One common question from people using npm to publish, especially on CI systems, is how best to automate the process, especially when dealing with multiple branches.
For a while now, I've been using a pattern that takes almost all of the human interaction out of it, since I tend to mess stuff up when I type it with my fingers. This works well for automatic publishes from CI or when publishing manually from a terminal.
I haven't manually typed npm publish in a while, which is a good thing.
First things first, have good tests
I am a huge fan of running tests with 100% test coverage. It isn't a perfect guard against every problem out there, but it does keep me from doing stupid things, like assuming that I know what my program does.
My go-to test library is tap, but you can do this with any testing library that supports code coverage. If it doesn't support code coverage out of the box, you can use nyc to run any Node.js process with coverage tracking.
To use it, run npm i tap -D, and then add this to your scripts section in package.json:
The npm version command will figure out what the next version should be, edit your package.json file, and even check it into git with a signed tag. The beauty of this is that it also prevents you from bumping the version when you have untracked changes in your git working directory, and provides some hook scripts that can do other things before or after the version bump.
In the scripts section of my package.json file, I add a preversion script that runs my tests:
Now, before I can bump the version, npm will make sure that my tests pass. If the test fails (or if coverage isn't 100%), then it'll fail and the version command fails.
Publishing on Version Change
Bumping the version is fine, but then it's time to share it. Along with preversion, the postversion command does actions after the version is bumped. So, let's hook onto that to publish the package.
That's fine for pushing to npm, but then I have to remember to push the changes to git. (I have many times forgotten to do this, and gotten issues because the code on npm is not in GitHub, which is generally a bad sign.)
Thankfully, npm also gives us a way to hook a script around the publish event, so let's use that:
Now, I can tell people to run npm install my-module@next to try out the new prerelease version.
On the other side, I might want to land a bugfix or backport a feature for a legacy version. To do that, I create a git branch with the old version, and update package.json to add a legacy tag instead.
Git has support for PGP signing tagged commits. To tell npm to take advantage of this, set these two config values:
npm config set sign-git-commit true npm config set sign-git-tag true
If setting up PGP and hooking it up with Git is too much of a pain, you're not alone. I'm a nerd who's been computering for a very long time, and I can't handle it. Also, I'm always worried about my keys just sitting on my machine in text files, even if they are encrypted with a passphrase. And if they are encrypted with a passphrase, then I have to type it in all the time, and that's just too much work.
I'm a huge fan of Krypton. It stores your PGP and SSH private keys in your mobile device's secure storage vault, and then sends a push notification to allow it to do things with those keys. It's dead-simple to set up, and extremely easy to use, and gives you a hardware second factor for everything that matters.
Of course, and I don't exactly know if this is a bug or a feature, it does mean that whenever I run npm version, between the commit, the signature, the tag, and the two SSH connections, my phone does a lot of buzzing.
Running npm version to Test and Publish
From there, I use the npm version command to do all my publishing. For bug fixes, I run npm version patch. For new features, I run npm version minor. For breaking changes, I run npm version major.
If you use Conventional Commits or similar tools, you could even automate the detection of what kind of version bump it should be, though that's left as an exercise for the reader.
This approach of using npm scripts to automate the process works well with any system where you'll be publishing and committing. Set it up in your next project, and trust your human fingers a little bit less :)
PS: npm Configuration is Very Flexible
You'll note that I did --tag= in the publish commands above. You can also configure npm in many other ways. Any configuration value (including tag in the case of npm publish) can be set:
explicitly on the command line, like --tag=whatever
in the environment, like NPM_CONFIG_TAG=whatever
in a .npmrc file in the root of your project, like tag = whatever
in a .npmrc file in your home directory
in /usr/local/etc/npmrc (or /usr/etc/npmrc on some systems).
This works inheritance-style, so the higher up on that list a setting is, the higher the priority.
For CI/CD systems, this means that you can sometimes set environment variables to control the behavior of npm commands, without having to change the code or inject files into places. If it's easier to control it with a file (for example, checking a .npmrc file into git), then that's also fine.
Another fic from @drawbaucherys college AU, here now with the Zircons!
---
“Let me tell ya, Bell, one more year of this and we can take the bar, then we’ll be jet-setting lady-bedding super lawyers. You and me, legalistically destroying dictators and warlords the world over.”
The old library building loomed above them as Bell listened to Yana’s hangover ramblings. Sometimes Bell was forced to think Yana chose Law just so she’d be be able to attend the many times she would be brought to court as her own defence.
“Perhaps uncovering the machinations of authoritarian states can wait a little longer, Yana, perhaps after we’ve learned all there is to know about ‘Queen Anne and the Origins of Copyright Law’.”, huffed Bell, climbing the humble set of steps in front of the library. “And that might have to be left to you, I’ve always told you I want to focus on the Defence.”
“Bell, I’m shocked.”, Yana replied, in mock surprise, “You would trust me to go to the Hague all by myself? They say all sorts of things about Dutch women, you might never see me again.”
Bells eyes shot around the campus, dreading to imagine someone overhearing. “Oh, quiet, you!”, she whispered, “And you took my name, that means no more adventures, I own you, now.”
