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angelspenance · 3 years

Note

Prompt: AruYuki + Pink in the Night

"And I know I've kissed you before, but

I didn't do it right

Can I try again, try again, try again"

Rewrite verse bc if I did canon adjacent I don’t think I could Take It. Also u know its bad when after all the other essays ive typed out i put a readmore on This One.

To begin with it’s… nothing much. Or at least that’s what they both try to think. Yuki sits at the side of Aru’s hospital bed at two in the morning still trying to process why they’d ever take a knife to the back from Yuki’s own father to protect his mother. And Yuki doesn’t know at all how to feel about, well, Anything. He’s grateful but at the same time he’s… concerned. If anything he doesn’t want Aru to suffer the fallout of his own family’s personal issues despite the fact Aru probably saved his mother’s life. And… fine. Maybe just maybe Aru has wormed their way into Yuki’s heart and thoughts and the blood rapidly pulsing through his veins as he takes their hand in his. “Thank you,” Yuki says aloud in nothing more than a whisper to make sure they don’t wake up. A coward as always, he thinks to himself as he thanks Aru in the only way that feels right to him: a kiss on the lips. And it tastes like a hospital and their lips are unnervingly cold against his, but it’s gentler and longer than anything he’s given Yuno, who’s been disturbingly quiet as well as respectful of Yuki’s space since Aru found her alone in her house after the kidnapping fiasco, to the point of allowing him time alone with Aru “your mans a hottie” Akise. And maybe it’s more than just a thanks. Yuki allows himself against his better judgment to brush some of their hair out of their face and hold their hand a little longer. He remains at their bedside but makes sure there’s no indication of his actions should they wake. And of course Aru’s been semi conscious the whole time but so out of it on pain meds they think the whole thing is a sick dream; a fabrication of a reality they could only ever pray for. So neither of them speak of it, despite the fact Minene saw the moment of truth but figured it would be best for the two to figure it out on their own accord.

The next time it’s Yuki slumped unconscious in Aru’s arms after having been thrown back into a wall by an explosion while distracting the mayor’s men so Yuno could snipe him in the vault. Blood runs from the corner of his mouth and his nose as Aru runs their fingers through his hair and mutters desperately “please wake up please wake up please Yuki… please don’t leave me” with no avail to the point where, even with Minene and Nishijima and Mao and Hinata and Kousaka looking on, they cup his cheek and choke out “I never got to tell you that I…” and they close the narrow gap between their lips and his, tears mingling with blood as Aru barely audibly says “I love you, Yuki; I’m completely undone without you. Please just… know this in your heart.” And with that Yuki coughs and shakes and his eyes flutter open to make out the dust in Aru’s hair and the blood smudged against their face from his; it tones down their otherwise borderline angelic appearance in Yuki’s eyes between the crimson eyes and halo of a mess of hair against their skin marred over with scars like constellations. More tears, a genuine “Yuki you’re alive!” that outdoes their last given after being kidnapped, a thousand thoughts in a mind still buzzed from being unconscious interrupted by a single clear I don’t care, a thumb numbly caressing their cheek and wiping a smudge of blood off of their pale skin, a pair of lips clumsily colliding with theirs but they’re so relieved and downright ecstatic to the point where the taste of coppery blood and dust means less than nothing to them, a quiet “I love you too; I think I have for a while now,” an embrace that threatens to crack his ribs and a few barely contained sobs. Minene ruefully tearing her eyes away from Nishijima for a brief second to say “let’s get a move on, lovebirds” and a flash of Mao’s camera are the only thing that breaks the two of them apart from an embrace best described as “if I let my grasp loosen I’m sure you and this moment will both disappear.”

Yuki watches his beloved torn apart at the seams before his eyes and all he’s allowed to do is hold what remains of them as Kousaka desperately punches something into their phone as for once Yuki is rendered speechless. Silence. They begin to mend back together. Tears begin to flow freely from his eyes as he waits for them to say something, anything. When their eyes flutter open as Yuki’s tears fall onto their face and they say with wide eyes and a shaky voice, “I-I’m…. Yuki do you mind cutting the waterworks for a second I don’t need rain for the theatrics at the given moment,” Yuki cutting them off with a firm kiss and a “don’t you EVER pull that on me again I swear to fucking god” and the second Aru regains their breath they say, “Speaking of which, I-I’m not human. Deus created me to spy on this game of his without my will or consent and the second I faced him he decided I had lived beyond my usefulness and that’s why I… I’m not. I’m not real.” And Yuki just says “Damnit Aru you’re the most real person I know, nobody else would put themself in harms way over and over for their friends and help out a terrorist who was starving in a river and… and bother to try to respect me and understand me and…” and this time Aru sits up and turns around to face Yuki and smiles at them with such fondness despite the tears in their eyes and cups his cheeks in their hands and earnestly says “Deus asked me for any proof I was a real being with any will of my own; he asked what my strongest emotion was during my existence. And do you want to know what I responded with? You; my love for you, Yuki” and with that they gently pull Yuki in for a genuine kiss; one without the haste of the threat of death. One without the aftertaste of blood. One that promises that there will be more regardless of where the future leads, so long as the two of them are together it doesn’t matter. “You really are an angel, Aru.” “I can make you regret that statement so so quickly, but thanks for the sentiment.” “Fresh from the grave dug by gods hand and you still… I stand by my sentiment.” And Aru has the audacity to laugh and that in itself makes Yuki realize just how… natural his thing for Aru is. It lacks the “is this repayment is this real is this just out of what I believe to be obligation” that he had with Yuno, who converses with Mao and Hinata intently in the corner. Aru is Aru and that in itself is enough to tug at Yuki’s heartstrings.

When they’re in the final stages of their plan to kill Deus, the remaining diary holders, Hinata, Mao, Kousaka, Nishijima, and Aru are all gathered together in the cathedral of causality with the same intent: to put an end to the game that’s costed countless lives. Aru’s hand is firmly held in Yuki’s, Yuki knowing damn well just what is probably going through their head and trying to ground Aru despite the fact his own fingers tremble and his entire body feels numb. Aru puts their free hand on Yuki’s shoulder and gazes into his teary eyes; vermillion into indigo; blood into water. And they say “just in case this should go horribly wrong, given that we’re literally facing off against fucking God of all things…” they trail off. They hesitate. Their lips tremble and their eyes burn and their throat closes in emotion but they still manage to do what they intended to: place a final kiss to Yuki’s lips despite they can barely feel it from the numbness of their lips and they can narrowly register Yuki’s hands moving to their hair and their neck and they feel as though they will collapse as Yuki wraps them in a bone crushing embrace the second they pull away. “We’ll be fine; we’ll make it and that’s a promise.” “Since when are you one for confidence?” They manage to joke despite dedicating all of their attention to memorizing Yuki’s embrace and Yuki’s voice and Yuki’s horrible taste in fashion and Yuki’s awful blue eyes and— “Since you refused to let me happily race to my own demise and I couldn’t get rid of you in the same way a stray cat follows you around; plenty of space but a fondness you can’t shake that starts to take root in your heart and—“ “Did you really just try to, with romantic intent, compare me to a stray cat” “Aru what the fuck do you want from me” Yuki laughs through his tears “I don’t know, another kiss couldn’t hurt” “if this doesn’t kill you I will” “You prommy?” “Forever and always, asshole” Aru buries their face in the crook of Yuki’s neck for one final time “Good.”

And after the killing game is out of the way they’re basically inseparable; Yuki sneaking into Hinata’s family manor, which Mao, Yuno, Nishijima, Minene, and Aru moved into thanks to Hinata not wanting to wander its extensive halls like a ghost anymore and figuring you know what why shouldn’t she let her two gfs and their lameass gay detective friend and their weird bisexual parents move into the otherwise vacant estate, nearly every night his mother is at work which is a great majority of them. So Yuki will sneak in at midnight despite Aru giving him a key nearly every night with him usually falling asleep on the couch and Aru falling asleep on top of him like an oversized cat an hour of pacing later. And finally one night Aru finally remembers what they’ve been haphazardly planning out for months and drags Yuki to the roof on a particularly clear night and they go “I know it’s not much and I plan to one up this inevitably but you always said you wanted to look at the stars with a loved one and I’d hope you’d consider me a loved one because good fucking god Yuki I’m positively enamored with you and I—“ and Yuki cuts them off with a kiss that knocks the wind out of their lungs. “Of course I consider you a loved one, you asshole,” Yuki teases tearfully and Aru pauses and blurts out “Oh so I hit this one out of the park huh” and yes they’re the Worst and more than a little rough around the edges but the way the starlight faintly illuminates their white hair into a halo and makes their constellations of scars glow just a little bit and fine maybe the way their scarlet eyes widen and soften at the sight of Yuki makes him equate them with the equivalent of Yuki’s personal guardian angel. “Enjoying the view” they taunt goodheartedly, knowing damn well Yuki’s been staring at Them for the past minute straight. “Fuck you, maybe I am gayass” and Yuki wraps his arms around them and lets his head rest on their shoulder and god maybe just maybe after Everything they’ll be ok.

#this is so so fucking long but idc idc idc they’re EVERYTHING ok.#GOD THIS IS LIKE A REALLY REALLY ROUGH WHOLEASS FANFIC I WONT LIE 😔💔#asks #anon #rewrite tag #writing tag

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emilycollins00 · 4 years

Text

A3 actors! Stage for two

Type: Oneshot

Pairing: Citron x Reader

Themes: Crushes / Entertainment

There were two noticeable things the workers from the shopping district of Veludo Way could say about Y/N with absolutely certainty; One, you would go out of your way to help anyone in need and two, you had a humongous crush on the extravagant and lovable Citron from Mankai.

"Morning my dearest ladies! I have come to find the best products in the city" the young man arrived with his hands already full of bags, smiling at both you and your mother. Looks like it was his turn to do shopping although he pretty much spent his morning around the district anyway.

"Oh, you flatterer" your mom scolded him but laughed delighted, visibly loving the words “What can we get for you today?”

Even as you took out some new boxes from inside the store, and therefore only showing your back, you could still feel the heat in your cheeks spreading by the sound of his voice "Fufu, I see lovely Y/N at the store today!"

You laughed nervously, not expecting to be noticed “M-morning, Citron!” you turned to greet him while wishing you had at least brought another shirt on this very hot day. It was only midday and you were already sweating.

It had turned into a custom for some time now for the blond foreigner to visit the shops, becoming in no time the idol of the district. He was usually found helping the old owners and grandmas with heavy tasks or just chatting around with everyone. At times he even displayed some street acts which also helped attract clients. “So, do you have any performance for us today?”

"Ah, I’m afraid this time the tail of wonders will have to wait as I’m in a hurry for food””

"You meant a tale, didn’t you?" The owner of the bakery in front of your shop, a man in his fifties laughed noisy but genuinely "I swear… don't know how you can still make understandable sentences, boy"

Citron smiled, placing one of his hands over his chest "Yes, the Japanese language is tricky Ookami-san! Perhaps I could reach you some tongue twister from my native country for a friendly competition”

The old baker laughed again, not bothering to correct him "I'd like that! I'm sure we could have a good time"

"Here you go Citron-san" your mother called him as she handed you the big bag "I added a few products we just got this morning, enjoy them with everyone at Mankai"

"You are too generous, ma’am. I’ll make sure everyone tastes the deliciousness you provided for us”

“Her- uh, Here you go Citron” you looked up to see if he would take his order when you found him staring at you with a warm, gorgeous smile.

“Honda-san just told me you went this morning to help her cleaning the store, yes?” you nodded shortly, mentally face palming yourself. Why did he always ended up knowing what were you doing? No, why did everyone decided they needed to play cupid for you?

“Please do ask for me if you do again hard work. I will happily go with you” he kept talking earnestly. Your mouth opened and closed with no words coming out of it. You cursed your blank state of mind around him.

“I, um will. Yes. I’ll call. You, I mean. Uh… Thanks”

“No, thank you, miss Y/N. Hope you have an enjoyable day”

You both bowed, managing to exchange a normal farewell. As he left, you couldn’t help but stare longingly at his back. Once he wasn't visible anymore, you let out a brief sight. All the tension you had contained leaving your body.

"Oh come on, Y/N, you should have at least asked him how was his day"

"Mom!"

"Still becoming a mess when Citron appears in front of them, uh?" one of your usual clients, an old lady living not far, smiled sympathetically at your mother. A few other laughed agreeing with the comment.

"No man like that stays single for long, Y/N. Even I fell for his personality and looks after the first time I saw him" Ookami crossed his arms in serious thought.

You groaned frustrated "Could everyone stop talking as if I wasn't here, please?" you got comments like that every time Citron came. And he came by A LOT.

"We are just saying, honey" your mother cleaned her hands and put a hand on your shoulder "Citron-san is a wonderful man and you yourself are a lovely and reliable person. If you like him that much, you should try to ask him go somewhere together"

"Yeah, I'm sure he'd be delighted to go anywhere"

"Right, last time as he helped me carry the new furniture to my house he saw the Kokeshi Doll I bought in Kyoto for my grandchildren, and his eyes went wide"

“Ah, but Kyoto is too far, don’t you think?”

"Oh, that's right you went to visit your sister! How's she?"

Everyone finally seemed to leave the topic of your living crush behind, so you went on to prepare the orders of the new coming clients.

It was not as if you liked evolving into a tomato whenever you saw Citron. His gentle mannerisms and way of talking just marvelled you and you found too endearing whenever he misspoke a word and laughed at it rather than becoming frustrated. Before you knew it, every time you started talking with him you couldn’t even look directly at his eyes without making a fool of yourself.

Also, he was one of the most good-looking people you had seen.

.......................………………….

Next day, Citron arrived earlier than he usually did. He had a bunch of posters so it was most likely they had a new performance approaching and everyone at the theatre started publiciting again.

“This is beautibul Citron-san! Which turn is it, Summer troupe right?” your mother took one and posted on the walk of the store “Those kids are genuily adorable”

He nodded proudly “Yes, Sakyo asked me to come and prepare a few acts while I was delivering our publicity. Also because I failed lottery for choosing pairs I was hoping I could find a another one for today’s act” he looked at you, awaiting for what you thought was a confirmation from your part.

Oh?

Oh, no. You laughed looking around for some hole to hide in. He couldn't POSSIBLY be asking you. Even Ookami-san would do a better job.

“Please Y/N, I am in real need of imittance”

Just how did this person come up with such complex words?! “…you mean assistance?”

“Yes, that is correct!” he walked behind you and push you in the middle of the street “Don’t worry, I’m a professional. We’ll have a very good time!”

“Please Citron, I-“

“Oh my, what a wonderful vision has appeared in my sight! If it’s not the goddess of my dreams!" his loud voice caught many casual strollers, stopping to take a look at what was going to happen. You on the other hand, wanted to be able to turn invisible. You couldn’t talk normally to him on a good day. How could you make a good acting partner?

"A street act?"

"Seems like it. Wanna watch?"

"Ey, he's a member of the Mankai theatre! I saw their last performance; they are crazy good!"

You stood there in silence, still not knowing what to do. Suddenly, the foreigner took both of your hands and leaned closer. Great, now besides wanting to turn invisible, you also started wishing your hands stopped sweating so much.

"Since the first time we met, your self has run through my mind day and night, I can’t stop these feelings anymore!” he let go of your hands as he opened his arms, going on a monologue that you tried to follow, but ultimately failed. You saw from the corner of your eye your mom and everyone else invested in the performance.

“…and so, will you do me honour of accompanying me tonight to a tour over the river, to enjoy the gazing of the stars together?"

Everyone's faces turned to you, waiting in anticipation. What were you supposed to say? "I, ah… yes, I’ll go to the river with you"

“Thank you for granting this poor dreamer his wish. My eternal heart is to you” he kneeled and kissed the back of your hand.

A few seconds later, Citron got up and bowed. Not surprisingly, the crowd burst in applauses. There were some who were even whistling.

“That was amazing!”

“Oh god, how can someone be so charming!”

True to many comments, one of the few times when the foreigner seemed to concentrate better on using words was on his performances. Of course, this one hadn’t been an exception.

“Sweetie that was amazing!” your mother clapped her hands as she walked to you “Such a romantic act, Citron-san is a very good actor”

As some of the people from the district called you out trying to poke fun at you or just to say you did good, you looked at the other big gathering crowd were Citron was, at the moment, greeting and sharing posters. At one point, you both exchanged glanced, him winking at your direction. You blushed furiously. Just what had happened?

After the multitude left, you heard the young man calling for you. The thumping you had managed to calm down started racing at full speed “So, Miss Y/N” he pronounced your name tenderly “I assume I could meet as we said for a walk over the river tonight?”

What?

"U-uh? Wasn’t that the…? I mean, you usually- Uh?"

"Every act we actors perform hides some truth or desire in it" he winked at you again. You wished he didn't. It wasn't good for your heart "I was hoping we could make it true"

You stopped working. Feeling his grey eyes still on you, you remember an answer was supposed to happen so you tried to nod, knowing if you opened your mouth something wrong would come out of it.

Citron blinded you with the biggest smile you had seen him "Wonderful! I hope picking you would be alright, yes?" you nodded again, still not saying a word. He laughed taking your hand, similar at how he had done in the street act "Then, until tonight arrives, lovely lady"

You didn't know how your legs didn't gave up before you walked inside your house. One thing was certain thought.

You were sure you had been picked up by a prince in disguise.

_________________________________________________________

I had so much fun writing this Citron oneshot. I feel like he doesn’t really have filtrer or at least, he doesn’t feel like using it most of the time but well, it’s hilarious I guess it’s okay. He’s indeed a key character in Mankai.

Hope you guys liked it! Have a wonderful day!

#a3 #mankai a3!#act addict actors #a3 act #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! imagines #reader insert #citron #spring troupe #citron x reader #oneshot #a3 game

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imperfekti · 5 years

Text

Tenipuri Party: Tezuka Kunimitsu profile translation

TN:

In the absence of an official English version, this translation is intended to help those who can’t read the material in the original language. Please support Tenipuri by getting your own copy of this book - it is worth it! There are various ways of purchasing it even for those not living in or visiting Japan.

