#i tried but my enthusiasm keeps being dampened so much by this personal shit

[funforahermit]

Let me just work through some confusing stuff for a minute here, because I can't sleep.

I feel strangely disappointed by the Rhys Darby Live Experience, and I'm not sure why I'm making it so hard for myself to be happy. There was nothing wrong with the show, it was great. He was amazing. Like, of course he was. Yes I knew all the jokes, save for one or two, but he tells them so well every time, we all know he does. And the whole Calm App Finale was completely new and fucking epic. I laughed so much the entire time, my cheeks were hurting from smiling. I whooped, clapped and cheered. And when it was all over, I felt so empty. I'm still trying to process that feeling.

When it comes down to it, I belive what I'm experiencing here is disappointment in myself. I feel like I failed. I failed to reach a goal I didn't know I had until I missed it.

What goal? Surely the goal was to have a good time, to be entertained? But I did, and I was, and that doesn't seem to matter. The secret goal, I guess, was to make *him* feel good, and specifically because of something I personally did.

Obviously after realising that, the next question is: What the actual fuck?? What sort of special snowflake do I think I am? Now the people who make art and bring gifts, they are special. He cherishes them, as well he should. The people who actually talk to him, at the stage door or on social media, and do it well enough to be heard and appreciated, they are special. But what can I do? Cheer a little bit louder than the rest when he asks if anyone has seen Wrecked?

I'm just a little cog in an anonymous applause machine, and I feel bloody unsatisfied with that. I want a smile on that face, and I want it to be mine and mine alone. Just for one precious second.

And I hate that I feel that way. I've never been ambitious in my whole life, why now, why this?? In fact I feel like an asshole.

I think I was really spoiled by one out-of-this-world amazing experience with Tony Head years ago. I think I'm trying to get that back, but you can't force these things.

I thought I could hop on the instagram train, since Rhys has been adding people's pre show selfies to his story like crazy lately. Thought my girlfriend and me would stick out if I mentioned how far we travelled. But I did it wrong, because I've never used instagram nor have I really edited an image on mobile before, so it's just a plain picture with a comment. He can't do shit with that, can he, even if he wanted to.

Then I thought okay maybe twitter is easier and put it up there as well, with a slightly different text. Waited patiently the whole day to maybe maaaybe get a like, until I remembered that his likes are public, and he's not an idiot who doesn't know how strange it would look if he put a selfie of a bisexual couple that's clearly into him in there. Yeah that's not gonna happen.

So basically I tried too hard and also not hard enough, and I'm really just an idiot who has no clue how to play this game. I should stop before I embarrass myself or get too hung up on not getting anywhere and spiral into a new depression.

But I know that I will continue to crave that smile, or an electronic version of it. How's that for a bucket list.

[saladejin]

Call An Uber? | 07

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: None

Word Count: 5k

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  Soojin’s heels clapped loudly against the hardened floor as she sprinted through the office. Her straight black hair swung uncontrollably in her haste, and her hands were clammy from the sudden exertion.

“Unni! Why are you rushing?”  I called hopelessly, left to trail in her rapid footsteps in a desperate attempt to catch up.

I’d only just arrived at the building for work five minutes prior, but someone had grasped my wrist after crossing the threshold into my own office. Soojin’s flurried instructions and widened eyes were the only indicators I was provided with before apparently having to make a run for my life.

“We need more people down at the concert hall! There’s no-one available, hurry!” 

My eyebrows furrowed as my brain grasped at her words, not really understanding what was happening. The concert was tonight? How could I even forget something like that?

“Shit, but I thought we didn’t get involved with the concerts?” I questioned the short-haired woman, who was clad from head to toe in office-wear ironically as if to fortify my point. We had stopped sprinting once we reached the carpark outside and I squealed when the assistant bundled me straight into one of the transport vans out the back. I was extremely surprised at how spontaneous everything seemed at the moment.

“Well, we don’t usually. But I received a call for help, and you were the only person who didn’t have a packed schedule for tonight,” Soojin huffed, combing her hair away from her flustered face. She didn’t join me, but instead waved a hand towards the driver as a signal to depart.

“Sorry for the short notice, you’ll have fun though!”

Before I could even open my mouth in protest, the door was closed with a thud and I was left to wallow in the deafening silence. Sighing in defeat, I wondered if these kinds of things always happened around Bighit Entertainment.

“Oh my…we’re so sorry (Y/n)-ssi.”

I glanced up to see the remaining seats taken up by three other women, much to my surprise. They looked just as shocked as I did, but I could tell they were relieved they’d actually received the help they wanted.

“We didn’t expect Soojin to rush you over here like that, I apologise.” The oldest of the bunch shook her head and muttered drowsily. She was so obviously used to the stress-head assistant being excessively dramatic.

I noticed they were all dressed in darkened clothing to remain hidden if they ever needed to be directly backstage, and was just glad I hadn’t decided to adorn anything too flashy or bright for the working day.

It’s a bit of a change, but I didn’t have anything else planned anyway.

“It's fine, I’m willing to help out with anything the stylists and backstage crew need. What will I be doing tonight?”

The women were surrounded by plastic boxes full of stylistic and colourful stage clothes, but one also held a smaller crate full of makeup and cleaning supplies in her lap. I was a bit confused about what particular job they would be doing for the event.

 “We’re bringing over supplies for now, but we just help out with anything that needs to be done. Usually we have many other volunteers, but tonight we had too many people call in absent.”

I fought the sudden urge to roll my eyes at the statement. This exact thing had happened when they needed an interpreter a few weeks back. Why were the employees around here so unreliable as of late?

“Okay, so we’ll be pretty pressed tonight, right?”

“Yep, unfortunately,” the eldest spoke again, looking crestfallen all of a sudden. “But we’re good at what we do, so we’ll be able to hold it together for them the best we can.”

Admiration for their resolve sizzled within me, and I nodded to try and put out the same attitude. I would do my best to make sure everything flowed nicely as well, even though I had no experience with backstage shenanigans.

