if the screaming is coming from inside his head or from somewhere inside the house, but he hopes that whoever or whatever it’s coming from is okay, especially if it’s coming from him. He hasn’t slept in days, only pretended, running on fumes and pasting a brittle smile on his face that has started to look fake, even to him.

J-Hope, they named him, and he always tried his best to live up to it. The past week had been hectic, chaotic even, and he hadn’t been able to help the extra surge of energy it had given him as they flitted like bees from one thing to the next, the possibilities seemingly endless of whether this flower or that would bear more nectar, plant more seeds, bear more fruit. It wasn’t Hoseok’s fault that he was easily (read: a lot) excitable, that he could tap into a reserve of seemingly superhuman energy and drive that more often than not left him feeling barely human after. It was only by sheer force of cheerfulness and well-timed jokes that he even managed to get away with his obsessive-compulsive behavior, when everything had to be perfect and wonderful and happy and okay, because if it wasn’t he would feel like he hadn’t been enough, wasn’t good enough. That he could possibly let everyone down.

He turns up the volume on the television he’s stashed away in his practice space, trying to drown out his own thoughts with the horror movie on the screen. Nobody ever came here except Jimin anyway, and even then he would just sit at Hoseok’s feet and watch him watch other things, quietly decompressing before inevitably asking if he had any sweets or how to do that move he pulled the other day at practice. Hoseok never minded, just glad that he could be this for the other boy because it reminded him that he was still Hobi, that somehow maybe the sum of his parts still equaled to more than just the music or the dance or the photo or, god help them all, the job and the persona itself.

The edges of his vision start to blur, and he wonders if it’s the television or reality before he gets to his feet and does a couple of jumping jacks. It’s no good and his eyes are somehow more tired than the rest of him, how is that even possible, and he decides it’s probably time to head inside and check if everyone has filed into the great room the way they always do; Yoongi managing to look murderous and all of twelve years old at the same time, Taehyung manic and still strangely serene, Jin expectant and relaxed, Namjoon anxious but trying valiantly to be calm, Jimin on the verge of tears but still fighting, Kookie vacant but resigned.

Their faces flash through his head like scenes from the flip-books he used to love as a kid, and for the first time all week he finally feels a strange sense of peace wash over him at the thought of them waiting for him. He takes a deep breath and flashes the first real smile at his reflection in the dead TV screen, steeling himself.

It was comeback time.

Yoongi

Yoongi is the last, as usual, to make his way to the great room, having already broken his newest computer mouse in a fit of frustration by throwing it at the wall. The damn thing just wasn’t working, would any of this even work, what if they hated it, what if it flopped, why did he even feel so goddamn fucking responsible when that was Namjoon’s area of expertise, all fueling the fire in the pit of his stomach that was slowly burning away all of the carefully-placed walls he had built to keep it contained. There was just so much pressure both inside and outside of him that maybe it was the only thing even keeping him whole right now, but he swears to god one wrong word from Tae or one eyeroll from Jungkook and he was going to kill them, he really was.

He needed Seokjin. He needed Seokjin to make a stupid, corny-ass joke to poke fun at and Jimin to make fun of and Taehyung to do something ridiculous and for Jungkook to accept it and play along and for Hobi to hold him and for Namjoon to tell him it was going to be okay and he hated it with every fiber of his being because he hated needing things the way he so desperately needed his bandmates right now.

He hated comebacks, he hated the chaos, he hated the gimmicks and he hated and he hated and he hated almost as much as he loved, because that was the only reason he was doing it; because he loved what he was doing and he loved that he was doing it with them and he loved writing music and he loved performing and godfuckingdammit did anyone in the history of the universe ever love anything more than he did right now—he swears to god he’s going to explode with the sheer force of it running through his veins that if he doesn’t hit something soon he’s going to spontaneously combust.

The first thing he sees is Taehyung with his legs wrapped around Jungkook’s pink-tinged face in a headlock, and the younger boy is somehow breathing and yelling for Tae to let him go at the same time, a feat if Yoongi ever saw one. Jimin is on his stomach, lying on the floor watching them, his eyes slightly desperate when they meet Yoongi’s as he steps into the doorway. Namjoon and Hoseok are on the couch with Seokjin between them, looking for all the world like a poly-amorous couple watching over their dysfunctional brood, except Jin is egging on Tae and Hobi is trying to get Jungkook to listen to him and you idiot, angle your arms behind his knee and push up if you want to live.

Yoongi shakes his head at the tableau, making his way to the armchair that no one else is ever allowed to sit in for fear of a cruel and usual death. He collapses into it, letting out a long breath and already feeling more stable just by being around actual, living people, like maybe his jaw won’t fall off from how hard he’s been grinding his teeth and maybe he’ll even get through tonight without reading every comment before the sun starts to bleed its way into his bedroom.

Namjoon catches his eye, and he shrugs at the question he finds there. Are you okay?, like any of them were on these nights. He can’t stop the growl that escapes him then, and instantly Taehyung stops laughing and Jungkook stops struggling and Jimin is on his feet and Seokjin is fishing for the candy he always keeps in his pockets and Namjoon’s wrist is sprained but he’s still reaching for him with it and Hoseok’s arms are already around him and fuck.

From seven individual men they turn into a tangle of limbs and tears and there’s a lollipop already sticking out of Jimin’s mouth how in the world as they all try to angle their lanky bodies, trying to find a spot on, beside, or around him as they hold him. He’s left wondering where in the world the wetness on his cheeks has come from, where did the pressure that was keeping him together go.