The pictures I have included in this post do not show full pages.

On the translation: this time I’m aiming for a more direct, “Japanese-sounding” translation to share the mood of the content more as it is. This will probably cause some sentences to appear weird in English.

On Tezuka’s style of speech: his word choices and sentence structures are mostly polite and serious.

I’m still working on Japanese, so there might be mistakes. Please let me know if you spot any translation errors so I can fix them here!

Tezuka Kunimitsu

U-17 German representative player Seishun Gakuen Middle-school player

Beyond the imagined future - the released challenger!!

Message

“For the support every day, I’m grateful. For the sake of becoming a professional, and for the sake of my tennis, I intend to earnestly keep confronting myself. I think you are the same. In the future as well, together. Let’s go without carelessness.”

Extra prize: A voucher for two at a high-class mountaintop hotel “An undeserved honor. I’m focusing on tennis right now, but… If I can make the time, I will gratefully use it. For two, huh…”

Profile

[DATA] Middle-school 3rd year / October 7th (Libra) / Blood type O / 179 cm / 58 → 61 kg / Left-handed

Special techniques: Drop shot, zero shiki drop shot, Muga no kyouchi, Hyakuren jitoku no kiwami, Saiki kanpatsu no kiwami, Tenimuhou no kiwami, Tezuka zone, Tezuka phantom, Zero shiki serve

Playstyle: All-rounder

Family: Grandfather, father, mother

Father’s occupation: company employee (business) (grandfather is a judo instructor for the police)

Hobbies: Mountain climbing, camping, fishing

Favourite saying: The enemy is within yourself

Favourite color: Green or blue

Favourite food: unacha (a dish with eel carefully broiled in soy-based sauce), Räucheraal (TN: smoked eel)

Favourite book: German-Japanese-German dictionary (to carry with him)

Favourite music: Classical (Beethoven)

Preferred type of person: Trying not to think about it at the moment.

Preferred date spot: Zugspitze

Most wanted item: A mountain model kit

Things he’s bad at/with: Being idle, colourful cakes

Elementary school: Seishun Dai Daiichi Elementary School

Committee: Student council president

Strong subjects: World history

Weak subjects: None

Often visited place in school: The library

Uses allowance on: Books

Skill outside tennis: Woodworking, preparing fish for cooking

Routine during tournament: Keeping a diary in German, watching foreign comedy-dramas.

Favourite anniversary: 23rd August

Preferred travel destination: Macchu Picchu ruins and Huayna Picchu

Present for a special person: Writing a letter of gratitude

Scenes

Injuries, seizing the nationals… Tezuka Kunimitsu overcame numerous challenges that waited for him and seized glory. But he is not a man who would be satisfied with that. From now on too, I want to pay attention to the steep path of him who moved over to Germany.

(Quotes on pictures:)

“I will not lose.”

“Saiki kanpatsu no kiwami!?”

“And then Seigaku’s era will begin once again!”

“Now, let’s go without carelessness.”

Indeed, it should perhaps be called a “Tezuka zone”.

“Hyakuren jitoku no kiwami!?”

This boy’s tennis is certainly Ten’imuhou no kiwami!?

“No matter who I will end up fighting… I will win!”

The German representatives’ strained atmosphere connects to rapid development (*1)

Tezuka-senshu (*2) becoming a German representative was a shock. Did you not have worries about this decision?

If I said no, it would be a lie. However, as to what is important for me as someone aiming to become a professional, I judged it to be fighting as a German representative and based my decision on that.

Specifically, the currently important thing for Tezuka-senshu is…?

Most of all, it is actual experience of fighting at a higher level. At the German training centre, I have the fortunate chance to rally with top pros like Volk-senshu. Even in practice, they are always making hypotheses as to which shot they should hit, what kind of a play they should make in any kind of match circumstances when they are standing on the court. Having put myself in such a strained atmosphere, I can truly feel my level of experience rising rapidly.

Any bewilderment at facing your former comrades…?

Whoever will become my opponent will not be a problem. But, at first, I thought I was feeling sorry. However, at the time of fighting Japan in the exhibition match, I came to realise my heart was throbbing about competing against them. But just fighting as sworn friends, it is not to elevate ourselves. Rather, by putting a net in-between and confronting each other, the light can come from a new angle and hasten growth - that is what I believe right now.

Then, what is Tezuka-senshu’s current objective or dream?

Upon seizing the world, to hold up the flag of Germany that showed in me, a foreigner. If the opponent for that match were to be Japan, there would not be higher joy.

In a well-ordered and non-negligent environment, pleasant days go on

Have you already grown accustomed to life in Germany?

Yes. Everything proceeds very systematically, so in that sense, it sometimes feels like it is actually even more pleasant than in Japan.

What things for example are like that?

Everyone is already gathered around 15 minutes before the set meeting time. The notion of ecology is growing, so most customers carry eco bags for their shopping, and the separation of waste is enforced thoroughly. Everything is done logically, and it’s an environment without negligence.

I see. It suits the serious Tezuka-senshu perfectly. Then, how do you spend your days off?

Touring antiquarian bookshops is currently my biggest enjoyment. From Goethe to Ende, I have been able to acquire several original texts that I couldn’t in Japan. Also, when time and money allow, I try to go to classical concerts.

What about the German language?

The German language too is a very systematic and logical language. There are very few exceptions, as long as one memorises the basic grammar and idioms, it is quite effective to use. Of course I still lack study, and there are many points where I lack experience, but words are not the only means of communication. Rather, sometimes it is facial expressions that speak more eloquently.

Facial expressions…?

Yes. Facial expressions.

Message for Tezuka Kunimitsu

As expected… should I say. Congratulations. (Inui)

YEEES! CONGRATULATIONS!! (Kawamura)

You should still be able to grow one rank higher. Put effort into your training. (Volk)

I will definitely not forget the thing that you taught me. Let’s meet on the court. (Fuji)

I’m glad you seem to be doing well in Germany too. Eat your meals properly! (Ooishi)

Tezuka-buchou-senpai, congratulations. We are protecting Seigaku. (Kaidou)

I’ll win one day, both in popularity and tennis! (Momoshiro)

You’re not planning on ending it at this? I’m waiting for the next opportunity to fight you. (Atobe)

Congratulatioons. But I’ll overcome you soon. (Echizen)

Are you doing well Tezuka? Send something tasty from Germany! (Kikumaru)

This guy is in 4th place!? Gimme a break! You can go higher than that! (Siegfried)

Party talk

Q: Who would you like to inform about this time’s rank and feelings? A: My family. My grandfather too is always supporting me.

Q: You are being served a lot of food. A: Ooishi. I’m grateful, but it’s already enough. I’m eating sufficiently… I tasted Japanese unacha for the first time in a while.

Q: You can also take part in an improvisation skit competition. A: … No, thank you. I was able to enjoy it quite a lot just by watching.

Q: You got excited with Bismarck-san, though... A: … I was merely unilaterally lectured about how to flirt with women.

Q: Who did you come to the venue with today? A: With the German representative senpai. In addition to training, we measured the time and ran to the venue.

Q: Oh? Is there something the matter with Echizen-kun? A: No. I just thought he seems to have gained experience and grown somewhat.

History

Age 0 October 7 Birth

Age 5 Makes a mistake in dance moves in a kindergarten’s play

Age 10 June Climbs Switzerland's Matterhorn with his father

Age 11 Summer Meets Yukimura and Sanada after the Jr. Tournament, has a match Goes fishing with grandfather, catches a sea bream

Age 12 March Graduates from Seishun Dai Daiichi Elementary School

April Enters Seishun Gakuen Middle School Is hit on the elbow with a racket by a senpai in the tennis club Is told to become "Seigaku's pillar of support" by Yamato

Age 13 November Displays a sketch of mountain grass in the culture festival

January Goes to the first shrine visit of New Year with the club’s 1st year members, makes a vow of conquering the nationals

April Becomes a 2nd year Becomes the vice captain of the tennis club

June Participates in a bread eating race in an athletic festivals, places second

September Gets lots of recommendation letters and becomes the student council president

Age 14 Declines the Jr. Senbatsu invitation Around autumn Has an uncomfortable feeling in his arm

October On the field trip (Taiwan), buys tea utensils for souvenirs

November At the Allied music festival (*3) , participates in the class chorus as a musical conductor

February For the first time in his life, forgets something

April Becomes a 3rd year Becomes the captain of the tennis club

May Wins Tokyo preliminaries championship Is mistaken for a teacher at Kawamura Sushi Has a match with Ryoma on courts underneath the railway

June Wins prefecturals championship Declines offer from the special overseas JFH program Goes to the drawings for the Kantou tournament

July Is invited to Hyoutei’s opera appreciation party as the student council president but declines Start of Kantou tournament In the first round against Hyoutei, loses to Atobe in S1 Goes to Kyuushuu for rehabilitation

July 27 Wins Kantou tournament championship

August 14 Drawing for the nationals, returns from Kyuushuu

August 17 Start of nationals Faces Higa in the 2nd round, wins against Kite in S1

August 19 Quarterfinals against Hyoutei, wins against Kabaji in S2 Semifinals against Shitenhouji, wins against the Chitose-Zaizen pair in D2 Yakiniku battle, is one of the last members remaining

August 23 Finals against Rikkai, loses to Sanada in S3 Wins nationals championship Goes to the victory celebration at Kawamura Sushi

Age 15 (*4) September Is invited to Rikkai’s ocean festival, makes guest participation in a play

October 12 Climbs Kitadake with father

November Participates in U-17 camp Wins against Kaidou in the “friendly fire” matches Learns about a fishing mobile game from Marui and Kirihara In the court shuffle between 3rd and 5th court, wins against Yamato Abandons the match against Fuji midway, departs for Germany Aiming to become professional, participates in the German representative team

December Participates in the U-17 Pre-World Cup drawings U-17 Pre-World Cup starts In Vs Japan, wins against Irie-Atobe pair in the second match U-17 World Cup starts Is drawn into a fight about food by Siegfried, eats Japanese food together Wins against South Africa and Canada

Plan

(Pictured: two documents of mountain climbing plans, including itinerary, packing list and map.)

“This is from when me and father climbed during consecutive holidays. When climbing mountains, let’s make plans properly and climb without carelessness.”

Fashion

It seems he didn’t bring much clothing with him from Japan. I will give you something next time. (Volk)

With Kunimitsu’s hair style, clothes from any country would suit him. (QP)

Wearing clothes you received just like that. That’s like you. (Fuji)

Whether the person in question is aware of it or not, wearing a waistcloth is quite stylish. (Kite)

“I am not a person who is particular about clothes, but only when it comes to shoes, I make it so that I can play tennis in them.”

Room

Bedroom of the room I’m staying in in Germany There’s only bare minimums like the bed and desk that were part of the furnishings. But I’m thankful that letters and daily necessities have been delivered from Japan. Overall, I like the things made from wood and seeing the townscape from the window.

TN:

*1 張り詰めた, haritsumeta. Strained, stretched, tense. Not strained in the sense of anxious or having problems. It seems more like everyone is ambitious and focused.

*2 選手, senshu: player, athlete. I chose to leave this as it is since the interviewer uses it all the time as an honorific, and couldn’t figure out a natural expression in English.

*3 連合音楽会, rengou ongaku kai. This seems to be some kind of an annual music event that at least schools participate into.

*4 It seems like a mistake that age 15 is placed at September, not October.

#my translation #tezuka kunimitsu #prince of tennis #new prince of tennis #seigaku #fuji shuusuke #otp #my captain

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dont-offend-the-bees · 5 years

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I haven't watched drag race for a few seasons cuz tbh it was getting on my nerves, since it's been falling more and more into a trend of putting glamour and 'fishiness' above any other core characteristics of drag and basically turning it into the shallowest, most misogynistic and trans-exclusionary form of the art it can.

That being said, I gave the first episode of drag race UK a go, and quite liked it. Messy thoughts and caveats below the cut.

Possibly because it's England, and BBC3 in particular, the queens are allowed to be playfully crude in a more earnestly fun way, and a lot of them seem like nutters in a very entertaining sense. They've also talked, briefly and in a no-doubt very edited down way, about the broadness of UK drag in terms of gender bending, being able to have chest hair/natural eyebrows etc., about it not being exclusively the property of cis gay men (Scaredy Kat is bisexual and has a bio queen girlfriend)- all of which I think *is* true of certain American drag as well but definitely not the version that's been popularised by the rise of drag race as like, the general public's biggest exposure to the phenomenon. Honestly, I could talk for hours about the double edged sword of drag race bringing drag into popularity and in many ways inspiring new queens and 'legitimatising' old queens, but simultaneously selling its own artificially pared down and packaged form of drag and making it harder and harder for queens who haven't competed on the show and don't conform to that image to get work, but that would basically be an essay it itself so I'll leave it at that. I will say that the uk version, at the moment, feels a lot more like *drag* to me, it's campy, it's fun, it's laughably low budget which is kind of nice as I think the lower stakes might actually allow some camaraderie to form amongst the queens, and it feels more authentic than the original show has felt in years.

That being said, it would be *so much better* if ru himself just fucked off already and let someone who A) knows shit about drag beyond his own cissexist glamour drag and B) knows shit about England run this show. honestly, watching him fumble over the jokes would have been pretty hilarious if it wasn't so... p a i n f u l. *who the hell doesn't get 'you're only supposed to blow the bloody doors off'??!!!???!* i never thought in my life i'd say 'thank god for alan carr' but seriously, thank god for alan carr on that judging panel explaining things for that uncultured swine. also for andrew garfield; i have mixed feelings about him, as a self-identified straight man, adopting ru's brand of gay culture so thoroughly, every time he's talked about it it's weirdly felt like some sort of misinformed cultural appropriation. but, as a judge he was bright, enthusiastic, and gave good and insightful feedback and felt very warm and nurturing, honestly he was a delight and i kinda wish he would stay the whole season. honestly, he should boot ru out of the centre chair and take over. he may not be gay himself but he damn sure knows the show like the back of his hand by now, and definitely understands the humour of this new cast better than ru ever will.

#AnGar'sDragRace

#mr. bees speaks #i'm not putting this in the tag #and i am not accepting drama at this time #it's just 6am and i'm thinkin bout drag #yknow #like you do

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fleurdeliszt · 5 years

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SO this is all @abunnycotton 's fault. She wanted a yandere Junmyeon so here's a yandere kjm. BUT this is also written in such a way that it could be any idol really there's no mention of names anywhere. So u can put whomever u like into this scenario lol

There is quiet calm enveloping him as he rhythmically taps his fingers against the table. His mind has always been chaotic, and the monotony of routine often helps quell his more unsavory thoughts. His eyes are closed and he goes through the song in his mind one more time.

Someone calls his name, loud and harsh, interrupting his solitude and anger flashes through his mind like lightning. He smiles reflexively, eyes still closed.

His name is repeated and he opens his eyes, anger carefully contained in a mask of friendliness.

“Is someone looking for me?” He enquires, and his fellow trainee grins at him, toothy and boyish.

“Do I need a reason to look for you, hyung? I missed you at practice so I searched for you.”

There isn't a reason to feel satisfied about these words, but he has never been good at controlling his emotions. “Ah did you need to sneak out?” He questions, and the other boy's grin turns sheepish. “Hyung--” he whines, “Just this one time.”

His smile turns indulgent and he lets his fingers ruffle lightly over the younger boy's hair, “Be on time for practice.”

The boy shoots his another blinding grin and rushes off excitedly.

It's useful having these kinds of leverage over the kids. It's useful in a lot of ways especially when he might become the leader of the new boy group that's going to debut soon.

He bites his lip as he thinks about the blood, sweat and tears that he has shed for reaching this point, and how difficult it was to control himself at times, times where he almost snapped but reigned it all in because of the bigger picture.

He walks out of the room and into the hallway, thoughts buried deep in the maelstrom of his own thoughts.

There were certain members he had his eye on, who were his in a way, they needed to debut with him - he was extremely possessive of what was his. If all went according to calculations it wouldn't be long before they were all upto mark. If the company did insist on debuting people he didn't like, well then, no one could say accidents didn't happen.

It would be tragic, but it was a small price to pay-

“Oh!! I'm so sorry!”

The high pitched female voice should have irritated him, the unnecessary contact even more so. Yet not for the first time, his mind quietened, all thoughts coming to an abrupt halt as it always did when he heard your voice.

“It's fine,” he smiles at you, giving you a hand to lift you from where you were sprawled on the floor, tears forming in the corner of your eyes.

“I'm really sorry,” your voice is wobbly with tears, and he takes a minute to savor the beauty of it. “I wasn't watching where I was going.”

“Is there something wrong?” The concern in his voice is real as he pulls you up to your feet. You were a female trainee in the company, nothing special, no vocal talent to speak of and your dance skills could rival a toddler's, not slated for debut any time soon, one of the many extras of the large company, just another pretty face and yet -

And yet, he reaches out to brush away your tears fighting the urge to kiss them away.

“Monthly evaluations were today,” you say in a small voice. He makes a small ‘oh’ of understanding as you lower your head miserably.

“How much did you get?” He asks gently, leading you away from the hallway and into the canteen. It's not out of character for him to console a crying trainee, yet it is out of character for him to genuinely care.

“C in vocals and C in Dancing,” you whisper, another fresh wave of tears sparkling down your cheeks.

“You have improved,” he notes, only for your crying to get louder. He absently notes that you look absolutely gorgeous while crying, wondering what it was that made your look of helplessness that made him feel this way.

“I'll never debut,” you tell him hiccuping, wiping your hand harshly over your face, “I'm planning to leave.”

At this, he straightens. “You can't.” His voice is sharp and cutting and perhaps you sense the danger in his tone because you blink at him blearily. “What?” You ask, “Why not?”