“If you could,” the one holding the smallest crate piped up, “would you please take these down to the stylists when we get there? You can station yourself in the dressing rooms and help them with anything they need for the night.”

I was growing more excited by the minute, and the thought of spending more time with the stylists at an actual concert made me outright giddy. I was actually becoming quite close with them now, as I still made occasional coffee stops downstairs whenever they needed the extra energy.

“Of course. I’ll do my best.”

The crate wasn’t too heavy to lug around, and there was no trouble navigating the concert hall based off the given instructions. The entire hall was flurried with excited workers, and I almost got trodden on by way too many anxious supervisors and staff while trying to get to the stylist’s hallway.

Damn, these functions are intense…

I finally managed to reach the humid room, trying to rush in time for the working men and women to gather everything they needed. The concert was due to start soon, and usually all the makeup and necessary last-minute fittings would’ve been completed already. Something must have gone awry with the entire line of communication.

I could only manage a throaty cough when arriving at the dressing room. The stinging smell of scented hairspray laced the air way too thickly for me to even breathe. Nobody else seemed to be having a problem though, because I was instantly greeted with a skyrocketing enthusiasm.

"(Y/n)-ah! Thank God you’re here!”

“(Y/n)’s here?”

A male stylist popped his head around one of the ajar doorframes, and I managed a smile when he bowed and hurriedly took the crate from my outstretched arms. Obviously, they had been wanting these extra supplies for quite some time.

I glanced around to see darkly attired people promptly going about their usual jobs, but my breath hitched when I saw a few of the performers themselves seated in the chairs assigned for the hair specialists.

Min Yoongi, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Jungkook and Park Jimin.

 Even though I’d recently come to know them on a personal level, the simple fact that they were existing within my vicinity caused my heart to beat erratically. I was continuously flooded with love and admiration for these boys, and having to contain it for so long was probably detrimental to my health. The sudden spike of adrenaline from the thrilled atmosphere did not help my churning emotions.

My mood dampened slightly when I saw the effect of the miscommunications painted clearly on each of their features. Yoongi was still cool and collected, having his earbuds plugged right in and his eyes closed placidly as a hairdresser worked gel deep into his fading locks.

Namjoon was fiddling impatiently with his fingers, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth occasionally as he tried to analyse the situation. On the outside, it looked as if he was as composed as ever, smiling at anyone who met with his perusing eyes, but I knew he was growing frazzled at the edges due to everyone losing their minds around him.

Jimin and Jungkook both looked quite lost, in one way or another. The younger members were glancing around and tapping their toes against the hardened flooring in bouts of anxiety. Jimin kept glancing at the maknae next to him, almost as if majority of his burden was a direct result of worrying too much about the other boy, and I saw him murmur a few soothing phrases here and there. It wasn’t as if they were a complete mess. They had obviously dealt with poorly planned concerts before, but I knew it still wasn’t pleasant for anyone.

Not one of them even knew I had entered the room.

“(Y/n)-ah, can you please, please do me a massive favour and straighten his hair? I’ll be back very soon!” One of the noonas scrambled towards me and dropped a large straightener right into my startled fingers. I snapped my eyes upwards to see the woman’s pleading gaze boring into my own before she darted away to address a more urgent matter.

I eventually shifted my gaze to Jungkook’s chair, which she had abruptly abandoned, and slowly began to make my way in that direction.

“Hey, maknae.” I smirked and rested one hand on the boy’s rigid shoulder, coming up to push his swivelling chair further into the makeup bench. His doe eyes widened, and I felt his whole body jerk underneath my touch, letting me know just how on edge he truly was.

“(Y/n)-noona? What?”

“Hey, hey. Everything’s gonna be fine, don’t get so tensed up or you’ll give yourself a cramp,” I chided, keeping my voice steady while attempting to plug in the straightener swiftly enough. If I wanted the boy to feel prepared, he needed this done as quickly as possible. Probably even quicker than that.

Under my hand, which I had begun to rub against his shoulder sympathetically, he sighed with a profound heaviness and loosened his posture. Feeling playful, I raised my fingers upwards to comb through and ruffle his messy dark strands of hair. He chuckled at my actions and even tried to duck away eventually, but I was just glad to see his cheeky smile again. The mirror was a little dirty from dustings of powders and sprays that just continued to build up, but I could still see what I was doing clearly.

“I have to straighten this mop now, so hold still you brat,” I teased the younger boy with a whine, since he wouldn’t stop trying to move away from me.

“Well, well. What brings you here Ms. Uber?” a deeper voice suddenly droned from the seat to our left, and I turned my eyes away from Jungkook’s gleaming ones to figure out where it was coming from. There, I was met with Yoongi’s curious pucker, which in turn morphed into an amused smirk at my expression.

I gave a sharp raise of my eyebrows before saying, “I don’t know what kind of show you people are running, but this seems more like a zoo to me.”

He laughed brusquely and pressed his tongue into the side of his cheek, catlike eyes crinkling up with his smile in the most adorable way.

“You’re definitely not wrong there.”

“(Y/n)? When the hell did you get here!?” a breathy tone, which undoubtedly belonged to Jimin, caused me to smile wider before turning my head in the opposite direction. He was currently getting the finishing touches done to his makeup via the powder brush, but I must’ve been pretty identifiable by voice alone. It was probably the bluntness.

“I’ve actually been here for about ten minutes or so, but you guys were way too stressed out to notice. I hope you all know things are getting sorted out as we speak, it just looks like bomb-zone because humans are awkward and don’t know how to deal with their shit.”

The three of them snorted or exhaled their mirth, and I even saw Namjoon who was scrolling through his phone absentmindedly nod in agreement. The taller man’s whole frame trembled once as a sign of laughter, and I sniggered inwardly at the thought of him eavesdropping. The leader was sitting one seat further down than Yoongi, but it seemed like he wasn’t going to join into the conversation just yet.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Jungkook mumbled, casting his eyes downwards once more before sighing again. I couldn’t massage his shoulder comfortingly anymore because my sole task was now straightening his freshly cleaned hair. Though I still badly wanted to engulf the wearied boy in a heartfelt hug to help him forget all his misgivings.

