#*praying to my in built screen recorder*

[screwzara]

Lin...?

Music: What You Want [Had to take the audio from Instagram 💀]

If u wanna see an unchopped version then you'll have to go to my insta 😔

Someone bouta die by this man's hands 👁️👁️

[talenlee]

Game Pile: The Beginner's Guide, Midjourney, and Praying to Coda

The Beginner's Guide, Midjourney, and Praying to Coda

Watch this video on YouTube

This is a rebuild and expansion of my article on The Beginner’s Guide from back in 2018, with a newly developed thesis about authenticity and access to artists.

And below is the script I worked from!

The Beginner’s Guide

The Beginner’s Guide is an interactive storytelling video game created by Davey Wreden under the studio name Everything Unlimited Ltd. The game was released for Linux, OS X, and Windows on October 1, 2015. The game is Wreden’s follow-up to the critically praised The Stanley Parable, his previous interactive storytelling title that was initially released in 2013.

The game is narrated by Wreden and takes the user through a number of incomplete and abstract game creations made by a developer named Coda. Wreden challenges the player to try to come to understand the type of person Coda is from exploring these spaces in a first-person perspective. Wreden has stated the game is open to interpretation: some have seen the game as general commentary on the nature of the relationship between game developers and players, while others have taken it as an allegory to Wreden’s own personal struggles with success resulting from The Stanley Parable. When the game sold, a reviewer – at least one, but I can’t find records of more than that – made a bit of a stir by suggesting that the fiction presented in the game is true, and that therefore, the game was built out of stolen material, and gamers buying it could hypothetically, get it refunded if they felt that were in any kind of moral quandrary.

This is, as best I understand it, the ‘story’ of The Beginner’s Guide, the entity in media, the confluence of reporting and reactions to a game. And now, in that same disjointed way of The Beginner’s Guide, I want to tell you about s1m0ne.

S1M0NE, stylised however you wanna, is a 2002 Al Pacino movie about a dude who creates a virtual actress. That’s not even how the movie goes in full, it’s way more involved than that and it includes bestiality, and it has this nasty kind of undercurrent about the fundamentally exploitable nature of women in media spaces. It’s an interesting film.

I didn’t say good.

Anyway, the thing is S1M0NE’s central premise is the virtual actress, Simone. In-movie, she doesn’t exist. To reinforce this, she isn’t credited as having an actress. The movie does do an extensive cgi sequence, showing Simone being constructed digitally, but it was… let’s say it’s very 2002, and leave it at that. Anyway, a bunch of people including representatives from the Screen Actors Guild believed it and they started a fuss about it. I think. It’s hard to find sources about it now, but I remember a fuss.

I mean it stands to reason, if you’re a union you want to oppose things that hurt the interest of your members, and that’s a perfectly valid concern to be worried about around about now with things like deep learning technology allowing us to transplant faces and details across multiple media works and the complex relationship between motion capture and voice actor and fully integrated action – like, if you weren’t aware, motion captured faces are not a 1:1 acting thing, they’re a structure for animators to work from. Gollum is not ‘Andy Serkis is amazing,’ they’re Andy Serkis and the fifty people doing all the rest of the work are amazing, and yes, Andy’s ability to disappear into the role and do the physical acting element is impressive. That’s a real conversation.

But it’s not the conversation they were having in 2002.

There were some people, in late 2002, who genuinely thought that an Al Pacino movie with Winona Ryder and a budget of $10 Million had successfully replicated the human form with complete authenticity, and that the much cheaper and easier tack of using an actor wasn’t more likely. Then they thought it’d involve, y’know, pig-doinking.

Simone was played by a Canadian actress, and the movie otherwise glanced over its very interesting questions of identity and artificiality and technology to instead tell a story about a dude who was very, very anxious about his inability to control women. The real story of the movie, then, is less about what the movie wanted to talk about and much more about the fact some people couldn’t tell where the movie was fiction and where it was fact. The boundary of the diegesis confused people, and there were some critics who were genuinely unsure of how confident they could be about dismissing the fears of people who thought the end of actors had come.

This comparison is because, yeah, it’s kinda stupid that videogame criticism was duped into believing that maybe an author stole all their work and then recorded themselves having a nervous breakdown then edited that nervous breakdown and cleaned up the audio and packaged it up and sold it on Steam without at any point considering that the art was stolen, it’s not like videogames are unique in this regard. We have a history of people not knowing the boundary between art and real and sometimes, when people play with that, especially in areas of new technology, people make mistakes. But also, like, yeah, we are now living in a time when the idea of ‘someone tried to sell entirely stolen assets on steam for $15’ isn’t even a joke or punchline, it might just be a fact of a thing that happens regularly.

As a game experience, The Beginner’s Guide is fine. I like it as a game because it needs the medium of games to make sense, complete with the idea of incomplete games and the way games are made not from a coherent single point but a sort of constantly exploding set of interconnected steps. Like, you couldn’t make this as a book because this isn’t how a book would look when you’re exploring its dismantled bits. The Beginner’s Guide, if it were a book about books and making books, would look like collected pieces of paper in different hands, with a sort of formalising hand over it all.

Funnily enough it’d look a bit like the book of Genesis.

(There’s a long reach of an academic poke)

It’s a perfectly interesting work about imposter syndrome and emotional boundaries and creative processes and a lot of other things you can see in your own inkblots. It’s an artistic piece that tells you a narrative in a really blunt way, but it uses its framing to create a blurred diegesis. It uses real world markers to confuse you about the actuality of its narrative, or it did at the time.

There’s a forking challenge here; on the one hand, I want to berate videogames, as a culture, for being so woefully ill-equipped to deal with meta art as to be convinced that the narrative presented in The Beginner’s Guide was actually real and have at least one actual journalist be so unsure of the reality of the presented narrative as to hedge their bets and mention seemingly unironically that refunds for this game were an option. On the other hand, it’s not like we’re drowning in meta-aware fiction and a cultural discourse that can treat this kind of thing seriously. Since the Stanley Parable and then Beginner’s Guide, the most recent big ‘oh everyone talks about it’ meta-game in my space has been Undertale, and I hate that.

Since the Beginner’s Guide’s original appearance, things have moved on a bit, and particularly, the word ‘parasocial’ has fallen to the common voice. People with platforms use the term to describe the behaviour of people who don’t have platforms, and the people without platforms follow their word, and now ‘parasocial’ has a sort of loose use around it, the idea that it’s pretty much just anything that annoys you about other people on the internet, especially if they’re talking about media. Then we got ‘plagiarism,’ which is, I understand, ‘mostly vibes.’

I want to compare Davey Wreden to Fred Gallagher, the author of Megatokyo. Megatokyo if you’re not familiar with it, is a webcomic that started in August 2000 and has never officially stopped updating since. It’s updated twice this year, which puts it ahead of the same time last year. What Megatokyo is about is not important here, what is is that Megatokyo was enormously succesful, incredibly popular, and has never once had an update schedule its authors were happy with.

I wrote a lot about Megatokyo last year and I still think that article is worth restructuring and presenting in some kind of long form read way. In the end my conclusion about it is that I don’t think ill of Fred Gallagher as a creative, as much as I think that he got to suffer a unique kind of problem that only capitalism can cause, where you can be too successful to handle your own success. That is, both Wreden and Gallagher made something that led to people having assumptions and expectations that don’t make any sense, because the value of what they created was associated with capital, which is to say, money, and rent, and food.

There’s this idea we’re all circling around right now on a platform that is probably by now mostly procedurally generated – not just the stuff made in the past few years by tools like Chatgpt and the midjourney thumbnails and all, but rather that the algorithm of youtube made a lot of people make media in a way that shaved the non-formulaic parts off it, until there was nothing but hash tag con tent. The stuff you like is a small egg floating on a vast and turbulent sea of piss. It’s now that people care a lot about a kind of authenticity from work which separates it from what I’m going to call Generative Media, and which other people are going to insist on calling ‘AI.’

The conversation around generative art is a real struggle sometimes because it feels like sometimes when people are talking about ‘ai art bros’ they’re dealing with a small pool of obnoxious people, and sometimes I can even tell the specific dickhead they mean. It’s Shad, it’s Shad, so often they mean Shad, and yeah sure, Shad sucks. But the conversation around generative media is so often structured in these really weird ways that seems to imply low-quality images don’t exist until generative media gets involved. That nobody cranks out bullshit, or that art is a transferrable property of a human agent, or that in the great days of the internet, nobody’s using pictures they didn’t draw to illustrate articles they wrote. In this very video I’m using gameplay footage from a game I don’t own, and the reason you’re not seeing the footage from S1m0ne to reinforce that point is because a robot would get mad at me and block the video if I did.

I’m even in defensive crouch saying this stuff here. Look: I think generative media tools have applications, particularly in zero-value situations. Nobody in the world is having their pocket picked if I copy art of Rin Matsuoka and use that for my D&D character. Similarly, someone with less image editing skill than mine using generative media to generate pictures of things they weren’t going to pay for in the first place are not hurting anyone unless you believe in a literal cosmic value of these things. In that case, you’re basically just like the generative media people who are functionally, praying to chat gpt. If you’re rapid prototyping, if you’re making a game and need temporary assets to give yourself tools to build around, if you need a powerpoint presentation for class, all of this stuff represents no lost value. This is a perfect place to put generative media. I’m sure purists will disagree, and I just do not care. But there’s my stance: Generative media is an interesting toy that should be used as such, and if it can replace your job, your job probably sucks and you should be doing something cooler and better that people value more. That’s a problem with jobs, and how we give people money to feed themselves, not the software that generates anime tiddy on demand.

Now, here is where things get tangled up.

It seems to me that generative media is being attacked right now by people I generally like and agree with on most things, because of very high concept, seemingly contradictory positions. People who dislike copyright law busting it out to attack midjourney, and people who hate Disney praying for them to fight Google. Ideas about the inherent nobility of art and stick figure illustrations being better than generative media on websites dedicated to sharing unsourced artworks of definitely not stick figures. People don’t have reasons that make a lot of sense for why these things should not be tolerated, but they are very real about their emotional hatred of them. Which, you know, given the people who defend generative media, makes sense, a lot of those people suck and are incredibly obnoxious. Particularly it seems a lot of them are the losers of the NFT wave who are trying to get in ground level as ‘prompt engineers’ as if the ecosystem they’re entering will value them at all.

One of the most sterling arguments against generative media, and one I personally like, is the idea that these tools represent potential precarity for artists who are already struggling to pay for things like, again, rent and food. Potential, in that, largely commission-based artistic survival under capitalism seems to be a bit of a dice roll as it is. My solution to this is not to shame people who weren’t going to pay for art for failing to be able to support a commission economy they weren’t partaking in in the first place, though, it’s things like massive overhauls of income inequality and universal basic income, but also I can understand how my idea is hard and yelling at strangers in hyperbolic language is really easy.

The pressure that created the Beginner’s Guide is also the pressure that meant someone talking about an artistic work of anxiety media couched it in terms of fucking refunds so people didn’t feel they’d ethically mis-stepped by buying fiction about exploitation, a thing that nobody otherwise does, and it’s the same pressure that means ‘someone is making cheap bad art with an exploitative method’ is a threat to the livelihood of a small number of people who have managed to make an extremely precarious living doing art in the first place. As if money is why artists make art, as if we aren’t all struggling in exploitative systems, as if the existence of bland corporate art pumped out in huge troves to pad resume drawers isn’t

Since these past few years, writing academically, a habit I’ve gotten into is always trying to attribute where I get ideas for. Sentences that are referring to someone else’s idea, with the little note of ‘hey, this is that person, at this date.’ It’s a thing that can create the habit of also starting sentences with ‘Wreden says this’ or ‘Gallagher’s work shows this,’ which creates in casual conversation an impression of a very specific kind of authorial access. Certainly here on Youtube, I don’t want to give you the impression because I’m pointing to their work that I can tell you what they think or feel. The idea that I can connect to these authors through a particularly big brained reading of their work is similar to how Christians think they can read god’s mind because they read the book of Daniel, and like, Fred Gallagher exists.

I don’t know what Davey Wreden was thinking about the Beginner’s Guide when he made it. Even if I asked him now, I won’t get an answer, I’ll get the answer of what he remembers of what he was thinking, which may be the same thing but can’t necessarily. I can try, and that’s a way to get at this authenticity, but it’s not a way to guarantee it.

The Beginner’s Guide is still an interesting game to me, because the conversation around it, and around ownership of work, and of unsourced material and exploiting artists hasn’t changed that much but all the people engaging in it have gotten new things to have to try and fit into their models. We are no closer to Coda.

Those opening paragraphs of this article are from from wikipedia.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[jujurose222]

Today my mother was birthed. To sing to the girls of a world with such weak love. To teach us to be pretty and proud. To lace every interaction with something meaningful. To embrace the dark black void daunting our citizens. To be a real human being despite a world of robots. I am not kidding when I call her my mother. 2014 I sat in my room and sang Summertime Sadness while my father was plastered and my sister on drugs. It was my first playlist and Lana had her honored spot. My real mom was gone, void of a woman’s love, my other sister was trying to survive in a house built on lust. I had a big projection screen in my basement, I spent most of my time there playing Just Dance and watching Music Videos. It was there I watched Born to Die and felt my insides flutter. It was there I watched that elegant woman be simply beautiful. It was the time of Vine, my cousin would edit her. And I was her biggest fan. To see clips of Lana singing on stage, and then the day she showed me her new record player and Born to Die Vinyl. Roses on her record player, I just fell in love. I would beg her to let me hangout in her room and listen to Lana with her. My little cousin would get so mad at me, call me a “Junior Ellie” but she was something magical. She also introduced me to Zella Day, Ellie got to see them both. And then the day when my sister and her got to meet Zella, and she signed their merchandise. I screamed because I wanted it to be me. My sister gave me the phone case she signed and I used it till it fell apart. I fell in love with the earth after I heard Lana’s voice. I would sing my heart out and pray I would one day be graced with a voice like hers. I still remember my pink duvet, Samsung tablet, and my short blonde bob. I would dance in my tiny room with no decorations, considering they were all gone. She gave me hope after everything I had was gone, including the idea of my family I thought I knew.

Thank the Lord for giving us Lana Del Rey. Happy birthday.

My cousin also talked my cheer coach into letting us perform to National Anthem for our recital and I would give anything to find that damn video but I can’t!!!!

[mofffun]

Yuzuki's online event on May 2 still have openings for 16:00~ and 17:00~ sessions

Online photobook release event via Talkport

May 2

16:00~16:49

17:10~17:59

For 3900yen, you get:

30seconds 1-on-1 talk with Yuzuki

photobook x 1

special sticker

How-to:

Requires SMS verification (international numbers OK)

Must download Talkport app

Pay by PayPal or credit card

Instructions available in English

Book only ships domestically in Japan from May 10 (you don't need a valid Japan address to confirm booking, but unless you have a proxy warehouse, the book will not be delivered to an overseas address)

Time slots are sold first come first served, actual meeting time unknown before payment but should be closer to end time currently

Sticker visual & timezone reference:

Screen recording is Not Allowed and I expext the app will have in-built function that blocks either picture or sound. The usual bypass is an emulator on PC but I cannot attest to that. If sound recording is blocked at least an additional device (and a quiet room!) can physically solve the problem.

Since there's only 30secs, better write your speech on a paper and show her, especially id you are not confident in Japanese.

I can't do it because I forgot timezones and thought it clashes with my entire flight 🤡 never quite prayed as hard for a delay. I can't quite record it with limited equipment either but oh it's so tempting to show her I'm flying over as we speak

I do appreciate the gesture for long-distance/international fans. I had hopes since LDH was pretty open to the oversea market in the first place, and Yuzuki answered positively when told of kingoh's popularity overseas. The Talkport event will be a good survey just how many countries have Yuzuki reached.

[erinpilolla]

How to Foster Creativity in Yourself

October 13, 2023

Erin Pilolla

The blank white screen, blinking cursor, and impending due dates stare back at me as if my computer was a mirror illuminating my stressed and anxious reflection. Often times my projects don't begin until after a great amount of mental prodding, encouragement, and enforcement, internally reassuring myself things will seem easier once I start them, usually proving myself correct.

You see, having chronic anxiety does not make it easy to express any idea, let alone one that could be experimental, personal, or show vulnerability. It can be easy to convince yourself that any direction you go could be considered wrong and will leave you feeling embarrassed, until you’ve stopped thinking about ideas for the project and started imagining your downfall.

That’s why I try very hard to remind myself an idea is just the start of something, ideas can be changed, revised, adjusted, and built on. Every great thing which has happened or been thought of has started out with just one simple idea, so it never hurts to put something down on the page and go from there. I like to imagine my creative process like a snowball rolling down a hill, requiring great force and moving slowly at first until it starts to move and gain traction, picking up more snow as it goes until it can’t be stopped.

In Twyla Tharp’s novel, "The Creative Habit", she discusses how her creative routines have helped shape her decades-long dance and choreography career which have taken her all across the world. Chapter 6, “scratching,” does a wonderful job of illustrating how full of inspiration the world around us is. You really can find a way to turn almost any interaction, object, or moment into artistic fuel. On page 98 she states, “Without the little ideas, there are no big ideas,” and this encouraged me to keep giving time and space to all the small ideas in my head, on the off chance they become something even more insightful than I first imagined.

Over time I have found certain situations inspire me when I am facing a blockage of creativity. Something about late nights, city lights, long drives, and new situations (people, places, experiences) always fill me with a sense of urgency, like there’s ideas all around me that I could grab onto and expand upon, ideas that could carry me away to other thoughts like bouquets of balloons in the sky.

Elizabeth Gilbert, author of the novel "Eat, Pray, Love", reflected on some of her fears and other peoples’ fears that were being projected onto her of that novel being the greatest success of her writing career. She went on to explain how creativity can be seen as something you can tap into rather than what you are, and used the phrase “having a genius,” meaning that you can experience random, beautiful moments of creativity at any time in your life, describing the moment an idea strikes and how fleeting it can be.

In the career field I am in, marketing and communications, one might wonder how important it really is to harness creativity within myself and the teams that I lead. To someone wondering about that, I would argue that any career field can improve from forming habits that can help you find creative, innovative solutions to everyday problems.

One of the most important ideas discussed by "The Creative Habit", which Twyla Thorp preaches throughout each chapter, is that anybody can benefit from going on a journey to reignite their flame for discovery. Through hard work and by building new routines, it is possible for anybody to start to feel that passion again, or for the very first time.

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

Sources:

Tharp, T. (2003). The Creative Habit. Simon and Schuster.

Elizabeth Gilbert. (2009). Your Elusive Creative Genius (Speech Recording). TED Conferences.

[hollandsmushroom]

Swimming Trunks || T.H.

based of a random tik tok I saw of a girl walking in on her boyfriend while wearing only his swimming suit. 

word count: 446

Warnings: Suggestiveness

REBLOG, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REBLOG

It was a silly little idea that had rolled onto your for you page one slow sunday while Tom was working and it immediately set a wicked smile on your face, how could it not? As soon as you watched the video the whole way through you ran up to your room, passing the closed door of Tom’s office and through your bedroom door way, opening one of Tom’s drawers and pulling out the infamous baby blue board shorts that he had worn in Spain. Just seeing them made you think of the way his skin glistened with droplets of water sliding down his abs as the bright sun fractured the light, casting small rainbows on his smooth pale skin. You had to shake your head to shake the lecherous thoughts loose, knowing that you just had to hold it together for long enough for Tom to pull the loose material off of your hips. Your own clothing was quickly discarded and replaced with nothing but his shorts. They fit slightly differently on you, obviously, the both of you weren’t built the same, but you knew that the look would have Tom weak in the knees no matter what. 

Your nipples hardened as you made your way towards Tom’s office, skin not accustomed to the slight chill that the air of your shared house held( you could only pray your bare chest would soon be warmed up by the eager lips and fingers of your lover). When you pushed the door to Tom’s office open you found him with his back facing you and you took that moment of him not seeing you to press record on your video before clearing your throat and making Tom aware of your presence. 

“Yes loov-oh holy shit” He spun around in his office chair to face you as he tore his tired eyes from the computer screen they had been staring at for far too long. His brown orbs widened in shock as he found you standing behind him in nothing but his swimsuit, tits on display to his eager eyes. 

“You like?” you giggle, knowing this video was going to be great because Tom’s jaw was dropped and his eyes were glazed over, it was the perfect reaction for a boyfriend to have. 

“I fucking love!” Tom exclaimed, shaking himself out of his tittie induced haze and rising from his seat, quickly reaching you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “I am cool with all these tik tok pranks if they mean I get to see your boobs” Tom hums, nipping at your neck as you toss your phone aside. 

“I’ll keep that in mind” you chuckle.

REBLOG AND MY HEART IS YOURS

♡Taglist♡ @iluvdeja @quaksonhehe @lovehollandy12 @thollandneedy @prancerrparkerr @parkerpeter24 @hollandsour @evermoreholland @spidey-sophie @harmqnia @thehumanistsdiary @samaraaaaa @itscaminow @alinastarkrovs @marvelsbitch8 @celestialholland @kasidy409 @parkerdarling @scarletspideyy @capital-koreasofia @marvelhasmyheart235 @hackerholland @tom-softie @hollandsjen @tomhollandsbitch8 @bi-lmg07 @peterbarkerlmao @reawritesthings @tomsholland2412 @lowkey-holland @cocoamoonmalfoy @tomhollandlol @vintageobx @elishi03 @spooky-season-bitch @hollandsvogue @idkseraphine @cloudyfeel @mcushvft @rory-cakes @nithikaa26 @hiraethenthusiast @marajillana @nocturnalms @kasidy709 @thirlwallsholland @elenapatricia99 @marvelgurl @the-girl-in-the-chair @spideyspeaches 

[only-johnny-deppp]

“Whatever I’ve gone through, I’ve gone through. But, ultimately, this particular arena of my life has been so absurd...” 

 Johnny Depp’s NEW INTERVIEW!

Last saturday, August 14, The UK Times, released a new interview with Johnny for the Sunday Times section. It was realized sometime earlier this month, in London, probably on the same day he and Andrew Levitas were recording for the Q&A for the “Minamata” release in UK. This is Johnny’s first interview since the UK trials in London last year, and released three years after Johnny’s major interview for the British GQ Magazine. Here Johnny and Andrew Levitas speaks about “Minamata”, his future as actor and a thing or two about his personal life, although he cannot talk about the court case.

For those who couldn’t read yet, here is the FULL interview:  Enjoy.

***

“I’M BEING BOYCOTTED BY HOLLYWOOD”

Johnny Depp has a new film out this week. In the opening scene his character, the real-life photographer W Eugene Smith, says, “I’m done. I’m tired. My body is older than I am. I’m always in goddam pain. I can’t trust my f***ing dick any more. Constantly in a foul mood. Even the drugs bore me.”

I ask Depp if Smith’s despair resonated with him. Depp stops. Rocks back and forth. “That’s interesting,” he replies with painful hesitation.

“I didn’t approach playing Smith in that way… Although you bring your toolbox to work and use what is available. Having experienced...” He stops again. Depp takes any questions that might refer to his calamitous libel case last year slowly, in a mumbly, croaking drawl. “A surreal five years…”

In the film Smith needs to revive his reputation. In real life Depp’s task is even more daunting. Thanks to the judgment, everyone can call him a “wife-beater”. Now he must convince a Hollywood still convulsed by #MeToo that he’s not toxic — and that any attempt to rebuild his career is a risk worth taking. This is Depp’s first interview since the case.

We are speaking over Zoom, Depp in his London home, in front of a gold-framed painting. The 58-year-old is wearing a lot of clothes. Earrings. Floppy hat. Sunglasses. Bandana. Scarf. Checked shirt over a T-shirt with an indiscernible slogan. If you saw him on the Tube*, you might think he was off to work at the London Dungeon*, to play most of the characters.

PS. For those who are not familiar with British words: * Tube = British slang for London Underground, the subway trains. * London Dungeon = is a walk-through experience that recreates scenes from London's scary history in a mixture of live actors, special effects and rides.

Depp resumes, talking in broken sentences about the new film, Minamata, in which Smith, via Life magazine, exposes the brutal mercury poisoning of Japanese villagers in the early 1970s.

“How do we do this?” he asks rhetorically, meaning how to speak about the elephant in the Zoom. “Well, there’s no way one can’t recognise the absurdity of the mathematics.” He grins. “If you know what I mean?” No. “Absurdity of media mathematics.” He talks in riddles. “Whatever I’ve gone through, I’ve gone through. But, ultimately, this particular arena of my life has been so absurd...”

He trails off again. He is holding a big brown roll-up of some sort. “What the people in Minamata dealt with? People who suffered with Covid? A lot of people lost lives. Children sick...Ill. Ultimately, in answer to your question? Yeah, you use what you’ve got. But what I’ve been through? That’s like getting scratched by a kitten. Comparatively.”

Last July, I went to the High Court in London to watch Depp on another screen — a video from the socially distanced court where the Hollywood star was losing a libel action against The Sun after it called him a “wife-beater”. It was the grottiest showbiz trial of the century. There were photos of the actor passed out in a foetal slump, socks on show. One lengthy exchange involved faeces. Another urination, inside or outside a house, after a violent night with his ex-wife Amber Heard.