“Because we both agreed your name was the more lawyery one. It’s all about presentation.”, countered Yana, elbowing Bell in the side.
Walking through the large doors, Bell took in the slightly dark, but rather well-kept interior of the converted church. Before her stood shelves and shelves of books, but only after a clearing with a marble floor.
“Mind the step.”, came a soft voice.
“What?”, asked Yana, rather more loudly than what was strictly appropriate for a library. Debate classes taught one to carry ones voice so all might hear, the Law being as clear as the voice used to proclaim ones own interpretation of it. Some found it difficult to turn off this ability once it had been found and cultivated.
“Yana.”, Bell whispered while shifting the books in her arms into her right arm so she might tap Yana with her left. She had looked down and saw the small step onto the marble floor, which was mirrored by another step down into the rows of shelves in front of them. Nimbly navigating the small hazard, the two stepped onto the marble.
“Hello, there!”, greeted the soft voice, which Bell could see was coming from a desk to the side. A blue-haired women, in a brown sweater, cheerily waving at them with a big smile on her face.
Before Bell could stop it, Yana was already beside the desk, in full seductress mode, “Well, morning to you, Blue. You seem nice, I don’t suppose you have much experience with lawyers...”
The women gave a quiet chuckle, “Now, you would be surprised about that...”
“I AM.”, screamed Bell, before adjusting her volume. “I would like to apologize for her, we’re law students who’ve transferred for the bar exam, we’re just here to pick up some books, and Yana here is most certainly not ‘on the market’. Are you, Yana?” Bell could imagine Yanas hair catching fire if her glare was any more intense. “Alright, Mom, whatever you say...”, shrugged Yana, pulling back from the desk.
“No, no, it’s alright, just fun and games, I know how Saturday mornings can be.”, the woman chimed, “Anyway, my name is Laplace, and I have not met you before but it seems you are sisters if I am reading your nametags correctly.”
Yana and Bell looked at eachother, and at their respective tags, ‘Y. Zerkon’ and ‘B. Zerkon’, the pale-skinned Yana in particular amused by the seeming naivety of the librarian in thinking she’s directly related to the levantine Bell. “Ehh, no, we are...married.”, explained Bell.
“Oh!”, squeaked Laplace, most people reacting to their matrimony in the same sort of mild surprise. “It’s rather odd for people your, well, our age getting married.”
“It’s the sort of bright idea law students get when they learn about the tax cuts for married couples.”, Yana elaborated, leaning forward to look at the book that Laplace had on her desk. “Oh, you a fan of aliens?”
Bell could already see where this was going. “Yana, stop it.”, her cheeks already blushing red.
Laplace looked down at the book, “Oh, Arthur C. Clarke? I’ve never read any of his work before, but he does--”
“You wouldn’t happen to have anything about Area 51? About Little Green Men helping Kubrick fake the Moon Landing?”, Yana continued. Laplace’s was blank, the image of incomprehension.
“Yana, for all that is good, you promised me not to talk about my theories in public!”, Bell shouted at the top of her lungs, “And I don’t think they faked the Moon Landing, that’s just crazy talk! They would’ve had sufficient technology to do it for real even if they didn’t have an alien ship to salvage computer hardware from!”
“Wha - they- Moon - alien shi-”, Laplace rubbed her forehead, exasperated, “I am sorry, ladies, but I hope you understand if I told you we would get into trouble if we stocked material of such dubious foundations in a campus library.”
Yana laughed, “Jeez, Bell, you have to relax a little. It’s not going to hurt you. Y’know whatshisface, on the Supreme Court? He thinks Stonehenge was built as a landing pad for UFOs. People love kooks.”
“I feel as though it would not be my place to pry.”, declared Laplace, Bell silently grateful, “So may I just say that I’m reading this book on the suggestion of...well, a friend of mine, she’s working here in the library, and-” her eyes flickered past them, looking at something behind them, “Oh, speak of the-PERRI, MIND THE ST-”
Bell heard the thunk of a foot hitting a wooden step just as she turned to see its source. She saw a blonde woman, with glasses, noticeably short, with her entire torso hidden behind a stack of books she held in both her arms. The world entered slow-motion as Bell stared into the surprised face of the woman in the process of tripping herself on the small step. Her tiny nose, her raised eyebrows, her wide eyes, the little dot that was her mouth. She was, to Bell, adorable.
And then she planted her face onto the marble floor.
“Perri!”, shouted Laplace, as Bell dropped her own books and dashed towards the fallen woman. Pushing the scattered mess of books away as she kneeled down, she placed a hand on the womans shoulder. “Are you ok, Miss?!”
“OOOOOOWWWW!”, was the first noise to come from the little pile in front of her. Seeing a shaking hand sliding up towards the womans shoulders, she picked it up in her own and gave it a light squeeze. The woman squeezed back, twice as hard, “Can you hear me, Miss?!”
“Nah-huh!”, was the reply in-between pants, which Bell took to mean ‘Yes’, she took a breath before she continued. “Alright, let’s get you spun around so we can look at you.”