“I know you guys would do great out there, regardless of what went down backstage anyway,” I continued, running my fingers gently against Jungkook’s scalp once I had straightened out all of the kinked tresses. He leaned back into my hand, a small smile appearing at the kneading sensations against his skull. All of his worries were hopefully grooved out in these short moments of serenity.

“If she’s here, someone get Jin-hyung before he blows a fuse,” Yoongi exclaimed indignantly and jerked out both of his earbuds to look around. I watched with confusion as the other members gasped and started calling out raucously for the eldest member. Jimin couldn’t contain his chortles and leaned over to wack one small hand against Jungkook.

“Quick, he’ll starve us if we let this happen!”

The woman from before suddenly appeared next to me, and my eyes tore away from Jungkook’s peaceful expression to see her smiling visage. “Ah, thank you so much (Y/n)! You can go back to what you were doing now,” she said before sliding across to examine Jungkook.

“Wow, you’ve done an excellently thorough job, maybe you should be in the styling room with us instead of that stuffy office!”

I giggled, handing over the warmed straightener into her pale, awaiting palms. “I’m sorry unni, but your room is no less stuffy. How do your lungs even function with that much hairspray in your system?”

She sighed and shook her head knowingly before returning to work on the glossy mop of hair in front of her. The young singer had once again tensed up in the shoulders, and I had to bite back a growl of disapproval.

“Okay…I guess I’ll see you guys some other time, maybe after?” I managed to half-sigh, surprisingly more saddened than I thought about leaving them. Jimin, Yoongi and even Namjoon had turned to give me their undivided attention while Jungkook simply met my gaze directly through the mirror in front of him. All four looked taken aback, the reason for their bewilderment a complete and utter mystery.

“Break a leg, I’ll be cheering from wherever I am.” I began to back away, teasingly blowing a kiss towards all of them to break the tensioned air. At the gesture, Jimin reached upwards sharply to catch the kiss with widened eyes, and this caused everyone to break out into giggles and chuckles.

I continued to help out wherever I was needed, mostly carrying boxes and supplies around the concert hall whenever there was an impromptu need for them. I even ran into a breathless Taehyung a good fifteen minutes or so before the concert was about to launch. Since the walkway was tiny, I quickly pressed myself into the wall with my hands splayed on the painted surface to let him pass by.

“(Y/n)? Hello! I’m sorry, I’m in a rush.” He grinned widely and rested both of his large hands on my shoulders to inch along as quickly as he could. He’d clearly been rehearsing, so the body heat radiating from the boy was borderline crazy.

“Hey, good luck out there!” I called after him when I finally managed to regain some breath into my body, receiving a half-hearted wave and a booming ‘Thank you!’ in return as he continued to sprint down the narrow passage. My eyes trailed his slightly wavy grey-brown hair as it bobbed with his movements, endlessly thanking whoever invented bandanas. It wouldn’t be so farfetched to believe they were made exclusively for him.

 It was time for the boys to get fitted with the clothes they would be performing in, and I quivered gleefully at the thought of seeing their dances and vocals up close. This was about to be the best concert experience I could possibly dream of.

“It’s going to start soon!” A woman who was part of the backstage crew ushered me out of the walkway, and I met up once again with the three helpers I’d arrived with. Their brows were glistening, and their breathing ragged. I knew they’d been working just as hard as I had been.

“Well done, all of you.” The eldest chuckled airily. “Now we’ll be side-stage to help with equipment and props. When you feel like you don’t have a job to do, talk to that blonde coordinator standing next to the curtain.”

I followed her gesture to see a significantly younger looking woman who was preoccupied with ordering workers around rapidly. Even though she was under fire from the stressful organisation, she threw out directions and commands like a programmed machine gun. I gulped as I watched her alternate between muttering into her headset and steadily directing every single person who so much as peeped in her direction.

The other assistants moved off, obviously already having things to see and get done, but I was left to consult the aforementioned coordinator herself.

“There’s so much to do, but everything is being looked into. Could you please go to the left wing and speak with the crew there? I think there was something about quick changes,” the blonde woman barely took a breath before dishing out the instructions, and I knew things were really starting to intensify as the lights of the concert hall dimmed.

The sounds of loud cheering and screaming only flooded my ears now, and I was left baffled on how they had been tuned out for so long. The adrenaline must have worked its way into my head and created figurative earplugs.

Wow, maybe you’re just going deaf already. Let’s face it.

The excitement continued to bundle around within me as I ducked into a different walkway that crossed backstage. I hadn’t been over to this side yet, but I knew it was where the resting and recovery section was most of the time.

“Okay, are you the helper?” A middle-aged woman with deeply set eyes greeted me as soon as I emerged into the open space, and I could only nod enthusiastically. She smiled warmly in relief and guided me over to where a few piles of clothes were lined up against the back wall.

“This is where quick changes happen, but it’s only occasionally and there’s never a point where all the members need a quick change of clothes at the same time. You’re here for us if we need the extra help, it’s always good to have another pair of hands when things don’t work out.”

“That’s understandable, I’ll look out and help if I need to,” I responded with confidence, and only received a brisk nod in reply. The concert had begun, and the shrill screams of fans rose upwards until it was a literal roar of exhilaration and awe. I suddenly grew disappointed, because I realised only then that I wouldn’t actually see any glimpses of the concert at all. I would just be stuck back here listening to the action unfold.

 Well, it’s better than nothing. This job has already brought me a lot more than I could have ever asked for.

I strained my ears intently to listen to the boys as they greeted their fans affectionately, just as they usually did, and tried to conjure up the image of their smiling faces. Their declarations of love for ARMY used to make my heart clench and squeeze with a crushing adoration, but now I felt somehow disconnected. It was as if they were addressing something completely separate, almost like…I wasn’t even a member of the fanbase anymore.