This had all been going on for a while. In 2016 Heard applied for a temporary restraining order against him. The couple had long endured a narcotic, booze-filled, childish relationship, but that does not matter — 12 incidents levelled against Depp were proved, said the judge, and abuse is abuse, regardless of how badly they both behaved. Depp wanted to appeal, but the court said no. Next April in the US he has a $50 million defamation case against Heard relating to an opinion piece she wrote about being the victim of domestic abuse. It may be his last roll of the dice.

In the 1990s Depp was a sensitive heart-throb. Cooler than DiCaprio, edgier than Pitt. In this past year he has been stripped of his status and dignity. On day three of the trial Sasha Wass QC, representing The Sun, asked Depp about daubing a penis on a painting. He could not remember. “That would be quite a big thing, painting a penis on a picture?”  Wass asked. “Quite a big thing?” Depp asked.

It was a well-delivered line, but Depp was on show. Performing. Now he is more timid, less lucid. His people say he cannot talk about the court case given the looming US trial, yet it hangs over everything. The director of Minamata, Andrew Levitas, is also on our call — as a pub trivia aside, Levitas is married to the Welsh singer Katherine Jenkins.

The two men clearly get on. “With regards to journalism, it was important for us to put across in the film the power of truth,” Levitas says. Depp nods. “The responsibility of journalists to look after citizens of the world. [Our film] coincided with the moment important publications had to put Raquel Welch on a cover to get enough eyeballs to sell enough ads in order to put something meaningful inside. A result of that is clickbait — it’s destroying the purpose of journalism,” Levitas continues.

“You said it beautifully,” says Depp, one of the world’s most pinned-up men, who built a career on magazine covers. “I couldn’t say it better than that.”

Last month Levitas wrote to MGM, which bought Minamata for the US market but decided not to release it. He accused MGM of being concerned that “the personal issues of an actor in the film could reflect negatively upon them”. Then the letter got really strong. Levitas accused MGM of failing in its “moral obligation” to release the film and said it needed to explain to the victims “why you think an actor’s personal life is more important than their dead children”. He then attached Smith’s photos of ghastly deformities that shocked the world 50 years ago.

“It’s important that the movie gets seen and supported,” Levitas says. “And if I get an inkling it’s not going to be, it’s my responsibility to say so. Where it goes from there? I don’t know. But we have responsibility to these victims . . .”

You can see why he’s passionate. The film is good. MGM bought the film because it is good. Depp is good too. He disappears into the role, far from his more recent pantomime parts. It’s being released worldwide, just not in the actor’s homeland.

Depp, who also produced the film, interrupts. “We looked these people in the eyeballs and promised we would not be exploitative. That the film would be respectful. I believe that we’ve kept our end of the bargain, but those who came in later should also maintain theirs.”

“Some films touch people,” he adds. “And this affects those in Minamata and people who experience similar things. And for anything…” He pauses, as he does. “For Hollywood’s boycott of, erm, me? One man, one actor in an unpleasant and messy situation, over the last number of years?” He trails off. “But, you know, I’m moving towards where I need to go to make all that…” Again, he trails off. “To bring things to light.”

The fact, as I think Depp knows, is that for his career, the court that matters is not one of law, but public opinion. On social media, where a lot of minds are made up, Depp’s good reputation will always outweigh the bad, thanks to his frequently blinkered fans.

Outside the High Court, as Heard arrived, I saw Natasha, 30, yell: “Get hit by a truck, Amber!” She is extreme, but the persistent way his fans demand that others think their idol is a saint shows a career revival will happen. After all, most filmgoers do not follow his private life at all. To them, he is Jack Sparrow, Edward Scissorhands. To them, he is a star — and a star can take an awful lot of heat before it burns out.

“They have always been my employers,” Depp says of his fans. “They are all our employers. They buy tickets, merchandise. They made all of those studios rich, but they forgot that a long time ago. I certainly haven’t. I’m proud of these people, because of what they are trying to say, which is the truth. The truth they’re trying to get out since it doesn’t in more mainstream publications. It’s a long road that sometimes gets clunky. Sometimes just plain stupid. But they stayed on the ride with me and it’s for them I will fight. Always, to the end. Whatever it may be.”

Depp will talk like this for ever — about his “truth”. Minamata is the last film Depp has listed on the industry site IMDb, where actors usually have half a dozen in development. So, yes, fans of the actor can see Depp in a new role now — it is a return, but is it a relaunch? The film was finished in 2019, way before last year’s court case. Is that it? His last film? He thinks and looks off to his bookshelves, at biographies of Betjeman and Olivier.

“Er...no,” he says, eventually. “No. No. Actually, I look forward to the next few films I make to be my first films, in a way. Because once you’ve...Well, look. The way they wrote it in The Wizard of Oz is that when you see behind the curtain, it’s not him. When you see behind the curtain, there’s a whole lot of motherf***ers squished into one spot. All praying that you don’t look at them. And notice them.”

I would ask him to explain, but I am not sure he is an explainer. Watch this space, I guess, but he is already taking a first step back. After we speak, it is announced Depp is getting the coveted Donostia award at the San Sebastian Film Festival next month. Some people are just too famous to fail.

~ Interview by Jonathan Dean, in London, for The Times UK (released on August 14, 2021)

[creativeashproductions]

Songbird Shenanigans // Charlie Gillespie

IN WHICH: The reader will routinely sneak away from her band/hotel to continue her tour shenanigans in parking garages. A way for the young star to return to the stupid years where the concert venue was a car and the mic was the steering wheel. As each city comes and goes with the tour, one thing never changes, driving to parking garages to scream songs at the top of your lungs.

Warnings: Swearing, Mamma Mia songs (oops), and fluff

Words: 4.0k (with lyrics included)

A/N: There’s something endearing about Charlie randomly going a stranger in a duet and dance without a care. This was loosely inspired by the chaotic live they did when Jeremy and Charlie stayed at Owen’s place. I loved Charlie’s tropical shirt giving Animal Crossing vibes.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

A moment you had desired for a while finally came around in Oklahoma City during the free day between the two concerts. The pure quiet away from the interviews, photoshoots and demanding life of a musician. Yet despite wanting this time, you definitely felt bored, which only meant one thing.

A new video for your followers as you had done since the beginning of your successful career. Back before, you had the prominent following you had; now you would travel singing in your car, and then one video got viral. That elevated your following until you had signed a record deal with your brand new agent.

A series was then born of driving at night to the parking lots and garages in the city you temporarily visited. You'd park and sing any suggested songs from a previous video for an hour to see if a fan could find you. It was a fun game you had developed.

Y/N Y/L/N: Another installment of Songbird Shenanigans. From 9pm to 10:30pm, I'll be somewhere in Oklahoma City. Come find me for the prize!

Your agent both hated and loved the series as it brought attention to your career and songs but also was a hazard during the tour. The risk of losing your voice made your agent nervous, but the positives outweigh the negatives.

"What song are you doing?" Maddie asked from her chair in your hotel suite with a ratty book in her hand. Her rich dark hair pulled up in a high bun with a few pieces of bangs pulled down to hang free.

You didn't know if you could do what you do if you didn't have Maddie by your side as your singing partner and chief stylist. Maddie also always knew without looking on social media when you had a new installment coming.

"My most requested video is Train Wreck by-"

"James Arthur." Maddie snickered with her grey eyes pinned to the page she was reading faithfully. The book had seen better days, but it was her absolute favourite one by far and one of the only physical books she had.

"Somehow forgot you had it on repeat for a week straight." You snorted, shoving a hat on your head for warmth. A plain black coat pulled over your arms that matched the warm boots you had chosen, "I'll send you my location."

Maddie waved on hand in response, having known the routine since you first started this fun series. It allowed you a bit of your old life when the concerts you performed was solely in your car with the steering wheel as the microphone.

Judy, your agent, was sitting in the lobby with her binder surrounding her when she looked with a sigh. Without a word, she tossed the keys to the rented car she knew you'd need, so in each city, she rented one. A smile of gratitude shared before you were out the door with your hood up.

"Be careful!" Judy exclaimed just as the sliding doors closed behind you, sending you out in the cold night.

Almost instantly, your cheeks turned a light pink in the cold winter air, even if the walk to the war was short. As requested, the car was a newer model but one that would blend in with other city cars. It made finding you harder, but the windows couldn't be tinted.

"Here's to hoping I get a place with good acoustics." You muttered, starting the hatchback vehicle. Despite the cold winter weather, the road conditions were surprisingly okay, but then again, you were from a small town. Roads were shit in general.

You didn't bother playing music as you used the drive to find a parking garage and warm up your throat. Your vocal coach would have your head if you didn't warm-up, and then Judy would kill you even more.

You lucked out in a parking garage to a building that seemed to be a renovated warehouse with insanely cool windows. The metal was a dark shamrock green with a multitude of small rectangular glass between the metal. The panes swung open upwards in a fascinating design.

"Perfect." You muttered, signalling to turn into the parking garage that was easily accessed and without any trespassing signs. It was desolate, with cars parked here and there in the stalls.

A bright orange Subaru definitely took the cake as the most 'flashy' vehicle among the more nondescript ones. Not that it caught your attention when you lowered your windows marginally while simultaneously clipping the phone onto the dash. Immediately you double-checked for any apparent signs to your location before declaring it safe; with a tap of your finger, your Instagram live began.

"Welcome to another part of our Songbird Shenanigans. This time I'm in Oklahoma City for a two-day concert. The most requested song is Train Wreck by James Arthur."

Laying in the silence

Waiting for the sirens

Signs, any signs I'm alive still

I don't wanna lose it

I'm not getting through this

Hey, should I pray? should I pray

A natural instinct of closing your eyes as you got more into the music occurred. Your voice belted into the garage beautifully. Tons of comments appeared in the insta live chat of both supportive and haters.

username3: I suggested this song!!!

username88: Your voice goes perfectly with the song.

The song came to an end quicker than you would have liked since it was definitely one of your favourites to sing.

Unchain the reactions, I'm not ready to die, not yet

Pull me out of the train wreck

Pull me out, pull me out, pull me out

Pull me out, pull me out, pull me out

No action was helped back from taking a swig of water from the reusable bottle you had brought along. Your eyes scoured the comments for more suggestions or things that stuck out.

"Why don't you include hints in the Songbirds?” You read out from the comment section with a smile barely held back, "Why would I? You all know that my windows are often down, and even the most unoriginal locations have tells. There's been a few people that have found me."

Username13: I think I know where you are (insert heart emoji)

          ↳Username63: username13 where?! How do you know?

          ↳Username13: jatp is streaming all day and the guys are in a car. Same background

Your eyes read the short but interesting conversation between the two different accounts on something called jatp? Whatever that was.

"Any other requests?" You asked, scrolling through the suggestions, "Sing something from jatp? I'm sorry, guys, but I have no clue what that is? Is it a movie? OH! It's a show. My bad."

The comment section was flooded, "Okay! Let me look up the lyrics and the melody!"

Three males: a blonde and two brunettes, walked between the rows of both occupied and unoccupied parking spots. The blonde wearing a black t-shirt with BEANS written across the chest and the brunette with short slicked-back hair crowded the middle guy. All three pairs of eyes watched the iPhone stream the television series.

"I call shotgun!" Owen spoke as the car in question came into view, "We gotta Livestream in the car again!"

"Your neighbour sucks, man." Charlie groaned, nudging Jeremy to unlock the car when the older man hesitated.

"If we're going live in the car, we should cover your license plate," Jeremy suggested to a resounding agreement. 

Charlie drove an obscenely vibrant coloured car that could be picked out quickly, so he didn't need any help in broadcasting his location. Owen grabbed the book from the passenger seat to angle it to lean against the plate.

"Done!" Owen called, racing back to climb into the car with his friends. The blonde-haired man bounced in his seat as the owner of the vehicle set up the screen.

In seconds, the streaming went from the app on the phone to the car's built-in screen to the boys' delight. In a moment of what some may call brilliance and others stupidity Owen went live on Instagram with Charlie joining him swiftly.

"Do you rem-"

Username76: Songbird chose a shitty location.

           ↳Username 39: Or we just got a Hail Mary hint

"Who is Songbird?" Charlie questioned, leaning closer to his friends in the front, catching a few comments.

The comments were mixed among other unrelated ones, but all had Songbird, Shenanigans or both words. The mystery was so intriguing the boys turned down the show to scour the comments for tidbits.

"Wait? Do you hear that?" Jeremy questioned, scanning the parking garage with his blue, green eyes. Soon his head was sticking out the window, "Someone is singing here."

Jeremy's hand turned the key of the car, "Is that-"

"Oh, no." Owen groaned, seeing that specific light appear in Charlie's eyes just as it did each time one of the songs came on. His pink beanie slid around his long blonde locks.

The two guys watched as the second oldest in their group did some kind of shimmy after pushing his phone to Jeremy. Jeremy's hand scrambled to get a grip on the phone as Charlie delved into his love for these songs. Sharing a look, Jeremy and Owen followed the Canadian to a car with a girl singing in the open hatchback car.

(Italics is you! Italics and bold is Charlie and you! Just bold is Charlie!)

When you were lonely, you needed a man.

Someone to lean on, well I understand

It's only natural

But why did it have to be me?

Your eyes remained shut as you neared the middle of the first verse. You completely stopped when a voice joined. Your e/c eyes met the twinkling brown of a handsome guy with the best voice you'd heard in a long time.

Nights can be empty, and nights can be cold

So you were looking for someone to hold

That's only natural

But why did it have to be me?

Your lips parted in a grin as you grabbed the hand being offered to be pulled out of the car; on your way, your hand nudged your phone. Your phone was in a mount attached to the roof of the hatch. When you followed the stranger, the phone turned in perfect view. Your free hand turned to hover over your forehead, legs bending to feign a swoon.

I was so lonesome, I was blue

I couldn't help it, it had to be you and I

Always thought you knew the reason why

Charlie beamed playing being shot by the arrow you pretended to shoot with a grin planted on your own lips. Charlie's hand flirted with your hip as you sashayed around his body from his left to his right. Hand grabbing a first full of his white with light teal with light pink design to tug him chest to chest.

I only wanted a little love affair

Now I can see you are beginning to care

But baby, believe me

It's better to forget me

In turn, Charlie grabbed your wrist to twirl you into his arms straight into an impressive dip with the toe of your shoe pointed to the far wall. Your fingers just barely caressing the rough paved lot.

"I'm Charlie," Charlie murmured during the instrumental between the chorus and the second verse. Your eyes scanned his features with an expression you would later be glad was hidden from the lighting in the garage.

"Y/N." You breathed, clutching his shoulders still low in the dip, hoping subconsciously that your breath was still fresh.

"Wanna finish this?" Charlie spoke, searching your eyes with his own; up close, you could see his eyes were a mixture of colours. You only nodded before he continued singing to the music.

Men are the toys in the game that you play

When you get tired, you throw them away

That's only natural

But why did it have to be me?

"Are you seeing this?" Jeremy whispered to Owen as they watched Charlie literally sweep a stranger off her feet. Owen could only nod as Charlie went into the next verse, still dancing as if he was in Mamma Mia 2.

Falling in love with a woman like you

Happens so quickly, there's nothing to do

It's only natural

But why did it have to be me?

Charlie spun you back away from his body in a graceful twirl your choreographer would be incredibly proud of. The moves you made somehow made sense, with the movements matching the spontaneous duet-er.

I was so lonesome, I was blue

I couldn't help it, it had to be you and I

Always thought you knew the reason why

Once more in his arms dancing, he dipped you once more as you finished the end of the last chorus breathing heavily. The two strangers staring intensely into each other's eyes with an intense look that had tensions in the parking garage.

I only wanted a little love affair

Now I can see you are beginning to care

But baby, believe me

It's better to forget me

"Intense." Owen chuckled as Charlie raised you back onto your feet with a matching grin to yours, "Oh! Look at the comments!"

Username24: Holy shit! They ooze chemistry!!

           ↳Username9: lol, okay Alex. 

"You aren't a viewer, are you?" You breathlessly laughed, taking a step away from Charlie as the music faded away.

The equally breathless spontaneous performing partner laughed as well, "I heard the song and hoped for the best."

"Are you Songbird?" Came a voice from a few feet away. Behind the once upon a time stranger stood two males approaching slowly.

"Oh!" You gasped, turning on your heel to see where your phone was pointing, "Well, that's convenient! One moment."

Jeremy and Owen flanked Charlie as you repositioned the phone at the moment with practised precision. You kept the three people out of the shot for privacy reasons.

"There is about ten minutes away from the end of this installment being over. For the first time since we started this series, I had a duet." You playfully laughed, looking over at the trio, "It's completely up to my sudden partner, but would you like to meet your audience?"

Charlie simply shrugged, "Sure. They've seen you be serenaded by a stranger."

A short laugh came from the three individuals around Charlie as he moved into the camera frame with a large smile. As soon as he was in sight, the comment section went nuts, furthering when Owen and Jeremy came into view.

Username1: DREAM COME TRUE

           ↳Username4: omg jatp in Songbird Shenanigans?? Life accomplished.

You couldn't hold back the snort at the comments you could read quickly as they disappeared after new ones. The three guys couldn't help but chuckle as well.

"I've never seen these guys before. If you could introduce yourselves." You asked the three guests, to which each sent a reassuring smile to your hesitance.

"I'm Charlie Gillespie, and these are my friends Owen Joyner and Jeremy Shada." Charlie took the liberty of introducing both his friends and himself. His heart fluttered at the adorable smile that had appeared on your pretty face.

"I'm afraid this concludes this edition of Songbird." You apologized to the camera as the time passed the allotted hour and a half. The comments turned sad before most of them started sending questions, "I'll let you know when I do another edition! Bye for now!"

Your finger clicked the end button firstly before clicking the save button for when you would upload it to your account later.

"Thank you for doing that. I'm Y/N." You chuckled, shaking hands with Jeremy and Owen, who each grinned back, "So what brought you guys to the parking garage with three phones and a live-action Animal Crossing shirt?"

Amusement was found on all four young adults in the parking garage, pinning a gaze at the material. You had to admit you kinda adored the shirt, or maybe the person wearing it was the reason.

"We're trying to get Julie and the Phantoms to number one again." Owen offered as he displayed the live still going on his phone. 

"That's a tv series. That was the second song I did on the live before Charlie joined the little concert." You told the boys all the while aware that thousands of people watched from the phone still streaming.

"The phone's about to die." Owen piped up, catching the single decimal number broadcasting the percentage. Without any prompting, he ended the live to save it solely for the little performance Charlie did.

"Did you save it?" Jeremy asked, lifting on his tiptoes to check the phone Owen had commanded for the last half hour. Like Owen, Jeremy wanted to save it solely for the stellar performance.

"So, how'd this series start?" Charlie questioned, pushing his hands into his pockets, ignoring the subtle glances of his best friend.

"I needed an escape from touring so many cities. It's reminiscent of the days before I was discovered. When my audience was the dials in my car and my family." You half-smiled, recalling all the times you had simply driven around to sing.

"You're a musician?"

"I am. I'm currently on tour for my second album. Every second or third city I'm performing in, I take the rented car to parking lots or garages to sing. I always have a prize for the fans that find me."

"Could I get your number?" Charlie hesitantly questioned. His features twisting with the manipulation of nerves.

His palms had gone clammy enough to inconspicuously wipe them on his legs; this version of Charlie was unfamiliar. Owen and Jeremy had only ever seen him as this bundle of joy and energy, not to say he didn't have his low days, instead of nervous. Owen slipped his fingers behind his back to cross them. He hoped his Canadian friend would get it.

"You don't leak mine, and I won't leak yours." Your e/c eyes twinkled with the brush of Charlie's warm fingers on your own. The new contact waiting for his information, "Maybe we can meet up with each other?"

"I'd love that."

Madison Square Garden, New York City, New York, Unspecified Date

The sounds of screams and heavy instruments blocked by the unique in-ears explicitly made for your ears alone. You'd heaved, catching a breath after such an energetic song you'd just performed for the sold-out venue. You just jogged to the side for a chug of water as your band switched instruments.

"Are you having fun tonight!" You asked the crowd who had fought tooth and nail for tickets. The crowd screamed back louder than before.

Selling out MSG for completely insane even after touring the country with your band three times. It was still a little jarring, going from a nobody with untapped potential to selling out concerts and very successful albums, in all honesty.

"That's what I like to hear!" You beamed, pushing a strand of your unruly hair away from your face. Your eyes momentarily cast to the side stage with the equipment hiding the crew, "I have a surprise for you. A couple years ago, I had a spontaneous duet partner during one of Songbird Shenanigans. I'd like to invite my fiance Charlie out here."

The crowd went nuts as Charlie wandered towards you from the side of the stage away from Owen, Jeremy and Madison. Charlie's hazel eyes scoured the oceans of your e/c eyes he got to wake up to each morning. Mostly when Julie and the Phantoms had been offered to open for you; to be frank, it was more of an unspoken co-headlining.

"Can we tell?" You asked, keeping the mic covered and away from your body. Your body bounced, waiting for the smile from him.

Charlie nodded, accepting the guitar from one of the crew members. It was a song you had written a few months back. Charlie had memorized the entire piece with the deep adoration he felt for it.

The couple perched on the bar stools brought to the middle of the stage with a secret smile. One that only they and their immediate family understood.

Three months ago, you had sat Charlie down in your home to play him a little song that changed everything.

Charlie placed the last bag of groceries on the counter when he felt arms wrap around his midsection. He immediately knew that it was you welcoming him home from a very short trip to the store. In a swift move, he had manoeuvred you to sit on the counter while he scooched himself between your legs.

"Hi." Charlie breathed, rising to press a kiss against the smooth skin of your cheek, leaving heat in its wake.

"I want your opinion on a song." You burst out, unable to refrain from showing him a song you had been secretly working on. The French Canadian was beyond intrigued by the sudden announcement from his fiance.

"Oh?"

"Come." You coaxed the man from the kitchen to the designated music room filled with instruments of all kinds—even a recent addition of a recording booth in the corner with high-end equipment.

You bypassed everything for the grand piano you didn't play as often as you wished to be able to. Your fingers brushed the ivory keys for a mere second before you began playing the melody.

I, I have known love before

I thought it would no more

Take on a new direction

Still, strange as it seems to be

It's truly new to me

That affection

The smile that grew across Charlie's expressive face was uncapturable from the best of the best; he adored your voice. He had a personal ringtone you had explicitly done for him a few months into the relationship.

I, I don't know what you do

You make me think that you

Will change my life forever

I, I'll always want you near

Give up on you, my dear

I will never

You thrill me, you delight me

You please me, you excite me

You're all that

I've been yearning for

I love you, I adore you

I lay my life before you

I only want you more and more

And finally it seems

My lonely days are through

I've been waiting for you

Charlie's frown, however, faltered as your face ever so slightly paled with trepidation coating your pretty irises. Your voice even quivered with nerves he'd never heard before, but it made sense from the third verse started.

I'll carry you all the way

And you will choose the day

When you're prepared to greet me

I'll be a good mum, I swear

You'll see how much I care

When you meet me

You finished the song with the last note drawn out ever so softly, freezing as the room went quiet once more. This song was definitely vulnerable and personal; you felt naked under Charlie's silent stare.

"You're really?" Charlie breathlessly chuckled, his wide eyes screaming disbelief.

After a few years together with an engagement ring on both of your fingers after you had both proposed to each other, with the relationship very serious, you two had decided to stop contraceptives and let everyone happen if it was too happen.

"Yeah." You laughed as he swept you off the bench into his arms, "We have little Birdie to prepare for."

"I love you so damn much." Charlie choked out, spinning the two of you around in his arms. The smile never fading as he drank in the special moment of learning you had created a life together.

PRESENT

"With the impending arrival of our child, I will be taking a break to prepare. Even though I wouldn't be performing, I will still do Songbird Shenanigans. I'll just have to up my game on staying as hidden as possible." You informed the audience as the song came to an end. 

Next thing you knew, you couldn't discern between the crowd and your friends now on stage screaming. You were able to feel Charlie's hand on your barely-there baby bump and his lips pressed against your temple.

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[blu-joons]

He Interrupts Your V Live ~ Lee Jihoon

His smile widened as he noticed you setting up your camera to switch on your stream in your bedroom. Cables were everywhere, all knotted together as you tried to figure out exactly what went where. You could hear his footsteps walking into the room, glancing helplessly across at him.

“Help,” you whimpered, pouting across at him. “Why does one device need so many plugs, not of it makes any sense to me at the moment.”

“Give it here, let me help,” he chuckled, taking the giant knot of cables from you. You stood back as Jihoon untangled each one, knowing exactly where each one went. “Switch your laptop on now,” he instructed, watching as you did so, and the live screen finally loaded.

You sighed in relief, glancing up at the clock to see you only had a few minutes before your scheduled live. You let go of a few sighs of relief as Jihoon walked back to the doorway. His eyes watched as you took a seat in front of the laptop, adjusting the camera so the angle was perfect.

“I’ll head into the office so I’m out of the way,” Jihoon told you, checking the clock to see you only had a few seconds left. You briefly waved across at him before pressing the live button, waiting a few moments before the views went up and comments began to flood in.

“It’s nice to see you all again guys, I hope you’re all doing well.”