Lifting gently the hand that she was holding, she helped the woman to spin herself into a sitting position. She was making rapid breaths, and Bell could see a triangular mark right in the centre of her forehead, but miraculously her glasses were still intact. She made direct eye-contact with her, can she seemed to slightly calm down. “Ok, can you tell me where it hurts?”
“My-”, she made a big sniff, her cheeks beginning to puff, “My head, and my knee hurts.”
Bell noticed a few things when looking down at the womans legs. First, she was still holding her hand, and she didn’t want to risk letting go. Secondly, she was wearing cargo shorts, so she could see her right knee, which had a mark. And lastly, both the knee and the forehead had broken skin, and bruises were likely on the way.
“Alright, there doesn’t seem to be anything to worry about. What’s your name?”, Bell tried to keep her voice level, to make sure she wasn’t frightened.
“P-Perri.”, she answered, before another sniff.
“Alright, Perri, you only have a few little cuts, and I have cream to help it.” She repositioned herself to the right of the siting Perri, rubbing her back in a soothing motion. “Alright, Perri, I’m Bell. I’ll need both hands to get the cream, Perri.”
Perri released her hand, and she quickly fished out her tube of antiseptic cream, twisting off the top and squeesing out a small white blob. “Ok, this might sting a little bit, but it’ll help it heal and not hurt later. Alright?” Perri replied with a silent nod of the head.
Bell dabbed the cream onto her forehead, and started applying it across the whole mark. Perri squirmed a little, and tears started forming around her eyes.
“Perri, are you ok?”, Laplace spoke, Bell noticing her for the first time sitting opposite her next to Perri.
“I’m not crying! It’s a...reaction! It’s automatic!”, protested Perri, as the tears started running down her face.
Laplace rubbed her back, “Oh, you don’t have to make excuses, sweetie...”
“I’m not making ex...”, Perri sniffed, louder this time, “...cuses.”
“Alright, Perri, it’s nearly done.”, assured Bell, taking out another blob of cream. Her eyes caught Yana for a second, for once looking speechless.
“Bell.”, declared Yana, “I want to have babies with you.”
Bell blushed, applying the cream to Perri’s knee. “This isn’t exactly the ti-”
“Hey dudes!”, came another voice, from within the maze of shelves. “Sorry I’m late, I got ya all donut-” she turned the corner into Bells view, she saw a woman with dyed-white hair in a ponytail, holding a donut box. She was looking directly at Perri, and assumed a more aggressive stance, face filled with anger. “WHO MADE PERRI CRY?!”
Rated: G for gently crack and a little sads sometimes
Word Count: 8.1K
Summary: park jimin is a trusted superhero who constantly saves the day, but can he save them from you, his newest rival and beloved wife
Cameras are flashing left and right, blinding him. There are way too many microphones in front of his face, but he smiles anyways, pushing his sunglasses up his nose and brushes a hand through his jet black hair. They don’t need to know he wears the sunglasses so he doesn’t look like he’s squinting in the PR photos.
“Park Jimin, over here!”
“Mr. Park! What are your opinions on the city’s allocation of funds?”
“Mr. Park, what’s your comment?”
Jimin sighs internally and focuses his attention to the left, pointing to the nearest person. “You there, in the green jacket.” Probably an easy question, he thinks to himself.
“Mr. Park, what do you have to say about the newest rival that has resumed the spot of V? Does this mysterious villain pose a greater threat?”
Jimin gulped, cursing himself for his bad luck. “It was unexpected, but that’s not to say I’m unprepared for these recent turn of events,” he responded, clearing his throat. “I assure the public that their safety is still intact and that the danger is not as bad as V, who is locked up in the highest security prison institution.”
The crowd murmurs louder before resuming in calling his name. Jimin has half his mind to leave the press conference until a lone voice shouts from the crowd, silencing them. “Then why haven’t you killed or caught the villain if they’re so easy? Why haven’t you caught the Suspense?”
Jimin drops his head and takes a deep breath. He knows that he should probably say that he’s investigating the villain’s true intentions and hidden secrets or some other bullshit excuse, but the truth slips out of his mouth before he can process what he’s said, and instantly, he feels regret. The crowd bursts into a loud commotion, and Jimin is quickly escorted out of the place, halting any further questions.
“Because she’s my wife.”
The scent of freshly brewed coffee filtered through the apartment, the noise of the television idly playing in the background. You’re humming, moving clean clothes from the drying machine to your laundry basket. Kicking the machine door closed, you heft the basket into your arms and plop down onto the couch in the living room, dropping the basket in front of you. You grab the remote on the table next to you and turn up the volume, engrossed in the video replay of your husband, Park Jimin, fighting his ultimate rival. You start folding your laundry, glancing up every now and then, wincing when some of the attacks hit Jimin.
“This just in!” You paused your movements, giving the television your undivided attention as a new anchor bounced up and down on screen, the wind from outside covering her face with her own hair. “Mr. Park has captured V!”
You smile, internally planning to buy a celebration cake for your husband before he comes home, maybe buying some balloons just for the heck of it. It had been a cat and mouse game for several years, and now your husband caught his unruly foe.
The video panned to V being escorted into the police car, the mask on his face battered and bloody. A microphone shoved in front of him.
“V the Violent! What’s your remark on being captured?”