It wasn’t as if I was any less of a fan, it just felt so different and alien to identify as normal now. Especially as an International-ARMY, who were known for collectively struggling with the idea of never meeting the boys and only getting rare visits. I suddenly felt as though my fortified world as a fan had shifted on its axis.

When ‘Fire’ started blaring through the speakers of the stadium, the tumbling thoughts vanished, and a smile suddenly erupted onto my features. Memories of the action-packed lesson back in the practice room at Bighit caused me to shake my head fondly. Was it strange that I had to fight the urge to break into the dance routine Hoseok and Jimin had taught me? Maybe, but I wasn’t ashamed.

Maybe, there was an off chance they were reliving the same memories? I doubted it, but it would be hilarious to see their faces during this performance and catch any random, straying grins or chuckles.

As the minutes flew by, I hung back against the wall a few metres away and glanced around to see if my help would be required. Then, a couple of seconds after the third song – ‘Save Me’ – drew to a close, the sound of hasty footsteps ricocheted off the large surrounding walls. There was barely any warning before three of the members burst into the area and scrambled for the piles of clothes on the ground. In the darkness of backstage, I could just distinguish the features of Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok. The three rappers.

They quickly shrugged on oversized coats and the crew helped them speedily by looping shimmering chains around their sweaty necklines. I figured they must have been going out to perform one of the ‘Cyphers’, as suggested by their suddenly delinquent fashion sense. I watched with wonderment as the heavily breathing performers worked themselves up to deliver their savagely natured disses.

A couple of minutes soon passed after they’d taken their leave. The loud, banging track was pulsating through the air around those of us waiting in the wings. When the final verse opened up, more panting bodies arrived into the changing area. The vocalists needed to begin gearing up for their own performance after this one, and I was eager to possibly hear ‘Dimple’ or maybe even ‘Lost’? Anything would’ve literally been A-okay with me at that moment.

The vocalists tried their best to remove their shirts in the quickest and quietest way possible, but it wouldn’t have mattered much because ‘Cypher 4’ had enough noise and adlibbing to accompany a battlefield movie scene. Plus, they were getting enough help from the crew members to shuck their decorative getups in no time. All except a very flustered Seokjin…

Seeing the oldest member of BTS up close for the first time rendered me speechless, and it suddenly struck me that he was the only one I hadn’t actually met. My eyes scanned over the broad-shouldered man as he tugged off his shoes and snatched at the clothes to find the right button-up shirt. Cypher was drawing to a close, and he was fumbling with the buttons of his shirt despite the shakiness of his fingers. It looked like he was way too hyped up to even look in a straight line, and I saw that he still hadn’t even fixed up his earpiece.

Everyone else is occupied! Shit, why am I forced into this with the one member I haven’t spoken to?

I instantly jumped to my feet when the black-haired man bit his bottom lip in frustration, looking towards his bandmates desperately for help.

Seokjin's eyes blew wide when I swiftly appeared in front of him and gently knocked his hands away from the buttons of his snowy white dress shirt. I averted my eyes away from the view of his exposed chest, because the sight would surely only muddle my mind further. The wafting tendrils of fragranced cologne and body sweat were already doing enough to my insides as it was, and I really didn’t need the added suffering.

“Fix your mic-earpiece thing!” I whispered urgently and snapped the buttons of the shirt into place quicker than he ever could’ve managed. His concentration flew back to the task at hand, and I felt rather than heard his rickety sigh of pure relief. There was only about a handful of seconds remaining before all four of them had to rush out on stage, so I kept a level head and willed any tremors far away from my fingertips. The man towered above me, so my average height had somehow become useful for once. Only when it came to doing up shirt buttons, so it seemed.

Seokjin looped the cord of his earpiece back around to the correct position, making sure to avoid knocking my rapidly moving fingers, and craned his neck from side to side to loosen the muscles there. Sweat gleamed from his hairline down to the flawless skin of his collarbone, and I couldn’t even bring myself to be disgusted by the coating of it on my fingers just from his clothed chest alone. I now knew why changing outfits halfway through a concert was such a brilliant idea.

“Are you (Y/n), by any chance?” his hushed voice suddenly whispered close to my eardrum, and I looked upwards to see him covering his mic with one careful hand. He had leaned in slightly to make sure it was easy to hear, and I gulped at the scorching temperature blooming from his body. My cheeks were definitely serving consequences.

“Well, how did you manage to figure that out?” I smirked in a sorry attempt to push down any unnecessary stammering, finally finishing up with the buttons and leaving him to smooth out any fabric creases. He did so, and I saw his eyes sparkle with triumph as he rolled his shoulders to release the cramps.

“You’d find it weird if I told you why.”

He shook his head with a smile and reached up to wipe at the smattering of salty droplets cascading down his jawline. I raised an eyebrow at the statement, blaming it on the obvious lack of time, and reached behind me to grab a blue bleach-stained towel resting over a chair.

“I’ll question that later, for now you should have a drink,” I murmured and reached up to smooth his bangs away, letting me dab at his sweat covered brow. He looked positively stunned at my forwardness, but then broke into a mischievous grin and spread his feet further apart so he could lower himself enough to stand at eye-level.

“Hey, I’m not even that short,” I grumbled, narrowing my eyes while continuing to wipe at his jaw more forcefully than before. He almost fell over because of the unbalanced stance, and ducked his head away from my violent towelling, covering his mouth with one hand to muffle his laughter.

“You guys better stop messing around, you’re going out in ten seconds Seokjin-ssi.” A hand tapped my shoulder harshly and I whipped my head around to see the coordinator fixating me with a warning glare. She then scoured it over Seokjin before muttering into her headpiece and departing towards the stage manager’s desk.

I puffed out my cheeks and met Jin’s equally terrified expression, my heartbeat hammering at the daunting encounter. Then seeing his offended pout made me purse my lips, and we could both barely contain ourselves from snorting with amusement again. It was so weird how things seemed to get funnier when you really weren’t supposed to laugh.