Jihoon carefully shut his office door to try and not make a sound as he overheard you addressing your viewers. He turned around to switch his own computer on, hearing the murmurs of your voice still in the background as you began to read through some comments.

Each comment always put a smile on your face as you read through to find some good ones. “Someone asked me what the live is in honour of today, did you guys not see the announcement that our new album gets released next week?”

Jihoon sniggered at your response as he searched around the room for his extension lead. Without it, he couldn’t load up his work, but it was nowhere to be seen in his office where he usually kept it.

“Damn,” he muttered, as it dawned on him where it was. He remembered moving it into your bedroom a few days ago when you had a couple of recordings to do, having left it in their overnight after working into the early hours.

He reluctantly opened his office door back up, creeping across the landing to try and not make a noise. As soon as his eyes glanced into your bedroom, he saw the extension lead underneath the table that your laptop was set up on.

“Y/N,” he whispered, bringing your glance across at him stood in the doorway, pointing to the lead.

You nodded for him to enter, trying not to make anything too obvious to the fans. You moved your feet away so that Jihoon could get it better, kicking it to the side of the desk.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he got closer to you, kneeling down just before he got into frame, desperately trying to be as quiet as he could so that he didn’t disturb you. As the comments began to fill up once again, you noticed quickly how unsuccessful Jihoon had been.

Your foot nudged him as you read out one of the comments, “Y/N, why does it sound like there is someone else in your room.” Jihoon jumped underneath the desk as you read it out, smacking his head on the bottom of the wooden material.

He crawled back out from your desk, the extension lead still plugged into your laptop, with both of his hands now pressed to the top of your head. You desperately tried to ignore Jihoon and keep an eye on your live, but you could see how much pain he was in.

“I just banged my knee,” you quickly told the live, “that will teach me for crossing my legs, this desk is not built for people like me.”

Jihoon smiled apologetically across at you, but as he stood up, his head came into view of the live, as straight away your fans recognised who was with you. As soon as he saw the viewfinder he jumped aside, nervously glancing across at the comments on the screen.

Your eyes turned to look at him as you read through the comments, shrugging your shoulders as the fans demanded answers. Jihoon paused for a moment before walking back into view, standing behind you with his hands on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he sighed, resting his head on top of yours, “this shouldn’t have happened.”

“They want to know why you’re here,” you read out, glancing up at Jihoon. With a knowing glance, he told you exactly what to say. You let go of a sigh before staring directly down the camera. “Jihoon’s here because he lives here, he’s my partner. Everything you guys heard today is down to him and his inability to be quiet.”

“It’s not my fault that you stole my equipment,” he teased, pressing his hands against your cheeks.

Your head shook as you glanced across the comments once again, noticing many positive comments. “I’m sorry that you guys all found out like this, it was never out intention for this to be quite be the way you guys all found out about us.”

Your heart was beating faster than it ever had done before as you prayed for a positive reaction. Jihoon’s grip on you was tight as he too read through a few of the comments, letting go of several sighs of relief when he noticed how positive so many of them were.

The two of you stayed and talked to the fans for a few minutes longer, answering all the questions that they had about the two of you. As soon as you finished the live however, your hand raised and hit against his arm.

“How could you have been so stupid?” You cried out, “why couldn’t you just wait until I was done?”

“I was desperate for it, but I never thought I’d bang my head,” he responded, “it really hurts by the way, I think it’s bruised.”

“We just bruised so many of the fans hearts by exposing ourselves on V live,” you sighed, resting your head into your hands. “They didn’t deserve to find out like this.”

Jihoon frowned, spinning your chair around so that you were facing him, offering you a warm smile. As hard as it was to tell the fans in such a way, it was done, and the overwhelming majority of the comments were very happy for the two of you.

“We’ve just got to take the positives out of the situation right now, starting with all those lovely comments,” he assured you, desperately trying to ease your worries.

Your head nodded slowly, feeling his hands take a hold of yours, squeezing your hands tightly. Your smile slowly grew as Jihoon continued to stare back at you with a smile.

“We always said that as long as the fans were happy, things would be just fine,” he reminded you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “The fans are happy, we’re happy, my head isn’t, but aside from that, there’s nothing for us to worry about now.”

“A bang to your head is a small price to pay for exposing us to the fans,” you teased, “if anything you deserve it for being so careless.”

“You’re supposed to care for me.”

You chuckled gently, letting go of his hand to run your hand over the top of his head. “I do care for you, a lot now that I know the fans know about us too. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders.”

“We have nothing to worry about anymore.”

---

Masterlist

[joontier]

Subliminal in Scrubs | V1; report iv 

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: humor, romance

warnings: swearing

word count: 2.5k

g/n: Send me your thoughts?

[taglist] @nottodayjjk @ditttiii​ @zeharilisharaban​ @btsbunny07​ @turquoiseandplaidinautumn  @aamxxrii @codeinebelle ​

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) |  navi. | m.list

Your phone blares at exactly 6:45AM, and a memetastic image of Chohee lights up your phone screen as you’re brushing your teeth. When you swipe to answer the call, you don’t even manage to get a word in when Chohee chatters you out of your sleep-deprived soul.  

“Just as practiced, I’m punctual, and you’re late.”  

Garbling out a reply about how it’s still five minutes prior to your agreed time, you tap your toothbrush loudly against the sink, likewise spitting out the foam from your mouth. “Fine, just hurry because I’m starving!”  

Being the gold-hearted person that she is (although that fact is not known to the public), your best friend had offered you a ride to the building where you’re scheduled to take the Korean Medical Licensure Examination today.  

The moment you settle yourself on the passenger seat, she greets you with a cheery “Good morning!” - one that was too cheery this early in the morning, and all the more way too cheery for a certain Kim Chohee. The two of you share a look and you lean in for a hug. “Hey, we’ll do just fine, okay? We’ve been studying our asses for this.”  

You don’t let go at once, looking up at her with a kissy face. She pushes your head backwards with a disgusted expression, keeping your face at an arm’s length. With an unattractive snort, you lean back in your seat, laughing your ass off at your poor attempt to lighten the mood.  

“Seriously, _______, I know you’ve been lusting after me for years even when you’re well aware of my ‘strictly beef’ diet,” Chohee states, dusting your imaginary germs off her shoulder. Turning on her Benz’s engine, she checks her reflection on the rear-view mirror before driving off.  

With both your hands occupied with the sandwiches you’d ordered from Subway, you use your pinky to connect your phone to play some Mozart via bluetooth. You try not to talk much about the test, knowing it will only cause unnecessary anxiety on both your ends.  

As Chohee leans towards you, you tilt her sandwich in her direction, letting her take a bite from her sub. “Hey, what’s an abscess again?”  

“Isn’t that more commonly known as boils? Built up pus within or below the surface of the skin?”  

Kim Chohee chokes on her BLT.  

“Pus?” she repeats, swallowing her bite with great strain. “Seriously? While I’m eating a sandwich? Couldn’t you be more subtle perhaps?”  

Equally just as surprised as she was, you narrow your eyes at her. “We’ve been studying medicine for the last six years! It shouldn’t be a surprise by now...and besides, we’ve heard and see a lot worse too...Would you rather have me say purulent exudate then? And waste my precious saliva on a six-syllable word rather than the common term for a liquid form of inflamm-”  

“Okay!” Chohee throws an arm up in defeat. “Sheesh _______! Don’t I deserve at least some gratitude for driving you to our exams?”  

“Plus we’ve already seen a cadaver too, which was supposedly one of the peaks of our med-student lives! What’s all this hype about some viscous mass on the surface of the skin?”  

Your best friend peeks at you from her peripheral vision, absolutely mortified. You love it.  

“Can you please remind me how we became friends in the first place?” Chohee shakes her head and increases the volume of the player as the droplets of rain start pouring down the windshield. “Anyways – I was meaning to ask the histological meaning of it.”    

“Oh, right,” you nod, recalling your notes, “well, it’s a localized collection of neutrophils and necrotic debris. Basically, it’s a suppurative inflammation which is associated with pyogenic bacteria and characterized by edema fluid admixed with neutrophils and necrotic cells. Staphylococcus aureus usually produces abscesses because it’s coagulase positive and coagulase helps the production of fibrinous material that localizes the infection.”  

As soon as you finish, silence takes over the car, and suddenly, a sniffle comes from Chohee’s side. With a matching frown, you best friend looks at you with shiny eyes. “Oh _______, what would I do without you?”  

With still half an hour to spare, you decide on relieving your bladder first before all the toilets get occupied later a couple of minutes before the actual exam. You take your time with it, even managing to put some effort in fixing your hair in clipping your fringe back so as not to eliminate all distractions possible during the exam.  

While looking through the large panel windows on your way back from the comfort rooms, you spot a familiar face – the last person you’d want to see on such an important day. Perhaps your prayers weren’t loud enough to actually reach heaven.  

There Jeon Jungkook was at the end of the hall, walking like a newly-canonized saint in all his glory. Most (if not all) of the female onlookers stare at him as he passes by, with Jungkook seemingly unbothered by their unwavering attention. You aren’t one for exaggeration, but these women look like they’re willing to worship the ground he walked on.  

Your nerdy, anti-Jeon Jungkook ass quickly hides beside a nearby locker, not wanting to be ‘graced’ by his presence, just as some girl coined a few moments ago as she headed to the toilets with her friends, collectively gushing over the boy.  

The popular kid turns to his right and you swore you’d never prayed harder and faster than any other time in your life. Your room assignment was just the one by the corner...and if he could just make a few more steps and head straight to the next classroom a-and...nope. It’s official. The universe loved shitting on you.  

Jungkook enters room 132, the very same numbers indicating your room assignment for the licensure exam. You ball up your fists in your spot by the lockers, releasing all your pent-up frustration in the simplest and least violent way possible: a long, tedious exhale.  

Gathering up all your self-control, you re-enter the classroom with an inward grimace, desperate to not have Jungkook’s eyes meet yours. He’s looking for a seat, and with all the back rows already occupied, he’s stuck with picking one from the first two rows.  

He’s already stood near the seat you’ve picked and you bore holes into the back of his head with your fake telepathy, silently ordering him to pick a chair on the other side of the aisle instead.  

Just as you had not wished for, Jungkook plops his huge ass backpack on the chair next to yours. You tread back to your seat as discreetly as possible, avoiding his gaze at all times as he rummages through his military backpack. What the fuck is in that thing in the first place? You won't be surprised if he manages to pull out a whole microwave inside – and yet funnily enough, he can’t seem to own a single damn pencil.  

As you were minding your own businesses (hopefully it stays that way for the rest of eternity), you catch the other students discussing surgical cases last minute.  

“Hey, which artery is the one for transection for an epidural hematoma?”  

“Was this the kid that got hit by a fastball in the head?”  

“What happened?”  

“Poor boy got hit in the temporal area during a baseball tournament. Remained conscious during the rest of the day but during the same evening he gets a severe headache with vomiting and confusion. When they got to Severance he got scheduled for immediate surgery for epidural hematoma.”

“That sounds awful…”  

“I’m not sure which artery it was again though…”

If that were the case...then it’d be the transection of a branch of the middle meningeal artery...but then you wouldn’t want to answer that out of the blue and get mistaken for being too snoopy…

Instead, you reach for the bottle of water by the legs of your chair, likewise hearing the same answer coming out of Jungkook’s mouth in a whisper. Huh. You raise a brow. Well, there was a major chance he knew the case since he came from Yonsei too, just as you had speculated from some of your roommates who seemed like they came from the same school after mentioning Severance Hospital.  

The group continue discussing their answers when this girl, who had an obnoxiously unnatural high-pitched voice, approaches Jungkook.  

“Jungkook-oppa?”  

Oppa? OPPA?!

You wanted to throw up. This girl looked at least two-three years older than him. At the least. Guess Jeon was really more of a fuckboy than Chohee would ever admit. “We were just discussing something and we’re really unsure of our answers, maybe a smart oppa like you would know?”  

With as much discretion as you could muster, you adjust in your seat, leaning a little bit towards their conversation as you eavesdrop like the nosy person that you are.  

“The surgery was a transection of the meningeal artery,” says Jeon nonchalantly like it’s the most basic thing in the world, still scrolling through his phone. Silence ensues after that. That’s it?! He’s not even going to bother explaining-  

Jungkook exhales as he puts his phone down. “Epidural hemorrhages result from a rupture of one of the meningeal arteries, as these arteries supply the dura and run between the dura and the skull. Plus you said temporal area right?” he asks, facing one of the guys.  

“The artery involved is usually the middle meningeal artery - a branch of the maxillary artery, as the skull fracture is usually in the temporal area. Since the bleeding is of arterial origin, symptoms are rapid in onset even though he seemed normal for a few hours. If they didn’t bring him to the hospital that same evening, he could’ve had tentorial herniation and would have eventually died.”  

As much as you hate to admit it - you’re beyond impressed. Chohee always stays true to her word, but it doesn’t change the fact that he was still a jerk for clearly cutting the line at the subway.  

The girls coo over him, praising him over how cool he looked by explaining his answer. Jungkook settles back on his seat like he hadn’t just perfectly given an on-point pathological explanation for a neuro case.  

The group continues their review, until they’ve come to another question they’re unsure of. “Jungkook-ssi, would you know where the rupture of a berry aneurysm of the Circle of Willis would likely produce hemorrhage?”  

With only ten minutes left, you’d usually be preparing yourself mentally but this group and Jungkook’s intervention has you all ears once more. Nothing wrong with some last minute review, right?  

“It’s the subdural space.”  

Wow. Okay, quick and close but wrong. Impressive wit though.  

You open your mouth to say something but you hesitate as it dawns on you that you really aren’t part of this group and you’re not the one being asked. Jungkook not missing a beat gets a collective ‘ooh’ from the group, who’s clearly impressed at how quickly he’s answered the question.  

Meanwhile, your conscience is making you contemplate on your earlier hesitation with the voice of the angel on your right shoulder telling you it isn’t right to let the wrong answer pass just like that, especially on a day like this. The devil on your left, however, tells you otherwise. You go with the former.  

Amongst their murmurs of mutual praise for Jungkook (you bet this man is rejoicing inside with all the attention he’s getting, despite looking nonchalant), you take a deep breath and say the correct answer, voice coming out louder than expected.  

“Excuse me?” another ‘spectator’ says, jutting her chin towards you.  

“I said,” you look up at her, “it’s actually the subarachnoid space.”  

“Are you sure?” she retorts.  

Seriously? Just because you’re not some fuckboy jock who smolders at all boobed humans means you can’t be sure with your answer?  

“Hey! I know you!” Someone exclaims from the side, causing everyone to turn their heads toward him, “You’re the foreigner valedictorian at SNU!” Similar to their earlier praises directed towards Jungkook, the same dudes marvel at your most recent accomplishment. You give a shy smile in return, quietly thanking the stranger for the sudden confidence boost.  

“Jungkook-oppa is also the valedictorian at Yonsei.”  

Well, that didn’t last for long...somebody has always got to rain on your parade. You won’t allow this girl though, not today.  

You purse your lips, collecting your thoughts first before explaining it to them. “Subarachnoid hemorrhages, although they are much less common than hypertensive intracerebral hemorrhages, but the former are...more often than not...resultant of a rupture of a berry aneurysm.” You pause momentarily when someone drags his seat closer to yours, “Go on please.”  

“Right, um...berry aneurysms are most commonly found at the Circle of Willis, usually by the junction of the communicating artery and the cerebral artery. Chances of rupture increase with age and cause marked bleeding into the subarachnoid space and produces severe headaches.” The same dude earlier blinks at you, urging you to explain further, “uh...additional symptoms may include vomiting, pain, stiffness of the neck, and papilledema. Death may follow rapidly as well.”  

A few from the people gathered around your seat clap their hands, along with compliments and offers along the lines of marriage and organ swaps.  

Someone mentions seeing the proctor approach the room and the group immediately disperses, everyone rushing back to their seats as quickly as possible. A middle-aged man enters, tells everyone to bring out their pencils and place their stuff by the platform, then momentarily leaves for the restroom.  

Jungkook fishes through his bag, turning each pocket inside and out over and over again. There’s no way this kid actually-- “Shit, where did that pencil go?” he murmurs, going through his bag once more. Looking away, you bite your lip to stop yourself from snickering. Jeon Jungkook is definitely on a different level.  

As expected, your entertaining seatmate calls you and asks for a pencil. With a deceivingly enthusiastic nod, you retrieve a pencil from your case just beside your chair. Your life after meeting Jungkook at the subway had finally led to this moment. He clears his throat and you figure it’s signaling the coming of another obnoxious comment.  

“Oh, I’m sorry, this wasn’t meant for you,” you look at him with the most apologetic look you can muster. Then you look at him, down then up, just as he had done back in the library, you smile widely before winking at him, making him hand your extra pencil over to the guy sat next to him, “Thanks, babe.”  

Jungkook scowls hard and you rejoice inside your head, making sure that your face doesn’t register the slightest bit of jest. His  scowl however, does not last for long. “Hmm, you’re the girl from the library, right? Smart and feisty...maybe you are my type after all,” he murmurs, tongue poking his cheek. You scoff loudly, scrunching your face in disgust. “No thank you.”  

“Oppa,” the girl’s shrill voice calls him one more time and you face forward to freely roll your eyes. If you aren’t mistaken, there’s even a hint of mild annoyance on Jungkook’s features. “Don’t mind her, oppa. You can have my extra pencil instead.” She tsks. “Some people just don’t know when to quit.”  

At least she got something right this morning: you don’t know when to quit. 

© joontier 2021

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Away for a Moment

Here’s a smattering of feelings. It’s self indulgent af and sad. So yeah. No specific race or gender of reader. 

Calum didn’t think missing you would hurt this much. 

Find Part 2 Here

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You weren't gone gone. Calum could pick up the phone, tap on your last message to him and pull up your number. He could call. He could lay in bed with the phone pressed up to his ear and wait for your voice to float in through the other line. It would be easy, so damn easy. 

But he knows if he did you wouldn't be able to answer right away. It's barely evening. The sun has just started to caress the horizon through his windows. But you hadn't sent another message to let him know that you had gotten back to your apartment from training. Calum figures that maybe you spent a few extra hours out to get some work done and doesn't want to disturb you.

It's just not the same anymore without you. His bed isn't full like it used to be without you. His kitchen isn't full of music and dancing, and cooing at Duke like it used to be without you. And it's entirely selfish Calum knows the way his fingers ache to craddle your face and the way he wants to tell you to stay with him.

Staying with him would make him miss you less. Staying with him would ensure that the house never feels empty. But having you stay doesn't ensure your dreams. Staying with him means a very real possibility that all the opportunities that you had worked so hard to find would pass you by. Calum can't ask you to stay, but he wishes he had spent more time memorizing the way your shampoo smells fresh from a wash. He wishes he had recorded more of your breakfast concerts.

Still working hard or hardly working? Calum hits send on the text, sitting up on the bed. Everything in him wants you to come bursting back through that door. Everything in him wants to kiss your lips one more time and savor the taste of your fruity gum--a habit you picked up to replace the nervous nail biting.

Everything in him wants his goddamn phone to buzz. But it doesn't.

Calum pads into the music room and office. Duke's still on the couch and Calum's not sure when the old man wondered into the room or why Duke hadn't traveled away from the couch just yet. As he gets closer to the couch, Calum sees what Duke's curled up on--your sweatshirt from your alma mater. The one you couldn't find as you were unpacking boxes and sorting out your closet.

Calum reassured you that you had packed up most of your clothes and that it would turn up eventually. Attempting to move anywhere in a weekend always seemed better in theory, but when training got moved up--you had to get into high gear. Packed to the hilt in his SUV, Calum and you set out for a cross state trip. It was only a few states over. Only put you an hour ahead of him. He could pick you up or you could take the train or a plane for cheap back to LA.

He had already planned to visit you. He said it jokingly to you, but he had cleared his schedule for early October to come visit just for a weekend. He planned that for most of it, you'd be holed up studying or grading papers, but at least for a few hours in the small blimp in time the two of you could sight see and just get fucking lost for once without worry.

Calum snaps a picture of his old man curled up on your old sweatshirt and sends it. I found where that sweatshirt went. I think I'm going to have a hard time convincing him to let me ship it you.

Calum settles onto the rolling chair, staring at Duke and out the window beyond. How could he miss you so fast? It was only a week. Just a week ago he was rearranging sofas and building bookshelves and unfolding your clothes while you put them all on hangers. Just a week ago you were navigating him to the Wal-Mart, Target, Bed Bath & Beyond, Best Buy, Burger King, Chipotle, and Chilis laughing as you confused your right and left for the millionth time.

Just a week ago when you tapped on the wrong Wal-Mart because it was the first one that Maps showed you. Just a week ago the two of you were laughing, curled up under your new bedsheets. "You're gonna leave me for two years, and I can't believe it," he whispered. You had fallen asleep, the fan in the corner of your bedroom blowing a constant stream of cooler air onto the both of you.

And how could Calum say that he couldn’t believe you were leaving him when he left you all the fucking time? How much of a fucking hypocrite could he be to say that? 

He tried to reason with himself. Even though Calum left, he always knew he’d be coming back to you. He knew you’d always be there. And now, his home is across state lines. His house doesn’t feel like his house anymore because he had built a home in you and now you’re not here anymore. This physical building doesn’t really mean jack shit to him anymore with you. And sure it was only two years; it was only two years in total that you’d be away from him. And sure the degree was practically paid for, and sure, Calum couldn’t keep you from chasing your dreams. 

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t miss you while you were out there soaring. 

Was this how his mum felt when he left at sixteen? Did she have a strange bubbling mixture of sadness and pride? Because that’s surely what’s brewing in the pit of Calum’s stomach. That mixture is what makes his fingertips ache. 

There’s still no new message from you. Calum drops his phone to the desk with a clatter, burying his face into the palms of his hands. “God, I should’ve moved with them,” he mutters into the open air. 

The two of you had this conversation a thousand times over. You didn’t want him to move because what would the other guys to music wise while Calum was with you? And what about Duke? And would Calum sell his house or keep it while renting something else for those two years? Your life was a little easier to uproot, since you knew you’d be coming back. This is just a step into the world that you wanted and you didn’t know where it was going to take you from there, but Calum couldn’t be his life on pause.

It’s like bile in his throat. The way the tears are stinging his eyes and his throat starts to burn. The tears are silent. Just the upturn of his lips and the sting of hot and salty water down his cheeks. The amount of things that can change a week are unbelievable and Calum’s not sure how he’s going to make it another eleven months and three weeks. 

His shoulders shake. The heels of his palms don’t do a damn thing to hold back the tears. You’re not gone. He can pick up his phone, tap onto the last message he sent you and pull up your number. He can call. He can sit in this office chair with the phone pressed to his ear and wait for your voice to float in through the other line. 

Calum’s phone finally shakes, it buzzes for a long interval, stops, and then starts again. He’s quick to wipe his hands onto his sweatpants and flip over the device. He taps to answer the call and his phone chimes, the video of you bouncing down a sidewalk fills the screen. “Hey, Cal. Sorry, I hung back to chat with some other student teachers. I think I could shit a brick right now. But I hear a certain old man’s hogging my favorite sweatshirt.”

Calum sniffles, wiping underneath his nose with the back of his hand. “Yeah, that would be Baby Grandpa snuggling up with it.” He’s relieved to see you, to hear the chirp in your voice when previously you cried into your dinner just a week before moving because of the nerves and anxiety. 

Calum’s praying his voice isn’t too croaky, that it doesn’t give him away. But he knows it well. And when your pinched brows and concerned flooded eyes land onto the screen, Calum knows you know. 

“Babe, you alright? Looks like you’ve been crying?”

“I’m-yeah, no, I’m okay. I’m happy to see you.” If he can change the subject he doesn’t have to explain why he keeps sniffling. He doesn’t have to explain why his eyes are no doubt red. 

“Angel, please don’t do that. Tell me what’s wrong.” The white cord of your headphones bounce and he can hears your harsh exhales. And it only reminds him that you’re not here. 

“I miss you.” It’s just one sentence; it’s only three words. But it makes his chest feel like it’s been punched in. It feels like someone’s pulling his spine out through his diaphragm. 

You pause, taking in his red eyes and the wobble of his chin. And you know. You know he didn’t want to admit it, but there was no way to hold it in anymore. “I’m sorry, Calum. I miss you too. I miss Duke. I miss you grumbling that I’m too happy at seven in the morning.”

Calum exhales a little, a small bit of laughter following after it. “Breakfast sucks with you. And I know this is what you have to do for yourself. I can’t stress how proud I am of you for doing this. But fuck, I didn’t realize it’d be this hard.”

People pass you by. Calum can hear them, the muffled parts of their conversation coming through your mic. You are so far away and it’s killing him. Two years. Two years of the two of you building up a relationship in tiny corners and through handwritten letters and stolen kisses and in text messages. Two years and you had cracked the defenses Calum had and he didn’t want to let you go. 

“I’m coming back, my love. There’s weekend trips and school breaks.” 

You get it though. There was a year where Calum was just gone. He was bouncing between time zones and when he did come back home he was prepping for the next leg of a tour, the next leg of promotion, the next part of something. And it’s so hard to create a new routine initially. It’s hard to regulate who you are on your own. 