V grunted before leaning into the microphone, “Excuse you, it’s V the Voluptuous for my voluminous hair. This is only a small setback. But it will not be the last you see of me… isn’t that right, my spectacular protege, Suspense?”
The reporters clamor at his comment as he’s forcibly shoved into the police car.
The shirt in your hands fall to your lap.
“Honey, I’m home!” Jimin declares, slamming the door open only to be met with silence. “Y/N?” He slides off his shoes and shuts the door. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, and grabbed the remote left on the floor beside an unfinished pile of laundry to turn off the television. An uneasy feeling fell into the pit of his stomach as he ventured further into the apartment. He stepped in the kitchen and noted the coffee left cold and untouched in the coffee pot. His breathing turned heavy as he rushed into the bedroom to nothing; the room was unchanged and empty.
Maybe… maybe you just ran to the grocery store and he’s just overreacting. Yes, that had to be it. He reached into in pocket and dialed your phone number. Jimin froze in his spot, hearing the familiar ringtone faintly jingle in the bedroom, buzzing against the bedside table.
He ended the phone call and speed dialed the one person who can find his wife. The line rang once, twice, and then he heard the familiar grumble of ‘hello?’ and rustling in the background.
“Namjoon, can you please find Y/N’s location? She’s not at the apartment but she left her phone at home.”
Typing flooded the other end, Jimin tapping his foot impatiently as he awaited for an answer.
“Alright, so I’ve got footage of her leaving her apartment; she doesn’t look distressed or anything, maybe a little zoned out. Lemme look at the other building cameras to track her location. She’s exiting the apartment… and she walked into the hardware store down the street. Jimin, have you just tried, oh, I don’t know, calling her?”
“She left her phone at home. But she also left the television on and didn’t even finish her laundry.” Jimin nursed his bottom lip with his teeth, not knowing what to make of what she’s doing.
“Maybe she forgot to buy something?” Namjoon suggested.
“No, no,” Jimin insisted. “There’s nothing that she needs there that we don’t already have at home. Where did she go after that?”
“Uh, hold on... Okay, I’ve sped up the cameras as fast as I can, but she hasn’t left the building…”
“And when was she last seen entering the store?”
Namjoon hesitated, “it’s been a couple of hours. Maybe she’s just looking at the gardening displays again. You know how she takes her time looking at those.”
“I don’t know,” Jimin paced back and forth in the living room, “something just doesn’t feel right. She doesn’t normally forget her phone, she gets paranoid about tha-” his phone buzzed with an oncoming work call, “hold on, I’ll call you back. I’ve got a call.”
“Gotcha, Jimin. I’ll let you know if I see anything else.”
Jimin switched the line to the police department, “This is Jimin.”
“Jimin! We need you to come to the city plaza quick! We’re having a civilian attack by someone unknown!” He could hear the chaos of people panicking in the background.
“I’m on the way,” he promptly ended the call, rushing to get his gear and weaponry.
Jimin flew into city plaza, having no need to search for the damage when there’s a large machine monster plowing through the square, shooting bursts of water at civilians running away to shelter. The robot stood at least 4 stories high, a voice emitting from a speaker on it shoulder.
“IS EVERYONE HAVING A NICE SPLASH ON THIS GOOD SUMMER’S DAY?” The voice boomed, soaking the streets, the force of the blasted water flipping a car over.
“Whoever you are, stop what you’re doing right this moment!” Jimin commanded, floating eye level with the robot’s head. The robot lifted an arm to activate a laser beam, shooting around and slicing the statue of the mayor in half.
Jimin pulled out his sword, made of the strongest metals, and raised it to challenge the robot.
The head of the robot split in half, revealing a familiar female with yellow goggles and a purple bodysuit.
“Y/N?” Jimin stops in place and puts down his sword. “Y/N, what are you doing?” He shrieked and dodged a laser attack from her. A laser gun; this is something he’s still trying to process. “Whoa there, stop, baby! Put your weapon down! Why are you attacking me? You need to get out of here, there’s a new villain on the streets.”
“You are truly an idiot, Park Jimin. The villain is me. I go by the name of the Suspense. And no one will be standing in the way of my terror.”
“What?”
“Was it not obvious by the fact I’m shooting water at the citizens and destroying the gardens?” You fiddled with the controls, still trying to learn its functions, closing the head and using the other arm to reach for Jimin.
Namjoon yelled in the bluetooth of his ear, “Jimin watch out! Arm coming on your left!”
Jimin used his sword to block off the massive arm coming his way and flew straight for the juncture of the robot’s arm and shoulder. With all of his strength, he jabbed his sword downwards and dismembered the arm.
“Get one of the legs, too. Throw the robot off balance,” Namjoon instructed.
He flew down to the leg of the robot, dismembering one of the legs with much more difficulty. The legs were more reinforced, and he had to saw his sword across as the laser robot arm attempted to reach him.
The robot, losing its balance, toppled into a broken heap in the ground. Jimin heard you shout into the microphone.
“Y/N!” He exclaimed, flying down to the head where you sat. Just before he could open the robot, the head automatically detached itself and flew into the sky, shocking Jimin.