“Stop, or you’ll get me fired.” I cleared my throat softly, trying to stop my lips from quirking at every single movement or sound he made.

“Oh, so it’s my fault now? I seem to remember a certain somebody attacking me with a towel…”

Before I could even bite back with a witty reply, Jimin hopped over and tugged Seokjin by the loose flowing fabric of his shirt.

“Hyung, we have to go on!”

I heard Seokjin curse under his breath before he adjusted his earpiece and rolled his wide shoulders once more. His exhilarated but nervous demeanour had made a comeback suddenly, and I felt bad for distracting his focus from the actual concert.

“You’ll do great.” I flashed a thumbs up to both boys and received a heartfelt smile from Jimin in return. Seokjin nodded towards me with one corner of his lips tugged up, and I felt my brain start swimming when he winked.

Not usually being one to back down from a challenge, I dared to throw my own wink back. He definitely wasn’t expecting that, and I turned away with a chuckle upon seeing his widened eyes and confronted expression. He’d tried to turn to Jimin and point at me accusingly, but the signal was finally given for the boys to venture out onto the stage and the vocalist instantly fell back into his serious stage front.

I could only watch them go, feeling giddy that I had finally met the famous ‘worldwide’ man and his luckily genuine sense of humour. It was easy to think that everything he portrayed for the fans was just a mere persona, but after finding out that he truly was the dork we all knew and loved, I could rest easy.

Next thing I know, we’ll be battling it out to see who has the best dad jokes.

As the concert finally mellowed out into the bittersweet goodbyes and thankyous, I was tasked with packing away the supplies and loading them into the transport vans behind the venue. The process took longer than usual, as the organisation was still short on helping hands, but the concert itself had definitely been a huge success.

Humid night air filled my nostrils, and I observed the glittering stars above me serenely. I considered how the world was seriously full of countless blessings: friends, family, joyful memories, wealth, education, sleep, laughter, love…and boybands, I guess. The conclusion, which only took seconds to figure out, was that I was just lucky to have experienced them all.

Well, hopefully I would.

"(Y/n)! Wait up!"

I turned and saw a very flustered Jimin running at full pelt towards me. His hard-soled shoes echoed against the concrete of the emptying carpark, and I couldn't help but smile fondly at his excitable expression.

All six of the remaining members appeared from the double glass doors, and I knew I was about to be faced with the combined elation of them all. There was absolutely no feeling like pulling off a successful concert, and today I could even consider myself a part of it.

Maybe...no hopefully, this wouldn't even be the last time.

          Copyright © 2020 by salade. All rights reserved.  

tagged: @l4life​, @joyful-jimin​, @gee-nee​

[tarithenurse]

Space Nurse 5/?

Fandom(s): Men in Black & MCU! Pairing: (Wait and see) x fem!reader Contents: Probably some cussing and slight bit of angsting. A/N: switching from 1st person PoV in the diary, we now get to enjoy some 2nd pers PoV “live action”! Leave me an ask or reblog to be added to the tag list...even if my writing will be slowing down considerably now that I have to prep for last internship’s exam.

From Nightingale to Sci-Fi

You’re unable to finish the breakfast due to the nauseating anticipation of what’s to come. Good thing you’ll be tending humans the first while, at least their physiology isn’t new to you. Nooo, only all the things they can suffer from in their line of work! You’re far from rested after having spent the entire night studying alien parasites and whatnot. It explains the frequent physicals they need to go through.

Abandoning your futile attempts at finishing the yoghurt with muesli, you stash the tray in the rack and turn around to head off only to nearly slam into the solid shape dressed in a black suit with matching tie which seems to soften and lighten his skin. Looking up into the smiling face of agent Jay, you gravity that tries to pull you stumbling backwards, minimizing the movement to a soft sway.

“Easy there, newbie,” Jay grins as he slips an arm around your waist to steady you, “didn’t mean to scare ya’.”

Slinking out of his steady hold (and tearing your gaze away from his endless eyes), it’s easy enough to deny his claim and if he doesn’t believe you…well at least he doesn’t say it.

“Spend most mornings trying to sneak up on…newbies?” The words fall testily over your lips.

When Jay smirks it makes his feathery moustache tremble. “Nah, only the one’s I’ve been told to assess.”

The two of you’ve started walking and you vaguely recognize the path that leads to the locker room. He’s a relatively tall man, at least compared to yourself and you’re not exactly the tiniest person. Even so, there’s nothing unsettling about walking next to him because nothing about his person carries the air of the other cold and anonymous agents you’ve encountered so far.

“There’ll be one from either bureau evaluatin’ ya work and skills every day. I’ve been tasked to represent Men in Black. Doctor Cho was supposed to be the delegation from Shield and –“

“Wait.” Pausing briefly to look at the friendly face to make sure you didn’t mishear. “There’re two fractions at play?”

By the time Jay finishes explaining about Strategic Homeland-something-or-other and Men in Black, your mind’s fuzzy with semi-political history. Your new acquaintance isn’t clear on who knew about the extra-terrestrials first, but it’s apparent that MiB have specialized on the field and it was a director of SHIELD, a guy called Fury, that arranged for a meeting to build a cooperation. One day, rumour goes, he was sitting in the office of “Alpha”, the chief of Jay’s organisation.

“So…I’m not actually part of neither Men in Black or SHIELD?” Pulling out a set of scrubs from an automated dispenser, you continue into the locker room.

Maybe he doesn’t notice, or he doesn’t care, because he follows dutifully. “Nah, durin’ the trial period y’are in neutral territory. Once assessed, we decide which agency ya’ll fit with, ya know…skills, temper, shit like tha’.”

“Don’t I have a say in it?” you ask, brows raised although he can’t see it because you’ve got the back to him and your head halfway into your locker.

Kicking off shoes, there’s no sign the man will leave, and you decide to change while he keeps talking.