He realizes his mistake and quickly smiles, his expression turning warm and comforting and you instantly relax. “You deserve to debut,” he says as earnestly he can even as his mind is furiously racing to think of ways to keep you from leaving his side, “You're an amazing person. You should know that you're training to be an idol, not a singer or a dancer. They're very different things.”

Perhaps his words mollify you, because you give him a watery smile. “Thank you. You're the nicest friend a person can have.”

“It wasn't anything,” he smiles, and for a second he isn't thinking of anything at all, not of the future and not of his schemes and his heart beats a little faster in his chest. Maybe you're not special to the company, or the throngs of fans who stand day and night outside the company to catch a glimpse of the new trainees and their idols, but you are special to him -- and that, is all that matters.

#wtf do i tag this as #exo writing #i guess?#exo fics #maybe IDK IM GIVING UP

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karlilarki · 6 years

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A Little Something, Part 24

**Images above are NOT mine, I do not claim them in any way**

Word Count: 1,393

Avengers AU where it’s present-day, reader is main character and most characters are in their early to mid twenties.

A/N: Ch 23 and 24 are a bit boring but necessary for the plot, stick with me here :D

Warnings: Angst, Swearing

Part 23 | Masterlist

Tuesday:

“What would you have me do?” Bucky asked his friend.

“Well, do you regret it all?” Steve replied.

“I miss our friendship,” Bucky sighed.

“That’s not what I asked,” Steve looked at his friend earnestly, stopping them both mid-stride with a hand on the brunet’s shoulder.

“I regret losing her, Steve. She’s been a part of my life my entire life, and now she’s just gone?”

“Still not what I asked. Do you regret taking your relationship to the next level? Do you regret the connection?”

Bucky ran his hand through his now-shaggy hair. Up until now he’d always kept it short and clean-cut, but lately he couldn’t find the energy to care. Did he regret sleeping with (y/n)? How could he possibly say yes to that? All he regretted was her absence.

“That’s what I thought,” Steve stated matter-of-factly, breaking the silence, “So to answer your question, Buck, I would have you do the only thing you can to save the three of us and our fuckin’ sanity, man.”

Buck smirked, “Your sanity, too, huh?”

Steve was relieved to see even half a smile grace his friend’s features, “Yeah, jerk, I’m suffering just as much as you two idiots.”

“Ok, punk. What is ‘the only thing’ I can do?” Bucky raised his hands to give air-quotes around Steve’s earlier statement.

“Fucking grovel, dude.”

--------------------------

Wednesday:

“You are leaving, so soon?” the petite woman questioned her twin brother.

Pietro nodded, “You know this is the life I signed up for.”

Wanda nodded back, “Will you see (y/n) before you go?”

Pietro scoffed, “She hasn’t spoken to me for weeks, Wanda. What makes you think she will suddenly grace me with her presence?”

Wanda scowled at the bitterness in his tone. She hated to see her brother so full of anger, but she understood his perspective and knew there was no changing it. Not on her end, anyhow. Only (y/n) or Pietro himself could change his attitude at this point. Maybe it was for the best that he was being called back on assignment with his team in the military. Maybe he could get his mind off of (y/n) for the time being, and maybe (y/n) could recognize what an idiot she was being and stop pulling away from her friends. She had been M.I.A. as of late, only briefly texting Nat and Wanda every now and then, while she completely ignored everyone else.

“Even you agree, sister. It is a pointless venture.”

“No, brother. I worry about you, but I think perhaps (y/n) could be persuaded to pull her head out of her ass and at least give you a proper farewell, as she always has. We can stay up and binge-watch something on Netflix while we eat all the junk food we can find.”

“I don’t leave until Monday…” Pietro considered his sister’s words. Would (y/n) come over to say goodbye, as she used to?

“I’ll talk to her, Pietro.”

--------------------------

Thursday:

Hey- have you tt (y/n)?

Nat checked her phone discreetly at her desk, not wanting to be seen texting at work. She quickly answered Wanda, no.

We should go check on her- pietro is leaving monday & (y/n) won’t txt me back

Natasha checked her surroundings to confirm no on was nearby before answering, i’m swamped at work but I’ll txt her really fast and get back to you.

Thnx love :-*

Nat checked around her once more before she sent a quick text to (y/n), hey txt me back asap, need to tt u

She pocketed her phone, hoping against hope that (y/n) would stop being an idiot and just answer one of them.

--------------------------

Friday:

I finished my last edit for the day and clocked out at 4:23, a bit early for the day but hey- my work was done and it was finally Friday. I needed a break after working ten-hour shifts all week and was confident Mrs. Stein wouldn’t care. I made my way to my car, fishing my keys out of my purse as I walked.

“(Y/N),” despite the softness of the smooth male voice, my name still rang out through the nearly-empty parking garage, startling me. I dropped the keys I had just located and swore under my breath as I looked up. Steve was leaning against his bike, parked directly behind my car.

“Steve?” I asked, confusion painting my voice as I bent to pick up my keys, “What are you doing here?”

“Well, you see, you don’t really answer your phone anymore…”

“Anymore? Steve, it’s been like a week…”

“Try three, (y/n/n),” he answered, effectively cutting me off.

“Oh,” I was at a loss for words. I knew it had been longer than a week since the New Year’s Eve party, but three? I started to mentally calculate today’s date and let me mouth drop in shock a bit as I realized he was right.

His lips twitched as if holding back a smirk. He unfolded his arms and pushed way from his bike before closing the distance between us. Before I knew it, he was embracing me, his warmth engulfing me. I stood still in shock, not returning the embrace but not pushing away from it either. My mind was racing. How I missed him, the comfort of our friendship, and the ease we had around one another. But hadn’t he effectively lied to me? He and Bucky had been treating me like a porcelain doll below the surface of our supposed friendships. Anger boiled to the surface as I remembered his words, “What, like Eric did?”

I pushed away then, putting distance between us as I circled him and made my way to my car. Tears began to pool at the corners of my eyes but I blinked them back furiously, my back turned to Steve. I would not let him see me break, I refused to be the weak and needy child any longer.

“What do you need, Steve?” I asked once I had composure. I opened my car door and tossed my pursed into the passenger seat before turning back to see his face. He wore a guarded mask and I briefly wondered what expression I would have seen had I not had my back to him moments ago.

“I just…” He trailed off, at a loss for words. His hands came up helplessly and he looked around before sighing and continuing, “Look, (y/n), I know I was a dick. I’m sorry. Honestly sorry, more-than-you-could-know sorry. I miss you. I need you to forgive me, to let me make this right.”

I sized him up, wondering if I was going crazy. Was I overreacting? Was it the pain from Eric’s loss that drove me to my anger at Steve’s words? Was I afraid he was right, that he had hit the bullseye with his observations and that I was weak? Is that why it made me so crazy? It was my turn to sigh as I closed my eyes and shook my head. I could hear Steve take a hesitant step toward me and opened my eyes, meeting his gaze.

“Steve, I…” I hesitated, searching for the right words before continuing, “Thank you. For the apology. But it’s not something I can just forget, you know? I’m not sweeping it under the rug and pretending everything is ok. I need to get going now. If I promise to answer your damn texts, will you move your bike?”

Steve’s sorrowful face lit up at my last sentence and he even chuckled a bit, “Yeah, doll. I’ll move my bike. But, only if you promise.”

“Ok Stevie, I promise I’ll answer your damn texts. I just, I need more time, ok?”

“Whatever you need, you got it,” he gave a mock salute before climbing onto his bike and strapping on his helmet. He was gone within moments and the small amount of happiness that had ebbed its way into my heart suddenly flowed out, leaving me empty and hollow once more.

With the parking garage now void of any other people, I slowly climbed into the driver seat. The drive home was depressing, as I repeated Steve’s apology and my promise to him over and over in my head. I was grateful when I could finally get the hell out of traffic and shut my car off once more.

Part 25 | Masterlist

@marvelandwinchesters927

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes au #Avengers #avengers fanfic #avengers au #avengers fandom #mcu au #mcu #fanfic #reader pov #reader insert #bucky x reader #Steve Rogers #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #pietro maximoff #marvel fanfiction

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usesforviennasausage · 4 years

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Bunny reviews: Stardew Valley

***WARNING: STARDEW VALLEY SPOILERS AHEAD***

I started playing Stardew Valley one rainy Sunday last October. Outside my apartment it was stormy and bleak, the last dregs of summer disappearing in the cold. In the opening storyline of the game, I watched my character, a little 8-bit cartoon in overalls and pigtails, at her grandfather’s deathbed. “There will come a day when you feel crushed by the burden of modern life,” he says. “And your bright spirit will fade below a growing emptiness.” Oh no, I thought, feeling punched in the throat. My grandmother, who I shared a bunk bed with for almost a decade of my life, had just died in Shanghai; I’d seen her emaciated body in the hospital only a few weeks before. And I’d felt crushed by the burden of modern life literally every day since moving to New York. I felt stupidly, wildly seen.

In the game, my dying grandpa gave me an envelope with a deed to a plot of land in a village far away. My character quit her desk job at a soul-sucking corporation, boarded a bus, and moved to the village. And so began my new life.

It’s hard to describe the appeal of Stardew Valley without sounding like you’ve fallen into a cult of delusion. You plant potatoes and harvest them; you tend to your chickens and cows. You learn real-life pasturing techniques to manage your farm! You fall in love with the village artist, Leah, a redheaded sculptor whose favorite food is Vegetable Medley; then, you change your mind and begin to pursue Sebastian, a moody, sensitive programmer. “I just don’t want to be part of the corporate rat race, you know?” he says. You swoon. You follow him around and give him sashimi out of your pocket twice a week. You have your first kiss under the full moon overlooking the city from which you both escaped, after he sweeps you away on his motorcycle. Suddenly, you realize you can make the whole village fall in love with you. You go ham.

For the first 80 or 90 hours I played this game, I did not rely on guides online to help me optimize my gameplay. As such, my farm organization was a disaster and nobody liked me. (I gave Leah an Ice Cream I bought and actually felt hurt when she said she hated it.) My friend who had already had his Stardew Valley phase asked to see my farm, and I watched his eager expression freeze as I proudly showed him my hideous farm overgrown with weeds and stray rocks, all my collected items shoved into a few identical wooden chests clustered around my cabin.

“I prefer the organic process of figuring things out,” I told him defiantly. “I’m following a Japanese farming philosophy of allowing land to return to its natural state.”

He nodded, barely concealing bewilderment. Then, bored at my own desk job one day, I watched one YouTube video titled “Stardew Valley BEST Farm Layout” and felt a gnawing shame at my ugly, shabby farm as I realized what I could have been doing with my past 90 hours instead.

I started opting out of full-screen mode, so I could play the game with 20 tabs open on stardewvalleywiki dot com. “where is sebastian tuesday winter,” I googled. “stardew valley willy love egg?” I started giving villagers only gifts they loved; I spent weeks doing manual labor -- chopping down trees, hoeing land, building fences, buying lamps -- to redesign my farm. I felt a swell of pride when I grew my first giant pumpkin. And then, I learned every villager’s backstory and started liking even the most annoying ones -- I pelted Shane with Pepper Poppers until he started to open up to me, and I realized he was an asshole because he was clinically depressed. I stopped giving Pam beer because her alcoholism made her daughter Penny unhappy.

“It’s like you really become part of the community,” I told another friend earnestly, trying to explain my addiction to the Stardew Valley universe. He laughed, then stopped when he saw that I was only half-joking.

From the back cover of one of our Moomin books - “I only want to live, plant potatoes, and dream” - lately Cissy and I have been saying it back and forth to one another with increasing insistence. The society we live in, the life to which we’ve grown desensitized, has been utterly ravaged by late capitalism. Every day in New York, in Midtown, I walk by homeless people shivering in blankets, plastic cups with just a few coins in front of them, businessmen wearing suits and Airpods briskly sidestepping them without ever looking down, surrounded by gleaming skyscrapers full of vacant luxury housing units never meant to house anyone. It’s revolting. It makes me feel physically ill when I think about it for too long. It’s also completely normalized. Every day I feel an existential scarcity from my unwilling participation in the wreckage of our society.

Stardew Valley opens a portal into a different kind of world. My friends and I are always talking about the ideas behind the gameplay -- what if we pooled money, bought a house somewhere far away? What if we created our own community? What if we rejected the structures under late-capitalist city living intended to keep us away from the things that bring meaning to our lives -- love, beauty, art, dreams. In Stardew Valley, you live out a concrete vision of this alternative.

Googling “stardew valley depressed” yields these results:

There was a two-week period in the fall when Cissy was out of town, and I let days wash by me in bleary four- or five-hour stretches of watering crops, fishing, making friends with villagers. “what’re u doing,” she would text me. “just had dinner! going to the gym now,” I would text back from my bed, a boppy tune called “Spring (Wild Horseradish Jam)” ringing in my ears, before starting a new day in the game.

In year three of the game, your character’s grandfather briefly comes back as a ghost. “You’ve done a good job with the place,” he tells you. You feel, genuinely, a warm glow, as you survey all the work you’ve done on your land and all the villagers you’ve grown to love. I, unbelievably, thought of my own grandmother.

My greatest regret was not getting into it at a time like right now, when I can literally spend all of my time doing nothing at home without feeling like a loser. Not that I ever felt like a loser when I was playing it. I felt like an integral part of another community, and a champion farmer.

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baepsaetan · 7 years

Text

A Bad Hand (Namjoon)

Summary: It’s not every day that looking similar to a potential kidnapping victim ends so poorly for you. Then again, it’s not every day you’re kidnapped by a gang called Bangtan.

Genre: A/U, action, fluff and smut to-be

Warnings: Swearing, some violence, darker themes

Length: 9.4k words

A/N: See end of fic

Hot and frantic, your harsh breath warms the burlap material that rests against your face, and with the bag obscuring your sight you have no idea where you’re being taken. The hands that guide you on either side aren’t cruel, but whenever you hesitate or try to pull away they tighten with a strength you can’t hope to break. Your hand is still throbbing from punching one of them before they managed to get the bag over your head, the material around your wrists, but panic is a far more overwhelming force than pain at the moment. What the hell is going on? You’re being kidnapped – that would have been obvious even without a strangely lighthearted voice exclaiming, “Don’t worry, we’re just kidnapping you!” at the start of this all – but you have no idea why. You’re not wealthy, or influential, or well known, or –

“Watch your step.”

Instinctively you slow down, and an impatient snort accompanies you being bodily lifted, presumably up a short set of stairs. You can’t help the gasp that catches in your throat, but you’re honestly not surprised they can heft you like a sack of grain. Both of your kidnappers are taller than you, and though between swinging a fist and trying to kick the other guy you hadn’t gotten a great look at them, they certainly weren’t scrawny. Shockingly young, and a bit bumbling, but not scrawny.

The aimless thoughts chase each other around your head, and you let them because you’re too afraid to think of anything else. The terror swarms in your chest, just a centimeter below hysteria, and you don’t want to consider anything that will cause a meltdown. You don’t want to think about why they might have grabbed you, shoved you unceremoniously into a vehicle as you walked home from work. You don’t want to think about your cat, waiting at home for her dinner, or your parents, who were supposed to visit you on Tuesday. With the weekend looming, you probably won’t be missed until at least Monday when you don’t show up at work. You don’t want to think about any of that. You just want it to stop.

“Ow, shit!” The exclamation is almost as satisfying as your foot connecting with someone’s shin, but your frantic kick doesn’t do much; your kidnappers stop, but they don’t let go. Your desperate squirming just makes them tighten their grip, fingers digging into your shoulders, and the hysteria rises like an ominous tidal wave on the horizon. Fluttering, laboring, your heart is struggling so much that you force yourself to stop twisting against the hands that hold you, to stop futilely jerking at the tape tying your wrists together. The bag crowds your mouth as you gasp, taking shallow, rapid breaths as you attempt to calm down before you have a heart attack, and the fingers pressing into your skin loosen slightly.

“Is she going to be alright?” That the oddly bright voice, coming from your left.

“Hell V, she punches you and nearly breaks my ankle, and you’re wondering if she’s okay?” That voice is… not deeper, but rougher. Almost harsh. Without any doubt, you know which one you’re more afraid of.

“Well… I wouldn’t want to be kidnapped. It seems a bit unfair, since she’s not even a part of this…”

Another unimpressed snort is the only response, and when you find yourself pulled into motion again you go meekly, still alarmed by the weak feeling of your heart. The words have set your mind racing, but more analytically this time. Not even a part of it? What did that mean? Hours spent watching crime dramas on your worn but comfortable couch hover in your head, making ridiculous speculations. What if you’re unknowingly related to someone in a gang? Or you saw something you shouldn’t have and didn’t realize it? What if you know some vital information these thugs are determined to get from you? What if…

It turns out “what if” is an exceptionally good game to play if you want to pass the time and/or drive yourself crazy. By the time the two boys jerk you to a halt some minutes later, you feel numb – literally so, in the case of your tingling fingers. The tape has started to cut off your circulation. You haven’t been paying much attention ever since they hustled you out of the car, but now you realize you can hear things beyond the rumble of distant traffic. Voices – low, quiet, like they’re coming from other rooms in the same building – and an electric hum that you can’t quite place.

“Go find him, alright? I’ll look after her.”

One hand leaves your shoulder – the one belonging to the harsher voice, you think – and you find the other gently pushing you down. Cautiously you bend your knees, expecting to fall over, but with some support you settle into a stiff-backed chair. It occurs to you that now would be a good time to try to escape, with one of your kidnappers gone, but your courage isn’t up to the challenge and besides, those voices seem ominous, not hopeful. If you had to guess – and, still blindfolded, you kind of do – you’d say they’ve brought you to some kind of base. Chances of getting out? Zero to none.

Your mom is always saying you’re too pessimistic. Maybe she’s right.