“You may have defeated me this time,” the voice boomed, followed by a brief cough, “but this won’t be the last you see of me! Until next time superhero!”
The robot head flew at lightning speed away, so fast that he couldn’t catch up quick enough after his immediate shock, but as he flew in the same direction, any semblance of where you went disappeared.
“Did you see where she went?” Jimin asked, patiently waiting for an answer through his bluetooth.
“None,” Namjoon sighed, “all the cameras were turned off for some reason for the past few hours. I think it may have been her doing.”
“My wife is my enemy,” Jimin stated, disbelief coursing through him.
Jimin stands in front of the pristine white door in front of him, awaiting permission to enter. His fists are tightly clenched by his side, and his eyes scream murder. The guard next to him warns him to not kill or heavily maim the inmate he so desperately wanted to tear apart. With a noncommittal grunt to the guard, Jimin’s eyes focus in on the figure sitting in the middle of the room after the doors slide open, and he charges in.
“V!” Jimin yanks the prisoner up from his seat by the collar and spits in his face as he growls. “What have you done to my wife?”
“Aww, is that any way to greet an old buddy? It hasn’t even been what, ten hours since we’ve last seen each other right? You must really miss my company,” V coos.
Jimin scowls at the playful smirk that V shoots at him before shoving him back onto the chair. “What is your motive? What do you want from me?”
V struggles for a short while to get back properly in his chair, settling his triple handcuffed hands on the table in front of them. “Now, now. You can’t barge in here expecting answers to questions I don’t want to answer,” V smiles, idly scratching his fingers along the surface of the table. “Have a seat, Jimin. It’s been awhile since I’ve sat across from you, yeah? I don’t get to look at you properly, those news photos don’t seem to do you justice. You’ve gotten handsomer. Tired, but handsomer.”
“Cut the crap, V. Why is my wife acting like this?”
V sighs, “Don’t call me by that name. We know each other more personally than that, call me what you used to, Jiminie!”
Jimin clenches his jaw, and reiterates, “Taehyung, why is my wife taking your place in terrorizing this city?”
Taehyung frowns, “That’s not the nickname. I used to be Tae-tae. But you can correct that later, I suppose.” He rattles the handcuffs restricting him briefly, before continuing, “Your dearly beloved is acting as such because I hypnotized her. In the event that she hears me call for ‘the Suspense’, she will fulfill my place as the resident evil in my absence.”
Jimin slams a hand on the table. “How dare you lay a hand on my wife, you bastard! When did you meet my wife and how?”
Taehyung flinches before bitterly smiling. “Incredible. You’ve never been mad at me before, even when I stole all the money from the main city bank. Girls can really change a man, can’t they?” He chuckles, but they slowly die off when Jimin remained glaring at him. “Okay, well, it was quite easy, you see-”
It had happened a few months prior, when Taehyung was becoming a little bored with his everyday routine. Sure, it was all fun and games toying around with the city’s superhero every week, but he needed a little bit of spice to his shenanigans. He was scrolling through his phone, ready to play his favorite game, Cooking Mama 3, before the thought spawned upon him. If he’s getting bored with his life, what if that means that Jimin is getting bored of him as well?
No, no, no. That wouldn’t do. He can’t have that.
Taehyung closed his eyes, thinking of what he could possibly do to keep Jimin focused and dedicated to fighting him. He was about to doze off in his reclining chair before shooting up out of his seat.
Oh yes. The best idea he’s had yet.
And it involved Jimin’s precious wife.
He followed you from your workplace one day, noticing how you frequently visited this one pastry cafe. The next day, he made sure to be there just after you entered, and he ordered the quickest thing that he could get - a coffee. As soon as he got his order, he headed towards you, sitting alone at the table waiting for your pastry to arrive.
“Um, excuse me,” Taehyung started, waiting for you to look up from your phone. “Hi, uh, I was wondering if I could have a seat here? All the tables are full and I just wanted a place to settle down and enjoy my cup of joe.” He made a point to look around to indicate that yes, the cafe was packed of customers who equally just got off of work.
“Yeah, no problem,” you smiled. You settled back in your chair to allow him more room to place his coffee on the table. Your analyzing stare at the new stranger lingers a little too long on his sharp features that couldn’t stay hidden under his red rimmed glasses.
“Thanks!” Taehyung gingerly placed his coffee on the table, tugging at the collar of his wool sweater, which he wore to look especially harmless. “What brings you over here? I feel like I come here often but I don’t see you around.”
“Sometimes I like to grab a snack on the way home, and this place has absolutely the most delicious scones I’ve ever tasted.” You placed your phone on the table, giving him your attention. “I don’t think I’ve seen you either, but then again, I normally just go in and out. I think they’re making a new batch of pastries right now, which is why it’s taking so long.”
“That’s even better though, right? Fresh pastry tastes better than the ones from the morning.”
You giggle, “yeah, it does. I guess I felt a little antsy because it’s so crowded in here.”
Taehyung chuckled along, trying his best not to sound forced. “I know, I wonder what all the commotion is. Had I known, I probably would have had my coffee elsewhere.”
“Do you normally have coffee in the afternoon? It’s a bit late for you to drink caffeine, isn’t it?”