“Ya want a say in – oh okay, we’re doin’ that!” You hear him shuffle about and a glance verifies that he’s turned away. “It’s not that I mind, ya see. Nothin’ wrong with…with…ahm…” The shadows of flailing hands doesn’t provide him with the needed vocabulary. “Aaaanyways! So…erm…well if ya got any preferences, we’ll be happy to hear ‘em.”

The scrubs from the hospital back home used to be white, maybe with navy leggings depending on the model, so it looks odd to you with the pastel yellow. I’m like an Easter chicken! Baggy pants and unshapely t-shirt, at least both have huge pockets for pens, notebooks with charts and vitals, and much more that you’ve come to learn is handy to have nearby during a shift. Pushing the locker-door shut with a dull clang, you straighten up and breathes in deeply in the hope that it’ll steady the nerves once and for all.

“Let’s do this.”

…

With doctor Helen Cho gone one of the people responsible for your introduction (though apparently only for a little while) is a young SHIELD-scientist although her expertise lies in biochemistry, making her less of an obvious choice to work in the infirmary in much the same way Helen’s focus on genetics does. But doctor Simmons in kind and brilliant, and she willingly explains that most of the doctors at this facility aren’t “ordinary” doctors due to the special needs any disease or injury related to extra-terrestrials require. As such, it’s up to you and the handful of other nurses to cover the gap between the professions.

No pressure. Sure, you’ve done your fair share of stiches and cleaning wounds...but you’re no surgeon, of course, and as your mind lists all the manners your expertise can be insufficient you feel your heart fall. Even though you’d been surprised to be offered this job (and since then shocked to find out what it entails), you don’t want to be deemed unworthy. Damnit, you bicker at yourself, if I gotta leave it’ll be me walking out as a protest.

…

You don’t leave that day. Instead, the time is spend doing regular checkups and collecting blood and urine samples from the many (human) employees that have been called in in advance. Some of the equipment might be fancier than at your old job, but the procedures are perfectly familiar, putting you at each and freeing your mind to make small talk with the military personnel which apparently are being checked these days.

A few of the faces are recognizable from the hallways or the cafeteria, there’s even a set of twins (whom you’ve assumed was actually just one very busy guy) that recognizes you from the gym. Red hair and brown eyes equally aflame with joy barely able to mask a glimmer of mischief when they each in turn offer you to join them for training or company at meal time. After seeing the second out, you take the liberty of noting down their names just in case you take them up on their offer.

And so, the day passes surprisingly quickly with you in one room together with the “patients” and agent Jay and doctor Simmons, the two people who has a power over your future, in the lab except when they decide to check up on you or stop by to give you a message. No one joins you for lunch, and by the time the day ends, you’re thankful that neither of the two leaves with you even if it means walking the halls alone.

…

You’ve had an hours rest before needing to be ready for the daily torture at the hands of the trio in charge of your training. Dragging your sorry ass and buzzing mind to the gym, getting insulted and yelled at is the last thing you feel like because even if the day technically speaking has been simple, getting used to a new work place is taking its toll mentally.

Dropping the little towel and water bottle in the treadmill’s holders, you know the first part of the training session you’ll be left mostly alone as long as you don’t run too slow. A few beeps with the buttons starts the preprogrammed, torturous, cardio workout.

15 minutes in, and your lungs are burning as though someone’s filled them with acid, forcing your body to work on anaerobic metabolism and sheer stubbornness. Breathe in while left-right-left, breathe out while right-left-right. On and on, the mantra drones while the empty gaze stays fixed on the barren wall at the other side of the room. Just a…bit more. You know you’re lying to yourself, but it’s easier to handle one more minute at a time than all 15 at once.

By the time the machine slows to a halt, some unknown deity must have taken pity on you to prevent your legs from giving out under you. Wiping the sweat away with the little towel (and stifling a groan of discouragement), the only goal is to drag out the time before one of the three buddies turns their attention to you.

“Hey, [Y/N]. Right?”

The cheery voice right behind you makes you snap around so fast you nearly trip yourself, and four hands shoot out to steady you. What was their names again?

“Woops,” the other twin smiles (or maybe it’s the same that spoke before), “didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Heh. Nono, you didn’t,” you lie with a half-hearted smile, “I was just erm…mentally far away.”

The one you think might be Sean looks solemnly around the boring gym. The place is styled á la minimalist institution with once-white concrete walls and linoleum in some uncanny greenish hue that looks more like mold than anything you ought to have indoors.

“Next time…please bring me along.” The sigh would seem honest if it wasn’t for the twinkle in the brown eyes.

“Oï!” Of course, his brother (possibly named Ian, depending on who’s who) isn’t about to miss out on anything as he elbows his way closer, sending maybe-Sean slightly off balance. “Anything particular in mind? Otherwise I’ll show you the good places around here, just say the word!”

Their enthusiasm and smiles are contagious, rekindling a happiness that has otherwise been dampened since you left home. You’re just about to answer, accepting the offer in the need of having some sort of friends in this foreign place, when Costa sidles over with a brow arched in disapproval. Clad in shorts and a sports bra, showing almost all of her toned body, you’re reminded of the inferior status thrust upon you – and for obvious reasons when it comes to physical prowess. If it was only that, at least. But no. Of course, this warrior-lady somehow manages to look gorgeous and be smart too, and a pang of mixed emotions in your chest prompts you to look away.

“What’ve we got here?” The slightly nasal Caribbean dialect is honeyed. Too honeyed. “The havoc-twins are trying to sabotage my recruit?”

“Ma’am, no, ma’am.” Both guys’ drain in the split second it takes before they answer in unison.

Smoldering eyes turn frosty, freezing the guys and you to the spot. “Good. I won’t tolerate anything but perfection, and if you mess with my work, I’ll make you regret it. We clear?!”

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am!” You bite your tongue not to answer with Sean and Ian.

“You can have her when I’m done.” Costa’s words sends a new wave of heat to your cheeks for no reason you should be thinking of. “Now move.”

Watching the twins scurry off, you wait silently for the punishing rant that must be brewing for you.

Nothing.