Doesn’t mean you’re going to try another physical attempt, though. Something else, though…

Your throat is so dry it’s hard to slip any words out. Screaming hadn’t worked before, and they’d ignored your questions, but maybe with the other guy gone… “Please,” you can barely hear your own voice, and try again. “Please. I don’t – who are you? Why are doing this?” You’d like to lie and say each syllable doesn’t shake like a thin branch in the wind, but you’ve never been much of a liar. You’re just so scared. “Please…”

At first, silence is your only answer, and you can’t help the little, tearful gasp that makes it out before you bite your lip. The tears press at the corner of your eyes, but you swallow hard, breathing in broken fragments to keep the pressure from spilling over. Your heart flutters like a broken bird, weakly beating against your chest, and you’ve resigned yourself to silence. Except then you feel hands, deft and light, prying the tape away from your wrists, and as soon as you’re free you bring them in front of you, rubbing at your fingers, mouth a silent circle of pain as pins and needles overtake the deadened area. Tears threaten harder now, simple relief becoming overwhelming in the face of so much fear, and it only gets harder to keep back when you find the boy – V? – pulling the bag away from your head.

And suddenly you can see again. The light slices at your watery eyes, making you duck your chin to your chest, an almost-flinch, and instantly you find that voice reassuringly issuing out. “No, no, it’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you, okay? It’s not about you, so…”

You look up, the tangle of hair that’s fallen across your face obscuring your view somewhat, and the boy falls silent, staring at you with a slightly open mouth. Something tells you that’s more a constant state of being for him, nothing to do with you, but his staring is instantly uncomfortable and you look away, breathing through your nose. His words knead at the hardened fear in your heart, insisting that it soften, but even unbound and unblindfolded, you can’t seem to make yourself calm down. You’ve always had heart problems – that’s why sports were out, despite how you enjoyed exercising – and it feels like your chest has chosen this moment to file every complaint its ever had against you.

Needing a distraction, you look around. The room you’re in is bare but clean. There’s not much in it beyond the chair you’re seated on, a plain dresser and a small bed with blue covers to the left. A door’s ajar on the opposite side of the room, and you’re pretty sure it leads to a bathroom. There are no paintings or personal touches or windows. All in all, not the warmest room, or one to inspire much comfort, and you shift, glancing at the person you’re currently sharing the room with from the corner of your eye. With shaggy brown hair, dressed in a baggy red sweater and jeans, he looks like any kid you might spot in your slightly run-down neighborhood. A little intimidating at midnight in a dark alley, but otherwise…

He smiles – a boxy, childlike expression – and says, “Namjoon-hyung wanted you to be comfortable, but we didn’t have much laying around. I think we’ll try to get more stuff later. I’m Taehyung, by the way.” The last is tacked on like this is your first meeting at some extracurricular club and he’s the club president, determined to make you comfortable.

You blink, look away, hands clasped tightly in your lap. The other boy had sounded scary, but this one – Taehyung – is unnerving in his own way. He sounds too upbeat to be talking to a kidnapping victim, too casual, and yet it doesn’t escape your notice that he’s placed himself close to the door, and his eyes don’t really leave you. Maybe this would be the best time to run, with the door open and only one person left – you’re kind of agile – but you’re shaking so badly it feels like any attempt to stand, let alone run, will end in you falling on your butt. Humiliating and also pointless, so you stay seated and try your other approach.

“I… I think you’re – that there’s been a mistake. I -” What can you say? ‘I can’t be kidnapped’ seems a little bit heavy-handed. Your hands twist convulsively in your lap, and they tighten to white-knuckled definition when Taehyung laughs, a deep, rolling sound.

“Ah, I don’t think so.” He looks at you earnestly, smile almost winsome, like he wants to apologize for disagreeing. “We have your picture and everything, and the boss said you’d be where we found you. No, we didn’t make a mistake. It’s you Jungkookie and I were supposed to pick up, Amelia.”

Your heart does a strange flip-flop, a leap and a stagger, and it feels like you’ve been punched in the stomach even as the tight know of anxiety somewhere behind your ribs loosens. “Oh,” you say, breathless with relief, and then louder, “Oh. But I’m not-”

His raised hand stops you, and his head tilts, foxlike, some of the cuteness fading from his demeanor and making him seem… sharper. Seconds later you become aware of footsteps in the hallway outside accompanied by the low murmur of voices. Like some necromantic corpse, the anxiety shuffles to life all over again as two men round the corner into the room. Well, you say two men, but in reality, one looks about as young as Taehyung, with darker brown hair and a stoic expression that doesn’t survive the blush that creeps up his neck when he notices you watching him. The white t-shirt and black sweats he’s clothed in are just short of sloppy, but present situation aside, you’re pretty sure the guy could wear a garbage bag and still look good. He tosses his head, abruptly impatient, and glances at his silent companion.

Who is staring at you very, very hard.

It’s your turn to blush, hot and scared, and eventually you look down. There’s no doubt in your mind that this is Namjoon, the boss. The sleek purple of his hair, nestled underneath a black cap, might have taken you aback, but the casual confidence, the intelligent furrow of his eyebrows as he examines you, it all screams of someone used to being in control. Besides, Taehyung and the other boy give way to him, crowding aside in the small room to give him space, their silence the expectation of children being graded on a class project.

You’re not entirely sure, gaze fixed on a small chip in the concrete at your feet, but you think he’s still staring.

“What is it, hyung?” The honorific is said more like a challenge than a gesture of respect, the unnamed boy’s voice just a little edgy, and you risk a quick glance up in time to see the oldest of them pulling a contemplative finger over his lip, seemingly unfazed by the tone. Eventually he speaks.

“This isn’t Amelia.” His voice is soft, calm, but there’s a note of finality in it that has your mouth closing over the outraged ‘of course I’m not!’ building in your throat. Still with that controlled demeanor, he reaches into the back pocket of his ripped and too large jeans and pulls out a wallet. From the wallet, he takes a small picture and gestures to the two other males, including you coincidentally. You can’t help but stare. The girl he’s showing… she does look like you. A lot like you. Her hair is longer, and might be a bit darker. You’ve never looked that flatly at a camera in your entire life and she carries herself differently, shoulders squared, arms not crossed over her chest. But the similarity in the face, the eyes… Well, still, it’s not you.

It’s almost satisfying to see the two boys react, given their part in grabbing you. They look at each other, and the one in white – Jungkookie? – shakes his head, a quick, sharp denial that doesn’t last when Namjoon raises an eyebrow at him, tucking the photo away. Taehyung stares at you like he’s imploring you to become Amelia, and Jungkookie glares like he’s accusing you of switching out with her when he wasn’t looking. It’s a vindictive kind of spite that propels you to meet their confused eyes, set in abruptly pale faces, and shrug helplessly. You wish you could say something – like a forceful ‘duh!’ – but, initial relief aside, you’re not entirely sure how safe not being their target is.

They’ll probably return you straight home… or they’ll dump your lifeless body in the river… or something worse… While his face doesn’t seem cruel – can anyone be truly evil with dimples like that? – there’s a calculating coolness in Namjoon’s unnerving blue eyes when you get the courage to meet them, something that warns you’re not out of the danger zone just yet.

Wiping sweating palms on your clothes, you break the silence. “I – I’m really not her. Amelia. She’s – I don’t even know who that is. I couldn’t tell her about -” About this. About you sketchy as hell individuals with your sketchy as hell base and sketchy as hell plans. “I couldn’t tell her anything,” you finish weakly, and wonder suddenly if you should be making plans to tell her, whoever she is.

If you have the chance. If they don’t just kill you. If if if if. Far too many ifs are dancing around the horribly empty space that’s supposed to be holding your brain.

Namjoon examines you a moment more before he transfers his gaze to the other two boys, who abruptly seem smaller in front of the taller male. “Did you cover her eyes the entire way? Make sure to travel here via an indirect route?” Though his voice doesn’t rise, there’s a snap to it that indicates he isn’t exactly thrilled at this development.

Jungkookie’s chin rises, but it’s Tae who answers, once again all earnest goodwill. You have a sneaking suspicion he’s very good at turning on the puppy switch whenever he messes up. “Yes hyung, she didn’t see anything. Doesn’t know where we are right now.”

Again the tall, intimidating man runs his fingers over his lips, silent and contemplative, and then his shoulders shift just slightly. You can feel yourself beginning to relax even as he answers Taehyung. “Good. Then blindfold her again, and take her out.” He turns to you, and there’s something softer, almost amused in the slight quirk of his mouth. “Miss, my apologies. Truly one wonders how such things can occur despite very explicit instructions being given. I hope we haven’t inconvenienced you too greatly.”

You don’t smile. The sudden mass of solemnly formal words is starkly out of place in the dingy room, and besides, you’re still not entirely sure your heart isn’t going to abruptly give out after all of this. Ducking your head, you bite your lip and just nod, and he makes a quiet sound – it’s hard to tell if it’s a sigh or a muffled laugh. Without saying anything, he waves, almost brusquely, and Taehyung jumps forward while Jungkookie follows slowly after. After a moment of hesitation, your jaw tightening in a thin line of tension, you offer up your wrists to be bound by the tape Tae’s produced from the baggy depths of his hoodie.

“Don’t worry,” the boy says in a low, conspiratorial whisper, “I won’t put it on too tightly.”

Your lips twitch into a weak smile, and your reply is also quiet. “Thank you… Taehyung.”

There’s a sudden thud and you flinch, eyes darting to Namjoon. He’s bent over, hastily picking up the wallet he must have dropped, and when he straightens some of the calm has leeched from his expression. You're not entirely sure if he's embarrassed - there's a faint pinkish tinge that creeps across his neck, peaking up from the collar of his shirt, but that could be from rage or something else entirely. Your head drops again but you can't yank your gaze away as he straightens and strides towards Taehyung, grabs him by the arm. "You told her?" he says over the boy’s startled yelp, and you start to think that the red is definitely from anger and not embarrassment. "You told her your name?"

Taehyung makes no attempt to move away, but for some reason his puppy dog face has melted away, leaving something leaner and warier but confused. "I... yeah, I did," he replies quietly, and when you look at Jungkookie he seems equally confused and just a bit concerned. Even that small emotion from the stoic boy is enough to make your stomach tighten, and when Namjoon's hand flies up you flinch, expecting the smack of flesh on flesh. You're wrong - the leader doesn't hit Taehyung but only pinches the bridge of his own nose, fiercely rubbing it like he needs the movement to contain himself.

"Can you imagine," Namjoon drawls softly, disbelievingly, "why that might not have been the best idea?" After a moment, the healthy colour in Taehyung's face drains, leaving him even less childish, and he looks away from Namjoon as understanding begins to settle on your lungs like a lead weight.

It hadn't really occurred to you that Taehyung might be his real name, and it hadn't occurred to you to think of it much at all, really. But if you did decide to go to the police - if you did spill everything - a real name would probably be very, very helpful in identifying the kidnappers. Even just a first name, especially belonging to someone involved in a gang, could be used to locate suspects. Once again sweat breaks out across your forehead, sliding slick and hot against your palms, and you curse yourself for saying anything at all. Why thank him, anyways? For not being an utter asshole while tying you up? It was an ingrained response, nothing more, but you can't help but regret the words as Namjoon slowly lets Taehyung go.

"Did you tell her any other names?" he asks, his fingers curling and uncurling with a rigidity that suggests he��s not fully aware of it. Taehyung licks his lips, a quick, guilty rasp, and you honestly expect a lie to issue from him, he looks so shifty. But you’ve misjudged; he says, “Yes, hyung,” and as Namjoon’s eyes flicker closed he adds in a strained voice, “I’m sorry, hyung. I – she knows your name. And Jungkookie. I – sorry.” You can’t tell if it’s fear or guilt that’s put such tension in his words, but it’s enough that you find yourself holding your breath, eyes anxiously set on the scene being played in front of you, wondering if you’re about to see some kind of beating – or worse.

Namjoon is quiet for a long moment, his eyes still closed, the silence stretching out like thin metal wires across the room, slender yet impossible to break. Abruptly he exhales, so loudly everyone in the room jumps, yourself included. (You send a quick prayer of thanks to whoever’s listening when you manage to stop from tipping out of the chair.) Penetrating eyes sliding open, he rolls his shoulders, one quick motion, almost but not quite a shrug. “You should have known,” he tells Taehyung, and when the boy flinches his stern expression doesn’t lift. “I’ve told you before that you’re too friendly; I didn’t think I’d need to specify that you shouldn’t speak our names. You’ve made this situation incredibly more complicated than it has to be, and it may change what we need to do to her.”

You’re so involved in the lecture you don’t even realize who Namjoon is talking about until Taehyung’s gaze skips to you, a wrinkle appearing across his forehead, his mouth a tight line. After a second he jerks his head back around, like he’s afraid to look away from his leader for too long, and you cross your hands across your chest, fingers digging into one of your upper arms. To her, he’d said. Not with her. That… didn’t seem good. Taehyung sounds like he’s choking when he manages to speak. “Hyung… I’m sorry. I – it wasn’t her fault, though. Please don’t hurt her for something she didn’t do. You can do anything to me, I deserve it, but -”

Jungkookie shifts at that, a quickly stifled motion that doesn’t draw Namjoon’s attention. Instead the leader stares at Taehyung. You notice something; his hands have stopped curling, and instead rest easily at his side. “I need to teach you not to make such a mistake again,” he sighs, and your blood curdles, your nails beginning to draw little pinpricks of pain from where they press into your skin, a hollow ringing beginning in your ears. “I know what the most effective punishment would be,” Namjoon continues flatly, and you let out a sound somewhere between a cough and a gasp, a slender line of blood trickling down your arm as your skin breaks under your nails. Now Namjoon and Tae glance at you, one expression a subdued mixture of guilt and alarm, one expression so, so mild, and then Namjoon shakes his head. “Unfortunately, I am unable to teach you that lesson at this time. I can only hope you’re smart enough to learn from this, Taehyung. For the next three weeks, you’ll take extra watches, and you may not eat in the hall during that time, nor may anyone eat with you. Let’s see if you can learn silence from that.”

What little colour that was left in Taehyung flees at that, and some of his spirit does, too. You have an inkling that this boy thrives on being with others, and while short of – of – your mind shies away from the thought of being murdered – and while short of more drastic measures, you’re quite sure this is a punishment likely to hit the boy straight in the heart. For yourself, the icy fear has only crept further along your veins, numbing everything until it’s hard to react to it anymore, and it’s starting to feel like this isn’t happening to you. Like you’re watching it from somewhere far away.

It seems like Namjoon is done for the moment. “Get out,” he tells the boy, and less like a puppy and more like a kicked dog, Taehyung hurries out, his shoulders hunched, never looking at you. When Jungkookie tries to grab at him he wrenches his arm away and bolts. You might have felt bad for him, in a different circumstance, but even with him speaking up for you, you can’t find anything in the horrible detachment draping itself over you.

Again Jungkookie shifts, and there’s a trace of self-reproach in his voice when he speaks, a tendril of something like wounded pride. “Hyung, I… messed up, too. It wasn’t just Taetae. We both grabbed the wrong girl.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow at that. “Jungkook-ah,” he says mildly, “are you asking me to punish you, too?”

One hand bunches up the bottom of his white shirt, tugging at it mutinously, and eventually – so it’s Jungkook? – the boy nods, biting at his bottom lip and revealing a small overbite that quite shockingly transforms his face from cool to cute. His stiffness might have been due to apprehension, but you think with some vague annoyance that it’s more from shame than anything else. Like grabbing you, thinking you were the other, harder girl, was something more embarrassing than he could bear. In your current state the prickle of irritation is neither rational or long-lasting, and you find yourself unable to think about or hold onto anything for very long.

Middle finger once again brushing his mouth in thought, the gesture making something smolder low in your stomach, another irrational reaction, eventually Namjoon comes to a decision. “As you’d like. For the next three weeks, any time any of your hyungs give you an order you’ll get to your knees, give them a bow and thank them for their guidance.” Red – dark, angry – flushes across Jungkook’s neck, a vein popping amidst the mottled colour, and as he opens his mouth Namjoon cuts him off. “Yes, even to Taehyung. Yes, even if they start making ridiculous requests of you. Maybe this will teach you to listen attentively to orders instead of focusing on your damnable pride.”

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen anyone regretting a decision quite so immediately and intensely as Jungkook clearly is at this moment, and the sidelong glance he sends you makes you realize the flush isn’t just from anger. Clearly your presence to witness his humiliation makes it all that much worse, and you can only dully wish that you cared enough to be spiteful about it. What a strange boy, to have so much pride that he needed to ask for a punishment – even when his pride clearly made it hard to swallow once given. Namjoon’s lips are curled, just a little, and if he’s not a bit amused by Jungkook’s reaction in spite of his anger, you’ll admit to Mina that Tony Stark is a better fighter than the Hulk.

Evidently, though, Namjoon has decided to wrap up this fiasco. He makes a noise, deep and impatient, and gestures at Jungkookie. "Leave," he tells the other male, and Jungkook hesitates, a moment of rebellion that vanishes when Namjoon swipes off his hat, runs his hand through lilac locks. Slowly, so as to seem less like he's fleeing, the boy lags to the door, and halts only when Namjoon speak again. “Jungkook.” Another cascade of scarlet crowds the back of the boy’s neck, and the pause – to your confused mind – lasts an eternity. Eventually Jungkook turns, drops to his knees, his jaw grinding so hard you can see muscles jumping in the sharp lines of his face. Inclining himself into a bow, the boy’s surly voice issues up from the floor. “Thank you for your instruction, hyung.”

And abruptly, a tiger surging, the boy finds his feet in an impressive leap and stalks from the room without another word. It feels… better… to have less threatening presences in the room, but that feeling doesn’t last long.

Namjoon turns back to you and your heart lurches painfully, your feet pushing at the ground so that your back settles more firmly against the back of the chair. Your fear hasn't done anything but ooze sluggishly for some time now, so much terror piled up on top of terror that it can’t move very sharply. Even the rigidity of Namjoon's expression isn't enough to snap you out of your haze - if anything you sink deeper, desperate for an escape from this nightmare.