Taehyung’s eyes widened a bit, mind reeling blank before he regained his composure. “For some, yeah, but I just need my regular fix that helps me stay awake the rest of the day.” He reached for some sugar packets and began pouring some into his coffee. “My name’s Jack by the way, and you are…”
“Oh, I’m so rude! Sorry, my name’s Y/N. Nice to meet you, Mr. Jack…”
“...Daniels.”
“Jack Daniels?” You laughed. “That’s so funny has anyone ever-”
“Yeah, I get it all the time,” Taehyung monotonously interrupted, figuring it was time for Evil Plan #537 to commence. He began to scratch his index finger back and forth on the table, seemly doing it unconsciously. “You know, drinking coffee here makes me feel so... relaxed. Even though it’s so crowded in here.”
You stare at his finger for a brief moment before turning your head to face him. “Really? Most people tell me that it makes them jittery.”
“Mhmm,” he hums, keeping a steady pace of his fingers and maintaining the pace of his words slow and soft, “yeah. It makes me a little dazed. A little tired. I guess that’s what happens when you drink it in such a calm atmosphere. But I love the coffee here, it’s so nice. So warm.”
“I didn’t know their coffee would taste that great quite honestly…” your sentence drifts off, you mind tuned to the constant rhythm of his fingers gliding back and forth on the table, the sharp sliding sounds distracting you. At last, your eyes linger onto his fingers, your pupils dilating.
“I really enjoy it, especially in your company.” Taehyung’s voice drops to a mere whisper. “Sometimes, when I drink it alone, my eyes get all droopy… and it gets a little hard to breathe. I need to take long, big inhales whenever I drink this coffee.”
Your breath comes slower, and you don’t even realize that you’re mimicking the way he’s breathing.
“I feel like I can do anything when I’m in your company, you’re pleasant to be around. Do you think I’m a pleasant company, too?”
You hummed, but by then, your mind is zoned out.
When he’s sure that he’s got her mind entranced, he lowly says, “your company is so nice, I would be always willing to help you. And of course, you would like to help me too.”
You didn’t give any response, you simply continued to stare at his fingers.
“Nod once if you will do exactly as I say.” Taehyung observed you ever so slightly nod your head, and grinned. “Perfect.” He reached over and turned off your cell phone on the table.
He continued, “When you hear me say the phrase, ‘isn’t that right, my spectacular protege, Suspense’, you will assume my position as villain and carry out my evil tasks to the city. You will not stop for anyone or adhere to whatever anyone says, not even your husband. You will do so until you hear this one word…” Taehyung leans in to whisper it into your ear. “Nod once if you understand.”
You nodded.
“Here are your instructions for when you assume my position, and you must follow them carefully…”
Taehyung spent the next two hours divulging the plans he wished for you to fulfill and in what order. He let you know where his headquarters were for you to prepare your evil deeds and other than allowing the public to know about how you were his successor - but, you couldn’t provide any more information.
“When I say the word unicycle, you will snap out of your trance. You will awaken yourself back into the nice, dainty cafe we’re having a nice conversation in. Unicycle.”
You blinked your eyes, shaking your head before refocusing your vision to the man in front of you, who was rambling about something.
“...in conclusion, I honest to god think that unicycles are the most underrated mode of transportation.”
“What?” you mumbled. There was a gap in your memory, and you couldn’t remember what you last spoke to Jack about. You nursed your hand to the back of your head, feeling an oncoming headache.
“Anyways, it has surely been a pleasure meeting you, and I hope to see you again in the near future.” Taehyung stood from his seat and gently bowed his head before leaving the cafe.
Confused of what just happened, you stared blankly at the pastry that was set in front of you - wait when did that happen - and the cup of coffee left untouched where the stranger previously sat.
“You piece of shit,” Jimin muttered, his gaze unwavering cold to Taehyung, who is the slightest unaffected.
“Wow, you’re starting to sound like my parents. You’ve got the wording and the looks on point,” Taehyung comments, a quirk of his eyebrow has Jimin reeling.
“What was the word.” It wasn’t a question, no, Jimin was commanding.
“I’ve answered too much for my liking,” Taehyung pouted. “Darn me and my oversharing mouth. Be careful, Jiminie. Be nice or you won’t go anywhere. But, as a small parting gift for you paying me a friendly visit, I’ll reciprocate your affections with a hint.”
Taehyung gestures for Jimin to lean in closer. Jimin reluctantly adheres, and Taehyung whispers hotly into Jimin’s ear, “It’s a totally random and nonrandom word.”
“Fuck you, Taehyung,” Jimin growls, and pushes the fiend away from him.
“Toodle-loo, best friend!” Taehyung hollers as Jimin storms out of the room.
“Carrot! Asparagus! Celery! Broccoli!” Jimin exclaimed, reiterating Namjoon’s voice in his bluetooth and struggling to hear the list Namjoon is screaming in his ear. Well, it’s a little hard when you’re chasing him from behind with thousands of knives loaded on the waistband of your pants (and how did you not hurt yourself wearing that contraption).
“Today’s soup of the day is vegetables ladies and gentlemen! Tuesday’s theme was furniture, what will next week’s be?” You hollered, maniacally laughing when Jimin almost trips on a fallen chair.