No harsh words or degrading comments slip Costa’s lips while she instructs you on the use of some equipment meant to exercise arms and chest. Oh no, her punishment is way more refined, much crueler. From one machine to the next, she pushes you beyond the limits you thought you had in a gruelling manner where raw strength and endurance are brought to the test until you literally pass out, losing your grip on an elastic cord as you slump unto the floor. Weather it’s the sharp whip against your face from the equipment or the impact with the linoleum that wakes you, well that’s impossible to tell. Either way, it’s the burning humiliation that hurts the most as you try to focus on the face of your tormentor.

[gaycrouton]

The Spy Who Loves Her Boss

Hey! I absolutely loved “The Spy Who Dumped Me”, and being it was my two favorite actresses I HAD to write something. I think we all related to Morgan hardcore, and I just wanted to explore how she might feel coming in that Monday. Obviously it must’ve gone well since her an Audrey were shown working for them a year later, lol. Hope you enjoy!

Morgan wasn’t shy. Since she was a little girl, running around and entertaining people was the one thing that made her truly, unquestionably happy. She loved seeing smiles on people’s faces and she loved hearing an audience’s appreciation. It made her feel fulfilled. Sometimes her outgoing nature helped her land acting gigs, sometimes it embarrassed Audrey, and sometimes it made her hit on powerful women that intimidated the living shit out of her.

God, that woman.

Sure, she was a stereotypical young, gay woman who idolized attractive, older women. It was a stereotype for a reason after all, and that MI6 just proves it. She’s a living breathing renaissance painting. She carries herself with absolute power and femininity, as strong as she is beautiful. She’s what every woman dreams of being. Though, she didn’t know if she wanted to be her or be in her. Morgan couldn’t get her out of her mind, yet she didn’t even know her name.

So far, she’d only had two interactions with her and she’d call them both moderately successful. She wasn’t necessarily dismissed, so she’d call that a plus. Okay, she may have laid it on a teeny bit thick when they first met at the Intelligence Headquarters, but, again, who doesn’t love compliments? And there were just so many things to compliment, it took awhile for her to cover them all. Morgan was a trained actor, so she was pretty astute at picking up facial subtleties; Government Bey couldn’t keep that ghost of a smile hidden well enough when she was getting complimented.

Also, as she had reminded Audrey plenty of times since, a stone cold fox like that would not have willingly touched a person unless she wanted to. If she wasn’t at least amused at the bare minimum, there would have been no reason for MI6 to fully wrap her arm around her. Audrey insisted she had just been teasing her, but that didn’t dissuade Morgan.

She also trusted her enough to give her the honor of telling Sebastian he could come back to work. Of course, he still called her immediately after anyay, but still, the sentiment still stays.

She knew it was bold, going through with her insistence to show up on Monday. This was the British Military Intelligence after all, not a resistant acting gig, but god she wanted this. Not just working alongside a woman like her, but to live this type of high-pace life of excitement. Doing something for the greater good that made her feel alive. She was hung up on after asking what she liked in her coffee, but she’d gotten worse rejections in her life.

She spent the entire weekend nervously thinking about what would happen on Monday, and now the day was here. Sebastian, probably with the encouragement of Audrey, had agreed to let her accompany him to the office. She ran to the local Starbucks before he picked her up, spending ten minutes analyzing the menu, hypothesizing what the enchanting MI6 lady might possibly want. After agonizing deliberation, she settled on the safest option and got a plain iced coffee, which was now leaving little watermarks on her jeans from the condensation on the plastic.

“Do you think she’ll kick me out?” Morgan asked, breaking the silence. She honestly knew she would be, but she wanted to know what to expect. She was trying to formulate different possible responses to the situation, so she could hide her nervousness behind a mask of jovial understanding.

“I’m positive she’ll kick you out,” he laughed gently, not making fun of her but enjoying her insistence.

Morgan nodded in understanding before remembering something important, “Hey, what’s her name?”

Sebastian was silent for a disconcerting amount of time and she figured he wasn’t allowed to tell her, but his actual reasoning was even more ridiculous. “Umm, I’m not actually sure.”

Morgan’s jaw dropped open and she slapped the side of his arm, ignoring the way he winced and grabbed the still-recovering appendage. “Shut up! Is she like one of those bad ass boss characters in the movies? She just hides namelessly in the shadows until she needs to deal out orders and assign high-intensity missions?” This woman could not get any more badass.

“Ahh, no. I just-” he drew out his words in slight embarrassment, “-uh, can’t remember.”

Morgan turned fully in her seat to glare at him, “That woman granted you full access to know her name and you forgot!” she exclaimed, her voice raising with each word.

He let out a little chagrined laugh and tried to cover up his foolishness, “Well, we just call her ‘boss’.”

Sebastian was cool in her books, don’t get her wrong, but right now he was being such a stupid man. He clearly could recognize beauty, he fell for Audrey after all, but to ignore the enigma he worked so closely to was a brainless misstep for someone who worked in the Intelligence Department. “Sebastian, Sebastian, Sebastian. My handsome, but yet oh so misguided friend, I am disappointed in you.”

“Don’t forget I’m the only one getting you access to her,” he warned jokingly.

“Disappointment absolved,” she beamed immediately.

They spent the rest of the drive chit chatting and arguing about music trivia before arriving to the secret headquarters. She’d been so focused on what she’d say to her government crush that she hadn’t considered there might be an issue getting in. Apparently Sebastian had, and for that she was forever grateful. Through each security check point, he explained she was one of the American Girls that helped solve the issue with Duffer. Apparently, everyone there hated ‘Harvard Boy’ and not only let her in, but thanked her, much to her delight.

As they were walking down the hall to what she presumed was the boss lady’s office, Sebastian leaned down to her and whispered while walking, “Just so we’re on the same page. I don’t want to be put back on forced leave, so as far as I’m aware, she told you during your phone call that you needed to show up with me and I’m simply trusting you.”

“She did tell me to show up with you today,” she admonished, already acting the part.

“No she didn-oh, I see. You’re good at that,” he grinned.