He looms over you, and you're struck once again by how tall he is. His low timbre voice slips out, and it could have been soothing if it didn’t feel like velvet laid over a butcher's knife, deceptively pleasant. “I understand you're afraid, and I understand that you want to do what is best for yourself. I’m sorry that this misunderstanding has occurred, but I’ll need to take certain steps to insure this doesn’t become a bigger problem. I don't want to hurt you – it would be pointless - and I won't, as long as I get what I need from you right now."

...as long as I get what I need... That's almost enough to cut at you, and you swallow again, shaking your head. Not in denial, but in something close to disbelief. How could this be happening? How could you be being threatened when only an hour ago you were heading home to feed Haru? And what could he want from you now that you’re not the person they were supposed to be nabbing? You’re so numb, the throbbing pain in your arm doing nothing to wake you up to the danger you’re in, the specks of wet blood on your fingertips barely registering as you pull your hands into your lap.

His hand is suddenly under your chin, forcing your face up, and you meet his piercing eyes with nothing like defiance. He studies you for a moment, and you can tell he's trying to do something with that silence, with that connection, though whether it's supposed to be intimidating or reassuring you're not really sure. Eventually he sighs. "Where do you live?"

Confusion and an automatic resistance skips through your mind. Why did he care where you lived? And what the hell business of it was his, anyways? Mechanically you crane your neck back, trying to free yourself from his hand. His grip tightens until it's just shy of painful, thumb and middle finger digging into the outline of your jaw, and he repeats more forcefully, "Where do you live?"

Which is when, overwhelmed, exhausted, you give in. You don't know if he'll kill you once he knows, you don't know what will happen, but you can't stand the tension seeping through the very marrow of your bones anymore. "I live in an apartment," you admit, strained and breathless like you've just been running. “245, Apartment B, 146 Sunfair Road South. I - it doesn't matter, though. If you let me go I won't tell anyone anything. I swear to God I won't tell anyone. Please..."

Maybe your emotions aren't quite gone, because you find your vision blurry with tears, and when his hand slips away your breath hitches like you're choking, terror swarming up in a metallic tide across your tongue. It feels like his touch was a benediction and he's just revoked it, taken away your protection, and you can only think of Haru, waiting at home for a dinner that will never come. She'll sit at the door like she always does, waiting for you, her small white paws tucked under her, and she'll wait, and wait, and wait...

The words surge out, unchecked, and for the first time you barely stutter. "Please, even if you need to kill me, please don't leave my cat. She's all alone at home, and - and I'm not sure if anyone will remember her. I could - I could give you my key and you could just let her out." She'd been on the streets before you enticed her into your little apartment with daily pieces of cheap ham, and she'd survive better there than in a house with no way for her to get food or water. The ridiculousness of your pleading echoes hollowly in the back of your mind, but it doesn't do much in the face of your hysteria. And it is definitely, definitely hysteria. You’re almost surprised you didn’t physically hear the crack of your composure snapping.

His hand crumples his cap as his other hand runs through his hair again, though this time the movement seems less intimidating for some reason. It's hard to tell if your desperate words have done anything to him - impossible, actually, in your current state - so when he moves forward, holding out his hand, you just stare at it uncomprehendingly for a moment.

"Your key," Namjoon prompts patiently, and with a slight, dazed nod you fumble in your pockets, taking several moments to fish out the key from the myriad of other objects that have taken up residence in your jeans. Letting a receipt for MacDonald's drift to the floor - you have one cheat night a week, usually - you finally manage to wrap your sweaty fingers around the cold metal and withdraw it from your pocket. It takes something to open up your hand to him, holding it out like a peace offering, but you're too tired to care at this point. He could steal everything - everything being your couch and TV, a beaten up mattress and several half-way-to-the-trash appliances, mostly - and you might not have even noticed if you got home right at this moment.

When his hand, warm and smooth, catches the key from yours, Namjoon repeats thoughtfully, “245, Apartment B, 146 Sunfair Road South,” in a voice that seems very far away, and you feel the faintest flicker of relief. They'll probably let Haru out, even if they do end up stealing all of your stuff. At least there's that to hold on to. As to why they want in your apartment in the first place… you haven’t the faintest.

Namjoon slides the key into a jacket pocket, pulling the black material more tightly around his bulky white sweater as he does so. On a different day, you might have wondered why he's dressed in so many layers - it's only early fall, after all, the days still balmy with the memory of summer - but frankly he could have been parading around naked at this point and it wouldn't have made a difference. Well - you're not quite gone enough to stop the heat that rushes, warm and somehow relieving into the pit of your stomach. If he had no clothes on, it might have made a very, very slight difference.

"I'll be back," Namjoon says, the words an oddly earnest promise, and abruptly he's smiling at you, a dimpled, wide grin that sends another cascade of unthinking warmth to chase away the icy disinterest freezing your guts. Without another word, he swivels and is gone, the door shutting behind him with a decisive click. A moment later you hear a scraping, probably the bolt being pushed home. You're locked in the room, but it's nicer to be by yourself, even if you can't leave.

You're in shock. Intellectually you're well aware of that fact, but the knowledge isn't enough to push you into breaking free from its clutches. Woodenly you stand, vaguely surprised your legs don't immediately crumple beneath you, and shuffle around the small prison, trying to take stock. That's something you can do, despite the shock; it doesn't require as much emotion as thinking ahead does, anyways. And there's a restless, piercing feeling pacing at the corner of your mind, crackling and wild, and you have a feeling that if you let it take control you'll end up screaming yourself raw and pounding on the door until your hands break.

So. The room. It takes about six steps one way to cross from wall to wall, five the other way. Like you suspected, there’s a small bathroom off to the side with a toilet and shower, but it also has no windows, and the door doesn’t lock. The bed, when you press a careful hand on it, sags under even that weight and has clearly seen better days, but the sheets are clean. You drop to your knees, trying to see if there's something useful hidden underneath either the bed or dresser, but the concrete floor's been recently swept and there's nothing there of interest - a lost Licorice Twist or Red Vine or something doesn't count as useful. The roof is too high for your short height to reach, and the unbroken surface doesn't suggest you'd be able to break into an air vent or something like in the movies, anyways. There's nothing in the drawer, either, except another blanket, and that's not going to be helpful unless you want to make a rope. Which might be fun for arts and crafts, but since there's no window to shimmy out of...

A frustrated exhalation blows out in an irritable huff and you stop, straightening, your hands clenched into fists tight enough that your nails are digging into your palms. You're not dead. Not yet. For whatever reason, Namjoon hasn't decided to kill you, and that means hope. The hysteria has slowly drained away in the course of your search, but it lingers, hand in hand with the wildness at the edges of your mind, and you're determined that next time any of them show their faces, you're going to make a better show of it. You won't be a deer in the headlights next time. You won't.

Easier said than done, but you need the bravado right now, false or otherwise. Your hand slides back into your pocket, and a moment later you slip out the cute keychain your friend Mina gave you for your birthday a few months ago. On it, a little charmander blows a short puff of flame, its tail burning brightly. You clutch at the little charm, the cheap paint already worn in a few places where you rubbed at it a bit too hard, a bit too desperately. You've never been this anxious before, but you're certainly not a stranger to the churning panic of a situation you're certain you can't handle.

Sitting on the bed, time passes slowly and heartlessly. They could have at least left you with a clock, (your phone was taken at the very beginning and you haven’t seen it since), but all you have is your own sense of time, and that's fairly hopeless. Mina can attest to the amount of times you've accidentally been late to work, or to one of your hangouts, or (not so accidentally) to a shopping trip. Keeping your breathing even, you alternate between trying to think of something to say that will persuade them to let you go, planning a heroic and entirely unrealistic escape, and attempting to forget about the situation altogether.

Minutes slide by, slick like tar, and it must have been over an hour when you hear footsteps outside of your prison. For all that the silence of being alone played your nervousness like strings on a guitar, twangy and sharp, the sudden return of a threat has you scrambling to your feet, almost relieved to feel fear drumming against your chest. At least, with this level of apprehension, you’re able to think instead of shutting down completely. You’d already discarded trying to fight your way out, but you can’t help your shoulders tightening, hands nervously closing, as sounds come from the door and suddenly it swings open.

There’s more than one person coming into the room, you’re able to register that much before your eyes latch onto the large, lightly shaking cardboard box that Namjoon is holding, a box from which a distinctly indignant caterwauling is coming. You take a step forward as Namjoon sets the box down, the wailing quietening, and when he pulls his hands away you see his skin – hands, wrists, arms – are covered in a jagged map of scratches, inflamed pinkish red, some of them deep enough to bleed. A mixture of concern, excitement, surprise and the barest hint of amusement a rising wave in your chest, you hurry to the box even before he gestures, ignoring the other occupant of the room, someone you’ve never seen before. You hope he didn’t hurt –

When you flip open the box’s lid, Haru leaps out so powerfully she almost collides with your face, and you sprawl backwards onto your butt with a surprised yelp. From the corner of your eye you see a black and white blur hit the floor and then surge across the room, the bell on her collar chiming, taking up immediate residence under the bed. As you quickly get to your feet, ears burning, a laugh rings out, high-pitched and unrestrained, and you actually look at other person in the room, eyes narrowing. He’s chuckling so hard he can’t seem to catch his breath, his full cheeks splotched with colour, arms wrapped around his slender body, pressing his long sleeved white shirt to himself, and an irreverent thought crosses your mind as you think about this guy, about Namjoon, about the other two you’ve seen. How can a gang have this many good-looking people in it?

You turn away to hide both your irritation and the itchy restlessness, and gradually the laughter slows, eventually dissolving into a hiccupping squeak that reminds you of a windshield wiper. Gangters shouldn’t be that good looking, and they definitely shouldn’t laugh like that. Swallowing hard, determined to ignore them for now, you drop to your knees in front of the bed, bending down to try to catch sight of your cat. She’s there, sure enough, a small bundle of bristling fur and eyes so big you can’t help the soft smile that crosses your face despite how distressed she looks. God, she’s just so cute. Behind you, silence.

Clicking your tongue, you stick your hand out just a little, an invitation. “Hey Haru,” you whisper, and she shifts, her flattened ears relaxing just a bit. “Yeah Haru, you know me,” you continue. “It’s okay baby, you’re okay. No one’s going to hurt you, I pro-” Your voice dies. Even to a stupid cat, you can’t make a promise you’re not sure you can keep, and you have no way of knowing what’s going to happen to either of you. Biting at your lip, trying to ease muscles that have suddenly cramped with tension, you try again. “It’s okay. You can come out Haru. Please baby, come out.” You find yourself suddenly desperate to have her on your lap, to have the warm comfort of her thick fur beneath your fingers, to have anything familiar and comforting in this utterly outlandish situation.

The cat slowly loosens as you whisper meaningless comforts to her, and eventually she begins to wiggle forward on her belly, her cautious progression filled with so many stops and starts that you want to just lunge forward and drag her out. She probably wouldn’t scratch you, but even so, she’s been stressed out enough as is. Remaining patient, you keep clicking your tongue, urging her out. She’s about half a foot from your reach, whiskers twitching, the vivid green of her eyes noticeable in the light, and your smile has become more genuine. “Oh, you’re so smart Haru, there’s a good girl, you’re -”

“Here, let me help y-” Crunch. The voice is overwhelmed by the sound of cardboard being crushed, and instantly Haru darts back to her corner, pressed up against the wall, well and truly out of reach.

You whip around, somehow managing to glare, but the sight that greets you makes it hard to remain angry. Namjoon is frozen, his foot resting on the mangled remains of the box that he must have stepped on while coming towards you. Once again, the unnamed man is laughing, his brown hair sweeping dramatically against his forehead as he gasps. Even as you watch, Namjoon lifts his foot and the cardboard follows, caught on the rough fabric of the sneakers he’s wearing. With an expression that’s too solemn to be anything but a really desperate grab at dignity, Namjoon gingerly shakes his foot, trying to dislodge the box. It stubbornly clings, and he’s forced to resort to vigorously moving, kicking his shoe like he’s trying out for some energetic alternative dance crew. And abruptly, with a kick that would have done a professional soccer player proud, the box flies free.

It hits you in the face.

Thankfully it’s the bed behind you and not the chair, because when you stumble back, the back of your knees hit the edge and you fall in a windmilling, slow motion collapse. You hit the bed, which is nice, but your head also grazes the wall the bed was set against, which is not as nice. Instant pain throbs against the back of your skull, and as your hand flies to your head to comfort the spot, you just lie there. You’re not dazed or confused or anything. You just can’t believe this is happening.

“Hyung, hyung – damn it Jin, stop laughing. Jesus, do something useful.” You’re pretty sure that’s Namjoon’s voice, though it’s higher than usual. A second later you find the unfamiliar boy leaning over you, grinning widely, and you stare at him flatly, not even embarrassed at this point. He scrunches up his nose, giving you a brief once over.

“How do you feel?” he asks, and you resist the urge to give him the finger. Instead you just shrug. “Mmm… Did see stars when you hit your head? Feel anything’s broken or bleeding back there?” Cautiously you check your hand, but there’s no blood, and the pain’s already diminishing. You shrug again. He copies the motion before reaching out, grabbing your arm and unceremoniously yanking you into a sitting position, letting you go before the invasion can get your heart thumping faster. The boy – Jin? – turns back to Namjoon, who stands as far back as he can, his hands clasped behind his back in a posture that could be stern, except… except it looks like he’s just afraid of breaking something again.

“She should be fine, Namjoon,” Jin says. “Her eyes aren’t dilated, she doesn’t look shocked and I’m not seeing any trauma.” Though his voice had become almost professional, taking on a bedside manner, a strange note creeps in after a moment, and he smirks. “I have to say, though… You’re supposed to use your hands, not your feet. You’re not very good at boxing, are you?”

Namjoon makes a choked noise that could have been a laugh, a snort or a curse – or some hybrid of the three – and your mouth falls open. Was that – had that been a pun? A terrible pun? Jin chuckles with so much self-satisfaction you can’t help the groan that slips from your lips, and instantly he’s back to professionalism as he pivots back to you. “Oh? Did I speak too soon? Is your head hurting?”

Maybe you’re concussed, or maybe you’re just done with all of this, but either way you grumble, “Now it is.” It takes him a second to get the implication, but then his eyes widen, all outraged indignation, and his eyes only pop more when Namjoon lets out a sharp bark of laughter, a ha-ha that cuts off when Jin swivels to stare at him accusingly, though his smile doesn’t fade

“The disrespect!” Jin sputters. “The lack of gratitude! I’ve raised all of you – on my back, even! – and this is the thanks I get? This – this disrespect?!”

Namjoon raises his hands placatingly. “Sorry hyung, sorry. It was funny.”

From 100 to 0, abruptly the apoplectic male is back to laughing, albeit a tad severely. “It was funny,” he proclaims self-importantly, and shoots you a look like he’s daring you to argue. You shrug. He wrinkles his nose at you and turns back to Namjoon. “Anyways Joonie, I need to put the rest of the supplies away. The cat food and stuff is just outside. Once you’re done here, let me clean and bandage your scratches, yeah?” Namjoon opens his mouth, and Jin cuts him off. “Never mind your image. You can say you were in a knife fight.”

Hands only going higher in surrender, Namjoon says, “Fine, fine. I’ll need to deal with this first, though.” They both look at you, some of the electric amusement in the air dying, but this time you’re – not terrified. Because if you’ve understood everything right, they’ve brought you your cat, they’ve bought cat food for your cat, and the box assassination attempt aside, that means they’re not going to kill you. Not right now, anyways. And besides, after this whole exchange… Well, it’s just a bit hard to keep your fear clutched so close to your heart.

Jin tilts his head, blinking rapidly several times in a way that’s endearing enough to make your stomach lurch. “Okay,” he eventually says. “I’ll see you later Joonie.” Considering you, eventually he smiles, something softer than his usual high-strung amusement. “I’m Jin, the doctor and cook and supplies organizer of this group. If you’re needing something, let me know.” Then he’s smirking, and it’s without surprise that you hear him add, “It was nice meeting you… boxy lady.”

Namjoon groans and Jin leaves, a cheerful bounce in his step, shutting the door lightly behind him. Some of your certainty leaves with him, and you shift on the bed. Namjoon swipes one hand across his face as though he’s trying to get rid of something only he can see, and then his shoulders are squaring. You can almost picture the lighter emotions – embarrassment, amusement, sympathy – being brushed away, and when his hand drops his expression is back to one of cool control. He grabs the chair from where it’s been put to the side and straddles it, crossing his arms over the back as he considers you.

“I think you know we have no intention of killing you,” he eventually begins, and you suck in a deep breath through your nose before you manage to nod. “This has been an ordeal for you, and I’m sorry for that, sorry for the fact that it’s going to continue for some time.”

“You don’t sound very sorry.”

You both freeze, your words seeming to sit, heavy and accusing, in the air between you, and your fingers bunch up the bedsheets as anxiety rolls over you. Oh God. What did you just say? What – it was the stupid box, the stupid pun. It’d relaxed you, made you forget what’s happened, who’s sitting in front of you. It made you comfortable. Too comfortable.

But Namjoon doesn’t react badly. A low, sardonic laugh comes forth, and if it’s almost hard, almost mocking, he makes no movement to come closer to you. “No, I suppose I don’t. I suppose I shouldn’t try to lie to you, about that or anything. So, let me tell you how it will be, straight up. Until we can finish up our plans to get out of this city, you’re going to have to stay here. Your parents, your friends, co-workers… they’re not going to worry about you for at least awhile. I’ve made sure of that.” That makes you stiffen, your gaze jerking up as you stare at him, wondering if you’re imagining the threat in his voice, wondering how he could have managed it. You are not, it must be admitted, the most socially active person, but how could he make you disappear for even a short time?