“I feel like a hypocrite. Because I left. I don’t know. I feel untethered.”

You nod. “I understand that. It’s an adjustment, a huge one. It’s okay to feel a little unraveled.”

“And I don’t want to add onto your stress. I know it’s not easy.” 

“I’m here for you. You know that. Who’s answered your calls at 2 am before?” Calum doesn’t respond. Can’t as another wave of emotion rocks his core and he rolls his lips over his teeth to swallow back down the emotion. “And who do you think is going to be there to answer your call again at 2 in the morning? Or 3? Or 6 in the morning? At noon? At 6:37 in the evening? It’s gonna be me no matter what.”

Calum reclines his head into the cushion of the seat. It’s always been you. You’ve always been there when he needed it. And even if you are miles away, you still responded. You still called back. 

“Thanks,” Calum says. His chin still wobbles. He blinks back the rest of the tears. “So tell me about it. What did you do today? We can talk after you have some food.”

The world continues on about you. More people pass you by and you watch Calum. His eyes are still painted red. But his voice doesn’t break like before. It’s a bit of a breeze so you settle onto the bench for the bus even though you can hear it coming down the street. A strong breeze creates static in your mic for a moment before your voice comes in clearer. 

“We went over one of the assignments in depth that we have to teach. Met some other student teachers. I talked to my faculty mentor about my course schedule and work schedule and they said that I probably should let myself go easy this first semester.”

“So you did drop a class?”

You nod at Calum’s question. The bus rolls to a stop in front of you, but you don’t look up from your phone. “I did. I was scared to because I really wanted to take that class. But I heard it’s also offered in the spring, so I enrolled for it then.”

“Is it with a different professor? Or the same one?”

“Different one.”

The conversation flows until your bus comes back around again and you know you have to take it this time. But you keep Calum on the line. And he’s just watching, with his elbows on the desk and his head supported by his palms, he watches you. And it’s nothing glamorous as the bus rattles and shakes. Your phone lays in your lap, cradled in your hands. Occasionally, you glance down to cross your eyes and stick out your tongue at him and he hums his laughter. 

It’s the little things. Like watching the way your head reclines into the window or how you just know when to pull for your stop. And as you walk down blocks and stop to wave at a dog as the owner jogs past. And Calum knows he’s not there with you. He knows that you’re not walking up to his door, but maybe all he needs are the little things with you. 

“What’s for dinner?” he asks as you step into your apartment. 

“Literally it might be hotdogs because I’m mentally exhausted.”

“You need a veggie too.”

You laugh, keys hitting the counter. “I won’t forget a veggie. I’ll call you back in a bit, yeah? After I eat and get some homework done.”

“Okay. Can that be a daily thing? Just so I know you get back home safely.” It’s soft as he asks, unsure if it makes hims sound overbearing or not. 

“Sure. Once I get my schedule set, I’ll let you know and we can do that. Make sure to send me more pics of Duke though, since know he owns my sweatshirt now.”

Calum stares down at the black screen. You’ve long hung up, no doubts scarfing down the hotdogs you mentioned. And while the ache has subsided, Calum still feels you in every inch of him. He feels the yearning. The sun’s slipped behind the horizon, the last feathers of light won’t last long. And before Calum’s thinking his fingers are slipping over the frets. He bent over the bass, thinking maybe, just maybe the notes will make sense of the feelings in his gut. 

Your phone chimes, pushing rubrics and sticky notes to the side, you pick it up. A notification from instagram, from Calum. The video’s completely dark and it’s just him bent over the instrument as its throaty cries swell. Post you blues, it reads. The caption is tiny, almost missable if you’re not careful. But you see it. If you had any other choice, you wouldn’t have left. If it wasn’t your dream, you wouldn’t have left. 

I love you. Even across miles and interstates and timezones, I love you. 

Calum wants to tattoo the text message to his eyelids, so when he goes to sleep at night or when he closes his eyes to keep form crying, he can see that you’re not gone, just away from a moment. 

______

@5-secondsofcolor bc my Sunshine asked me to tag her so she could read it after shleeps. 

[buckyodinson]

I Feel The Love (Agent Whiskey x fem!Reader)

 Request from @dreams-in-the-impala: Something fluffy inspired by the song, "I Feel The Love" by Tritonal for Agent Whiskey x Reader.

Summary: You and Whiskey are partners but you get transferred to the New York Statesmen before he has the chance to admit his feelings. How will he cope with you gone?

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: brief mentions of injuries; slight age gap hinted at since they have a mentor/mentee relationship to begin with (but it’s not explicitly mentioned?); both are oblivious to the others feelings which leads to a little bit of angst; but don’t fret - there is fluff!!!

You and Whiskey were partners while you worked at the Statesman Headquarters in Kentucky. When you were chosen to join the agency, Whiskey had been your mentor, and you spent a lot of time learning from him on the job. You quickly proved yourself to the agency, and Whiskey pushed Champ to make you his partner. That had been a few years ago now, and you and Whiskey were still as close as ever. You harboured deeper feelings for Jack but you never acted on them, thinking he still thought of you as more of a mentee and wouldn’t feel any attraction toward you.

You were wrong, however. Jack developed feelings for you soon after he started mentoring you. He loved your take-no-shit attitude from the other recruits, and he knew from only about a week of training that he wanted you to be his partner. Since then, his feelings only grew, but he muscled through and tried to ignore them, thinking you couldn’t possibly feel the same for him, right? You must still think of him as more of a mentor to you than anything else, there’s no way you could feel the same for him. 

So the whole time you worked together, and tried desperately to hide how you felt, you were both oblivious to the other’s feelings. Everyone else could tell though, and some of the lower agents had bets on who would ask the other out first, or how long it would take for one of you to actually make a move. There had been a few close calls where one of you had been injured badly on a mission, and the other would be sat by the hospital bed, worried sick. There were a few confessions of feelings while the other was unconscious, but as soon as you were awake and well, it was back to normal, and the feelings were pushed down again.

After a particularly harrowing mission where you were literally minutes from death, Jack was finally working up the courage to tell you how he felt, regardless of the consequences it may have. He gave himself a little pep talk in the car on the way to work and took a deep breath when he came into your shared office that morning, wishing you a good morning. You looked up from your computer and smiled brightly at him, returning the pleasantry, before getting back to your work.

Jack took his blazer off and sat at his desk, slyly watching you type away furiously at your computer with your tongue slightly stuck out, he had to stop himself from staring at you. He sat at his desk and tried his best to angle his face away from you to hide the small blush that crept up his cheeks as he thought about your adorable expression.

You worked mostly in silence for a few hours, trying to finish the mountain of paperwork that had accumulated over the weeks, when Champ knocked on the door and entered the office, “Agent Rum, could you join me in my office when you have a moment please?”

“Of course, sir.” Champ nodded and closed the door on his way out, and you quickly finished the report you were working on before putting your blazer on and smiling at Jack as you left.

“Hey, sugar?” Jack suddenly spoke and you turned back to him as you reached for the door handle.

 “When you get back, what do you say we go take a break and get some lunch? I wanna talk to you about something, if that’s okay?” he had a nervous expression and you smiled softly at him before replying, “Sure thing, Jack.”

You closed the door behind you and as you walked to Champ’s office, your mind raced with all the things Jack could possibly want to talk to you about. Was he putting in for a new partner? Was he retiring? Had you done something to upset him? You prayed it wasn’t any of those things. You couldn’t lose Jack.

You knocked gently on Champ’s door and he beckoned you in, where you took a seat across from his desk and he told you that you were being transferred to the Statesmen in New York. A senior position opened up and Champ put your name forward without you knowing, and you were accepted for the job. You would essentially be in charge of the day-to-day running of the base in New York, and oversee the training of new agents. Champ told you that you were expected in New York by the end of the week. 

“I’m flattered, sir, really, but why me? Surely Ginger or Gin are more equipped for the job?” 

“You’ve shown incredible potential from your first day here, and I think this position is perfect for you to keep improving. Who knows, maybe one day you’ll be back to replace me!” Champ smiled at you and handed you a file with all the details regarding your reassignment.

You thanked him and walked back to your office quietly, feeling a little overwhelmed.

You walked into your office and closed the door behind you, making your way to your desk to begin looking over the file in front of you, “How’d it go?” he asked without looking up from his screen.

“I’m going to New York...”

Jack still didn’t look up from his computer screen, and clearly missed the I’m, “What’s our mission?”

“No. I’m being reassigned.”

That made him look up, “What?”

“Champ put me forward for a promotion, and I’m going to lead the New York division.” Jack felt his heart drop to his stomach. He’d finally built up the courage to tell you how he felt, and now you were being ripped away from him.

“When?” 

“I’m expected there by Friday.” your voice was almost a whisper.

A silence fell over the room as you continued to read the file, and Jack’s face fell when he noticed you wringing your hands together, a nervous habit he hadn’t seen you do in months. He sat and watched you for a few minutes, wondering how best to help you.

“Come on, doll, that can wait for an hour. I promised you lunch. Let’s keep your mind on Kentucky for the meantime.” He came up next to your chair and held a hand out to you, smiling warmly down at you, though the smile didn’t entirely reach his eyes.

“Okay...” you gingerly accepted his hand and he grabbed his blazer as you walked out of the office. He drove you into town and found a quiet little diner to eat at. He ordered pancakes for the both of you, and his own nerves made him eat his food quickly, while you only ate a little and picked at the rest. He couldn’t possibly tell you his feelings now. You’ve got too much on your mind right now, and he doesn’t want to make it worse.

“It’s all gonna work out, sugar. This will be amazing for you. You’re gonna get to boss people about, think about how fun that’ll be!” you huffed a small laugh and Jack smiled.

“I’m just so nervous, Jack. What is Champ has too much faith in me, and I fuck it all up?” You look into Jack’s eyes, and he has to remind himself to breathe. But the slight glisten in your eyes doesn’t escape him either, and he knows that right now his main job is to comfort you.

He reaches a hand across the table and laces his fingers with yours, “You’re the best goddamn agent we’ve got. I should know, I trained you.” he gave you a pointed stare and you ducked your head down and chuckled.

“And it’s not just Champ. There would have been a long process after he put your name forward. They’d comb through all your records, and go from there. They wouldn’t have picked you if you weren’t ready. You’re more than capable of this, Y/N. I know it.”

“Thanks, Jack.” you gave a half-smile.

You ate a bit more of your food then, and Jack was happy to see he’d eased your stress just a little. It was quiet while you both ate, then you spoke suddenly.

“Oh! Didn’t you say you had something to tell me?” you spoke with a mouthful of pancake, raising an eyebrow inquisitively at him.

Jack froze as he put a piece of bacon in his mouth, wondering what he could say, “Oh! Uhh... it was nothing in the end.” his voice was uncertain and he returned to shoving some food in his mouth.

“You sure?” He only nodded in reply, and you couldn’t be bothered to keep pestering him, figuring if it really was something important, he would tell you.

You spent the next few days making all the preparations to move to New York. Jack begged Champ for a day off to help you pack up your apartment, and he was thrilled when Champ said yes. He needed to make the most of the time you were still in Kentucky. You didn’t have much to pack up, living a pretty basic life meant only a few boxes were sat by your front door.

It was your last night in Kentucky and you were sat on the sofa in your bare apartment, watching a movie on your laptop when your bell rang. You slipped your gun into the waistband at the back of your pants and warily walked to the door, not expecting anyone tonight.

You look through the peephole and see Jack and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You opened the door and he held up a bottle of Whiskey and a tub of ice cream, with a lopsided grin on his face “Thought you could do with some company on your last night here?”

You smiled and let him in, and he followed you through to the sofa, “Were you gonna shoot me?” he chuckles when he notices the gun in your pants.

You laugh and put it back on the counter, “Only if you brought the wrong flavour ice cream.” you reply sarcastically, and Jack’s face lights up. You’re gonna miss that face while you’re in New York.

You grab some spoons and you sit on the sofa with the tub of ice cream between you, watching a movie. Once the ice cream is finished, you put the tub on the table and shuffled about on the sofa a bit. You tucked your legs under yourself and leaned into Jack’s side a little, grabbing your blanket off the armrest and draping it over the pair of you. You laid your head on his shoulder, and he slowly wrapped his arm around you, resting his hand on your leg.

“I’m gonna miss you in New York, Jack.” you sigh and he rubs your leg gently.

“I know, doll. You’re gonna have to find someone else to annoy.” you can practically hear his smirk and you poke him in his side.

“I’m serious!”

“I’m sorry!” he chuckles, “Of course I’m gonna miss you too. I’ll come up and see you whenever I can.”

The two of you continue to reminisce for the rest of the evening, drinking as you go, still playing movies in the background. It’s the early hours of the morning and you’re both laying down across the sofa when you notice Jack hasn’t spoken in a while. You turn around to find he’s fallen asleep. You laugh to yourself and grab your phone to take a picture of his head rolled back on the armrest, mouth slightly ajar. You were going to get up and go to your own bedroom to give him some room on the sofa, but his arm tightened around you as you tried to move. So after some deliberation, you decided to just lay there with Jack, and soon enough, you fell asleep yourself.

The next morning, you woke up, and pried yourself out of Jack’s grip to make some coffee. You sneaked another picture of him first, though, with his hair all stuck up in places. You were bringing the mugs back into the room when he stirred, a confused look on his face as he took in his surroundings, smiling once he saw you.

You spent a little while in a comfortable silence, admiring the way the light shone through the blinds on the empty apartment as you enjoyed your drinks. You went to get ready, and Jack said he’d drive you to headquarters, where you were getting a Statesman jet to New York.

You said your goodbyes to everyone, and a few tears were shed on your part as everyone wished you luck before heading back to work. Jack walked you to the jet along with Champ, and it really hit you that you were leaving. You shook Champ’s hand and thanked him for everything, before looking over at Whiskey, who looked like he was holding back tears. You hugged him tightly and it took everything in you not to burst into tears yourself.

“I’m gonna miss you, Rum.”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone else to annoy, Jack.” you smile and he laughs as he remembers telling you the same thing the night before.

“Please don’t be a stranger.” 

“I won’t. I promise.” you nod, trying your best not to cry.

He watches you climb the steps, and Champ gives him a pat on the shoulder as they walk back to the offices, “She loves you too, you know that right?”

“What?” Jack’s eyebrows furrow at the older man but he doesn’t elaborate before walking to his own office.

When Jack reaches his office, he sighs when he sees your empty desk, and he hopes he doesn’t get assigned a new partner.

***6 months later***

You and Jack kept in contact as much as you could, texting and calling when you had time, checking in on one another. Your job got more demanding, and free time became a rarity, so it became mostly fleeting texts after a while. 

Jack was growing restless. He’d almost forgotten a time as a Statesman without you by his side. He’d had several opportunities for a new partner in the months since your reassignment, but he’d declined them all. He was becoming a little more reckless on missions, throwing himself head-first into danger a little more often than usual. Any time a mission needed someone anywhere near New York, he’d jump at the opportunity, hoping to find some time to see you. So far, he’d only managed to actually see you twice, and even those times were very brief, because you were being called away for briefings or training or any other thing that came with your title. He was immensely proud of you, but he missed you so much. But those fleeting moments kept him going.

You’d both been so busy, you hadn’t spoken to each other in about a month when Jack was called into Champ’s office. The two of them had a discussion about you, and Champ offhandedly mentioned an opening in New York. 

“Now, it’s not high-ranking agent position like you are here but-”

“I don’t care. I’ll be a fucking janitor if it means I get to be with her.” Jack’s eyes widened a spark in them that he hadn’t seen since you left.

“-But it is a high-ranking managerial role. You’d be one step below her, and I’m sure she’d be happy to have you promote you and be the co-leader of the New York division.”

“Have you spoken to her?” a smile crept on to Jack’s face at the thought of you two working together again.

“Not yet. Thought you’d want to be the one to break the news to her. I managed to put in the transfer without her knowing. The jet leaves tomorrow - you’re dismissed for today. Better get packing, boy.”

“Thank you, sir.” Jack stands and shakes Champ’s hand before leaving and all but sprinting to his truck.

I've gone too many nights Chasing the shadow of your silhouette Moving just to survive All that I wanted was to start again

Jack frantically packed up everything in his apartment. He remembered helping you do the same, and feeling his heart drop further and further into his stomach as every little thing was packed into a box and left by your front door. Now, though, oh man, all his stuff couldn’t be put into boxes quick enough. He sat down for a drink and pulled his phone out, thumb hovering over the call button next to your contact and staring at the photo he had saved of you - one of you in his hat when you’d all gone out drinking one night, and you started doing a terrible impression of him, that you were convinced was much better once you had the hat on.

He ultimately put his phone down and carried on packing, deciding he’d rather surprise you when he gets there. Once everything is packed up, he grabs a beer and sits on his sofa, scrolling through all the old messages you’d sent each other in the past. Then he scrolled through his camera roll, finding any pictures he’s taken of or with you over the years. He’d spent many nights like this since you left. 

Then he thought about the amount of missions he’d been on where he got careless and almost got himself killed. It didn’t feel right being out there without you. Sometimes he’d get pretty badly injured, and as he was bleeding out, he’d think of you. He’d wonder if you’d come back down to Kentucky for his funeral, or whether you’d be too busy up in New York. Then he’d shake himself out of those thoughts. He couldn’t see you again if he was dead. He had to keep fighting. For you. To get to you. Champ’s words echoed in his mind - she loves you too, you know that right?

Stumbling through the crowd Feet lifting off the ground looking for you Washing my fear away Standing here face to face, nothing to lose I won't look back now

His leg was bouncing the entire flight to New York. He was counting down the minutes til touchdown, where he could practically sprint into the building and find your office and finally admit how he feels. He had a few thoughts on the plane - what if she’s found someone? what is she isn’t happy to see me? But as soon as his feet were on solid ground they were taking him straight to your office, and all his fear subsided when he opened the door and saw the shock on your face when you looked up from your computer.

“...Jack?” you sounded breathless as you stood and rounded your desk, almost knocking him over with the force you used to hug him.

“Guess who got transferred?” he smiled and you pulled back from the hug to look up at him, tears brimming in your eyes.

“You mean, you’re here to stay?”

“Sure am, sugar.” he placed his hands on your cheeks and felt the heat rise in them at his action.

“Why’d you transfer?” you whispered.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips tentatively against yours, and after the initial shock subsided, you kissed him back, harder, wrapping your arms around his neck, and knocking his hat off to run your fingers through his hair.

I feel the love, I wanna get to know you I feel the love, let the past burn into the sun I feel the love, I really wanna show you now I feel the love, I wanna get to know you I feel the love, let the past burn into the sun Can't get enough, so much I wanna show you now

“Does that answer your question?” he smirked down at you, tears now brimming in his own eyes.

“Yeah... God I can’t believe you’re here. I was beginning to regret coming up here. This job is not as fun without you.”

“Don’t speak too soon, darlin’. I’m up here with you now, not in the field. I’m sure in a week, you’ll be begging for me to transfer again. But you won’t get rid of me that easy.” 

“So that’s the reason no applications came through to my desk for that position. I’m assuming Champ had something to do with that?” Jack shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, you’re supposed to be in the office next door, but I’m definitely having all your shit moved in here, and it’ll be just like the good old days.”

“I can’t wait.” he grinned down at you and captured your lips once more.

You pulled away breathless again and Jack placed his forehead against yours, “I love you, doll.”

“I love you too, Jack. I can’t believe it took so long for us to admit it.”

“Guess we’re just a pair of love-struck idiots.” he had a stupid grin on his face and you couldn’t help but kiss him again.

“And I couldn’t be happier.” you murmured against his lips as you pulled away.

“Me either, sugar.”

“How’s about I give you the tour?”

“I’d love that, baby. Lead the way.” he stole one more kiss from you and you led him out of your office, not letting go of his hand the entire time you showed him around. 

By the time you returned from the tour, your office had already been shifted around to accommodate for Jack’s things, and it looked almost the same as your old office. You both smiled like idiots as you sat at your respective desks and felt pure happiness for the first time in months.

[hatari-translations]

Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga - Icelandic review

Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga is a Netflix-produced affectionate parody film about Eurovision starring Will Ferrell and Rachel McAdams. This wouldn't qualify it for coverage on this blog by itself - but as it happens, the main characters are Icelandic, Icelandic is spoken in it, and a significant portion of the film takes place in Iceland. So I think it's close enough to being of interest to readers of this blog!

As a film, my feelings on it were mixed - the Eurovision parodies were incredibly spot-on, I liked Dan Stevens' character and the amount of Eurovision cameos, and it definitely had some pretty funny moments - but it was far longer than it needed to be and wildly inconsistent in tone, flitting between utter ridiculousness and emotional melodrama played completely straight. However, this won't be a review of the film - instead, I'll be going over the portrayal of Iceland and its culture and language and sprinkling in some related trivia.

The Icelandic Opening

The film opens with a montage and a song that the subtitles identify as an "Icelandic folk song". The song is Sá ég spóa, which is indeed a genuine Icelandic folk song. The lyrics of the song go:

Sá ég spóa suður í flóa, syngur lóa úti í móa, bí bí bí bí, vorið er komið víst á ný

which translates to:

I saw a whimbrel in the bay to the south, a plover sings in the dry grassland, cheep cheep cheep cheep, spring is surely here again

The song references the common folk belief that the migratory European golden plover brings spring with it; we still have newspaper headlines when the first plover is spotted (or heard) every spring. The song is largely notable for being suitable for canon singing, which unfortunately can't be heard well in the movie, since the most audible part is the beginning, and the song kind of fades out before the other voices come in. I think this YouTube video is the same recording the movie uses, only you can hear all of it properly!

From there, the first chunk of the movie takes place in Iceland, in both the capital Reykjavík and Húsavík, a town in northern Iceland (the Húsavík scenes were genuinely filmed there). These scenes feature Icelandic extras and some actual spoken Icelandic, with English subtitles. Their lines are grammatically accurate and natural, clearly translated by a native speaker; however, when you're actually Icelandic, it's incredibly obvious that Pierce Brosnan (playing the main character's father) does not actually know the language. He tries, but it's only kind of intelligible, and when he's surrounded by actually Icelandic extras and the film wholly acts like he's just another one of them, it's pretty glaring.

The Names

The first really major issue to tackle about this movie is the character names.

The main characters are named Lars Erickssong and Sigrit Ericksdóttir. First of all, I understand that "Erickssong" is meant to be a pun because he's a musician - but it simply makes no sense to make a pun like this, any more than it would make any sense as a joke in English to consistently refer to somebody as someone's song instead of their son. You can absolutely make up punny Icelandic patronyms - but the part you make the pun out of has to be the name part, not the son/dóttir part, or it just doesn't register as a name at all.

But let's put that aside. Lars is an accepted first name in Iceland - but Sigrit is not, nor is Erick, and Lars is not a common name - it's pretty distinctly foreign-sounding. In general, nearly all of the Icelandic characters' names are not actual Icelandic names, and don't sound like they might be Icelandic names, either.

You might say, well, this is a comedy film, it's not supposed to be accurate. And there is some truth to that, sure. But the thing is that most of the names used in the movie aren't really humourous or systematically inaccurate in a deliberate-seeming way. Instead, they largely just sound like they're playing to your average American's idea of what generic Scandinavian names sound like, but with patronymic suffixes slapped on, and I expect the primary American audience would assume these are realistic Icelandic names.

This is unfortunate, because Icelandic names broadly really don't sound like generic Scandinavian names! We have a different alphabet from our Nordic neighbors: in particular, we don't have the letter c. And the overall sound of Icelandic is pretty different, such that the names in this movie sound distinctly foreign to us. The actual Icelandic equivalent to Sigrit Ericksdóttir would be something like Sigríður Eiríksdóttir, and in fact some of the Icelandic extras just went ahead and pronounced her last name "Eiríksdóttir". Naming her Sigrit Ericksdóttir instead isn't a joke; it's just inaccurate, and I don't think the film being a comedy really excuses stubbornly insisting on not doing the research here, especially when you involve a bunch of Icelanders who would definitely have pointed this out.

Húsavík and On-Screen Text

While Húsavík is a real place, the way it's pronounced and spelled is all over the place. I think the subtitles sometimes included the accents and sometimes not; on-screen text usually didn't include accents. It's important to note that u and ú are two different letters in Icelandic, pronounced differently; not using the accent is wrong, so although not including accents is acceptable for regular people typing in a medium where it'd be difficult or tedious to use them, on-screen text does not really have any excuse, especially in a movie that significantly takes place in Iceland rather than simply being a throwaway scene; they have plenty of time to spell the words correctly.

It's also a little frustrating that Húsavík is actually pretty easy to pronounce for English-speakers! It's just HOO-sah-veek - no sounds that don't exist in English at all. Despite this, the last syllable gets pronounced 'vick' sometimes, and in the song during the climax, Rachel McAdams' Swedish singing double Molly Sandén makes it sound Swedish and like it actually has a u instead of an ú.

Elves and Folklore

Elves are a plot point in the movie, with Sigrit being a true believer in elves but Lars not. She leaves food at a little 'dollhouse' built into a hill while asking the elves for favors. Needless to say, this is a comedic element, and the way it's used is pretty fun - nonetheless, however, I feel obliged to say that no, Icelanders do not do this. Even the true believers (who are few and far between) don't leave them offerings or pray to them for favors - and in Icelandic folklore, elves are not tiny! They're thought to live in actual rocks - no little houses necessary - and they're pretty intimidating and vengeful as described in folklore; if you were to give them offerings or ask them anything, it'd be more along the lines of pleading with them to please tolerate something you're about to do without taking bloody vengeance on you, not asking them to do something nice for you.