“C’mon, honey. Put down those knives and just come home,” Jimin pleaded, dodging his head as another knife whizzed by. “That wasn’t nice,” he pouted.
“Sorry sweet cheeks, I’m eliminate anyone who stands in my way. Stop trying, this is the 7th day already.” You threw a knife dangerously close to his head, and cackled at the sound of his terrified shriek of surprise. It was comically hilarious and gratifying. “I guess you could say the Suspense is killing you, huh?”
“Good God,” Jimin muttered in exasperation. He understood why Taehyung named you as such, that cheeky, punny, son of a gun. “When did you become so skilled at throwing sharp objects?”
You reached behind you, latching your fingers on the last two knives you had hidden away. Damn, you needed more, and quick. “I’ve always had great accuracy. You’re just too full of yourself to notice.”
Jimin dodged another knife, briefly squeaking “Potato!” as fear encapsulated him; your aims are progressively improving. “Ouch, baby. Didn’t know you felt that way about me.”
You sneered, “you think you’re perfect?” You threw your last one and painfully watched it miss his shoulder by a hairline. Glancing around quickly, you lunged for a pair of scissors haphazardly fallen into a heap of office supplies.
A heavy weight thrusted upon you, slamming you into the ground on your back. “Shit.” You instantly moved to get up by your arms but they were restricted in Jimin’s grasp. “Let me go,” you strained, tugging to yank your arms out but to no avail.
“What were you trying to do? Huh? This is a paper company office building.” Jimin grunted, forcibly struggling to hold his wife down despite his whole body pressing her into the ground. Had she always been so strong?
“Light it on fire.” You smirked, shifting your hands around to feel the pair of scissors that were near you. Looking to your right, you froze when you realized the pair of scissors were no longer there. Jimin forced your hands above your head to hold with one hand.
“Looking for these scissors?”
You glared back at Jimin; the disappearing office supply made an appearance between his fingers.
Jimin tossed the scissors far across the room, and turned back to his wife.
“Y/N, please wake up,” he begged.
“I don’t know any Y/N,” you growled. “I am the Suspense.”
You kicked your knees directly towards his family jewels, and quickly crawled away from him when he flinched away from you and loosened his grip. Quickly getting back to your feet, you sprinted towards the windows before breaking through the glass, falling down 14 stories.
Scrambling to his feet, he ran to the edge of the building where the window broke.
You were gone.
Is it a little odd that he secretly looked forward to his battles with you? Yes, every new and unknown evil deed that you had planned that day would worry him, but at least he knew you were okay, as demented as that was. It was his only time that he could see you, bask in your presence for a second before there’s a stink bomb flying his way.
It was the ass crack of dawn, and the skies lit up to a dim gray, filtering more light into the cold room. Jimin snuggles further into the warmth of the comforter, thinking too much of another warmth he could be having. Could he just turn off the air conditioner? Yes, but was he lazy? Also yes.
His hands linger to the side of the bed that you usually sleep on, his bottom lip quivering feeling the emptiness of the bed. Of the random conversations he had with you late at night, the light giggle you’d give when he nuzzles into your neck - all of you. He missed you. Sure, he got to see you every week, but he doesn’t get to hold you, to love you.
How were you? What were you doing? Did you still miss him even though you wanted to kill him?
He knows the Chief of Police is disappointed in him, is on edge and ready to reprimand Jimin for not fully putting in his best effort to capture you once and for all. He knows that he could’ve caught you at any time - heck, everyone knew it.
But he also knows the kind of place that all the villains are put into. They aren’t kind to them. They aren’t accommodating to them. They will definitely not leave his wife unharmed in their special hammer.
He hoped and prayed that he figures out that god damn word that will bring his wife back to him and to give the city their final state of peace.
He didn’t realize he started crying until the uncomfortable feeling of dry tear runs stiffen his face.
“Food delivery for Park Jimin,” the mailman states as he ambles through the office.
“I don’t remember ordering any…” Jimin states, but after noticing the logo of his favorite take-out restaurant, he concedes, “but if it’s for me, how could I deny it?” He hastily makes grabby hands for the food, happy that he has extra food to munch on during his lunch break.
He opens the container, taking a huge whiff of the tantalizing scent before he grabs a spoonful of oily sesame chicken. He lets out a hum of approval before he chokes, and he immediately spits out the food into his trash can, coughing profusely.
“Hey, are you alright?” The officer in the desk near him peers over in curiosity.
“There was something in there that didn’t taste right, it tasted like straight up pesticide or something.” Jimin chugs down a bottle of water when he notices a small slip of paper peeking out from under the take out box.
If you die, fantastic. If you don’t, at least I know I didn’t marry a moron. Love, your wife.
“Holy shit,” Jimin whispered. You tried to poison him.
Cameras are flashing left and right, blinding him. There are way too many microphones in front of his face, but he smiles anyways, pushing his sunglasses up his nose and brushes a hand through his jet black hair. They don’t need to know he wears the sunglasses so he doesn’t look like he’s squinting in the PR photos.
“Park Jimin, over here!”
“Mr. Park! What are your opinions on the city’s allocation of funds?”