Though his thin smile suggests he knows what you’re thinking, Namjoon doesn’t satisfy your sudden curiosity. “Until we can let you go, we’ll provide for you. Food, items… whatever. We’re not really lacking in money.” When your eyes drop to dubiously regard the somewhat shabby bed, he shrugs. “Waste not, right? If it’s too uncomfortable, we’ll get you something else. Just ask. But Y/N…”

For a second you just look at him, automatically reacting to your name, but then an uneasy feeling flickers, deep in your stomach, and before he can say anything else you blurt out, “How do you know my name?” The two boys who’d grabbed you had taken your phone, yeah, but you still had your wallet, and they hadn’t asked for your name. Him knowing it, so out of the blue, feels like an invasion of your privacy that you hadn’t expected, another nail in the coffin of your security, and you wish more than ever that Haru would come out from under the bed so that you could have something to hold onto.

Leaning back, as though a bit surprised, Namjoon shakes his head patronizingly. “Do you think we would have gone into your apartment without finding out your name? You don’t lock your laptop, you know.” That probably shouldn’t have hit you as hard as it did – you probably should have expected it – but the thought of a bunch of strangers going through your shabby apartment without your permission, of rooting through drawers and touching things that were yours and no one else’s… Swallowing dryly, you turn away, pulling up your legs so that you can sit cross legged, showing him your shoulder like that could somehow regain your lost privacy.

You don’t see his hand reach up and then hesitate before falling back down.

“Yes, we know your name.” Namjoon’s voice is neutral, giving nothing away. “We know a few other things as well, Y/N. But that doesn’t really matter. What matters is that you’re here, and you will be fine as long as you follow a few simple rules.” A few minutes ago that might have been enough to elicit some curiosity, some trepidation, but as it is you just hunch over more, your head ducked. He continues, soft but firm. “Don’t try to escape. There’s no real way for you to manage it, yet I know that’s an automatic human reaction, looking for a way to get out. If you try, we’ll have to punish you.” He says it so flatly, so reasonably, and it feels like air is leaking out of your lungs, never to return. “Don’t fight. I’ve already made it clear the boys aren’t to hassle you, so you should have no reason to attack them. Unless you’re stupid.” His voice softens. “I don’t think you are.”

You say nothing, and eventually he gets to his feet. “There’s not much else. You’ve seen the bathroom, I’m sure. Jin will have food prepared for you shortly, and Jimin will bring in the clothes we took from your house. As there’s nothing else…” He turns to go, and as he does, a soft tinkling announces Haru’s emergence from under the bed. She cautiously leaps up, landing next to you, sniffing at you, pushing her head demandingly against your fingers, and a second later she’s settled in your lap. Not purring – not yet – but it feels good to have her warmth to sink your trembling fingers into.

“We’ll speak later,” Namjoon concludes, and your soft question stops him.

“How… long? How long will I be here?”

He pauses, his back to you, and eventually twitches his hand in an uncertain motion. “It’s too hard to guess for the moment. As I’ve said, I’ve no wish to lie to you. A month? Perhaps somewhere around there.”

Biting at your lip, a sudden surge of pressure against your eyes, you lean down and nuzzle your face against Haru. “Oh…” you breathe into her fur. It’s automatic – same as thanking Taehyung was – for you to say, “Thank you for getting my cat.”

Namjoon might be staring at you, but you don’t look up. Eventually he says, his voice strained with some emotion you can’t place. “You’re welcome. It’s the least we could do. We’ll talk later.” His feet shuffle across the floor, a scrape indicating the door being opened. There’s no sound of retreating footsteps, and after a few seconds Namjoon adds, “This isn’t an ideal circumstance, I know, but please don’t despair. We’ll let you go soon enough. In the meantime… Welcome to Bangtan.”

And then he’s gone, the door closing with finality, and from her cozy perch in the depths of your lap, Haru begins to purr.

A/N: Aish, I’ve no idea how this got so long, or if it’s any good at all. There’ll be at least one more part, and we’ll see the other members as well as some fluff and whatnot, but in the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this!

#bts #bts drabble #namjoon #rap monster #bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic #bts au #it's about damn time #god I took so long on this

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melodicminho · 7 years

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BTS React: They ‘Fall in Love’ With The New Makeup Artist That Looks Mean But is Actually Kind

✧ Masterlist

♡ Guidelines

Request: hello! can u do a react of bts to a new person who works for bighit, is their makeup artist and looks cold, but, is nice and they fall in love with her? thank u. (:

I used they/them pronouns if that is okay! I hope I understood that the makeup artist is you (the reader)? I also kind of wrote it in the member’s point of view (I THINk) and some of the members don’t fall in love quick, but they may be infatuated or their heart was suddenly stolen. Please enjoy!

NAMJOON

Namjoon was quite unfazed at first. His new makeup artist didn’t seem all too interested in making conversation with him nor did they seem like they wanted to. He didn’t mind that they weren’t talkative, but it kind of felt a bit too quiet in between them. His gaze flickered to your concentrated expression and bit the inside of his cheek, a frown on his face. “Do you not talk much?” he questions carefully, making sure to not move too much or else you’d accidentally poke his eye with your brush.

You looked up at him in surprise; surprised that he would start a conversation with you. Namjoon gave a kind smile and you smiled in response, all the while shaking your head as you went back to putting makeup on his face. Tapping his fingers against his lap, he waited for you to finish his makeup. “Thank you. Let’s become friends.” he proposed then bowed. You let out a quiet laugh and nodded in agreement.

A few days later, he was basically attached to your side. He hung out with you outside of work nearly everyday. The next few days and weeks passed by quickly. Namjoon got to learn more about you and your interests. Even though you sometimes looked like you were bored out of your mind when he spoke, he wasn’t that self conscious about it, he knew you were listening and he was pleased to know that you remember everything he has said. He is really fond of your rare smile and begins to want to see more of it. Namjoon tends to get more affectionate with you when you both are alone. It seems like you are on his mind all the time and you’re driving him crazy.

He doesn’t want to admit it, but he thinks he’s starting to fall in love with you.

SEOKJIN

Seokjin would find it a little awkward. He didn’t want to make you feel annoyed by him by giving you and himself compliments for making him look so good, but really. You’re making him look hella good. He would let out a quiet ‘wow’ under his breath while admiring himself in the mirror. You let out what sounded like a dry scoff (you laughed, don’t be mistaken) and Jin gave you a lopsided smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

He rubbed his thumb against his bottom lip and pouted shamelessly, looking at you. “Do you mind making my lips look a little better?” he would ask; maybe bat his eyelashes a little as an experiment to see if the action would make you smile.

You did smile, in fact, you giggled while trying to hide your face behind your hands. You nodded your head and Seokjin smiled in satisfaction, leaning back against his chair while letting you put lip scrub on his mouth. You told him to gently scrub the mixture onto his lips and he did. Giving him a warm, wet towel to wipe his fingers clean, you both wait a minute for the lip scrub to settle in before giving him the towel to wipe his mouth, After that, Seokjin parted his lips for you to put a thin coat of lip balm on his lips. After Seokjin heard you announce that you were done, he slipped off of his chair with a bright grin on his face.

“Thank you for making me look handsome,” he bows to you and sighs happily, “I think I’m falling for you.” he jokingly (not really) says, clutching his chest as he walked out the door with him still facing you.

YOONGI

Yoongi was pretty pleased that he had a chill makeup artist. When he walked into the dressing room, he saw you chilling on the sofa with a bored look on your face. He nodded his head at when your eyes landed on him with a blank look on your face. He cleared his throat and moved towards his chair, waiting for you to get your makeup kit. Waiting patiently, he puffed his cheeks out as the silence between you two stretched longer.

“I’m just going to moisturize your face and cover up a few blemishes,” you told him. Your voice sounded empty as you started clipping his hair back from his forehead and he frowned at that. His gaze landed on you curiously and watched you rub lotion onto your hands, before he could say anything, the palms of your hands were suddenly massaging the lotion onto his face. Your fingers delicately curving along his jaw down to his chin before going back to brush your thumbs along his nose then his cheeks; applying a bit of moisturizer underneath his eyes as well.

Yoongi nearly fell asleep at the touch of your soft hands on his face, honestly. His eyelashes fluttered once you began to cover his blemishes before he looked up at you with wide eyes. He kept gazing at you with a certain look in his eyes until you looked at him. You gave him a kind smile, tilting your head curiously as you took the clips from his hair. His lips were parted in amazement when he saw the smile on your face and rubbed the left side of his chest awkwardly, smiling as he thanked you quietly before leaving the room.

He punched the left side of his chest as he left the room, trying to get his heart to stop racing. “They just touched your face, get over it,” he whispered to himself then groaned, walking towards the rest of the members. “But their hands felt so soft and their smile was pretty.” he grumbled quietly.

HOSEOK

Hoseok would be one of the most awkward people when it comes to meeting someone who looks like they could kill you in an instant if they pleased. He was very on edge as you held his fringe away from his forehead, your makeup brush fanning along his skin. He felt like you were glaring holes into his head with how much your eyes squinted. After, you let his fringe fall back to its normal spot. He watched you silently take your comb out, his eyes crossing a little when you fixed his bangs with the black comb.

You laughed softly when you saw how his eyes crossed and put your comb back in your kit, leaning forward again to apply lip balm onto his lips. Hoseok brightened just a bit when he heard you laugh and he pursed his lips playfully just to hear you giggle again. Shaking your head, you smiled fondly at the rapper and put the cap back on the lip balm. You fixed his hair a little as he smiled at you, “I like your laugh.” he admits earnestly, his smile growing bigger by the second when you cover part of your face with your hand while the other lightly punches his shoulder.

He didn’t know you were such an easy going person, but it just seems that you only look mean because you’re usually tired, which makes your eyes turn into slits and the corners of your mouth tilt down. It wasn’t his turn for the photoshoot yet so he had spare time to get to know you more.

It turns out that you’re a lovely person and only naturally does Hoseok begin to gravitate towards you whenever he sees you around.

JIMIN

Jimin was pouty. He was slightly nervous around you because you didn’t open your mouth a lot to say things and your eyebrows were constantly being furrowed; as if you were angered by something. The tip of your tongue poked out the side of your mouth as your fanned your brush across his cheekbones. He quietly listened to you hum a song and pressed his lips together when your brush went over his mouth.

He fiddled with his sleeves and kept stealing glances at you. He noticed how your eyebrows relaxed while you poured some moisturizer on your hands before delicately massaging the liquid into the skin of his neck to make it feel soft and smooth. Jimin let out a quiet sound of surprise, but let you moisturize his neck. “Is this alright?” you questioned softly, your head tilted to the side as loose strands of hair fell in your face. Your thumbs carefully massaged a few knots away from his neck and he basically fell limp to your touch.

He smiled shyly at you once you removed your hands from his neck and fixed his hair, patting his shoulder. “Don’t look at me as if I’m going to hurt you or something.” you say jokingly, a kind grin on your face as Jimin stands up from his chair. He smiles sheepishly and bites the corner of his lip, bowing to you as an apology.

Rubbing the side of his chest where his heart is beating profusely, he thanks you and takes one more curious glance at you before getting back to the photoshoot. He smiles a little to himself, the warmth of your hands still sticking around on your skin made him giggle. He thinks you’re really pretty.

TAEHYUNG

Taehyung did not care at all that you looked mean. He entered the dressing room with a loud “Hello!”, his arms high up in the air as he walked towards his seat. There was a subtle smile on your face when you saw Taehyung plop onto his chair, but sighed instead and shook your head. He kept making silly faces when you tried to apply the makeup on his face and you frowned. Taehyung giggled at this even though you were obviously upset at him for not letting you put his makeup on.

Finally, he calmed himself down to let you apply his makeup. There were a few giggles of his here and there when you tickled his skin and he smiled happily at you. “Why do you look so grumpy?” he asks you innocently and reaches out to poke your cheeks, “I bet you have a nice smile.” he coaxes, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You raised your own eyebrows and scoffed, the corners of your mouth automatically lifting into a smile at the ridiculous statement and faces Taehyung’s making. He gasped loudly when he witnessed your smile and clutched his chest dramatically, causing you to burst out laughing. At this very moment, Taehyung’s heart was stolen. Because, like. Oh my goodness, your laugh is gorgeous.

“I was right!” he cried out, clutching his chest even tighter now. “I was right, and now I can’t get out of this hole called love.” he playfully sobbed, making you laugh even harder.

JUNGKOOK

Jungkook fell in love with you right when he walked through the door. He didn’t care that it looked like you were going to glare holes into his body, you were gorgeous. Of course, Jungkook isn’t that naive when it comes to pretty people and feelings, but seriously.

Even though you looked like you were bored while brushing applying makeup to the boy’s face, he would smile shyly or make jokes here and there to see if you could smile. A few times you grimaced at the bad jokes he made (he got the humor from Seokjin) and grinned at a few puns that were pretty good. It looked like you had doe eyes, unless you were always tired and that made your eyelids heavy. Jungkook found it a pretty feature to your face and he got jittery whenever you looked up at him to apply more eye makeup and such.

You gave the boy a warm smile and pat his shoulder, accepting the heart he sent you as a ‘thank you’. Sending a heart in return, Jungkook bowed to thank you before quietly shuffling out the room.

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laurabelle2930 · 7 years

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Every Life has a Moment ~Olicity Fic 5/5

Well first of all I can’t thank my amazing Tumblr family enough for the heaps of endless support. I’m truly in awe of this talented fandom. I’m also completely honored that so many of you think I’m one of you talented souls. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart!

Read it here or on AO3

You’re My Moment

Chapter 5

Present day...

The rain pelted against the stained glass of the foyer angrily, the sky shook with thunderous rage before it became lit from the endless streaks of lightning. She slowly began her silent count....the room around her grew dark, the clock behind her ticked, the fingers along its face moved steadily, the clouds outside grew steadily darker...

Her mouth curved, her bottom up formed a small U while her upper lip mirrored the other. She felt the vibration of the storm racing through her veins. The rain was her blood, the thunder her heart and the lightning her soul. Felicity breathed deeply just as the sky roared...

“You still do that?” came a quiet voice from the doorway behind her still form.

Her smile was small but earnest in nature, “Yeah, why don’t you do things to ease your nerves? she asked just when the sky grew bright. ‘

The voice behind her grew closer; the tenor grew soft and, the inflection hopeful. “I do, but generally I don’t have to wait for a massive thunder storm to decompress.”

Felicity’s laugh was one of honest amusement, “Peanut you like your brother have a way with words.”

“He’s also your husband...” she teased lightly then added softly, “Even if mom and dad don’t yet know it...”

Felicity’s shoulders fell just as Thea’s words washed away the peace of the approaching storm. “Are you and Ollie really going to pretend you didn’t get married almost a year ago?”

She shook her bent head and raised her hands into the air above her bent head, “I knew he couldn’t lie to you...” she merely noted with amused knowledge. “I knew he’d crack the moment he saw your sweet smile,” she laughed mostly to herself.

“Please you would have cracked even faster,” she scolded with the grace of her mother.

Felicity sighed and slowly began to turn. Thea’s shoes tapped along the hardwood floors, her jean covered legs were held in the staunch position of authority. Felicity’s eyes grew wider when she noted how her fingers tapped along her bent elbows, her lips were pursed and her eyes curious. “Okay Peanut out with it...” Felicity gently coaxed. “Why are you really asking about the wedding?”

Thea’s wide, brown eyes grew dim, her skin paled and her shoulders slumped. “Well...” she croaked nervously.

Felicity took a small step forward then crossed her arms to mirror Thea’s stance. The younger Queen eyed her carefully before she gently pointed her chin to the banner just beyond her slim shoulder. Felicity followed the gesture and smiled knowingly. The small makeshift banner from the welcome home party was still clinging to the arch over the door with failing pins. She recognized Syd’s small hand prints next to her’s and Oliver’s. Her nose crinkled in delight at the smaller smudges next to Thea’s.

“It makes me wonder if perhaps the three of us were the only one’s not in attendance?” Thea whispered when Felicity chose to gaze back towards the younger woman’s fallen brow.

Felicity smiled at the memory, “If you wanted to know you could have just asked,” she suggested sweetly.

“Yeah but I didn’t want to pry,” she eeked quietly. “I mean you two chose to keep that moment for you...” she remarked a bit sadly.

Felicity tilted her head in agreement, “We did Peanut but, it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“How so?” she asked earnestly.

Felicity saw the way she ran her hands up and down her small frame as her words slowly tumbled out. Felicity gauged her voice, her movements and her eyes before she made her final observations. “Well you know how we became an us I assume?” she started hesitantly.

Thea’s head shook woefully, “Nope I was always too young...”

Felicity gulped then slowly began to unfold her arms. She felt her younger brown eyes rolling down to the floor. Felicity called out cautiously, “Peanut maybe I could tell you our story?”

Her brown eyes brightened, “Just you and me? No mom, or Ollie?” she sounded the same as she did the first time Felicity suggested they try and bond.

“Yeah Peanut, Oliver has Syd and Eden so I think we could use some sister bonding time how about you?”

Thankfully Felicity already had her arms out because seconds later her precious little peanut was wrapped snugly within her warm embrace. Thea’s nose tickled her cheek when she whispered, “I missed you Lissy.”

Felicity replied in kind, “I missed you too Peanut.”

Roughly 1 year before...

Moving always sucked. She wished for a more eloquent phrase but, sadly none ever came. She searched for countless hours, the phrase always remained on the tip of tongue as her mind became a virtual thesaurus. She tried aggravating or even tumultuous but in the end sucked was the word that fit. She pushed aside a stack of boxes that rose to about her slender shoulders. Her fingers flipped easily over the cardboard flaps while she hummed gently. The words were a mystery but the tune was always the same...

“I can’t believe we’re sleeping in my old bedroom...” she heard him mutter from the door’s open threshold.