(The movie's use of elves was actually ultimately more accurate than it seemed; I won't spoil the details, but it's pretty good.)

Another plot point involves Sigrit's inability to sing a "speorg note", which is stated to be from Icelandic folklore. There is no such folklore, "speorg" would actually be pronounced spee-org with a hard g if it were an Icelandic word, and the way they're pronouncing it is once again something that sounds more vaguely Swedish than like Icelandic of any kind. Obviously this is a pure joke concept not to be taken very seriously.

The Problem With Winning

A major plot point in the movie is a businessman, "Victor Karlosson", who points out early in the film that if Iceland won Eurovision, it'd practically bankrupt the country. This is a genuine concern that Icelanders talk about any time we seem to have a chance of doing well. However, that scene also features someone suggesting hosting the contest in Keflavík, a town about 45 minutes outside of Reykjavík, which causes him to respond that a town of 15,000 wouldn't be able to do that. The joke here is obviously meant to be that hosting it in such a small town (actually pretty big on an Icelandic scale) is especially obviously absurd. However, I'm pretty sure I remember it being actually seriously suggested that if we won Eurovision we might have to host it in one of the aircraft hangars at the US army base that used to be in (near) Keflavík! We don't actually have any Eurovision-sized stadiums in the country, so that was legitimately one of the more realistic possibilities.

Perceptions of the Contest in Iceland

In the movie, while Lars is absolutely obsessed with Eurovision, this is implied to be pretty weird. There's a recurring joke of nobody wanting to hear Eurovision songs, and a lengthy scene in a Húsavík bar where the TV is showing a football game and one of the inhabitants makes an impassioned speech about how they should switch to Eurovision to see Iceland's entry because the contestants are from Húsavík! This is pretty hilarious, because man, Icelanders who don't like Eurovision have a hard time getting away from it when it's on! Potentially you might have a bar making a point of showing something else on Eurovision night and advertising itself specifically to Eurovision-haters, but the idea of no one in a full bar of random Icelanders wanting to watch Eurovision, especially when Iceland is competing, is pretty absurd. We're obsessed with this contest!

The bit where the teenage boy who plays drums in their band doesn't accompany them abroad because "my friends think the song contest is for losers" is valid, though; I can absolutely believe in a friend group of musically-inclined teenagers who think it's trash and they're too cool for it.

A Song in Icelandic Would Never Win

Sigrit says before the Icelandic semifinal that she wishes she could sing in Icelandic, and Lars counters by saying a song in Icelandic would never win. It's true that after Eurovision dropped the rule about all contestants singing in one of their country's official languages, most of Iceland's Eurovision entries have been in English, largely because of the perception that nobody will understand Icelandic lyrics ("Hatrið mun sigra" was only the second entry to be in Icelandic since the change).

However, a lot of songs are still sung in Icelandic in the Icelandic contest - in fact, the last couple years have required it! So technically this should not have stopped the characters from singing in Icelandic there and just translating it to English for the main event. This is a minor nitpick, though, and can be considered merely one of the many pieces of artistic license taken with the contest rules in the movie.

"Semen and Garfunkel"

There is a scene where Lars tells Sigrit that romance ruins bands, and he lists off a few supposed examples, including "Semen and Garfunkel". This probably seems like a really weird, random joke to everyone else, but it's actually kind of enjoyable when you do know Icelandic, because the Icelandic equivalent of the name Simon, Símon, is actually pronounced very similarly to "semen". It's a joke about them being Icelandic and therefore pronouncing his name that way, only probably nobody outside of Iceland would actually get it. I enjoy this.

Some Transcripts/Translations

There are a couple of pieces of unsubtitled Icelandic in the film. At the end of Ólafur Darri Ólafsson presenting the points from the Icelandic jury in the semifinal (yes, they have public jury points in the semifinal; another one of those bits of artistic license), after he says thanks, he adds in Icelandic: "Takk fyrir. Fyrirgefið þið aftur." This just means "Thanks. Sorry again [about the technical mishaps during Iceland's entry]."

During the climax of the film, Sigrit sings a song about her hometown, which has a couple of lines of Icelandic in the chorus. Our initial reaction to the [sings in Icelandic] subtitle was actually "Thaaaaat's not Icelandic," but when the chorus came on again I just about managed to make out that yes, it was in fact supposed to be Icelandic, which Molly Sandén was just pronouncing in a pretty Swedish way. The main line goes "Eina sem ég þrái er að vera með þér í Húsavík," or "only thing I long for is to be with you in Húsavík." There is another line after that, but I can't make out what she's trying to sing there at all, even after going back and rewinding it a few times.

License Plate Trivia

This is only barely relevant, but the license plate on Fire Saga's Eurovision tour bus is R 373. This is one of the old-fashioned black license plates that were in use before 1987; the R stands for Reykjavík, as license plate numbers were allocated by county. In 1987, we switched to white license plates independent of county with two letters followed by three numbers; later, when they ran out of numbers, it was tweaked so that the first number slot could also be a letter. However, some cars that had the old license plates are still on the roads today. I can't imagine why they'd put an old license plate on the bus unless it's genuinely just an old Icelandic bus with pre-1987 license plates.

The Reaction

The most realistic portrayal of Iceland in this movie is when Lars and Sigrit return from Eurovision to a crowd of extremely enthusiastic people waving Icelandic flags. Icelanders who accomplish anything cool abroad tend to be treated as heroes on their return; when our handball team won a silver at the Olympics, there was a whole sea of people and a ceremony to welcome them back, and they were all awarded with the Order of the Falcon. This is absolutely what Icelanders would do, accurate Iceland, A+.

[saladejin]

Call An Uber? | 01

BTS x Reader | idolverse au, uber driver!Reader, translator!Reader | Fluff, flirting, super slow burn, angst and hurt/comfort, mature themes and eventual smut 

Summary:  Your normal life with a normal, yet inconsistent job gets drastically changed when your dreams come true. Sounds boring right?

What happens when all of this occurs, but you’re still doing something you love AND getting a large sum for it? Now there’s something to think about, and it’s definitely not what you’re thinking. 

Warnings: Mild swearing, hysterical fan behaviour 

Word Count: 7.1k (Chapter 1 is longer than usual)

A/N: Okay, so in my next phase of finally crossposting my works to tumblr, I’m adding this massive multi-chapter fic. 

I began this slow-burner (emphasis on slow-burn) a couple of years ago, so it’s easy to see how my writing has changed and evolved throughout.

Basically, I wanted to imagine what it would be like to have one of those ‘chance encounters’ every fan has thought of at least once. Thus, this fic was born, and though it is full of coincidences and wishful thinking, I always try to work realistically to make it enjoyable (and not as foolish as the premise makes it sound).

I hope you enjoy the ride, and feel free to check out the rest on my Ao3 in the meantime while I try my best to transfer everything in an orderly fashion! <3

»»————- << masterpost | next >>　————-««  

      Reader 1st person POV

Imagine being asked to remember the most boring day of your whole existence. If you're anything like me, then it's a bit hard to recall...but for once I was certain.

Today was that day.

Or it was, until something outrageous happened. Something so unprecedented and so unbelievable that I struggle to recall it at all.

I suppose I'll give it my best shot anyway. 

A clear and uneventful morning leading straight into the annoyingly peaceful afternoon, and I had still only picked up and dropped off a measly number of people. Yes, being an Uber driver had its ups and downs, and I had been one for about a year and a half already. It paid decently enough most of the time, and the job just worked hand-in-hand with the flashy new car leaving a gaping hole in my bank account.

Despite all these alleged perks, today had been an obviously gruelling exception.

The lack of activity could be blamed on a number of scenarios, for instance a public holiday or event stirring attention somewhere else. Whatever it was, it was decreasing the number of customers in this usually bustling city of Seoul much to my dismay. I needed good cash, and I’d been working my ass off lately in order to get exactly that. Even closing myself off to social media and other forms of communication with friends helped me focus solely on working nowadays.

I need a real job… 

Then suddenly, even as cliché as it sounds, God decided to answer all of my prayers. A loud ding emitted from my phone and I almost veered off the road in sheer astonishment.

“Thank the Lord!” I pulled up quickly onto the curb and examined the Uber request, almost questioning if I had imagined the whole thing out of desperation.

The name read ‘J’. Literally just the letter, boldly sitting in the middle of my screen. I raised an eyebrow, and normally would have considered declining the request if it seemed too prank-worthy, but I needed this job. I didn’t think the person had even registered or used the service before, as there wasn’t a clear rating to be seen anywhere. Once again...I needed this job.

The pinpoint appeared nearby, and luckily it was only about a five-minute drive to reach the destination. It was located just outside a large shopping mall in central Seoul, and even though this was a seemingly quiet day, it shouldn’t have been this empty. There were of course a few groups of people and individual shoppers wandering about, in and out of the entrance looking for easy buys. Even so, I knew this place to be quite popular and to say I was astounded would be an understatement.

There must be something going on in the city somewhere. 

Making a grab for my phone about three minutes after looking around for ‘J’, I considered sending him or her a text to ask where they were. The place was basically empty, so spotting someone on the lookout for their ride shouldn’t have been too difficult.

“They mustn’t be out yet.” I clucked quietly to myself, typing out a message to indicate I had arrived.

The gentle hum of my engine was the only sound accompanying me as I waited. After another thirty seconds, I received a short reply of “there soon”. I glanced at the simple words a second time before lightly scoffing.

“Okay ‘J’, I’m in no rush.”

Still amused over the less than eloquent reply, I leant back into my comfortable leather seat and hummed to myself to pass some time. I would’ve usually had the radio going, but for now I wasn’t really in the mood for any background distractions. I liked silence when it was comfortable, and especially in a place such as this shopping mall, it was rare to come by.

The reverie was soon shattered when faint sounds of various screams erupted from somewhere in the distance, and I instantly jerked my head up with squinted eyes to observe the area. Tinted car windows revealed just enough of the area to discern an overall lack of movement.

The paved courtyard outside the mall wasn’t occupied by a single human being, which was even stranger than before. The only moving things I could eventually see where a couple of dirtied napkins being thrown around in the slight breeze, and a ripped paper cup from a popular juice bar rolling around caught in the same fate.

The frantic screaming continued. Should I be worried? The shouting wasn’t in terror or anger, that much I was sure of. I usually would pin it on some brawl breaking out nearby, but these sounds where mostly female when I listened closer. In any sense, it definitely sounded extreme.

I wondered briefly if there was some massive sale happening at a famous clothes brand down the street, causing a flurry of panic within female shoppers. The anticipation from the sounds caused me to tap my fingers on the steering wheel in curiosity.

Then it happened. An enormous group of Korean women and probably a few men, some looking fairly young, flocked around the corner of a building in an intense hurry.

Was the sale here or something??

My eyes widened in shock, as the group only seemed to be growing in numbers. Many were holding their phones out, as if recording something, and I scanned the rapidly moving crowd with anxious eyes to spot the source of the commotion.

Two well-dressed men seemed to be caught in the centre of it all. The pair that stemmed this chaotic crowd were clad from head to toe in designer clothes, including darkly coloured masks and sunglasses, not to mention the hoods covering their heads. The shorter of the two donned a lighter colour palette through a milky white button-up, while the other was dressed in a charcoal black hoodie and black ripped jeans.

They appeared to be trying to escape the bundling mass of people, as they moved quickly and swiftly ahead of the horde in their haste. I gripped the wheel in surprise. The screams where deafening and I could feel them grating my nerves. I hoped my client would not be caught in this mess. I wanted out, and I wanted out as soon as possible.

Maybe they’re famous, maybe idols?

A small excitement sparked at that thought, but I was still daunted by the scene playing out in front of me. If they were idols, I felt incredibly sorry for them. This was a clear breach of privacy and personal space, and they didn’t deserve it at all. This was the reason for hatred against K-pop fandoms all around the world.

“Who do they think they are?” I found myself muttering, eyebrows furrowing in disappointment.

Suddenly, the more brightly dressed man glanced around and pointed directly at my car, turning to his well-built friend to shout something following a flurry of gestures. I stiffened and my breath hitched when both started sprinting towards me, their fans following desperately to try and at least touch them.

Oh no.

My breathing sped up and the situation finally dawned on me. The empty mall, the shady name and blunt text response. The timing…

I unlocked all my doors and gripped the wheel harder, if that was even possible. The mass of people followed the two guys as they drew closer to my car, and I prayed to God that they didn’t leave any scratches or dents by the time I was gone. The one that acknowledged me first reached the car, and I jumped slightly when he opened the passenger door and clambered in swiftly. The other darkly dressed one threw himself in the backseat next and I jumped again when both doors slammed shut simultaneously.

“Hello!” The first guy cleared his throat from where he sat next to me and I could see he was bouncing his knee in apprehension, obviously wanting to scoot the fuck out of there, but still trying to be polite towards me. His breathing was shallow, and I could see large beads of sweat rolling down the side of his half-hidden face. I was in no mood to sit around and ponder about him.

“To hell with this!” I exclaimed with a squeak, and the second after the passenger door closed I shifted the gearstick and floored the pedal. Making sure that no people were in my way before skidding slightly around the pick-up bend. Only the sound of one singular hand slapping the boot of my car made me wince, but I was glad there was no other physical contact on my precious red Hyundai.

Only the sound of laboured breathing could be heard amongst sighs of relief as we pulled away from the mall. I looked into the rear-view mirror to see some people giving a hearty chase down the road, but most of the fans had broken away and were just waving towards my car as we rolled down the street.

Adrenaline was pumping through my veins, and I could feel a small smile resting on my face at the thought of escaping something like that. What a turn of events for this tedious day! A muffled gasp caught my attention and I looked into my mirror again to see the darkly dressed guy’s eyes screwed shut as he laughed breathlessly, one hand slapping his knee. His friend was just leaning his head back against the headrest as he gulped in large breaths of oxygen through his plump lips. They had both pulled down their masks and lifted their shaded glasses to catch their breaths, but the sight caused my own eyes to widen dangerously.

Holy shit on a stick, Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook are sitting in my car. What in the ever-loving…

My breathing hitched at the realisation, but I continued to drive steadily. The thing I needed to focus on most of all was getting away from the crazy population of the city. I knew internally I was freaking out a little at the thought of members of my favourite boyband sitting in my own car, but I kept it under wraps knowing they would definitely not appreciate another bout of whatever that shemozzle was before.

I guess nothing goes unnoticed when you’re that famous. Why the hell were they alone?

Jungkook stopped laughing as he looked at my wide-eyed and slightly terrified expression. He suddenly grew apologetic due to his unexplained laughing.

“Sorry, uh, just how you drove off… sorry.” His voice died down as he gradually started to regain his composure, and I watched a shy demeanour suddenly take over his form, as if he had been hit with a realisation of overstepping his bounds. Jimin just turned and glanced pointedly at him, and then back at me to search wearily for a response.

“No it’s fine, I’m just a tad shaken,” I huffed out an exasperated breath, amusement showing on my features at the maknae’s sudden behaviour change. The idol next to me cleared his throat as I turned another corner, luckily no traffic barred my way and I was easily able to fly down the main road.

“We’re very sorry for what happened back there, that was probably quite troublesome for you. We apologise for the inconvenience.”

“Seriously don’t worry. You guys definitely needed an escape from…that. I’m glad to help, honestly.” I smiled to ease any worry radiating from the two flustered boys. “J, right?”

I glanced upwards into the mirror to lock eyes with Jungkook, not missing the way Jimin tried to conceal a smirk from the younger member. “Ah, he’s not that creative with names it seems.”

The older boy’s melodic speaking voice caused my lips to part in an involuntary breath of awe. I had always loved Park Jimin’s voice, whether it be singing or speaking or doing literally anything. Jungkook’s amused exhale and gentle chuckle also made me quite soft.

“Ah, sorry about my rude message too.” He looked downwards and bowed slightly. I noticed how politely he spoke and my insides turned to jelly once again. I felt warm and fluffy from their pleasant mannerisms.

“Don’t worry guys, how could I expect an essay when you were running for your lives?”

The two boys couldn’t contain their amused smiles as they exchanged another glance, seemingly conflicted. I could tell they didn’t know quite what to do with themselves in this situation, as they surely seldom had to get rides from anyone else other than their own personal drivers. I saw Jimin’s brows crease in concentration next to me, as if he was trying to figure out how to maintain his sense of professionalism. His hands fidgeted with the hem of his shirt anxiously.

“You guys may want to start with an explanation, if that’s alright?” I decided to help them out a small bit. If I could establish a comfortable atmosphere here, it would be much easier to converse and work out what to do.

“I notice that you put the next street over as your destination, but I’m fairly sure you’d both want to go further than that.” I made my point with a raised eyebrow and gestured to my phone sitting on the dashboard, destination showing clearly across the bottom of the screen.

Jimin clicked his tongue and leant in to read my phone more clearly. My skin tingles at his closer proximity.

“Seriously Jungkookie, any other place would’ve been better,” he eventually spoke, and although his tone was whiny with complaint, I could see the traces of a smile dancing across his features. He was obviously trying his best to remain stern.

“Ah, sorry hyung. I didn’t have all that much time in this case, did you forget?”

The cheek of this boy.

Jimin turned around and pointed at the younger boy while failing to hold back a giggle.

“Oi, show some respect you brat.”

Jungkook was snickering to himself, and I couldn’t help the smirk from tugging at my lips involuntarily. The group these guys came from always had this certain dynamic of playful teasing that won over so many fans. I included myself in that list honestly, as I always managed to have a good laugh watching their energetic interactions. It made me feel so youthful, as though an inner child would come out to play even though I was still adolescent at the age of 22.

They were fine joking around with themselves for a bit, but I could tell they were still very conscious of me and my presence in the car. They stopped chuckling and Jungkook cleared his throat noticeably in the back, silently handing over the responsibility of the situation to his elder.

“Um, sorry about that as well,” Jimin began to launch into a heartfelt apology, his bouncy blonde hair lowering with his head in a meaningful bow. I stopped him softly with a smile and made steady eye contact for a couple of seconds. His oak-brown eyes were confused, and I knew he was trying his best to deal with the situation properly. Just as his leader would.

“It’s fine, no more apologies please,” I requested warmly, easing the tension as he leant backwards in his seat to relax.

“I just want to know how you both ended up there, if you don’t mind sharing that is. Also feel free to give me somewhere to drop you both off.”

Jimin glanced over at me once more as if calculating my chances of being a threat. I made sure to keep my expression calm and clear while focusing on the empty road in front of me.

“Do you know us?” the sudden question from behind caused Jimin’s head to snap backwards, and my heartbeat to speed up incredibly. It wasn’t an accusing tone Jungkook used, but more on the curious side. Jimin still showed slight disapproval before turning his gaze back to me, a newfound curiosity also flashing across his features. It seemed he became a little shy after the topic of their fame rolled around, but I could tell he still wanted to know pretty badly.

“I’d consider myself a pretty big fan, not insane but you get what I mean,” I managed to force out, swallowing the lump in my throat at the thought of explaining my admiration for them.

They were literally sitting in my car and I never thought I would be shy, but here I was with an embarrassed blush alighting across my face. Jimin widened his eyes next to me, his mouth parting slightly in his shock. Jungkook inhaled a sharp breath before letting out another hearty chuckle.

“Wow! I never would have known.”

“Neither, I guess you must not be as emotional as many ARMY are when they see us,” Jimin smiled at the thought, and it was easy to say he didn’t mean anything bad by the comment.

“I’m just here to do my job. I’m not usually one to express my emotions that intensely, but I’ll let you both know that you’ve made my entire day.”

I saw Jimin turn his radiant smile towards me with an abashed sound falling from his lips. “Thank you, you’ve done so much for us already. Thank you for rescuing us.”

I saw him throw a questioning glance at Jungkook, who in turn squinted his doe-like eyes in confusion.

“It’s (Y/n). You can use honorifics if you want, but I don’t care much for them,” I explained softly, easing his sudden bout of guilt for not even knowing my name.

“Ah, thanks once again (Y/n)-ssi.”

Both of the boys were nervous, as they had just learned that I was a fan and were probably expecting me to flip out on them at any given moment. I knew Jungkook was shy around girls especially, but even he was kind of uncharacteristically silent in the back.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to freak out on you,” I assured them, keeping my eyes fixated on the road with a mostly amused expression. “I’m curious as to why you guys were alone with no protection out there. That usually doesn’t seem to happen.”

“No, definitely not,” Jimin sighed and I heard Jungkook hum in agreement.

“We didn’t mean to get separated from the others, we were all meant to just be shopping,” Jungkook huffed, and I could tell the young man was still shaken from his escapade from the mall. His large dark eyes were still slightly widened from the adrenaline spike.

“Yeah, everyone was together, and then we weren’t. Then the fans appeared and all we could do was run. Jungkook had to download Uber and make an account and everything on the spot. Lucky you were there because our drivers weren’t going to be around until a few more hours,” Jimin provided, his voice rough and raspy with weariness and relief. I could tell the shorter member was finally beginning to relax in the presence of the vehicle.

“Shit, I gotta call the Boss!” Jimin whipped out his phone and groaned when he discovered a couple of missed calls from his manager already.

I gave him a nod to let him know he could make the call safely. I wouldn’t record it or anything shady like that, I respected them too much and it wasn’t in my nature at all. Jimin gazed over a final time before finally deciding to place his full trust in me. I was already driving the car he was hitching a ride in, so trust honestly couldn't have mattered less when both of their lives were pretty much already cradled in my hands.

“I’d like to thank you as well (Y/n)-ssi, you really did save us back there,” Jungkook commented quietly as he leaned forward so I could hear. Neither of us wanted to interrupt Jimin as he fell into a heated discussion with his manager, or possibly Namjoon from the sounds of his replies over the phone.

“It’s okay Jungkookie, I know you guys deserve a much-needed break after all that. Sit back and enjoy the ride is all I'll say,” I said with a sigh, and finally decided to relax as well by releasing the tension in my muscles to sit more comfortably. I noticed Jungkook smirk cutely at the nickname accidently slipping out, and was just glad that he didn’t find it inappropriate.

“No, I swear she’s fine. She won’t do anything like that hyung,” Jimin’s suddenly louder response caused my smile to drop and my eyes to swivel around to the blonde boy. His temperament had grown agitated and I could see he was having difficulty trying to convince his managers and group leader. His round cheeks were blown out in exasperation, and I could clearly read the worry flitting across his expression.

“Jimin-ssi, if he wants to talk to me he can,” I offered softly so I didn’t spook him, raising my eyebrows in encouragement. We’d travelled a fair way, so pulling over was an option even though it was probably still too dangerous to linger in one place for long.

“No thanks it’s fine, I do trust you.” Jimin shook his head and I couldn’t help but smile at his kind, yet stubborn nature. These boys had no idea who I was, yet they put their faith in me and my driving ability for longer than they even needed to.

Jimin finished up with his call after another few minutes of stressed reassuring.

“Um, (Y/n)-ssi? I have an address I need to put in. If that’s okay.” He turned to me after letting out an explosive sigh, and I nodded towards the phone resting on the dashboard.

“Go ahead, distance isn't an issue.”

Jimin smiled at my response and shyly reached forward for my phone, still trying to be respectful.

“Hyung said it would be ideal if you dropped us off somewhere nearby the dorms so there’s no suspicion, but apparently all nearby areas are swarming with fans trying to figure out what’s going on.”

“Shit,” I breathed, the full realisation dawning on me. If their fans found out who I was, I wouldn’t be left alone for a while. I could imagine receiving threats and loads of unwanted attention, possibly not even being able to leave my house for a few days at the very least.

“So, you’ll have to drop us at the actual dorms then.”

“What?” I questioned in an instant. That sounded like the dumbest thing I’d ever heard.

“Isn’t that the area where most of the fans would be?”

“Well, most likely, but there's security.” Jimin ran a hand down his face as if trying to rub away the sudden bout of stress brought on, and I could fathom just how tired he was from all the rambunctious disorder.

“Why not drive you somewhere far away and get your driver to pick you up or something?”

“I did suggest that, but they just want us back as soon as possible so they can calm everyone down. I don’t mean to be rude, but they can’t exactly know or predict what you’ll do.”

That definitely made sense. Watching another car pull out of the building might also cause the fans to suspect the worst. They could even believe that I kidnapped the two band members instead of saving them. Well, that and there was absolutely no reason for their company to trust me with two of their idols that much.

“Okay, but one of you lend me a mask or something. I’m not going in there with a death wish.”

Jungkook chuckles from the back seat, and I’m slightly startled due to not hearing from the younger boy for a while.

“You’re right though, here you can use mine. I have my hoodie anyway.” A hand appeared next to me holding a familiar black mask, the faint but fragrant smell of a rare cologne wafting around me at the action. Of course, anything he’s worn would smell this expensive. Seeing how normal they can act, it’s hard to remember just how rich they actually are.

“Thanks.” I slipped on the mask and the smell was now stronger. I almost swooned.