“They didn’t hire me in that Blockbuster ad for nothing.”

“It’s too bad Progresso won’t be graced with your talent,” a husky feminine voice quipped from right behind them.

Both she and Sebastian stopped in their tracks and turned around simultaneously, seeing the statuesque blonde standing just a foot behind them. She even had heels on and they hadn’t heard her. It was equal parts terrifying and arousing. It took Morgan a second to register, but a smile broke out on her face when she realized the G-woman remembered her prior engagement. “I’m touched you remembered!” she exclaimed in excitement.

“Yes. I spent all weekend thinking about it,” she deadpanned.

“Really?”

“No.” She sighed as Morgan’s enthusiasm wasn’t dampened and turned to Sebastian. “So I take it you’re responsible for her being here?”

“She told me-” Sebastian started, but was cut off by Morgan. If this was going to be the last opportunity she had to have a conversation with this woman, she was going to monopolize on it.

“Yes, I convinced him you told me to bring me during our phone call. Are you impressed I was able to pull the wool over one of your own?” she boasted proudly, ignoring the slight nudge Sebastian gave her.

The woman regarded her for a moment before teasing, “Yes, blown away.” Morgan smiled as Sebastian watched in nervous anticipation of reprimandation. “My office, both of you.” Words that inspired optimism in Morgan brought dread in Sebastian as they walked through the door at the end of the hall.

Her office was exactly as she would have expected. It was sleek, classy, and elegant. It looked pristine and stylish and she was still staring in awe as the other two took a seat. “Morgan,” the sultry voice called out. Her heart fluttered in her chest at the sound of her name coming from the woman in that beautiful british accent that haunted her daydreams.

“Hmm?” she hummed while examining a potted plant to see if it was real or not.

“Sit down.” Morgan did as told and sat in the seat directly across from her.

Before she had a chance to start reprimanding them, Morgan perked up in her seat. “Hi, sorry. I just wanted a chance to have formal introductions. I haven’t gotten a chance to meet you. I’m-”

“Morgan Freeman. Thirty four years old, born January of 1984. You went to University for Theatre and you’ve gotten sporadic acting jobs ever since. You recently took it upon yourself to transport a piece of highly confidential government property with your long term friend Audrey Stockton. Now you’ve shown up hoping for a job.” MI6 finished.

Morgan sat there, jaw agape in pure shock. She knew so much about her. Off the top of her head nonetheless. It was like she could hear her thoughts because she added, “I’m the head of the Intelligence Bureau. I have access to everything you’ve ever done.”

“You missed two important facts though,” Morgan lilted, receiving a cocked eyebrow. “I also brought you this today,” passing the iced coffee to her over the desk, pleased when she took it from her with a millimeter smile. “And I am beyond flattered by your impeccable memory.”

She was met with a slightly amused stare as the woman took a sip of her coffee. She set the cup on her desk and reached over, extending her hand out for Morgan who accepted it hasilty. “Wendy Davis, head of the Security Intelligence Service. Appreciative of your coffee.”

“Shut up! Wendy Davis-”

“Not that Wendy Davis,” Wendy sighed, still indulging Morgan in the world’s longest handshake.

“I know, but Morgan Freeman, Wendy Davis, what a match in incidental-celebrity-names heaven our we, Wendy!” she exclaimed. Wendy let out a breath of amusement as she disentangled herself from Morgan’s hand.

“Hi, Sebastian Henshaw, an actual employee here, awaiting acknowledgement of his existence,” Sebastian declared, interrupting the serenity of the moment Morgan was creating.

“I apologize, Henshaw,” she sighed, taking another drink of her coffee before spinning around and grabbing a file out of her desk.

“No problem, Wendy,” he beamed.

“Nope, you call me Boss and Boss only,” she reprimanded without looking up from the file.

“Yes, Boss,” he apologized, ignoring the taunting smile Morgan was sending his way.

“So. As long as you’re feeling healed enough, I have an assignment in China that needs to be dealt with. Apparently there’s been a breach in security systems and information is being mishandled by the Chinese mafia. It most likely will be a longer assignment, possibly taking even a year,” she explained.

“Excuse me,” Morgan spoke up, a bit thrown she wasn’t walking home right now. Wendy’s piercing blue eyes shot up over the file as she looked expectantly at Morgan. “May I lend my services on this mission?” she asked.

“You’re sitting in the briefing, are you not?” Wendy said as if it was obvious.

Sebastian and Morgan looked at each other before looking back at her and exclaiming, “Wait, what?”in perfect unison.

“Well, you seemed to display at least a moderate amount of competency and skill during this recent escapade. I chose a mission of a similar calibre and I figured if you come back alive, we can see about keeping you on for good. Perhaps you find it’s not as much fun as you believe it to be, or maybe your living on this last mission was a fluke or luck. We’ll see,” she explained.

Morgan felt like she was floating. This morning she woke up thinking the highlight of her day would be seeing this beautiful woman, now it was seeing this beautiful woman and getting to continue her dream job. “Oh my gosh. Thank you so much,” she exclaimed standing up. She pressed her index and middle finger to her forehead in a salute and continued her gratitudes, “I promise I will do my best work and I will absolutely do everything in my power to make you proud.” She let her fingers fly away from her in a full salute as Wendy clenched her jaw to avoid smiling.

“Are you sure about this?” Sebastian asked while sitting down.

“I see potential,” she said politely, giving Morgan an appreciative glance before putting on the mask of strict professionalism. “However, we will need to do some official paperwork and procedures before you can go out into the field as an official, interim, agent.”

“Of course,” Morgan replied, trying to mimic the severity and conviction of the woman across from her.

“Oh, and I would like you to ask Audrey if she would also join. I have a feeling that she equals out your eccentricities. You seem to be a good team.”

“Oh, you’re the best. Your wish is my command,” Morgan gushed, poorly concealing her excitement.

Officially one of the best days of her life.

Hope you enjoyed! It was a fun challenge writing this! -Nicole (Twitter/Tumblr: gaycrouton)