Felicity jostled the box when she placed her fingers beneath the folded edges. The sweaters and other items slipped from side to side as she gently lowered it to the floor. “I can’t believe mom and dad left three days early,” she grumbled back.

His footfalls sounded wet and heavy, his breathes sounded tight and, his voice sounded strained, “They said the merger became complicated Felicity, they didn’t mean to have us reschedule the wedding...”

She rolled her crystal, blue eyes and, crouched down so the opened edges of the box rested along her knees. “Yeah well the ceremony is still set for tomorrow and, if you succeeded in your task I’ll be showing soon,” she gently reminded him with amusement.

She heard the springs of their bed beneath his solid, if not very nicely chiseled form. He breathed in frustration, “We can’t do it Felicity...we can’t get married without them here!”

She folded the empty box and, pushed the sturdy cardboard aside. She brushed over her bent knees then slowly began to stand. “Oliver I’ve agreed to marry you, I’m most likely pregnant with our second child and, I’m a known flight risk,” she argued with raised brows. “Don’t you think it makes sense to simply do the deed?”

The second the words passed her lips she felt her skin turning bright red. Oliver’s hooded eyes made her skin flush even further, “Hmmm do the deed?” he probed with calculated humor.

Felicity’s palms fell to her waist, her eyes fell to the floor and, her words came out in a mumbled mess, “We’ve clearly done that...and well dammit I’m ready to be your wife.”

Oliver’s voice squeaked, “Ready?”

Felicity carefully raised her eyes. Oliver’s own gaze was between shocked and simmering. “We’re not having sex Oliver,” she croaked, “I’m still sore and secondly I’d like it if our second child was born to her married parents.”

She saw his palm fly to the nape of his neck; she in turn timidly bit at her lower lip. His pause made her heart flutter and her knees shake. She gulped, “Ummm honey this is when you say something reassuring.”

Oliver softly smiled, “Honey you’re already my wife,” he replied as ordered.

She released her bottom lip, “Yeah but not legally,” she commented nervously.

His chest rumbled with contained laughter when he picked at her second statement, “We’re having another girl are we?”

She glared, “Avoiding and, well yes I think if I’m pregnant again it’s going to be with a girl,” she both answered and obliged with calculated ease.

Oliver’s eyes darkened, she raised her finger and shook it slowly, “Don’t even buster,” she warned while his eyes fell quiet. She nodded with grim approval, “See you can listen...”

“I try,” he mumbled before he fell in surrender to his back. The bed creaked as his weight tumbled over the worn springs. Felicity couldn’t contain her laughter when the images of their childhood started rushing through her mind. Oliver glanced up with his palms over his stomach and asked, “Ummm babe what’s so funny?”

Her head fell back as her fingers became knotted in her hair. Her almost husband stared at her with beguiled eyes while she attempted to bring her mindless giggles under control. Her stomach ached when she finally spat out, “The mattress creaked...”

She didn’t see him staring at her quizzically when he mumbled, “And this is somehow funny?”

She hollered, “Yes! Don’t you remember how it got that way?” she giggled uncontrollably as she slowly began falling to the floor. She clutched her stomach and leaned forward as her knees touched the hard ground.

Oliver mumbled again, “I’m married to a crazy person...”

She argued instantly, “Not crazy and not legally,” before her stomach pained her again.

He muttered, “How is...” then fell quiet when she finally managed to say...

“I was nine and you were eleven...”

With tears in her bright eyes she glanced up and smiled happily, “Don’t you remember we were trying to break the box springs?”

Her question puzzled him but, only for a split second...His eyes lit up like Christmas day when he realized, “I had a twin bed...”

Felicity nodded slowly in delight, “Yup and we had the bright idea of breaking the box springs so she’d buy you a queen mattress set. Don’t you remember? I hated ending up on the floor so we schemed to get the bigger bed.”

His head fell back before his strong, deep, resounding laughter filled the large room, “My god we jumped on that thing for hours!”

“Yeah don’t you remember she made us sleep on that broken down piece of crap for a week as punishment?” Felicity giggled.

Oliver chimed in shortly after, “I swore I’d never jump on anything again...”

Felicity chirped, “I’d say you broke that promise...”

He would have glared had he not been so amused, “Jumping on you doesn’t count....You usually ask for it,” he chided with affection.

She grumbled, “Yeah I usually do...”

Oliver’s voice sounded content when he abruptly changed the subject, “So you really wanna marry me tomorrow?”

Felicity still clutching her stomach immediately sobered, “Really? You’re agreeing that we can go ahead as planned” she stammered happily while their previous conversation became a distant memory.

Her eyes met his, it was blue against blue, fire against fire, and affection mixed with utter longing, “I think those two kids would be disappointed if we followed mom’s wishes...” he whispered softly while he remained still along the bed.

She kept her arms anchored to her stomach, her knees were along the floor and her smile was almost to her earlobes, “You’ve made me so incredibly happy Oliver Queen,” she whispered back with tears once again forming in her eyes.

His eyes twinkled and his lips curved, “Ditto Felicity Smoak, Ditto...” he breathed while the late afternoon sun lit the wall behind her.

Felicity pushed the stray hair behind the shell of her ear and, let her eyes trail down the length of her back. The sunlight poured through the upper semi-circle windows, the glass left shadows of red and orange along the crisp, white material. She brushed at the small dust particles in the sunbeams scope while she carefully began to turn. Her antique shoes peaked out from beneath the floor skirting dress, the white lace paneling of the shoes was hidden but her discomfort was not.

She felt the blisters beginning to form along the back of her ankles; the skin she knew was already puckered and raw. She heard Sydney cooing softly from the bedside bassinet; her chubby little fingers were flying through the air while she giggled with delight. Felicity smiled with genuine affection then murmured, “How does mommy look baby?”

Her daughter squealed then fell quiet as Felicity finished her small turn. With her eyes once more pouring over her reflection she lightly grinned. The dress was simple, classic and some might even say timeless. She brushed her fingers over her exposed upper chest; the lines of her fingers fell over the soft, supple lace trim of the folded edge. Her eyes ran down the tight, lace covered bodice before her gaze landed over the edge of the fading design. The dress didn’t conform to her waist like she’d thought; it instead created a smooth line over her rounded hips. She twisted her waist and chuckled when the satin like material flowed around her slim legs.

She cocked her head and lifted her fingers to a few more fallen strands. The small, loose curls that she’d managed to pull into a very elegant fishtail braid were beginning to fall from the intricate design. She reached around and patted the messy bun at the base of her neck. The bobby pins were secured but, still she worried that one wrong brush of his hand and her hair would fall apart. She pursued her pale, pink lips and looked over her lightly applied make up. She wanted an ethereal look so she’d opted for whites, pinks and even some light glitter over the arc of her eye bone.

Sydney coo’d from the center of the room, Felicity’s eyes flashed to her babies reflection while she sweetly mumbled, “Hey there baby girl...”

Sydney’s fingers bubbled along the foam stars of her mobile. Felicity grinned and finished checking her appearance. Her cheeks were rosy, her heart was full and in about ten minutes she’d be carrying her own angel downstairs for her wedding day. She mumbled once more, “Okay baby girl are you ready to be my witness, flower girl and maid of honor?”

Sydney’s coo’s echoed through not only the empty room but her heart as well. Felicity took one last steely breath and did what she’d been trying to do for the past hour. She fought to remain composed and, for once thanked her lucky stars that Oliver was willing to let her get dressed alone. She glanced at the mirror and smiled lamely, her mother’s picture was tapped to the left corner, her father with Moira and Robert were in the photo directly below it. She laughed quietly, “My God both of you would kill me for crying right now...”

The tree right outside her window scraped along the window panes as the wind suddenly began to blow. She shot the window a tender look and swallowed a delighted sigh, “See...I knew you’d have something to say.”

Just then Sydney giggled. Felicity’s eyes shot up to the ceiling. She mumbled, “Hi Daddy...” before her sparking eyes fell upon her own slightly marred face. The glitter that was once only on her eyes had begun to drift down to her upper cheek bones; she’d yet to shed a tear but, she knew waterproof mascara was an amazing choice. She gulped back a, “This is so stupid,” before straightening her back and pushing her shoulders backwards. Her palms fell along her waist, her chest expanded, and her lips quivered.

“Well mom I heard you...” she started roughly with an ache forming in her chest. “I tried to ignore the signs,” she nearly wept as her chin fell to her chest. “I’m so in love with him Mom, I’m so utterly, and completely, and helplessly in love with him.”

The branches bounced against the window again, she took a shaky breath and laughed slightly, “He fought for me Mom, he actually fought for me,” she continued. “He pushed past all my defenses; he broke my heart only to then help it heal.” She found the strength to face her own reflection once more. The glass seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly light when she whispered, “He’s the best gift you could have given me, he’s how I found my heart.”

She blinked away a few small tears and sniffed back a small, “I wish you both could see how much he loves me...”

The mirror continued to shimmer, her eyes continued to water as her lips curved into a small smile. “We know Felicity...we know sweetheart,” she heard as the wind howled through the many trees along the property line.

She murmured, “I miss you...” as the shimmering glass began to fall flat. The wind fell silent, as the room began to darken. She nodded in silent acceptance before turning on her nearly 3 inch pumps. Sydney was busy pushing her thumbs along the stars above her, Felicity’s heart pulsed within her with peace as she lightly coo’d to her giggling daughter, “Come on baby let’s go get mommy hitched.”

Sydney was outfitted in a white almost sailor looking dress with the matching shoes. Her blonde hair was curled and, her chubby little legs were kicking along her soon to be expanding stomach. She pressed her fingers along her daughter’s hip and whispered along her forehead, “Hey let’s not damage your sister’s developing head with those ninja feet!”

“Sister huh?” Oliver quipped from the foot of the stairs.

Felicity nearly froze. The hand she was using to hold up her dress fell open then flew back to her daughter’s waving arm. She gulped, “God you’re perfect...” as he stood there with his arms outstretched in a crisp, black tuxedo.

His white, dazzling smile made her body shudder uncontrollably, her arms shook slightly when he professed openly without a trace of hesitancy, “You’re beyond any perfection I’ve experienced up until now...”

Her eyes ran over his chiseled jaw. He’d cleaned up his normal scruff, his blue eyes looked almost gem like, his smile was breathtaking and, that was just his face. The tux fit exquisitely over his sculpted frame. She could almost count the ridges of his abdominal muscles through the crisp, white shirt. Felicity took a tender step forward, the toe of her shoe slipped down to the next step easily while Oliver reached for her waist.

Sydney giggled and, they both laughed in reply. “I’d say she’s happy about being in her parent’s wedding,” Oliver teased.

Felicity shrugged her shoulders and dropped her forehead to her daughter’s crown, “Yes but our family is going to be very upset...” she mumbled as Oliver’s palm slid along her waist.

She felt his soft mumbled reply along her skin when he pressed his lips to their daughter’s waving fingers, “Yeah but if you’re pregnant we’ll be instantly forgiven...”

Felicity grumbled, “How very true...”

He chuckled and asked their daughter, “Okay baby girl are you ready to hear mommy and daddy’s mushy vows?”

Sydney giggled and cooed as she always did. Felicity quipped almost involuntarily, “You know when she starts talking we’re going to be screwed...”

“If she inherits your mouth then yes that’s true,” he quipped back with his fingers dancing along her slim waist.

Felicity sighed, “I wish he could just marry us here...”

She felt his gaze growing stronger over her flushing skin. His confused words tumbled freely once his eye brows were to his hairline, “Ummm why?”

“It’s where we became friends or don’t you remember that?” she explained coyly.

She felt him rubbing his palm along Sydney’s back as he muttered, “We made a deal...we agreed with a spit shake to be best friends after...”

“Tommy pelted me with a rather large snowball,” she provided before his lips could form the words.

His eyes sparkled, “Yeah you had some ice in your eye,” he mentioned softly as the memory rolled through both their bodies.

She pressed her lips to Sydney’s temple, “You agreed that he’d been mean so to make amends you suggested we learn to become friends,” she recalled with muted tones.

Oliver’s fingers rubbed along the fabric of her dress softly, “You really wanna do this right here?” he asked as he inched past Sydney’s smiling face and towards her exposed cheek.

She felt her body tremble with relief when his lips brushed along her upper cheek bone, “You made the world good again,” she started with tears clinging to her lower eyelashes.

His lips quivered, “You saved me after Tommy’s death...”

“You saved me after my parent’s death as well,” she admitted before the minister’s soft voice broke through the tender exchange.

“Seeing as you’re both not moving I’m sensing you’ll be married on the stairs,” he stated warmly with fatherly regard. His voice made her soul sing when he said, “We are gathered here to join these two souls. One is strong, stubborn, and a quite a handful.”

Felicity giggled, “Thank you Minister Joe...”

“You’re welcome but that was Oliver...” he replied as Oliver placed his forehead to her temple. “You Felicity are also strong, but willful, and determined to live by your own rules.”

Oliver groaned, “Yeah let’s not rehash that trait.”

The older, balding man at the foot of the stairs pushed past the comment. His warm, velvet like voice wrapped them both in a warm blanket of endless love. “They��ve chosen to express their love in their own words so I’ll let our bride go first since her groom seems eager for verbal reassurances.”

Felicity hugged her daughter to her side and savored the feeling of her small family being within her physical orbit. Oliver’s lips ghosted over her skin while his fingers continued to trudge along the fabric at her waist. She felt her lungs burn as the oxygen began to seep through her quivering lips, “I thought loving you would kill you.”

He whispered, “No not doing so would have done that...”

She felt a small smile tugging at her lips. She quivered happily when her heart finally made its truth known. “You’re my everything; you’re my entire world next to Sydney. I fell for you first when we were seven and I was five. You welcomed me into your home, you welcomed me into your heart and, before long you made me do the same. I fell for a second time when I was eighteen, my heart was broken, my soul was a mess and, there you were. You never abandoned me, you never gave up on me and, you never stopped believing we’d be more. It was your love that gave us a future Oliver and, for that alone my heart is forever yours.”

Minister Joe spoke softly, “Now Oliver what do you have to say?”

Felicity felt his lips trailing over her skin, Sydney’s small hand was still clasped in her own, Oliver’s was suddenly still along her waist. Her heart raced while the moments ticked away around them. She suddenly was aware of how warm the sun felt over her back while her mind conjured up various images of what his words might be. She breathed shortly, “Ummm baby again now is a good time to speak.”

His soft lips brushed her cheek when he dared to speak, “I prepared about a thousand different versions...each one felt incomplete once I’d scribbled out my incoherent thoughts...” He sounded nervous, she pondered quietly as he continued to softly babble. “I remembered that night back in college when we both admitted our feelings ran deeper than friendship.” His fingers tickled her waist when his errant thoughts moved them towards the next year, “I then thought that was too depressing so I tried to use our first time as the benchmark.”

Again she heard the raw nerves of doubt ringing through his tired voice. She shifted her face until his lips were hovering over hers. She asked raggedly, “What was wrong with that moment?”

Their lips nearly touched when he uttered, “You still were ready to run.”

“Yeah,” she gulped while their foreheads touched, “Yeah I was but that’s not the moment you would have chosen anyways.”

His laughter tickled her lips, “Yeah I finally figured that out when I recalled how it felt when you told me about Sydney...”

Felicity lightly pushed, “Then take your own advice and speak from your heart instead of your head...”

His bright smile made her lips tingle, “I love you,” he whispered before he finally took her for once fairly good advice. “You were always the runner which is strange considering how diligently I fought not to love you.”

Felicity mumbled, “Clearly you lost that battle...”

His bright grin turned somber, “You’re my world, that’s been true since I was twenty years old. You came in brokenhearted, crying and ready to give up on ever finding love. I was contemplating joining my other best friend on his world saving crusade until I heard your small, timid, knuckles rapping against my door. I had the vest on, the gun was at my side, my badge was around my neck and, all it took was hearing your destroyed voice to still my moving body.”

Felicity felt her body chill, her blood froze and her lips trembled when his words once again pierced her once cold heart, “I knew in that moment before Tommy told me to stay that I’d die for you...”

“Yeah and because of our feelings he did...” she whimpered more to herself than to anyone else.

Oliver’s fingers fell around her waist, he muttered, “Joe I’m going to kiss her,” as their lips tenderly touched.

Felicity heard Joe’s gruff, “Fine I assume you take each other?”

Oliver’s lips tangled with her own as they both gave a sloppy, “Yes...”

She heard him groan, “Fine continue kissing the bride because you’re now man and wife....” before he whispered, “It’s about damn time...”

She ignored his parting phrase and, continued to enjoy the pressure of her husband’s lips along her own. Sydney was still balanced on her hip; his body was still hovering dangerously close to her own while she balanced her shaking body over the stair’s fourth step. He mumbled between two very long kisses, “He didn’t die because of us honey; you’re the one that proved that...”

“Yeah but, it doesn’t erase my guilt over feeling relived that you stayed with me,” she grumbled before his tongue slowly traced over the tip of her own.

Her lungs burned when he pushed his tongue further between her parted lips, “He died as a police officer Felicity, he died a hero...” he managed to groan before his words were lost to their tangled lips.

She moaned inwardly while subconsciously realizing that their daughter was still between them, “Baby we have company...” she finally managed to exhale when he let them part for air.

He leaned his forehead along her own, their noses bumped, their lips touched, and their smiles could be felt over the other’s skin, “Staying with you saved my life Felicity, our love literally saved me...” he declared almost passionately.

She managed to babble, “Oliver we still have a very small person between us...”

His lips teased her own, his words tested her heart, and his touch pushed her body into an all out frenzy, “You’re everything to me Felicity, you always were...”

She bounced Sydney over her hip then kissed her husband chastely, “I think every life has a moment...” she began to whisper along his smiling lips.

“And I believe that we have to brave enough to seize it...” he recited as they both recounted her graduation speech.

“You were my moment Oliver, you were my chance and I’m so grateful you pushed me to seize it,” she murmured before their lips timidly touched.