“It’s actually not as far as I thought,” I commented when the map displayed the route to take. I knew the traffic was most likely to be more congested in this area than the city mall was before, so I decided to take a couple of back routes.

“Good plan,” Jungkook piped in with a nod and I saw the excited grin plastered on his face.

“What are you so happy about?” Jimin scoffed with a raised brow.

“I dunno, just this whole thing is so… exciting? Nothing like this has ever happened before,” Jungkook replied while trying to smother his grinning, but failing miserably.

“True, you guys would usually be living a careful life, right?” I decided to join in. Jimin and Jungkook didn’t seem to be shy or guarded around me as much as they were, but I knew they were still keeping face amongst all the drama.

“Of course, we don’t want our precious fans to worry about us,” Jimin went on in a level tone, his hand flying up to emphasise his point. I still couldn’t get over how captivating his voice sounded in person, and how it was this close to me...

“Speaking of fans, you’re an ARMY?” Jungkook’s cheeky lilt gained my attention and caused me to look up and lock eyes with him in the rear-view mirror.

“What of it?”

I try to suppress my sharp exhale of amusement, but fail miserably as well. Kookie’s adorable expression of playful confidence, bordering on egotistical even, made the laughter bubble up.

“Well, obviously you’d have a favourite, a bias.”

The question causes me to now laugh loudly, smacking the wheel once.

“Ah, I should’ve seen this coming honestly.”

Jimin clicked his tongue at his junior band member. “As if it matters.”

His voice is also playful, and I can tell he’s just as curious as the maknae by how he looks across at me with raised eyebrows and a small knowing smirk adorning his full lips. They were both taking this as a joke, and I was not going to be any different.

“Of course it matters Jimin, this is the question that decides my fate,” I feigned offense, and watched as his smile caused his eyes to disappear in the cutest, squishiest way imaginable.

Before I could say anything else, an embarrassed blush swarmed my cheeks as I spluttered, “Oh crap, I forgot the honorific.”

“Its fine,” Jimin assured. “You mentioned you don’t care for them before, so I can live without it.”

I smirked at him and shook my head slightly. “You’re actually too nice.”

His melodious chuckle was then interrupted by the mischievous maknae in the back.

“Hey, don’t change the subject hyung. Who’s your favourite member (Y/n)?” I noticed he took instant advantage of the honorific drop, and almost slipped an amused snort.

“Well it’s not either of you, that’s for sure.”

I knew they could tell there was a certain level of sarcasm in my tone, but they still let out varying noises of defeat.

“What, no way. It must be Jin-hyung then,” Jungkook groaned and I couldn't contain a giggle. His narcissistic nature was showing, and this time I wasn’t even sure if it was a joke or not. Jimin chose to pipe in as well, obviously enjoying the mystery that was my ‘supposed Bangtan bias’.

“Nah, I reckon it’s Tae. She’s weird enough to be a perfect match for him.”

Oh my, he really went there.

Both of the boy’s breath hitched, as if they thought I was going take offense and kick them out on the curb.

“Honestly, if you think Tae’s weird then I’m a whole other level. Although I guess I can never know who you guys are behind the screen.”

Jimin visibly relaxed after hearing me take the joke, but then grew serious again after my last comment.

“We’re fairly genuine to our fans, as much as we can be,” He defended, but wasn’t insulted. Jungkook nodded in agreement from the back, still smiling from the joking around that happened before.

“Of course, that’s why you’re one of my favourite groups, but you have to admit it is kind of impossible for someone like me to make a judgement on someone I’ve never met.”

“That is true, I guess. We really do try hard for you guys. I never thought super hard about that,” Jimin looked upwards as he pondered, and I felt proud that I’d gotten more than enough glimpses of both their true natures just from this simple car ride. Though, realistically they could be phenomenal actors and I wouldn’t know any different.

“We may be one of your favourite groups, but I’m still waiting for the member~,” Jungkook started lowly from the back, his sentence breaking off into his famous high pitched giggle when he saw my deadpan expression staring him down in the mirror. Jimin joined in and I sighed in defeat.

“Okay. I don’t have one.”

There’s a small silence, but both boys explosively let out sounds of understanding.

“Ah, you’re one of those.”

I was about to question what Jimin meant, but Jungkook cut me off.

“I was just about to pin her as a Yoongi stan.”

The sudden and serious statement made me cackle, although the sound was muffled by the black fabric of the mask over my mouth.

“Oh boy, you have absolutely no idea. My best friend…” I trailed off as laughter gripped me, almost causing me to veer off the road uncontrollably.

“Jesus Christ, watch out!” Jimin breathlessly squeaked as he made a grab for the wheel to steady the moving car. I gripped the wheel harder in fear, but amusement washed over me once again.

“Hyung did your voice just-”

“Shut up.”

I couldn’t stop the amused snort, but managed to regain control. My chuckles were now borderline wheezes, and I could hear Kookie in the back sharing the same demise.

“As I was saying,” I began, but erupt once more as the memory of Jimin’s voice crack surfaced back to the front of my mind. Jungkook is in shambles, but Jimin is just sitting with his head buried in his hands next to me, shoulders shaking as he tries to avoid his inevitable embarrassment.

“Stoooop.” He drawled it out and reached behind him to smack the chortling maknae on the knee somewhat harshly. I knew he hated the fact that he just got embarrassed in front of some stranger, who had also been established as a pretty avid fan. Poor Chim.

“You forget I’ve seen videos of your many embarrassments,” I offered in between chuckles, and caught the moment his face scrunched up in an adorable cringe. A sigh of defeat fell from his lips. “Yeah, I give up.”

He still chuckled and shook his head, the tinkling sounds causing me to bring a hand up to clutch my chest dramatically. Both boys laughed cutely once again at my reaction, Jimin’s eyes disappearing as he covered his face with one small hand.

“You sure you’re not a Jimin stan, noona?” Jungkook chimes in. I raised a brow and decided to skilfully avoid the question.

“Ah, so you picked up that I’m older than you?”

Jungkook stopped, his jaw going slack at the sudden question, and I found myself face to face with his widely memed blankness instead. I almost can’t contain myself.

“Oh, yeah maybe? It kind of actually just slipped out.”

I find myself giggling at the return of his shy persona, and he smiled bashfully at the floor in response. His tongue pushed out one of his cheeks in shame.

“Yah, don’t assume such a thing,” Jimin chuckled, obviously grateful that the heat was finally off of him.

“Don’t worry, I’m the same age as Jiminie I believe,” I decided to help the poor boy out, craning my neck forward to check the next turn off for oncoming cars.

We were actually almost to the destination, and the trip had flown by way too quickly. After Jungkook made a noise of comprehension, Jimin looked around suddenly and grunted in surprise.

“Crap, I was meant to call Namjoonie back a few minutes ago.”

“What are you doing hyung?” Jungkook chided in flippant scolding, to which Jimin responded with another angered slap. He brought out his phone and dialled a number quickly, obviously not concerned that I could very well easily read and memorise it in two seconds flat.

As If I would anyway.

I fell silent as Jimin waited for the phone call to connect.

 Jungkook 3rd person POV

 Jungkook also waited, breathless at the thought of how dire the situation was to their careers as a whole. This was such a strange occurrence to the famous band members, and he thought about how normal and relaxed the car ride had actually been when compared to how awkward they thought it was going to turn out.

When Jungkook had made the Uber request originally, he and Jimin were prepared to face the worst. Anyone who had the opportunity to drive a car unsupervised with two famous idols in tow could easily turn the tables and expose them more, or maybe even do worse things…

He shook his head at the thought and silently swallowed the bile rising in his throat. He glanced over to your form sitting in the driver’s seat, stiffened slightly due to the very important call being made.

You had been nothing but kind and understanding so far, not to mention hilariously easy going. Jungkook found himself respecting you immediately. You could have freaked out and demanded autographs or photos from them at any time. You could have decided to not drop them off where they wanted and just continued to drive for eternity. You could have even taken them anywhere you wanted to, but no, you listened to them, respected their privacy and even agreed to risk your reputation to drive them into their dorms where countless fangirls could eat you alive if they found out.

You were just amazing, and Jungkook knew his hyung felt similarly. Well, considering how he defended you without question before when Namjoon probably jumped to conclusions, it was evident that Jimin trusted you too.

Jungkook was completely numb from bewilderment. Everything could have gone wrong for them in their haste to escape the mob of their excited fans, but it didn’t, and it was all thanks to you.

These types of people drive our purpose, we’re so happy to have reached you.

Although if he was honest, he wouldn't mind at all if you got all flustered and cute while gushing over him. Just a little bit.

 Reader 1st person POV

 I watched as Jimin jerked the phone away from his ear suddenly, a loud voice booming loudly through the tiny speaker to reach even my ears. Jimin’s face winced as he brought the phone back to his ear hesitantly.

“We’re so sorry for the mess Sir, but it worked out.”

I knew that he was most likely talking to his manager or director with how his language changed. He ruffled his blonde hair anxiously and continued to listen to the voice on the line, eventually digging his teeth into his bottom lip in another bout of anxiety.

“Wait, we’re almost to the dorms, she’s got a mask on and everything-” Jimin was cut off and my eyes darted in between him and the road ahead to try and figure out what was happening. His breathing sped up and I could see his own eyes meeting mine a few times worriedly.

What is going on?

We were getting close to the dorms, and I had already noticed how the housing had become wealthier the more I drove through the city. The streets were becoming beautiful and cleaner. I knew that the boys lived in most likely the richest place in the city, and this place was by far the definition of that.

One thing I also noticed is that there were a few groups of girls dotted here and there that were walking or sitting around the footpaths. Some even saw my car and started pointing and taking photos while jumping up and down.

“Well, there goes my anonymity.” I sighed and slumped further in my seat, as if to hide my face better than it was already hidden. The only sound as I drove onwards was Jimin’s occasional reply into the phone next to me. His responses were becoming less worried, but still sounded unenthusiastic.

“Yes, I understand, okay I’ll tell her,” Jimin murmured and I held my breath at the sound of the call being hung up. My curiosity was nothing short of burning, and I instantly turned to the blonde boy when he looked at me pointedly.

“Um, our manager needs you to come in with us so you can speak with him and sign some stuff.”

I look forward again and nod once in understanding. “Yeah, I knew this would most likely happen. Confidentiality, right?”

I crack a smile at the thought of actually going in and meeting the famous Bang Sihyuk, CEO and founder of Bighit Entertainment.

“Wow,” I breathed after fully wrapping my head around what was happening.

“I guess you never thought this would happen.” Jungkook chuckled from the backseat, and I scoffed in disbelief.

“Yeah it’s not every day you meet two members of Bangtan and their producer.”

The sarcasm was heavy, and the two boys grinned in amusement. Jimin leant forwards to rest his forehead on the dashboard in a weary manner. “Ah, I’m so sorry for forcing you into this mess (Y/n)-ssi.”

“What did I say about apologising? I love you guys and your music; this is the least I can do to repay you for all the happiness you have brought me.” My voice became emotional and quiet as I let out all my pent-up feelings. I didn’t know how exactly I could express my bundling thoughts into formed words, but I felt as though that might have been just enough to let them know how ecstatic I truly was that this miracle had happened to me.

“You must be an angel,” Jimin smiled at me so sweetly and genuinely that I had to rip my gaze away from him in order to prevent tearing up. I heard Jungkook sigh in awe at my words, and I looked up to see him smiling shyly at the ground before glancing forward.

“Devoted fans like you are the reason we have made it this far, (Y/n).”

Jimin turns his head and gives Jungkook a look that says 'Well that was fucking sappy' but I can’t help but smile wider and let out a tiny gleeful squeak unknowingly.

His words had caused my emotions to storm again, and I was so fortunate to hear them in person that I didn’t even know what to do with myself. I gripped the wheel tighter so I wouldn’t let go and do anything stupid. Since I had my mask on, they could only see my smile through how my eyes and cheeks bunched up, but unfortunately the mask wasn’t large enough to cover my entire face.

“Awe you’re so cute when you blush like that!” Jimin laughed loudly, reaching out to poke my reddening skin. I gasped and knocked his hand away softly with one of my own.

“Leave me alone, I can’t control it or anything.”

Jungkook was also sniggering in the back, his cheeky nature making a comeback as I shook my head to try and rid myself of the heat.

“Sorry for that noona.”  

Now he was using the word to tease me, and I fought the urge to slap him like Jimin did before. “Silly boy, I swear you’ll never make me blush again.”

“You sure about that? I’ll accept the challenge.”

“And we’re here!” I dragged out the first word to hopefully try and cut him off. I could still hear him giggling in the back, his knowing smile holding an impish quality.

The sight before me was spectacular, if that was even enough to sum it up. The area in which BTS lived was absolutely breathtaking, and I knew that this was in fact one of the, if not the richest place in all of Seoul.

The gardens were marvellously well grown and maintained, while the architecture seemed to gleam and glow in the sunlight, too perfectly constructed to be true. Modern was also an understatement, as this place seemed borderline futuristic. To describe it in one word, glorious.

“I don’t even know if someone like me should go in there,” I stammered, my voice cracking multiple times in sheer astonishment.

“Don’t be silly, how else are we gonna get in there?” Jimin joked and I snorted lightly at his change of demeanour.

“Walk, silly.” I shared a cheeky glance with the maknae behind me when Jimin gasped.

“Rude, and here I thought you were a fan?”

“I’m joking Jimin, alright how do we actually do this?” I looked around and saw a parking space out the front of the main building. Jimin gestured towards it and nodded, giving me the go to proceed.

There were no fans lurking around this place due to the security, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to escape any photographers if they were there. Luckily we had only a few brief, yet concerning encounters with the fans while driving in to the complex itself.

If Kookie hadn’t given me the mask I would be dead meat cooking on a spit. 

I parked the car carefully and fell back into my seat with a sigh. Jimin and Jungkook eyed me with concern clouding their features.

“We’re so-”

“Park Jimin, will you eventually heed my words?” I tilted my head and blinked rapidly at him with a smile on my face. He sees my playful, yet tired expression and shakes his head with an annoyed groan.

“I probably will never stop apologising for the trouble we’ve caused.”

I sighed again and exaggerated a pout, borderline mockery if you will. Jungkook let out a huff and a click of his tongue indicated the long-awaited comeback of his cocky attitude.

“Come on hyung, she already said it doesn’t matter.”

His tone caused Jimin to narrow his eyes towards the back accusingly, and I watched as the younger member sat back down, satisfied with the reaction.

“Thank you maknae,” I rolled my eyes and suppressed a chuckle at his scoff, catching Jimin’s amused and appreciative look. I observed around one more time before turning my gaze upwards to glance at the building next to us.

“Okay it’s now or never boys, run and don’t look back.”

            Copyright © 2020 by salade. All rights reserved.

[grim-faux]

3 - Haunted Basement

  The patient was still mewling even when I entered the small room, I slammed the door behind me and took the time to slide one of the small rolling chairs over in front of the door, despite it opening from the other side. It was stupid but I wasn’t really thinking about it at the time.  Despite the skeletal physique of the patient I felt that somehow he would manage to get up and chase me down, if I didn’t deter his efforts in some miniscule way.  Once I had the door ‘secured’ I stood and watched the handle, expecting it to turn slowly like in some horror movie or something.

Eventually I pulled myself away and jogged all the way from the grunts mill back to the other side of the lobby.  It seemed almost too good to be true, and I had a bit of a scare when I reached the security door and couldn’t find the magnet key in my pocket.  The shock was short lived, I simply had to turn my coat pocket out more to pull it out of a wrinkle it had wedged into.  Never did a computerized confirmation sound so beautiful.

I shut the door after me and glanced over the room.  “They Lie” was scrawled on the wall in dried blood beside a window, right above a large pool of blood.  Footprints led away from the message towards the door.

It seemed my chance finding the magnet card wasn’t so chance after all.  The ‘Priest’ had been in here recently, and he did leave the key card for me to find, presumably while I was out cold for that short time.  This system seemed too elaborate to concoct by one man, but it was apparent from the file I found he was a patient of Mount Massive Asylum.  Not a comforting thought given my situation.

No matter, I would soon put this place far behind me, and deep in the back of my mind.  I shook my head and turned to the main computer.  Overhead screens displayed various rooms, some I recognized, others I hoped to never stumble upon.  No one knew I was here, no one significant anyway.  I pulled the chair over and slid the keyboard under my hands, the screen had the basic menu for systems access.  I might be able to stumble my way through this, as long as their network didn’t lock me out after a few password attempts.

Security

The white page and loading screen appeared and I watched intently as the little gray bar filled with white, inch by inch.  I looked over my shoulder making sure no one was in the room with me, I hadn’t searched it thoroughly in my haste, but everything appeared normal.  Or should I say safe and none threatening?

Aside from my friend slumped against the wall.  Sigh, I turned back to the screen and blinked.  The feed on my right was transmitting from somewhere dark and I could barely make out the familiar black shape with bald head strolling along towards…was that a lever?  My blood ran cold and I stood up from my seat when the ‘Priest’ turned and looked directly at the camera.

The lights went out.

I stumbled in the sudden dark, for some reason moving before I had any idea what was going on.  That switch he pulled, it was a breaker somewhere.

Thank the creators of backup generators, the emergency lights flashed on bright and blazing, I covered my face as my eyes readjusted to the bombardment of light.  Had to find the generators, need to turn the power back on.  The plaque near this corridor read Electric Room and indicated steps down, along with an overturned wheelchair and a crimson trail. 

As my mind wandered to undertaking this new task, a muffled voice came through the door.  “We have to contain it.”

I needed a way out, I needed to be somewhere else, anywhere but here.  I tried the door, but losing the main power activated a locking mechanism.  Damn!  Did he know I was here?  There was no place visible that could conceal me, only two lockers.  Was that all?  I turned and saw a large shadow streak across the wall, my options were drying up.

The locker gave a loud creak as its hinges ground together, I pulled down a coat that had been hung up and tossed it aside before replacing the vacant space with myself.  Right when I had shut the door, the big fucker stalked past the window. I held my breath and hoped, I prayed he would keep going.  This door was always locked before, it’s still locked now.  He’d lose interest and keep going, somewhere out there was some poor idiot that hadn’t been tossed out a window yet.

I wanted to slip down as he threw his body against the steel door.  Maybe it would hold, it was built to withstand a riot.  But I think at this point I was just kidding myself, nothing was going the way I had anticipated it would.  This place needed to go to hell.

After three slams of his massive body, the door crashed inward and Chris stood on the bent metal.  He gave the room a casual look over, everything looked just as it was the former evening.

I tried to control my breathing, everything seemed amplified in the acoustics of the hollow locker.  Out of reflex I pulled up my camera, catching an image of the big fucker as he turned to the computer terminals.  With him out of sight I felt infinitely better, but he was still there searching for me.  He made audible snuffling sounds, muttering to himself,

“You were here, weren’t you?  Little pig.  I’ll find all you whores.”

I hadn’t realized I’d closed my eyes until they snapped open, the sound of a creaky locker bulldozing my thoughts.  I could barely make out his shoulder, and a blood stained hand as he stood poised, but in the same instant relaxed when he found no one huddled in the cramped space.  He shut it gently and pivoted, marching to the doorway where he stopped.  He glanced back but looked away.

My lungs craved air, but every shallow breath I took ached.  Did he plan to turn around and check the other locker?

The latch clicked as I lifted it and pushed the door open, I stiffly swung around it as I shut the door and pulled the next locker open.  No sooner had it settled, Chris stormed back to the lockers and snapped the door open.  I was trying to push away, put myself as far from him as I could despite the tiny space.

He shut the door and turned away, this time exiting the room.  “Parameters will hold up….”

Ten minutes later and I was still hiding.  I heard no sound and saw no sign of Chris’ return, but remained leery.  If I couldn’t see him, he could be anywhere.

Anywhere but here?

I struggled with the latch, almost panicking with the thought I had accidentally locked myself in.  My fingers were a little numb, my whole mind felt numb.  I took a few steps toward the computer terminal and collapsed in the chair.  What had I been doing up to this point?

“The big fucker is stalking me. Found a patient file for a CHRIS WALKER, ex-military police, several tours in Afghanistan. A lot of the blood in this place is on his hands. But not all of it.”

My writing was sloppy, but that was the best I could do for now.  My camera was still on record so I shut it off for a bit and saved its charge.  I set it on the terminal and propped my head up on my hand.  The Generators would be down the steps in the Electric Room but restoring the power would be another matter.  Did they need gasoline?  What sort of grid did they run on?  I was unsure if Murkoff staff had them locked up to prevent people like the ‘Priest’ guy from getting ahold of them.  Obviously they must be accessible, unless he was the only one with access to them.

I sighed through my fingers.  What was I doing with my life?

Pages had been left on the terminal, a small note to Shawn about the camera operations.  Beneath it was a notice for restarting the generators, the Asylum had it’s own power off the grid after Murkoff took over.  Well, of course they would!

But it had directions for restarting the generators, reactivate the pumps and throw the breaker.  Seems pretty basic.  I tossed down the page and ran out the room, but returned shortly to snatch the camera.  My thoughts were a bit off kilter, I was hearing shrieking on the other side of the gate, from where I thought Chris had stalked off to.  I was going the opposite way, later I would worry where he had gone.

A pipe had broken from the wall, water gushed from it just missing the stairs I took to the basement.  Chances are it was a delivery pipe, but it was no more cleaner than sewage.  The air was humid yet chilly, small drafts moved through the open doorway waiting in the subterranean level.  I sucked in a sharp breath as the water engulfed my shoes, I stepped back and pondered.  There was no way to get around this, I liked my shoes but I’d have to buy a new pair after this regardless.  A new style, I didn’t want to remind myself how many bodies I trudged over.

The actuality was, I was scared.  No lie.  There was no telling who was down here, if there was something worse than that big fucker.  But if I wanted a chance to get out of here, I had to get through this.

My feet sloshed through the water, shoes turned soggy and heavy.  I pulled up my camera and flicked on the night vision.  Even with the enhanced lens I couldn’t see what was under the water, I just had to tread carefully.  There was quite a bit of ruble on the surface, some of the ceiling had weathered and fallen.  Large items lined the walls, some barrels a pallet.  They might have used the lower floor for storage as well, it was spacious from what I could see.

I was met with a despairing sight, the gate that lead into the basement rooms was locked with a thick chain.  No way could I smash it.  Just to mock me, the wall beyond the gate had a plaque labeling the primary rooms.  The middle name was Electric rooms.  There had to be another way into there. 

As I turned to backtrack, a flash of light blinded me from the next room.  The wall had rotted and crumbled to some degree, and with some extra effort I was able to remove enough brick that I could squeeze through.

The water was deeper on this side, and a bit more ruble was hidden beneath the surface.  I caught my footing before I could fall and drop the camera.  That’s the last thing I needed.

A cool draft met me in this grimy place, but the scent it carried was far from fresh.  I clutched my coat tighter around me and stepped carefully, there were boards bobbing just under the surface, sodden but uncertain about their watery demise.  A few laundry baskets had been abandoned and another shelf melted in the flood.  I turned a corner and continued, at least in this section I didn’t need my camera, this corridor was well lit.

Wooden crates were stacked along the walls making a slow precession into the water as their predecessors decayed, and gave under the weight.  I wondered what was kept in the barrels along the walls, gasoline maybe.  They had vehicles and other machinery that needed fuel, a tanker probably came out to deliver the barrels.  The noxious stench of bad oil was constant, cheap grade bought in bulk for old machines.  Engines.  The generators couldn’t be far.

Someone had stacked boxes in the middle of the corridor, I tested their stability before hopping over.  The emergency lights didn’t reach this area, or had burned out.  I moved my feet carefully under the water tensing when I felt something soft and undeniably slimy.  It could be a cardboard box filled with liquefied files, that’s all it was.  But the smell intensified, a soggy vapor of rot and soured water. 

Before me was what appeared to be a high archway, but the opening was boarded up tight.  I put my hand up testing, feeling the draft creeping between the cracks.  Maybe there was a small window down here, something I could squeeze through if I could find it.

“W-who’s there?��

The voice sounded meek, worried.  I shuffled away as banging ensued.

“Who’s?  WHO’S THERE?”  I held still as the noises softened and the speaker began mumbling.  “I’ll hurt you.  I’m not afraid of dying.  I’m not afraid of anything.  Not anymore.”

I waited listening to the sounds of the water, only the drips and tranquil sloshing penetrated the black.  Slowly my feet moved, reducing as much noise as I could through the froth.  The night vision revealed nothing but a large corridor, at the end a dull haze of light.  It was on the other side of a waist high platform, evidence on my side revealed there had been steps some short time ago but the timber ruptured and was torn away.  The waterlogged planks I had seen along the way might’ve been the remains.

From what I could make out there was no one in this room.  The walls were thick brick and solid looking, a few pallets and boxes had been left to rot.  The furthest wall had two doors, the one on my direct left had one, all shut and to my limited knowledge locked tight.

Another body hung from the ceiling, headless and bloated. Another reminder of what would become of me if I didn’t hustle and get the fuck out of here.

I pulled myself onto the platform and stepped softly down the steps.  I wondered if this place was first built as an Asylum, or had it been constructed by some eccentric billionaire that appreciated his privacy.  The building was ancient, but the ideal of looking into its private history had not come to mind while I was struggling to locate information on Murkoff’s activities.  A map would have been very useful right now.