But then Taehyung is laughing, mumbling something about storm clouds under his breath, and Hoseok’s smile is like sunshine peeking out from behind clouds on a winter day and Yoongi has Jungkook in his arms with Namjoon wrapped around his shoulders and Jimin’s face is on his knee and Jin is complaining about someone’s elbow in his face and there are so many tears and laughter and Yoongi breathes for the first time since they started planning this comeback. Yoongi breathes and Taehyung sings and Namjoon smiles and Seokjin laughs and Jimin tries to hide his tears and Hoseok is burying his face in someone’s shoulder and Jungkook is looking at everyone like they’re a fucking revelation.

Eventually they disentangle from each other, returning to their own bodies. Yoongi breathes and realizes it was never the pressure that was keeping him together but this. Always, above all, this.

#BTS #BTS fiction #BTS fanfic #BTS fanfiction #BTS imagine #namjoon #seokjin #yoongi #taehyung #jungkook #jimin #hoseok

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idolapps · 7 years

Text

bbasae ( revised ! )

OOC INFO

NAME/ALIAS, PRONOUNS, TIMEZONE: yi, she/her, gmt+9

RESERVATION: tumblr

NOTE: i submitted my app twice bc i made some changes nd i'm rlly srry abt the inconvenience !! this is the revised version and bless u thanks!!

MEMBER PROFILE

FACECLAIM: kim taehyung (v) of bts

NAME/STAGENAME: seo junha / jun

BIRTHDATE/AGE: 24/08/94, 22

COMPANY/POSITION: crystal media, diamond’s lead dancer and sub-vocalist

HEIGHT/WEIGHT: 178cm, 59kg

TRAINING PERIOD/JOINING YEAR: 3 years

INTERESTING FACTS:

He’s known to be extremely charismatic both on and off-stage and loves to engage in fanservice with the fans.

Started dancing when he was seven and auditioned for Crystal Media when he was thirteen.

Dubbed as the group’s ‘happy pill’ due to his seemingly endless energy and enthusiasm, and is also constantly cheerful amongst the members.

Learned English and Japanese with the help of a tutor, thus becoming rather fluent in the languages.

He taught himself how to play the guitar and the piano, and wants to learn how to play the drums.

STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:

+ DANCE, junha’s first love. he’d found talent in dance at a young age and had proceeded to learn a variety of styles since he first began dancing, and he’s skilled in most. despite perfecting his technique over the years, he’s been constantly striving to improve at it – gathering tips varying from instructors to fellow idols to keep up diamond’s reputation of sharp synchronisation.

+ VARIETY/CHARISMA, born with a natural flair for both humor and charm, and known to be the most cheerful of the group! it’s the main reason why he’s sent onto variety shows most of the time, simply because he’s extremely comfortable in front of cameras, and it’s almost a guarantee that he’s able to coax a laugh or two out of almost everyone.

+ QUICK LEARNER, he’s one of the fastest members to pick up the choreography when it’s taught to them after being shown how to do it once or twice. in turn, he helps the other members learn the choreo as well after he’s sure enough to execute it.

- PRONE TO OVEREXERTING SELF, junha has been a hard worker since his trainee days, but he’s had his eye on a perpetual state of perfection for as long as he can remember. that causes him to push himself further than what he’s capable of to reach that state, without room for error or mistakes, and not knowing when to stop. it wouldn’t be the first time when he’s overexerted himself while practicing, and he doesn’t cares for his health if it means he can push himself to be better.

- OUTSPOKEN, coupled with his ability for variety and also known to be blunt and tactless, junha often finds himself speaking his mind without much thought. his careless words have gotten him into trouble on a few occasions, and he’s indirectly insulted a few without actually knowing it. he always has good intentions, though, and never means any harm.

- VOCALS, he’s still working on his singing, and it’s not an exaggeration when it’s said that junha’s gotten quite an amount of criticism on this over the years of debut. he has a weak vocal range as compared to other idols, and has a tendency to stick more to style than technique. thus, it’s a skill which he’s determined to improve on.

BIO/PERSONALITY:

this is seo junha at three, wide-eyed and flushed cheeks, hint of a smile on his lips. a pretty, pretty boy, is what everyone calls him.

( still standing here with my eyes closed, )

this is junha at eight, with stardust at the tips of his fingers while thriving on passion as much as he flourishes under it.

( i’m lost between the deserts and the oceans. )

this is junha at fourteen, alone in seoul with no one and with nothing but determination heavy on his back.

( but to lose your path is to find your path, )

this is junha, hardened at the edges but soft at the same time; he is a ruckus, a whirlwind and flurry of excitement that if you failed to grasp, would slip through the cracks of your fingers within a minute.

his mother had been a renowned actress at the time, while his father had been a successful businessman. he’d been told, countlessly, by him to get his head out of the clouds and get down to work, because real men don’t prance around on stage to dance and sing.

“either way, i still have a stable job and income, don't i?” his father had asked him, eyes shining with pride. it was clear that he’d disapproved of fame, and was determined to force junha down the right career path.

but junha has always been all starry eyes and nimble limbs, and it isn’t surprising when he falls for the life under stage lights. despite his father’s blatant disapproval, he’d discovered ( much to his delight ) that he was a natural at dance at a young age, and that he truly had a passion for performance and making music at the same time. that’s when he decides to audition at crystal media - a place where he believed could truly enhance his skill and a chance at displaying his love for dance, and he wonders, why not give it a shot?

junha leaves for seoul after he gets accepted into the company, but not without endless nights of anger on his father’s end and pride, so much pride, on his mother’s. she says, well done, and she tells him that passion is a powerful thing - and with it, she’s sure he can go far.

and so, this is seo junha at twenty-two, at the peak of his career and the happiest he’s been in his life, and he thinks, maybe he was made for this after all.

( and suddenly, i don’t think i’m lost any more. )

#male #idol #crystal #submission

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