His smile along her mouth made her heart glow when he murmured back, “I love you Felicity...I completely and utterly adore you...”

Sydney cooed almost in approval when she whispered back along their ghosting lips, “I love you Oliver, I truly do...”

Present day…5 hours later...

The rain was still falling steadily, the windows were fogged and the drafty house held the chill of the looming fall weather. Felicity’s fingers ran through her hair, she stroked the strands lightly while she watched Thea’s ever changing face. Her small lips formed another shocked oh when she mumbled, “Okay so...”

Felicity swallowed a small laugh, “You’ve said that about five times now kiddo.”

Her counterpart nodded slowly, “Sorry but I mean seriously you guys are like a friggin love story out of a fairy tale!”

Felicity rubbed along her ankle with her free hand before she slowly began to uncurl her blood deprived legs. Her eyes fell at the feeling of small pin pricks as the sleeping limbs slowly woke up. Her head fell to the edge of the antique couch cushion and her laughter slowly began to fill the room, “Don’t ever tell Oliver that!”

Thea pulled her sleeping feet into her lap, “Why not? He literally healed you with love, I mean Felicity seriously that’s not everyday love that’s of the epic variety.”

Her elated statement made Felicity stammer as the younger woman began to shift beneath her feet. “I wouldn’t say he “healed” me...it was, well....dammit,” she swore once Thea had her folded hands over her ankles.

“Epic...” Thea whispered, “You’re love is friggin epic...” she giggled while Felicity glared.

Her forehead was in her palm when she admitted, “He healed me didn’t he?”

She didn’t see Thea’s nodding head, she did however feel it, “Yeah and you saved him after Tommy’s death.”

Felicity’s stomach rolled at the mere mention of their fallen friend. “Yeah he almost followed him that night,” she gulped with tears collecting along her blinking eyes. “He was going to follow him and, because of my stupid prom disaster he didn’t...” she whispered somberly. “He chose to stay and because of that once choice...”

“The drug dealers didn’t kill him too...” Thea stated. “His love for you saved his life when dealer’s saw the flicker of his badge.”

Felicity rubbed her forehead against her skin, “Don’t worry Thea we worked through that one year’s ago,” she finally muttered when the younger girl began to slowly clear her throat.

“So Ollie never blamed himself for Tommy?”

Felicity lifted her head slowly, her saddened face would have broken Oliver’s heart but her words would have made him slowly smile, “No Peanut he tried trust me but, by then I was so in love with him that I would have followed him to the ends of the Earth if it meant he’d forgive himself.”

“He didn’t join the academy because of you...” she murmured almost in realization.

Felicity’s blue eyes fell as her tears trailed down her face, “No he instead chose to follow me all the way to college for what he called a fresh start.” She felt Thea’s body shuddering when she sighed hopefully, “He followed me out of love Peanut but, I’d already decided I’d follow him anywhere...”

Thea was about to ask another question when the door to the dimly lit pallor creaked. Four eyes flew to the sound but, only one set softened and muttered, “Hey baby...”

Thea made a low gagging sound then promptly pushed Felicity’s calves down to the floor. Felicity chuckled brightly as the younger Queen croaked in fake illness, “And now I’ll just be in the bathroom heaving...”

Oliver brushed his palm over her short, brown hair briskly when she walked past. His tired eyes mimicked her own as he slowly crossed the room. Felicity pulled her legs back up to the vacated cushions and laid her temple over the couch’s edge. “So are my daughter’s asleep?” she questioned sweetly.

He leaned over her upturned face and brushed her lips softly with his. His whiskered skin burned along her chin when he whispered, “Our daughter’s and yes mom’s watching them as we speak.”

Felicity placed her hand along his waist and sighed, “So did you miss me today?”

He pecked her lips once more briefly then growled, “Wanna see how much?’

She grinned as he began to lower himself over her chest. She slowly slid further into the couch so their bodies would be aligned, “You know we have housemates again...”

He nipped at her jaw while she busied her hands with the belt of his pants, “Yet it’s you who’s undressing me...” he countered while his own hands began reaching for the hem of her shirt.

“Before we start fucking how did they take it?” she mumbled along his earlobe.

He gazed his teeth over her skin before his tongue danced over the same path, “Fine, they weren’t thrilled but when I explained the situation they understood.”

“Eden was your scapegoat wasn’t she?” she quipped while she began pushing his shirt up and over his broad shoulders.

His fingers danced along the edge of her bra’s underwire, “Yes and are you sure we should be fucking in a fairly public area?” His question made her inner walls hiccup in hunger.

Felicity giggled then grazed her teeth over the stubble of his cheek, “I guess I like the added element of danger.”

Oliver kissed her roughly after murmuring against her soft smile, “You always fucking did...”

The sharp roll of thunder caused them both to stir. Oliver mumbled against her hair, “You think Eden’s good?”

Felicity kissed his bare chest innocently for once, “Yeah she’s like her mama she likes storms...”

Oliver’s arms wound around her bare waist, his thumbs danced along her hips while his lips remained focused on her brow, “You told Thea about our story?”

His question wasn’t a question but more a confirmation of fact. Felicity nuzzled his chest with her cheek and ran her fingers over the small scars along his toned stomach, “Yeah but I edited some aspects of our rather intense sexual history...”

His laughter made the thunder seem small as the sound rattled her chest. Felicity continued to graze over the small fingernail marks while he rasped intensely, “I don’t regret that night Felicity....”

She asked in amusement, “Which night?”

She felt his brow rise as he pondered the question. “That’s a good question honey; considering that my small scars were received after multiple sexual encounters...”

Felicity giggled, “Yeah we really had fun trying for Eden didn’t we?”

“Except those healed long ago these are from last week...”

Felicity gulped, “I guess I got a bit too carried away again?”

Oliver pulled her closer, their legs instantly twined as the thunder rolled through the darkened skies, “Not when consider how bruised your neck and inner thighs were...”

His admission made her wonder aloud, “Do you ever wonder why I fought us for so long?”

He pressed his lips to her temple once more, her cheek burned when her chest vibrated beneath his skin, “No. I knew we’d be more I just didn’t know how long it would take.”

Felicity pressed her chin along his right pectoral, “How?”

“Tommy,” he answered quickly.

Her nose wrinkled, “It’s still strange to me considering he never really approved of our rather unique relationship. Hell he thought it was gross if I recall correctly.”

Oliver mumbled lightly in reply, “You know that he told me to stay behind Felicity, he saw you running up the driveway before you even knocked on my door.” Oliver’s voice fell as the memory finally came into the light. “He told me to choose the person I loved over a job I hated. He went to the bust while I stayed behind and kissed you. He chose the job and as always I ran after you. I was always going to run after you...” he finished with tears clogging his throat.

She reached around his torso and hugged him tightly, “So being a detective for the SPCD?” she asked quickly.

“Was his dream Felicity, my dream was always a life with you as you well know,” he replied hoarsely. “My dreams all began and ended with you...” he whispered into yet another soft kiss along the base of her brow.

Felicity’s lips fell to his chest, her fingers clung to the skin of his waist while her body teemed for more, “Have a told you I love you today?” she whimpered as she slowly began moving to cover his chest.

His hands fell to her waist, her thighs parted as his erection grew, his eyes flew shut when she slid down his aroused skin, his lips quivered when he rasped, “Yes, you tell me everyday...”

She began to move above him slowly. His body adjusted to meet her; she pulled his hands from her waist and guided his large palms to her heaving breasts. He flicked his thumbs over her pebbled nipples as her body arced. “You’re my dream too by the way,” she immediately mumbled before the moment carried them away.

The wind howled and, carried on as they slowly become one. Thea slept soundly in her room down the hall in the next wing. Moira and Robert cradled their sleeping grandchild in the downstairs kitchen. The world was quiet and, their family was whole. Felicity felt her body beginning to weaken as lightning lit the darkened sky. Her blood raced, her body shuddered and her heart grew as the thunder whispered lowly through her healed soul...

“Love saves us, love heals us, love gives us life. Don’t be afraid of falling in love. Be afraid of missing the moment when you do...”

She felt her body beginning to shatter, she wanted the moment to spread through her entire soul so she began to lean forward. Her forehead fell over his, their lips connected briefly, their shared whispers melted into kiss after kiss. She felt the sweat rolling along her spine while his fingers traced over her dampened skin. She breathed gratefully against his plundered mouth, “I’m so glad I didn’t miss you...”

His growled reply came slowly as they once again became one, “As am I...”

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#arrow #arrow fic #olicity #olicity fic #au #college best friends #lifelong best friends #oliver and felicity #cure to writer's block #last chapter

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myheartislookingforyoualways · 3 years

Text

03.08.2021

Dear G,

I’m going to be honest with you, yesterday was a really tough day for me. I have this hope for me and for us that I am carrying around like a flashlight, to guide myself through the shadows of my life right now. You leaving us ad letting go has left an huge hole in my life and in me. It’s just so hard to even get through day by day, hour by hour and minute by minute. I was so desperate yesterday for you, I cried a few times throughout the day, probably even more, and just felt so helpless and hopeless more than a few times.

Somehow your Spotify is still on the TV. I was trying to play music and I was somehow in your account somehow. Then I saw a playlist with the egg emoji and three songs, just three songs: Cloud Dancer, After Rain Comes the Sun and Love is the Answer. Twenty minutes that how far you got into making it before it had to stop because I drove us off the rails with my addiction and the person I had become. Then I started to think of how sweet that was that you were doing that. You never told you made a playlist. I still have the one I made of yours. I rescued it. I’m sure you would have if you were still here and didn’t have to leave. I’m sure it wouldn’t have been incomplete. You always gave yourself so completely and earnestly to us and to me without any condition;. I remember always manically going on about whatever nonsense I was and you would be right there with me keeping up wth me and being all in with me always. All in on us. Fuck. That just re-breaks my heart into smaller and smaller pieces that you had to leave all those little bits of us and me and u behind. Then my mind started to race. For some reason I always think of the tone of your voice when you had a parcel at the front desk and I asked you what it was . You said “it doesn’t matter anymore” with such absolution and resign. You had to give up on us. I stared at that playlist and started crying for us, for you and all I put you through, and for all the us that you had to leave behind. All the things I wanted to do with u, all the things you wanted to do with me. Life. I just felt really hopeless and I was crying and calling your name aloud. I just kept saying peash Giselle desperately. The neighbours probably think I’m crazy by now or something.

I self talked myself out of it eventually and pulled myself out of the desperation and hopelessness I worked myself. And then I did it again. And again I self talked myself out of my hopelessness. And that continued for awhile. I set myself personal timers to keep myself distracted. That was going well until ‘Tell Me You Love Me’ started playing. I intentionally haven’t played any of our songs that we always bopped to together. It’s just too hard. I immediately heard your voice singing, you dancing while you’re singing. I instinctively wanted to reach out and grab you like i always did, I can still feel you here even though you’re 5461 km away. I still reach out for you, I still anticipate your voice, I still want to beg you for your kisses. Grab your butt and pick you up and kiss you all over your lips then put my tongue in your nose to bug yo. I was in the shower. I ran out of it and turned the music. I went back into the shower and just started to say your name and cried.

The hole you left in my life and my heart when you had to let go and leave us is so raw real and aches more and more each day. Its the only reality grounding me to this situation we are in now. My mind understands this but my heart just refuses to at all. I refuse to believe that we are not an us anymore. I can’t believe it. A huge part of me is still in complete denial. I honestly in the deepest and purest part of my heart, never wanted this, I never wanted us to end. I wanted us to be always. I wanted it all with you. I still do. I don’t want there to be an end to us. I want us desperately to be together in the end. I want all our little things we do with each other. I want to make more jokes with you, more ways to cuddle and whine to each other, I want more future memories with you and with us. I want to still get you that air fwyer and mawwy you. I can’t even let any of it go. I can’ let us go. I’m in denial. Even now I think sometimes its just a dream and I’m going to wake up. In those moments of utter desperation I feel so hopeless and helpless. I think that you could still here and we could be looking forward to lockdown ending and having our second spring together. All the things I want to do with you. It is never-ending. Honestly , I doesn’t matter what we do, it never did you’re my best friend and my partner thats all that mattered really. I’ve been clinging desperately to this; to us. I’ve been literally checking your Twitter and Tumblr obsessively . Its a small shred of you but I refresh my browser on my phone so much. I do it instinctively now its like a reflex. Whatever I’m doing i just do it. You frustratingly don’t post as much as I crave but when you do I talk to you even though I’m only talking to myself. It makes me feel better or at least lets me stay in denial a bit longer. That all just came crashing down when i saw your VSCO gallery post, my whole little make believe life I’ve been using as a coping mechanism just was blown up when I saw your post at that hotel bar with the caption ‘Godspeed - Frank Ocean’. I just crumbled. We both know each other like nobody else and we both know music is life to both of us. Also you know how much I love Frank Ocean. Here you were posting a picture of a hotel lobby referencing Frank Ocean breakup music, like his probably number one breakup song, but he has so many, and I can’t even bear to hear the word or even see it written down. G I’m in complete denial actually and I’m desperate - you know how I get. I cannot believe that we are not an us, that we are broken up, even right now I still have trouble writing that sentence. But you forced me to start to face the music; literally. I wish so badly that we could just experience our good songs together, the ones that have so much love and hope and meaning. Tell Me You Love Me. Treat You Better. The Outfield. Let’s Stay Together. The Mates of Soul. So many good feelings. I’m just holding on to them .But you’re right and I’m in complete denial.

I told myself there and then I wouldn’t do this to myself anymore. Its just a tool I’m using to stay in denial just a bit longer. Checking your feeds is just helping me cope and not face it. We are broken up. I’m crying writing this. I never wanted this and I never wanted an end to us. But i did recognize this wasn’t good because I have to let go. Also this cycle of hopelessness is just going to lead back to a relapse. More than anything else I just want to be sober and healthy. There is nothing but more pain with that. There will never be enough drugs or alcohol to numb the pain of losing you of you having to let go .I just have to feel it. I was really desperate and low yesterday and I messaged a friend of ours, JJ, because i was really feeling hopeless and like nothing mattered. It helped. I did get into it again throughout the day. I couldn’t help it. You referenced Frank in our breakup as our breakup music. I had to listen to him. I listened to him over and over again thru the day and into the night. It was like a scab that you just can’t stop picking. Painful but can’t stop it. Frank knows pain. But i just can’t stop thinking that you have accepted that we are broken up and you’re ready to move on. I can accept that we are broken up right now. But i will never move on from us. I don’t want to and I never will. I want us back. I want to be with you in the end. I want us to have a happy ending. We’re both still here, on the same planet, the same dimension, and still have the same love. I don’t want anyone else and I never will. I just want you G. You and only you. I don’t want new little things with anyone else. I want to keep all our little things we do for and with each other and make new ones too. I remember you posted to Tumblr awhile ago that you don’t want to have this hope you will never let me hurt you again. Ok, so what if I just didn’t then? What if you gave us another chance and I took that chance and made it the biggest turnaround of my life? What if I did really actually get sober and every day relentlessly and tirelessly work on my sobriety as hard I tried to hide my addiction before? What if I had a real fucking plan and I worked every day like like my most important job - me? What if I was just completely honest with you at all times and was open and understanding to your needs and requests to feel comfortable moving forward? What if I just showed you how much I love you each and every day? What if you came back to us and I never ever forget for the rest of our lives how much of a gift you gave us, how much of a blessing you are to me, and cherished you as hard as I could for as long as I could ? What if I gave you my utmost humility and loyalty and love in exchange for you giving me the best gift you could ever give me; one last chance to be happy with the love of my life, the woman of my dreams now and always, my wolf queen of the mur always by my side and me at yours? What if we both just accepted what didn’t work before and be completely open, honest and giving in starting again but new again? What if we had an open and honest conversation with each other about our expectations, boundaries, fears, and things we are not going to do again? What if we just started there? Step by step? What if you just let me show you all that I wanted to be to you and for us? What if I just took your chance you give me an the blessing that you’ve been to me and not say sorry? What if from now from that moment I just make choices that I never regret and jever make choices that I will regret? What if you just gave me that one last chance at us?

None of this can ever happen at all if I don’t put those thoughts and focus on myself now and for the next foreseeable future. I take full responsibility for my actions that led to this and I am working on changing myself. Measurable real actual changes. Changes that will take time yes.Changes that are difficult. But I desperately want to change. At any cost. You leaving on that plane on February 24th is just starting to sink in but I awake now to myself and accountable for myself. I just want to be happy and healthy. I’m looking towards that in my future, and I still see you and us in our future. I know that only you can make that choice though and you may not want to. That I will have to accept. But me and my life and gettting the happiness I want still stands.

It also still stands that I am going to email you after one full month of sobriety. I intend on doing that. I miss talking to you so much. I know that my VSCO moon poem was a bold move. But i just had to I’m so desperate to have any sort of direct communication with you. I have started and deleted so many emails to you. I stare at your phone number. I miss my besh fren. I miss you . I miss us. I miss me. I want it all back. I want me back. I want you back . I want us back. So i’m holding on to hope and I always will.

I still haven’t looked at your Twitter and Tumblr and VSCO since I saw the Frank Ocean post. I need to give myself more time. I don’t want to not look but I need to not look right now. Its unhealthy and I’m going to relapse if I stay in a unhealthy mindset. I feel better not obsessing over it. I’ll allow myself to check up on you once a day in the morning when I’m most mentally and emotionally strong. I need to be aware of my relapse triggers. These ‘letters’ to you help a lot as well. Even if right now I’m just writing to myself it really helps get me through this. I still see you on the other end of this.

I love you G

I’m never giving up on us

Peash hold just a little hope

If you do i’ll take your kernel of hope and build the dream of us again stronger and honestly and with twice as much love through action

Peash

Please

I love you

Can we have the happy ending thats all I want

I just want u G

Forever and a

Day

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