The control board beneath the brilliance of light labeled out my next course of action.  The generators couldn’t work without gasoline (I knew that).  The main breaker needed to be flipped before I could restart the power.

This didn’t seem too complicated, where?-  I turned around recalling the sealed rooms, one of them must hold the breaker.

My shoes bubbled as they filled with water once again, I didn’t want to think about what might’ve been floating beneath the surface.  I focused ahead trusting my NV, even with it I was still bumping into boxes and things my eyes had missed as I set my narrow sight for one of the two doors.  When I put my weight on the first step it gave, dissolving into the water.  I came down hard on my knee but brushed off the sharp pain, at this point it was nothing but a mild nuisance.

The door knob stuck but with a hard twist the handle creaked and I crept inside.  The soft glow of the emergency light illuminated the generator, poised on a metal pole was the button.  All was going well, I punched the dial and turned around as the machine whirled to life.

On a metal barrel beside the door something glittered, I walked over and discovered it to be another battery.  Odd place to find one, but maybe someone had been down here last with a penlight.  I pocketed it before I stepped out the door and stopped, my blood running cold.  The sound of crashing and banging came from not far away, not far enough away from me.  Timber splintered and gave as someone broke through what could only be a door.  Or a barricade. 

I checked through my camera scanning - where had it come from?  The acoustics of this room made locating sounds tricky, there were four doors in this room?  No, three, I came from a step–

A pair of eyes flashed, I stepped back as I moved my camera searching for the face.  There, a man looking right at me from the doorway he had forced open.  I retreated back into the room shutting the door before examining the confined area.  Had he seen me?  He was insane no doubt, could he trust his eyes after what had happened here?  It might not have mattered to him.

The room was solid, except for a bed a few feet from the generator.  I slid under it as the thuds came from the doorway, the wood snapping and the jam cracking before the door clattered against the cement.  My instinct warned me to crawl further under the bed, I was just beneath the edge, but if I made a sound he would find me.  The dull drone of the pump could nullify the tiniest gasp, but somehow he would pick up the rough fiber of my coat against the moist cement.  I held my breath as he walked by, his gaze roaming the walls and shadows.  In his hand he carried some sort of weapon, what looked like the leg of a table with screws still sticking out of it.

It was splattered with black.

I swallowed and let out a shallow breath. Please leave.  Please don’t check under the bed.

He slapped the clean side of the club against his palm a few times, turning to check the room once more before he spun around.  “The gospel.  Tells us to follow.” 

Once he cleared the doorframe I took in a long, deep breath.  God, my ribs.  I didn’t need to get anymore beat up than I already was.

For good measure I waited, he had vacated the room but was he debating on returning?  I had no idea if he had seen me or what he might’ve thought, if he thought he saw me.  There was time, take it slow.  But if I waited, would he eventually return and notice the bed?  I shifted under it a little more, almost immediately the man materialized in the open doorway.

I bit my lip.  He didn’t hear me!  He couldn’t have!  He was here on a hunch and once he had satisfied his suspicions he would leave.  I tucked my face against my shoulder and watched him with my eyes.  He gave the room another glance over as he passed, and checked behind the generator when near it.

Against my better judgment, I slipped out on the other side of the bed beside the wall.  I kept low and crawled towards the gaping doorway as I heard his feet grit against the moist silt of the floor.  My breath hitched as I looked over my shoulder, he had just dropped down to check under the bed.  I didn’t wait for him to rise, I carefully stepped on the door and slipped out of the room.

The steps groaned under my weight, the sound amplified in my mind.  Cursed all, I forgot the last step was ruined and stumbled in the water as I fought to keep my footing, and reduce the noise I was making.

“What’s that?”

I couldn’t see at all without my camera, but hadn’t the presence of mind to raise it for my eyes. Instead, I felt around in the dark for the rail and made a painfully slow shuffle around to the backside of the steps.  They groaned as my pursuer stepped down into the water.

He made a more graceful recovery than I had when he missed the last step, or he recalled that it was ruined.  Or, a more frightening thought, he was more accustomed to the inky veil that occupied many of the rooms.

It was fortunate I had my hand wedged in the cameras strap, I had let go of it as I pressed my fingers against the wet wood.  With it on my mind I raised the visor and watched the figure scan his immediate area.  After a tense second he continued forward, his legs churning dull froth with each step.  I backed away slowly, always keeping him in my sight.  I bumped against a crate before I turned around, checking for what other obstacles might be in my path.

The second door, same as the first.  I hopped onto a crate moldering against the steps and made light footfalls towards the handle. It gave with an easy twist and I entered, shutting my thin paper of protection.

This room had more to offer.  Lockers lined the wall, shelves had been assembled in the corners littered with few items, some bottles of oil and boxes, tattered sheets.  In the furthest corner was the pump.

When I activated it, the noise would alert the prowler.  There would be no doubt in his mind, with the door shut, that someone was still in here.  Or, this was the trail of thought I entertained.  I had to keep reminding myself he was a patient in an asylum, there was no telling what his rationale skills entitled.

I punched the button and turned to the lockers along the wall.  Maybe I could lock it from the inside….

The latch was different from the ones on the top floor, I fumbled with it trying to discern if it was corroded with rust or if I was doing this wrong, but the sounds at the door thumped with each beat of my heart.  Wait!  Wait!  I needed to hide now!

I sprint over behind the pump and ducked down.  A final crash announced my visitor as the door caved in.  He kicked away bits of the timber as he stepped through, they clattered across the floor loud enough to be heard over the pump.

“—revealed himself to the shattered minds.” He muttered, somewhere amid a quote.  I curled up into a tighter ball and pressed up against the pump, if he glanced over it I might fall just under his peripheral sight.

A locker opened then slammed shut.  He patrolled the area, his club thudding along the metal doors before he stopped.  For a moment there was near total silence.

I trembled though I couldn’t decide if it was from the cold or if I was terrified.  Must have been both, my coat was good but my pants were soaked. I flinched when he began beating the lockers and screaming.  When would this nightmare end?

With a final hoot he raced out, his shoes thudding over the broken planks and fading down the steps outside.

Several minutes passed, but of the man there was no sound.  The generator caused too much of a ruckus, it was impossible to pick up echoes or voice in the next room.  Was he still out there?  From here I had no way of knowing.

I uncoiled myself and peered over the pump.  It might’ve helped if I had my camera up, but the emergency light impeded the NVs range.  There were no sounds that worried me, but that could mean he was standing just outside the door waiting.  I moved around the large machine and crouched, shuffling towards the broken door.  At this range I could see through my visor, but halfway there I couldn’t see much beyond the portal but dark shapes huddled.

The right side was the stair side, I huddled on the left straining to see.

“Can’t see me.  Won’t get me.”

I slinked back, but realized I was still safe.  He was trudging by the stairs muttering to himself, I don’t think he could see me.  Or maybe I underestimated his instincts, he climbed onto the crates and began up towards me.

In a wild dash I reached the pump and ducked down behind it.  I hadn’t seen if he cleared the door before I hid, did he even see me in the first place?  I had no way of knowing, but I was out of sight and therefore, out of mind.  He was just checking the room.  He must’ve visited the other side first, and then came back to see if I was here.  But this was all speculation, I had no idea what was—

A locker swung open, pause.  He slammed it shut and jerked another one open.  He knew I was here, he was looking for me.  I listened carefully as his steps moved across the room, then pivoted.  Where was he now?  I slid to the edge of the machine and leaned over.

He was at the opposite corner just standing there, but I could still hear him walking.  When my eyes adjusted to the odd contrast of light and shadow, I saw a sheet hanging on the shelf.

“There you are!”

I twisted around where I was huddled, he grabbed my shoulder and raised the club above his head.  My leg kicked out blindly smashed into the brick wall, I tore out of his grip and slid out under a metal pipe attached to the pump.  A sharp crack filled the air when he brought his weapon down, it took a moment to register my opportunity before I was clawing to my feet running for the door.  “Wait!  Come back!”

Even with my night vision up, I still ran into the rail that surrounded the steps.  I heaved over it splashing into the water below, footsteps were right at my neck and I felt something slice through the air near my head.  I bent forward and ran, though I heard him storming down the steps a few feet behind me.  The camera was jiggling too much, I had a god awful time trying to hold it steady while I tore through the room.  All the time the guy was still after me, screaming.  I was unsure where exactly I was headed.

Ahead of me I saw steps and light, I vaulted up them stumbling over the fallen door.  I hadn’t stepped over a door to get into this place.

A wall appeared in my path, I barely put on the breaks but still managed to smash my good shoulder against it.  Panicked and shaken I forgot the camera but rather, slapped my palm and fingers against the solid surface and followed it.  I staggered through an open door as the footfalls of my pursuer neared, I found the edge of the door and flung it shut.  The doorknob rattled as he worked to get it open, I think my appreciation for broken door handles grew somewhat in that instant.

I stumbled over a pipe and fell hard on my chest.  As I lay groaning and fighting to recover from the stun, I noticed a few broken beds just ahead.  The door was about to give, I crawled under the beds and lay flat as the wood crumpled and the variant charged through.

It was impossible to see without my camera, but I heard his wet footfalls as he paced around the room.  A few of the items were shifted, I tried to identify what each was as he poked around.  Finally his steps came towards my space, I took a sharp breath and held it as he smashed the club against a metal bar then waited.  In the distance I could pick up the echoing clatter of the pumps.  I needed to focus on that.

“There was no putty tat there.”  After a few more minutes, either he became bored or forgot what he was looking for.  I heard his weight rock the broken door as he thudded over it.

I didn’t want to move.  No telling where he was now, or where I was.  But I reasoned with myself, if I stay here he would eventually find me.  I was blocked in but this area had served its purpose for the time.  I wasn’t ready to move on, but I forced my hands to pull at the cold floor and drag my body out.

I wasn’t shaking I was quaking unrestrained.  That had been too close.  What was it I needed to do?  Flip the breaker.  I bumped my face with the camera as I tried to lift the visor and view exactly where I had stumbled into.

Another storage room.  Spare beds and sheets for the patients, lockers, and some filthy laundry bins.  I tried to stand but my legs wouldn’t hold my weight, so I shuffled along to a door at the other side of the room.  At this point I felt my masculinity melting.  Get it together Miles.

With some help from the shelf and the doorknob I was able to haul myself up.  I stood a moment taking deep breathes and renewing my resolve.  I was okay as long as I could outrun him.  Flip the breaker, restart the power, get the fuck out.  This would be easy.

The door was locked.

I could’ve held up the camera and seen exactly where I was going, but I wanted to feel the walls, the frigid damp brick and the shelves as I staggered around them.  I was not too solid on my feet just yet but once I stepped out into the corridor, I had my camera out like a bad habit.

No sign of the man.  No sound of him either.  I took it slow, glancing out through the light in the doorway before returning my eyes to the path ahead.  On the wall was a plaque with an arrow.

Generator

I followed the corridor, hopping over more debris that had been shoveled into the hall.  When I reached the end I picked up the soft footfalls, the moment before he turned the corner.  There was a doorway to my right I slipped into, but wish I hadn’t.

Bodies tethered to the ceiling like butchered cattle, organs spilling off the shelf, the translucent skin glimmered in the NV of the camera.  I didn’t have time for revulsion, he was right behind me.  I slid under the bed and pressed my face into my shoulder, the smell, I will NEVER get used to that smell. 

He strolled in from the doorway and glanced over the room, I had my camera held beside my face at an awkward angle to prevent the gleam of the visor from reflecting too much.  Despite the discomfort I wouldn’t repositioning it to document his habits.  Leave the room, just please leave the room.

Then he did something very madman like.  He folded to his knees and smashed at the floor with his club, the strikes hard enough to shatter his weapon, I’m amazed it didn’t.  Then, he leaned over and pressed his…ear down.  He was facing me at that point, but I was too flabbergasted to register the potential threat.  It was probably best I didn’t, otherwise I might’ve squirmed and drawn his attention.

After that he rose to his feet and walked out muttering about shadows.

Once it seemed he left for good I wasted no time in crawling out from under the bed, the stew of rotten organs among the metal legs was too much for my tattered sanity.  I sat in the dark absorbed in what little light was put off by the visor.  Which way had he gone?

My question was soon answered when he passed from the right, the way I was headed initially.  I didn’t move though I was in plain view, he was out of sight by the time the thought registered.  The dark had concealed me fully.

I was taking my camera for granted, if I wasn’t looking through the visor everything was a black slate with no texture, no form.  Empty.  It could drive a man insane, or more so, give him some company.

When his footfalls faded, I shuffled to the door and looked around the edge.  He had found the door that was locked and made himself busy trying to tear it down.  I was fine with this, it wouldn’t keep him occupied for long.  I shut the door as I left the room.

Was I becoming desensitized by what I saw?  It was easy to forget in this hall what I had previously been subjected to, but if I dwelled on it for too long I could feel my heart flutter.  I need not think on that, keep focused on my objective - to get out of here I needed to flip the breaker and open the main doors.  That was the only way out.  Try not to think of what lay in the rooms, or what else could possibly be waiting for me.  I would escape, I would be fine.  My thoughts felt natural, but this worried me as well.  A crazy man thought he was normal because the only thoughts he knew, were those of his own, he had forgotten the way a sane man thought. 

When I escaped, would I go mad too?

Of course I wouldn’t, what was I thinking?  Keep it together Miles, this place was getting to me and I would acknowledge that before it began to eat away at me.  I wasn’t going mad, my brain was just filtering so I wouldn’t go mad.  Once I was out, I would call up my therapist and get this water under the bridge settled.

Having a therapist was kind of awkward, people got the wrong impression.  I was advised long ago when I received my license, that I would come to appreciate a good therapist.  No lie, I have seen some of the worst that the world could offer, and even if I didn’t think it phased me it was still a good idea to have someone that I could talk to.  Help me cope.

The corridor came to a T, I decided to check my right first, only because I could see the shimmer of water the other way.  It felt like the hall was never ending, aside from a mishap of ruined desks that broke up the repetition.  At the end was a crushed pallet, along with the door I sought. 

The knob gave with one twist, it cracked and fell apart in my hands.  I frowned down at it, before I tossed the pieces aside and inspected the door.  I could still push it shut but it wouldn’t slow anyone down.  I turned my camera to the rooms interior and scanned over the shelves dotted with chemicals and some tool, a trolley, more lockers (why did a facility need so many lockers?)  Fuse boxes hugged the furthest walls, the soft glimmer of the backup light blotted out the NVs range.  This had to be it.

Directly ahead was a familiar looking handle.  The breaker the ‘Priest’ had pulled that cut the power in the first place.

I crossed over to it and forced the lever up.  Just had to reactivate the power and find my way back to the ground floor.

As I was heading down the hall I was somewhat distracted, but I quickly caught the soft steps and retreated backwards in a noisy shuffle. 

“Hey!  What the hell is that?”

He saw me!  He saw me!  I pivoted and ran back to the room, I didn’t even bother to shut the door behind me I needed to hide.

But damn these lockers, what was I doing wrong?  There was no lock on it, it couldn’t be jammed.

The latch popped and I climbed inside, the last worry on my mind was whether I could get this model open from the inside.  He didn’t seem to have a problem getting them open.

I slowed my breath when he entered, the door creaked as he shoved it against the wall and the muffled snaps of the wood chair leg striking his palm came closer and closer.  I shifted, it felt like the locker jarred on its foundation.  Oh god, just hold still and be quiet.  He won’t find me. I’m not here.

“Who is that?”

He didn’t see me.  He did not see me.  I fixed my grip on the camera and leaned back from the cutout vents.  The door beside me opened, then slammed shut.  I put my hand on the latch and held it.  There were three lockers, weren’t there?  Or two?  I let out a soft sigh as the tension climaxed, where was he?

 “Up to heaven, went away!”  He wandered out of sight tapping the shelves, and once he had satisfied his fancy he departed.

I waited in the silence just breathing as everything settled, my heart, my haggard breathes.  I was in a dead end, I couldn’t afford to get pinned her again.  I worked up my nerve and opened the locker, grateful that it hadn’t stuck.  Before I went on I made sure I understood how the latch on these worked, then moved to the open doorway and looked out.  The corridor was silent but this didn’t set me to ease, he was still here.

At the intersection I paused to zoom the camera and check the far hall, what might be there.  I could make out boards and an archway, but I couldn’t decide if this was the other side of the archway passed before entering this area.

I was nearly out anyway, what did it matter?

All the more reason to use caution, from this point on.  I stepped lightly along the hall watching my cameras feed, so far no sound.  I expected at any moment he would charge out at me, or I’d feel his hand slap me on the shoulder right before my skull splint in two.  Shuddering, I swallowed and tried not the think about the foul odor burned into my mind. 

Just needed to reactivate the power.  The power, so I could open the front doors and get the fuck out of here.  My resentment for this place was natural, I didn’t fight it, nor the repetitive state my mind had elapsed into.  It was easy to keep repeating my current goal through my thoughts, keep focused on that rather what I had seen.  It felt clean.  I wanted to feel clean.

I passed the shut door, not bothering to pause, not giving it another thought.  Breaker, security, then out.  As I neared the light from the entrance I heard his voice.  At least I knew where he was.

Thankfully he had torn the second door down, I stepped inside and moved along the shelves, making sure I didn’t knock over anything this time.  The battery in the NV was getting low and the visual was dimming.  After I removed the battery I thought about tossing it down the hall, distract the variant that way.  In the end I decided this was a bad idea, best not draw attention to any area I was near or in.  If he wasn’t certain of my whereabouts, it might clue him in with sudden noises.  I also did not need to stir him up, he was insane and that was apparently enough to get my face smashed in.

Down to two batteries.

I moved to the other doorway and peeked out, just as he faded from the nightvisions range somewhere down the corridor.  I couldn’t see him, but if I ventured into the light I would be vulnerable for a splint second.  He would see me.  Unless he wasn’t facing me.

One, two, three, and four steps into the entrance corridor.  I paused for a beat to listen if he made note of me, but I heard nothing aside from the echoing steps growing distant.  It was unnerving.

I continued into the cold water and crossed to the access panel.  Before I hit the switch I took a deep breath and prepared myself, this was it.  With a firm punch the generator kicked to life, the lamps overhead flickered and blazed white clarity.  I shut my camera off and glanced around, which door had I entered from?

All I could see were broken doors, where was…?

I spun about and saw my entrance, the stairs and the arch I originally entered from.  I sprang up the steps, despite the protest of my ribs and ran the full length of the hall with the water frothing around my legs.  When I reached the small crevice I slipped through, I spied just beyond it a cracked desk a folder forgotten atop.  Enough light made the last part of Confidential evident.  I picked it up before squeezing through the gap.

Once I felt safe and heard no steps, no screaming man chasing me, I paused to calm my breath.  That had been too close, if I hadn’t of gotten out from under the bed when I did….  My close call ration was dwindling down.  I could only feel closure with this event, knowing that I had gotten out of there without getting myself killed, and with my camera still in functional order.

I paused a moment to look it over while I had some light.  After the fall I hadn’t noticed, but a hairline crack had formed along its case.  Another battle scar, it had many.  The corners were rubbed clean from constantly shuffling it between the pack and my hands, and the symbols on the buttons were worn away from years of use.  To operate my camera I had to work it from memory.  Like me, it had been through hell before we reached this place, and it’d receive more abuse before I retired it.  That wouldn’t be for a long time, I promise.

[mood-swings-for-days]

Thunderstorm Ι Ch. 3 Ι JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Werewolf!au

Word count: 6, 829

Warnings: Characters in a less than healthy state of mind, violence, slight body horror, an addicted to cigarettes Jungkook (don’t do drugs, kids!)

Summary: An accidental encounter triggers a series of events that shatter your monotonous life. A new relationship starts to develop, following the stages of a thunderstorm.

Note: Written under the influence of beautiful music

1   2   3   4

Chapter 3: Drizzle

      Propping the old umbrella on your shoulder, you struggled to lock the driver side door of your truck. Raindrops were falling heavily on the hood of your car and covering your face in a fine misting of rainwater. You were scowling in frustration, straining the key in futile efforts to make it fulfil its purpose. Water pooled around your feet and seeped into your sneakers, egging your irritation even further. With the fading sunlight, cueing you were already late for your shift, you couldn’t help but think that this was the worst possible time for the old lock to start acting up. Abruptly, you turned the key in the opposite direction and back again, repeating the movement several times before the lock finally reacted. With additional effort to turn the thing all the way, you were finally rewarded with a resounding click. A relieved sigh tore itself from your lungs as your hand flopped down to hang beside you. With throbbing fingers, although victorious, you headed up the street toward the store.

      The bell above the door and your wet, squelching shoes notified of your arrival before you could do that yourself. Your coworker was leaning against the counter, already changed out of his work uniform.

        “I’m late, I’m sorry!” You decided to forego a proper greeting in favor of trying to explain yourself. “Yoongi, my car was acting up and I-”

      “Spare me.” The hostile tone he cut you off with immediately struck you as odd. He had opted to work a 12 hour shift today and was going to be absent for the next week so you could only assume he was tired and cranky and wanting to leave already. That being said, the look in his narrowed eyes went far beyond mild irritation from a tiring day. Yoongi looked mad; his eyes were quite literally burning your soul. You stood unmoving under his glare, blinking up at him owlishly and wondering what you did to piss him off to that extent. He couldn’t have gotten angry because you didn’t show up on time as he was notorious for coming to work late. With a quick glance toward his crossed arms, you noticed he was squeezing his fists so hard, his knuckles were turning white. You carefully swallowed the saliva, built up in your mouth and his eyes immediately snapped to your throat. The tiny movement seemed to finally set him off. He pushed off the counter and headed straight for you, staring you down. You tensed up and held your breath until he brushed past you. A cloud of his natural scent hit you in the face and, as if on autopilot, you mumbled:

        “Have a nice evening, Yoongi.”

        His reply came in the form of the store’s front door slamming behind you. The little bell shook for several moments after his departure and when the shop was finally silent again, that’s when you snapped out of your initial shock. Sheepishly, you walked behind the counter and signed your name into the evening protocol. The rest of your shift went by quietly and with minimal human interaction.

      On your way back home your thoughts flip-flopped between the botched lock on your car and Yoongi’s unusually hostile behavior earlier. No amount of pondering could help you figure out either one of the two problems. On the flip side, there was another question whirling around in your head for a while now and it wore the name of Jeon Jungkook. For over two weeks he was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t show up for lectures, you didn’t see him frequenting his usual spots and he never came around to your store ever since you two exchanged numbers. Lately you found yourself sitting in bed, looking at the piece of cardboard, carrying his name and wondering if it would be ok to call him.

       Your throbbing heart quickly became forgotten when an acute howl broke the silence of the night. Chills immediately made your stand on high alert and blood ran cold. In your peripheral you could see shadows moving at the edge of the woods. Ever since you rented a house near the forest, you started to develop this irrationally vast fear of wolves and other nocturnal animals, and sounds like this one freaked you out to no end. With a shrunken heart you gripped the steering wheel tighter and prayed that nothing would jump out on the road in front of you. You started shaking when you looked in your rear view mirror and saw reflective eyes keeping pace with the back of your car.

        “Oh-nononono. Please go away!” You whined pathetically

      In your mind you imagined some rabid creature jumping in the trunk of your old pickup and charging at you through the back window. You imagined sharp teeth and claws, broken glass and copious amounts of blood spilling everywhere. You suddenly remembered the pain of something tearing into your throat in your dreams and tears started pricking at the corners of your eyes.

      You were quickly approaching the intersection that lead to your house and this time you were sure as hell not going to take that thing straight to where you lived. Instead of continuing straight when you entered the intersection, you took an abrupt turn left, in the opposite direction of the woods. The street lights were more and closer together here and you quickly lost your pursuer as the light seemed to scare it off. Still, you drove a few blocks further until you parked your car under a street light to try and calm down. You released the steering wheel and curled in on yourself. The light rain was tapping against the windows of your car, but other than that there were no other sounds. The street lamp above you provided soothing yellow light, but in that moment you felt so very alone. You stayed like that for a minute until a voice you certainly wouldn’t mind hearing crept into your head and clenched around your heart. You shakily reached for your bag and pulled out your phone along with a small slip of cardboard that had been recently taped to the back of the device.

      23:01 said the screen. You wondered if it’d be ok to call. You punched in the numbers and your finger hovered over the green button. With a thumping heart and a lump in your throat you figured it was now or never. Once the first ring sounded, you put the phone on loudspeaker and stared intently, breathlessly anticipating the 0:00 to appear on screen. Across the street from you, Jungkook’s hand was hovering over his buzzing phone. The screen showed a number he had positively memorized by now and adrenaline was spiking high in his system. With a deep sigh and a clenched jaw, he picked the device up, pressed a button on the side and made the buzzing cease. Back in your car, you felt worse with every passing second you kept hearing the monotone dial tone. Finally, the zeroes you so desperately wanted to see flashed on screen.

      “Hey, Jungkook here. I probably can’t talk right now, but I’ll listen to your message, if you decide to leave one.” Came the generic message he had recorded who knows how long ago. For a moment you panicked, wanting to hang up as quick as possible, but the adult in you knew you needed to explain why you called so late in the first place.

      Beep. You coughed dryly “Hey, uh, it’s y/n. Sorry to bother you, but I accidentally dialed your number… That’s all. Good night.” You lied through your teeth and hurriedly hung up. Somehow, you felt completely humiliated once the silence surrounded you again. You threw your phone on the passenger seat and kicked your truck into high gear, heading straight home.

      Jungkook watched his phone until the screen faded to black, seconds later the “Missed call” notification appeared and under it there was another one, signaling he had voice mail. He heard your engine roar to life outside and waited until he could no longer hear it. At this point guilt and curiosity were eating him alive and he lunged for his phone.

      “Hey, uh, it’s y/n.” your voice sounded weak and shaky “Sorry to bother you, but I accidentally dialed your number…” a sniffle “That’s all. Good night.”

      Jungkook dropped the device next to him and laid back on his bed, covering his face. He felt like a jackass. His heart was throbbing heavily in his chest and every fiber of his being screamed at him to go out and run after you. Instead he lay motionless, allowing himself to get swarmed by remorse and frantic worry until he fell unconscious for the night.

      Your sleep wasn’t any more peaceful either. All night you kept tossing and turning, your clothes drenched in cold sweat and face contorted into a pained expression. Your dreams turning into full-blown nightmares as you ran through the woods, nearly naked and completely barefoot. The wind savagely tore into your exposed flesh, but the pain from the cold was nothing compared to the agonizing feeling you had in your legs. The souls of your feet were all sorts of cut up and bleeding profusely, every other step you took granted you with another nick or tear. Your bare calves and thighs were also cut up from the bushes and branches you kept running into in your frantic dash to escape whatever had given chase after you. Your muscles were aching, begging for mercy and making your knees rattle helplessly, but you couldn’t stop.  No matter what, you couldn’t stop running. Deep in your gut you knew that if you stopped, you would be no more. An ancient primal instinct to survive at all costs was pulling you forward, forcing your legs to move and lungs to breathe despite the burning pain. Behind you, heavy footsteps were quickly gaining on you. Whatever was chasing after you, sounded as if it were walking on two legs. It was big and fast, and, judging by the sound of it crashing through the bush, it possessed immense strength as it snapped the branches in its way like toothpicks. If it weren’t for the low growling, coming from the thing, you would have assumed it was human, but the sounds it was making forced you into a desperate prayer that you wouldn’t have to find out what it was. It was snarling, sniffing the air and panting and you could feel hot rivets of tears staining your face. You tried to scream out, but your voice was long gone. And, God, the forest was endless; thousands of tall pines looming over you, but doing nothing to stop your pursuer. Dark and heavy rainclouds covered the sky and suffocated the moonlight. The wind was slamming into your front and seemingly trying to slow you down, howling in your ears and disorienting you.

      You felt so alone and scared, as if nature itself was out to get you. In that very moment you thought of your family and every pet you’ve ever had, you thought of your professors and classmates, you thought of Yoongi and your store manager, you thought about your roommate and about Yara, and finally about Jungkook. In that very moment you knew you would give anything in the world to at least be able to share another conversation with them. Suddenly, your life seemed much more valuable than it did the previous days and you deeply regretted depriving yourself of a happier life for all these years.

      Incoherent wheezing tumbled from your mouth, your chest being rattled by loud sobbing. With all you might you tried to form words. Your throat was dry and painful and your lungs couldn’t swallow enough oxygen, but you still pushed. Heavy coughs scratched at your insides.

      “Pl-p” followed by a broken inhale “Plea…ease” you managed quietly “Please, please, I’m begging you!” your cries steadily grew in volume. You couldn’t even recognize your own voice. Words mindlessly poured out of your mouth and all you knew is that this was your last chance to survive.

      “I don’t want to die!” you knew it sounded stupid as the sentence echoed in the night. You weren’t thinking straight and the heavy footsteps behind you showed no signs of stopping. You were growing desperate.

      “Please! Somebody, help me!” you started screaming out random names that came to mind. “Yara! Jungkook, please! Jun-” Just like it would play out in a bad horror movie, your foot got caught in some raised roots and you plummeted to the ground. You fell heavily on your shoulder and heard an audible crack. Burning pain slithered down your arm, across your chest and up your throat. As much as you tried, you couldn’t push yourself up. Your heart was positively about to burst both from fright and complete exhaustion. The huge lungfuls of freezing air you were swallowing were making you lightheaded. Just behind you the bushes rustled and the last thing you saw before you fell unconscious was a pair of reflective eyes about 6 feet off the ground.

      You sat up in bed. Your heart was still thumping wildly, but you were relieved. Tears were streaming freely down your face and sweat rolled off your temples. “It was just a nightmare” you chanted repeatedly, but dull pain was still throbbing in your left clavicle and feet. Your room was dark and quiet. No light slipped through your blinds so you could only assume it was still too early for the sun to have risen. You brought your knees to your chest and wrapped your arms around your cold legs protectively. Sheer will power wasn’t enough to stop you from shaking like a leaf. Even if it was a dream, why was your body still aching? It couldn’t have been the force of memory. If that was the case, the pain would have faded in the ten minutes you sat curled into a ball.

      Jungkook too was tossing in his bed all night. He hadn’t bothered to change out of his jeans and t-shirt when he fell asleep and in the earliest hours of the day he found himself tangled in the bedsheets, covered in sweat and with a heavy chest. In his dreams he could smell blood all around, he was running like a madman and his instincts were kicking into high gear. Everything was a blur and he wasn’t sure where he was headed, he didn’t remember, but adrenaline was pumping inside him at the thought of reaching it. A woman’s voice and then something resembling his name reached him. He needed to run faster, he had to know what was calling him. He felt like he was coming in and out of consciousness, noises becoming very loud and then completely muffled. His body moved purely on muscle memory. Before he could come to his senses, he heard a crash and then abruptly stopped. That’s when he woke up with the image of your tear-stained face on his mind. His chest felt tight and he pounded his fist into it a couple of times to make the feeling go away. He sat up in bed and leaned back against the headboard. Reaching for the pack of cigarettes on his nightstand, he planned to finish the whole thing until sunrise.

      When morning came, you finally willed yourself to unravel from the fetal position. You tugged some jeans and a sweater over your chilled body and headed for the bathroom. In no time you found yourself seated at the back of the hall, alone and waiting for the lecture to start. Yara had called in sick earlier this morning. You didn’t really speak to any of your other classmates, your friend was the one who did most of the talking anyway. At this point you had stopped hoping Jungkook would show up either. You didn’t even know if he attended this class. You were barely holding your face up with the palm of your hand, your eyelids heavy and head pounding with a migraine. You were zoning out, staring at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling when someone bumped into the back of your chair.

      “Oh, sorry!” a sweet male voice apologized and for a moment you couldn’t comprehend what had just happened. You turned to look at the someone in question with a dumb expression. There stood a guy of average height with fluffy brown hair and a warm and smiling face. Absentmindedly you stared at the single long earring that dangled from his left ear.

      “Did I make you mad? I didn’t mean to.” The guy explained with a humorous smile and just then you realize he was talking to you.

      “I’m not mad.” You mumbled and the guy giggled at the dull way you said it.

      “Haha, I’m relieved” he laughed and began walking away “See you around?” He waved and when you reciprocated the gesture a sweet smile stretched his face, finally turning his back to you. You watched him walk down to the front of the room and sit down. He had a nice posture and carried himself with confidence, but that earring still captured your attention until you lost sight of it.

      Your lectures came and went one after the other and after that you went straight to work. Nothing particularly spectacular happened that evening and you went home only to be terrorized by your ambiguous and repetitive dreams all night long. That’s how the next couple of days played out too. Yara was still sick as a mutt and every now and then you would email her the notes you had halfheartedly taken during the lectures you two shared.

      Today however was your day off of work and honestly you felt kind of lost after your lectures ended. You didn’t want to go home, because you knew you would fall asleep and have nightmares again. Taking a walk was out of the question as it was pouring rain and you didn’t really want to waste gas on driving. You would have gone to visit Yara, but becoming sick on top of your by now chronical exhaustion wasn’t something you wanted to go through.

      That’s how you found yourself sitting alone on a table for two at your local coffee shop. Your hot cup of bitter black coffee was keeping you company as you watched customers come in and out of the café. A shiny new psychology textbook lay open on the table in front of you and every now and then you forced yourself to read a paragraph or two. Yawns tumbled out of your mouth lazily as you read some article about mental illness. ‘Symptoms of depression include, but are not limited to: isolation from friends and family, inability to concentrate, reliance on alcohol or sedatives, feeling unhappy, guilty or overwhelmed, irritability, headaches and muscle pain, exhaust- ‘Before you could try and self-diagnose yourself someone interrupted you.

      “Hey, is this seat taken?” You looked up from your textbook to see a familiar face. The guy from a few days ago smiled down at you warmly. You looked around the nearly empty café and wondered why he decided to come over to you.

      “Sure?”

      Once he was seated across form you, he extended his hand and politely introduced himself “I’m Park Jimin. We have psychology together.” You completed the handshake, but didn’t know what to say to him. He mistook your awkward silence for confusion and explained further

      “I’m the ass that bumped into you a couple days ago.” That managed to pull a laugh from you and he seemed pleased.

      “Yeah, I remember you. I was just wondering why you decided to sit with me.” You clarified

      His smile turned sheepish “Because you’re cute and looked like you needed some company?” You weren’t expecting that answer and just stared at him dumbfounded.

      “I may or may not need some help with psychology, too.”

      “Oh, so there’s the catch.” You remarked sarcastically.

      “Not at all. Everything I said is true. I do think you’re really cute and do really suck at psychology.” That sneaky smile made its way on his face again. “In all fairness, I didn’t come here to ask you to tutor me… I just happen to see you alone all around campus lately and today fate brought us together. Will you at least tell me your name?”

      “I’m y/l/n y/n. We have psychology together and the chair your ass bumped into was mine.” You imitated with a grin that Jimin seemed to take a liking to. He was very confident and also unexpectedly flirty. The next hour or two you got lost in his jokes and remarks as you two got to know each other. You talked about so many things, but in hind sight you couldn’t gather much personal information about him. All you learned was that he was born in Busan and moved to your small town with his family. He refrained from sharing more, which was fair enough, you thought.

      When the sun started to set, Jimin offered you a ride home which you politely declined. When it was time to leave, he paid for your coffee without asking and silenced your protests with a dazzling smile. Outside the shop he unexpectedly wrapped his arms around your middle and pressed your body into his in a gentle hug. Out of instinct your arms quickly made their way around his shoulders. After a moment he pulled back, but didn’t let go of your body completely. His warm palms rested on your waist as he looked fondly into your eyes.

      “Thank you for sharing this afternoon with me.” He mumbled and for the first time since you spoke to him you noticed his pointed canine teeth. His plump lips formed every syllable with care. You were staring at his mouth which was at your eye level. He quickly caught on to what you were doing and moved to lean in for a kiss. You flinched, suddenly realizing the situation you had gotten yourself into. Your heart sank and you were quick to push your hands against his chest. Jimin didn’t insist further and immediately withdrew. You were expecting to see bitterness when you went you look into his eyes, but instead he chuckled, baring his teeth.

      “Ah, sorry. I got a little carried away.” And there they were, his canines, just slightly sharper than the average man’s. His hands dropped from your body and he took a step back. A darker smile now played on his lips. Jimin didn’t look angry in the slightest, perhaps amused would be the correct word.

      “I’m sorry if I-” you started but he cut you off

      “You didn’t do anything, dear.” He pronounced the pet name slowly, deliberately “I just got the wrong impression. Perhaps it was wishful thinking.”

      You looked like a deer in headlights. Your heart was drumming loudly in your chest. Jimin smirked at you, standing tall with his hands in his pockets and you felt like you were expected say something. Your mind went blank, try as you might you couldn’t come up with an answer. A few seconds passed like that until Jimin finally released his hold on you with a deep sigh of his own. His familiar sweet smile plastered on his face as he cocked his head to the side.

      “Well, thank you again for allowing me to keep you company. Don’t be shy and come say hi next time you see me, ok?”

      You nodded.

      “Before I leave, would you like me to walk you to your car?” he offered, but you declined. “Good night then. I’ll see you around? I mean it.” He emphasized the last part with a quirk of his brow and you managed to crack one last smile for him before waving goodbye.

      The next few days your accidental encounters with Jimin around campus became a little too frequent for you to chalk it up to chance. It was becoming blatantly obvious that he was deliberately seeking you out. One day you would be walking out of class and he would be leaning against the wall, offering to walk you to wherever it was you were going. The next day you would be climbing out of your truck, hurrying to enter the university and escape the cold, when you would hear him jogging behind you, calling your name.

      “Good morning!” he would greet happily and ask about your schedule for the day. Without fail, every chance he got he would ask “So, do you want to hang out again sometime? I really enjoyed your company last time!” And your chest would tighten upon hearing his confession.

      At first glance Jimin was the embodiment of a perfect man. He was fit and very attractive, had a great fashion sense and knew exactly what to say in every situation. He was always the perfect gentleman as well, never once getting hostile after you rejected his advances on multiple occasions. He was so polite, always watching his mouth in your presence and you truly enjoyed his company. There was something about him however that didn’t quite sit right with you. Jimin was incredibly persistent when it came to taking you out. The first few times you declined his offer you truly were busy, but as time went by you started to notice that his determination wasn’t faltering in the slightest. In your previous experiences, guys became discouraged after several failed attempts, but Jimin was different. You couldn’t shake off the nagging feeling that it was so bizarre that he could go for any other girl on campus with great success, but instead he was stuck trying to get to you. He had made it undoubtedly clear that he was interested in you, sneaking compliments into casual conversations. The look he gave you after you pushed him away at the café still lingered in the back of your mind. Jimin had accepted the challenge you had unknowingly thrown at him. In that sense he resembled a predator, determined to snatch you up, the prey he had laid his eyes on and immediately knew he wanted. That realization had you keeping your distance as much as possible. There was also the heaviness you carried in your chest every time you caught him following the curve of your body or every time his compliments came sounding an octave lower than usual. There was a darkness hiding under the surface of Park Jimin’s friendly smile.

      Deep in the pit of your heart a dull pain buzzed every time Jimin pushed his hair back or crinkled his eyes with laughter, small gestures that reminded you of a different guy you were still yearning to see. Today marked the fifteenth day since you last saw Jeon Jungkook and you secretly hated yourself for counting. Yara was back from her brief vacation under the weather and she wasted no time and started pulling information out of your mouth.

      “What’s up with you and random hot guys when I’m not around, huh?” She gasped “Am I cock-blocking you?!”

      You couldn’t help the giggle that tumbled form your mouth. “Now that I think about it, you might be!”

      “That’s it, I’m leaving! Don’t contact me until you get laid!” Yara scrambled, pretending to gather her things and at that point you were full on cackling. “I’m serious, if that’s really the case, I will gladly let a beautiful boy take my place as your faithful companion in life!”

      You wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a side hug. “Nuuu!” You whined and both of you bursted into a cheerful fit of laughter. Yara was slapping your knee, gasping for air and losing her shit after hearing your occasional involuntary snort. It was so good to have her back. Tears were beading in the corners of your eyes until you felt a warm caress on the back of your neck. You quickly whipped your head around to see who it was, your arm falling off of Yara’s back in the process. Towering over your seated frame was none other than Park Jimin. He cocked his head to the side and grinned down at you, his hand comfortably resting on the junction between your neck and shoulder. You gulped when you felt his thumb stroking the cloumn your throat.

      “Speak of the devil…” Yara slipped up and you coughed awkwardly

      “Jimin? I thought you didn’t take this class.”

      His smile widened to show his teeth and he hummed “I don’t, but I heard sweet laughter while passing by and decided to check it out.” Your heart dropped when you saw him lick his lips. You probably had the same look on your face as when he tried to kiss you, because his eyes were locked onto yours, dark and sinister. “When will you let me take you out again, hm?”

      A beat of silence and then you tried to speak, but someone cleared his throat behind Jimin. Your adrenaline spiked when you saw messy dark hair peeking a good two inches’ over Jimin’s head. He abruptly turned around, revealing Jungkook’s larger frame. The moment you laid eyes on him, it felt like you had been missing him for months. He looked so good, wearing ripped blue jeans and a black hoodie, his hair had also grown longer in the time he’d been away. You immediately caught the faint scent of cigarette smoke, wafting from his body and warmth filled your chest. His face was taut, dark eyes staring into Jimin who was standing no more than a foot away. The latter was wearing a broad smile, but some other emotion played behind it.

      “Jungkook-ah, it’s been a while. How have you been?” Jimin spoke first, smooth and steady.

      “I’m fine. What are you up to, hyung?” Hearing his voice for the first time made you straighten in your seat.

      “Oh, you know I’m always busy.” Jimin chuckled “Actually, I’m in the middle of something right now.”

      “I don’t think so.”

      “Oh?” Jimin’s eyebrows shot up in feigned surprise “But I was just talking to lovely y/n here. I don’t think you know-”

      Jungkook cut in with a clenched jaw “I do know her.” Chills rattled your spine when you managed to catch the rumble of irritation in his chest. You weren’t the only one to notice, however.

      “Jungkook-ah, is something wrong? You seem awfully tense?” Jimin cocked his head “Am I doing something wrong?” When the younger didn’t answer, he smirked darkly. Jimin was fully aware of Jungkook’s hostile aura toward him. His shoulders relaxed as he pressed his hand to the back of your neck again.

      “I don’t think she’s off limits, or am I wrong?” It was a subtle challenge, intended to jab at Jungkook’s unfavorable position. Even though the exchange revolved around you, you subconsciously knew you had no say in it. You watched Jungkook intently, waiting for his response. He sighed, shoulders pulling back and spine straightening. His lips tugged into a smirk of his own and your heart leaped.

      “Hyung, I’m afraid that’s not for you do decide.”

      Your pulse skyrocketed as your gaze jumped form one man to the other. Jimin wasn’t smiling anymore when the feeling his touch left your skin. He shoved his hands in his pockets, eyes coldly staring into Jungkook’s.

      “Anyway, y/n my offer still stands if you’re up for it.” Still, he didn’t look at you “I’m heading out now, but I’ll definitely see you around.” You weren’t sure who he was talking to at this point as he turned on his heel and simply walked away. Surprisingly, the brief exchange hadn’t attracted much attention from your classmates and you were thankful. You turned to look at his retreating figure in bewilderment. What was this all about?

      Cold fingers gently pressed to the underside of your chin and turned your head. You were surprised to find Jungkook’s soft brown eyes giving you all of his attention for the first time in a while.

      “Can I sit with you?” when his hand retreated from your face you could feel it heating up rapidly. You scrambled to move to the next chair over to make room for him. Yara quickly did the same and you reminded yourself to thank her for keeping her mouth shut throughout the whole ordeal.

      That’s how you stayed for the next hour and a half for the duration of the lecture. Jungkook’s shoulder lightly brushed yours every time he moved and you found yourself unable to focus on the professor’s words anymore. The scuffle with Jimin from earlier plus the fact that you were finally close to Jungkook again had your suddenly overwhelmed. Every once in a while you would steal sideways glances at him and sometimes he would catch you doing it. His response immediately came in the form a soft smile that warmed you from the inside.

      Classes ended quickly and painlessly today with Jungkook by your side. Somewhere along the way Yara had excused herself with a pat to your back and lots of questions and remarks burning on the tip of her tongue. Jungkook too remained mostly silent, following close behind you and occasionally brushing his hand delicately down the curve of your back. After all of your lectures were finished, you found yourself mindlessly walking around campus. The air was crisp and humid from the rain that had poured in the morning. The dull slapping of your wet shoes this time was accompanied by another pair. Jungkook strode beside you with his hands in his jean pockets and messy hair covered by his large hood. You somehow managed to think about everything and nothing all at the same time, and the overwhelming desire to voice all of your thoughts got stuck in your throat. You didn’t know where your boundaries with Jungkook stood exactly and you were afraid to scare him away with questions he might find intrusive. Now that you finally had him within an arm’s reach, suppressed emotion threatened to spill through the cracks of your crumbling walls. Instead of opening your mouth, you bit your tongue and trudged forward wordlessly. Heart throbbing wildly had you short of breath and, as much as you tried to disguise it, Jungkook quickly caught on.

      “Are you okay?” He stopped abruptly and peeked down at you under the edge of his hood.

      Pink dusted your frozen cheeks “Yeah, I just seem to tire out easily lately.”

      Jungkook stared at you for a few moments longer, face neutral and unreadable. He hooked his arm around your shoulders and made a beeline for the nearby benches, surrounding the small fountain that could be found in every stereotypical college campus. Everything was wet, but Jungkook seemed unbothered as he wiped the water off of the top of the backrest with his palm and quickly stepped on the seat and sat down. You followed suit, grimacing slightly when the remaining droplets melted into the butt of your jeans. Jungkook was quick to wrap his arm back around you and pull you into his side. His warmth wasn’t something you knew your craved until it started seeping into your skin. The faint breath of cigarette smoke complimented his natural clean scent and almost compelled you to relax into him. You both stared at the old fountain that had been out of order for years. From your spot on top of the bench you could see copper coins lining the bottom like a mosaic and it made you think of all the unspoken wishes that plopped into the cold water and sank to the bottom. While you stared at the water, Jungkook watched you from the corner of his eye.

      “What have you been up to lately?” You finally spoke up when the pounding in your ears became unbearable. Seconds of silence dripped between the two of you and your body became rigid with anxiousness. You stared at his profile from the corner of your eye, breathless your heart was pounding even harder than before. Silent still, Jungkook’s arm started slipping off of your shoulders. Losing his comforting warmth made your chest constrict uncomfortably. A lump immediately lodged itself into your throat at the thought that you had crossed a line, no matter how innocent and unassuming your question had sounded in your head. Your face was burning. Shit, you dove head first into the exact situation you were trying to avoid.

      Jungkook reached into his back pocket and the snap of his lighter brought your attention back to him. You watched as he took a drag from his cigarette, the crackling of tobacco sounding obnoxiously loud in your deprived mind. He blew a puff of smoke and the wind carried it straight into your face, making your eyes sting with tears. You squeezed them shut, trying to avoid embarrassing yourself on top of everything. Inhale, hold, exhale, you listened to his breathing pattern for a few more drags until he sighed heavily.

      “Nothing worth mentioning.” Your shriveled heart lurched back into life upon hearing him finally answer the god-forsaken question. “I went out of town for a while. How have you been?”

      “Same as always…” your voice cracked and Jungkook pretended not to notice, staring straight ahead. At this point you were desperate to keep some sort of conversation going. “There’s not too much going on around here.”

      “I didn’t know you knew Park.” Jungkook suddenly blurted out.

      “Jimin?”

      Jungkook took a particularly deep drag from his cigarette, making the ash break off the end and fall between his parted thighs.

      “We have psychology together and went out for coffee once.” You felt embraced admitting to the last part, face heating up when you heard Jungkook exhale sharply through his nose.

      “He took you out on a date?”

      “Well, not exactly.” You were squirming against the undisguised hostility, radiating off of him “We just ran into each other at the café. I was alone and he just said he wanted to keep me company. That’s all.” You decided to cut the hug and attempted kiss out, because you felt like that would only make Jungkook angrier.

      In the ensuing minutes of uncomfortable silence, a realization suddenly hit you. Why were you suddenly compelled to spill your guts in front of him? Especially when you didn’t want to invade his privacy with your much simpler question earlier. Was it really his place to chew you out after disappearing for two whole weeks? You swallowed down your initial embarrassment and hit him with a question of your own.

      “What’s the deal with you two anyway?”

      Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and, for the first time in what felt like forever, he turned to look at you. You stubbornly stared back at him with a tiny scowl as wonderment and now mild irritation swirled in his deep brown irises. His face softened almost immediately and he leaned in toward you.

      “I like that expression on you, you know?” As he spoke, smoke spilled from his mouth. Because of his close proximity, you managed to involuntarily inhale every last bit of it. It made you choke and sputter as the taste burned your throat. When you looked back up, Jungkook had retreated back to his original spot and wore a soft smirk. Your face was red hot and soft coughs still rattled your chest.

      “That was the weirdest shotgun kiss I’ve ever had.” Jungkook remarked lightly

      “What?”

      Your flustered state was all too entertaining for Jungkook and he couldn’t disguise his tender laughter. “Haven’t you heard of a shotgun kiss?”

      You remained silent, looking at him like he’d just grown a second head. He was having the time of his life, taking in every detail of your bewilderment.

      “That’s when you blow smoke into another person’s mouth, it’s called a shotgun kiss.” He explained and pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth. You were immediately drawn to the motion and unconsciously mimicked it. Slowly, you began to shift your eyes over his face, caressing his porcelain features with careful attention. You could almost feel his gaze gliding along your skin in a similar manner.

      “Fuck!”

      You were suddenly startled when Jungkook jerked his arm in the air with a yell. The cigarette butt flew from his hand and by the way he sucked on the side of his forefinger you could safely assume it had burnt him. Try as you might, you couldn’t suppress the chuckle that slipped past your lips.

      “That damn thing was cursed from the start.” Upon hearing your remark, Jungkook cracked a smile of his own.

      The atmosphere was back to normal between the two of you and, as weird as the sudden mood swings were, you didn’t want to ponder over it right now.