“Mr. Park, what’s your comment?”
Jimin sighs internally and focuses his attention to the left, pointing to the nearest person. “You there, in the green jacket.” Probably an easy question, he thinks to himself.
“Mr. Park, what do you have to say about the newest rival that has resumed the spot of V? Does this mysterious villain pose a greater threat?”
Jimin gulped, cursing himself for his bad luck. “It was unexpected, but that’s not to say I’m unprepared for these recent turn of events,” he responded, clearing his throat. “I assure the public that their safety is still intact and that the danger is not as bad as V, who is locked up in the highest security prison institution.”
The crowd murmurs louder before resuming in calling his name. Jimin has half his mind to leave the press conference until a lone voice shouts from the crowd, silencing them. “Then why haven’t you killed or caught the villain if they’re so easy? Why haven’t you caught the Suspense?”
Jimin drops his head and takes a deep breath. He knows that he should probably say that he’s investigating the villain’s true intentions and hidden secrets or some other bullshit excuse, but the truth slips out of his mouth before he can process what he’s said, and instantly, he feels regret. The crowd bursts into a loud commotion, and Jimin is quickly escorted out of the place, halting any further questions.
“Because she’s my wife.”
“Maaaaan, you done fucked up.”
“You think I don’t know that? You son of a bitch,” Jimin curses, turning down the volume of his earpiece now that he wasn’t in a public area. He slouches against the backseat of his car, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m getting so emotional these days, and it’s messing up my game.”
“More like your wife is messing up your game, but not in a good way,” the voice on the other end chuckles. “Anyways, after you get back to your place, could you double check the amount of arms you got in your place for me? I got the numbers in front of me but some aren’t adding up. Might be a miscount.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jimin mumbles. “Thanks, Namjoon. Who else will keep me on my feet if it weren’t for you rambling in my ear, huh?”
“You say that like all I am is just your hacker tech guy. I thought I was more than that.”
Jimin smiles, knowing that Namjoon is probably sporting his puppy dog pout even though Jimin can’t see him.
“About that, are we still sticking with the same plan? Randomly guessing your way to un-hypnotize your wife?”
“I mean, what else do you want me to do? Turn my wife into prison? You know they send all the villains into the worst prison, and my baby doesn’t deserve that.”
“There’s over a billion words that he could’ve used, Jimin. We’ve only gotten like a couple hundred at best.
“Then we keep trying,” Jimin growled, becoming more irritated. “If you wanna give up, then fine, but the wellbeing of my wife is in my hands so I’d rather you just stop chastising me for wanting my wife back to normal. I’ll call you later.”
Jimin immediately turned off his earpiece and harshly sighed. He’s got to test his luck again.
Jimin sat across from Taehyung and tilted his head. “You can’t possibly enjoy having someone else take all the glory for evil crimes if it’s not yourself, right? Dude, just stop and give me the magic word and we can go back to physically duelling each other.”
“Mmm, nah. I can see you’re trying to appeal to me, and I’d hate to break it to you, but that’s just not working. I quite enjoy the idea of you suffering because of me as I do nothing. It’s quite divine.”
“How can I cut you a deal so I can finally leave with what I want here?”
Taehyung tilts his head and looks up at the ceiling, pretending to think about what he wants before he grins wickedly at Jimin.
Jimin gulps, unprepared for what dangerous thing he may possibly want. A nuclear weapon? Full access to the government’s trade secrets?
“I want all the seasons of the Bachelorette and ongoing forward to be saved on my television in my cell.”
“The nature of your request is outrageou- wait, what?” Jimin backtracks, processing what Taehyung asked.
“You heard me properly. The guards are big meanies and they won’t let me change the channel or record the latest season of the Bachelorette. I need to know who the final two people will be before she chooses. I am frustrated.” Taehyung proceeds to shoot a glare at the guard outside the door.
“Deal…?”
“Here’s one good hint, Jimin. I think you’ll want to figure out a way to save your dearest betrothed by the end of this week.”
“And that’s because?”
“Well, I didn’t have time to finish planning more elaborate schemes for her fulfill, and let's say this might be the final one.”
“... what happens in the final one?”
“Well, the location is up to her discretion, but it may or may not involve collapsing a bridge or building, and she may or may not have to sacrifice her life to accomplish that task.”
“MY WIFE IS GOING TO DIE?”
“Maybe...I said maybe.”
Jimin leans forward until his face is just a mere inch away from Taehyung’s. “JUST TELL ME THE FUCKING WORD OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL MAKE YOU SUFFER, V. YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT POWERS I HAVE TO END YOU.”
Taehyung ignores his yelling and the disgusting amount of spit landing on his face. “Do you remember our childhood, Jimin? We used to be such cute little bastards.”
“I don’t have time for this,” Jimin mutters, kicking his seat to the side and turning to leave.
“But Jimin, think about it for a moment with me. We used to have so much fun together. We used to play detective and criminal during recess, and I’m not going to lie, you weren’t a very good detective. I had to basically out myself every time for you to find me.”
Jimin turns his head. “Why would this matter to me?”
“We used to be best friends, Jiminie. You’re still my best friend. Aren’t I still yours?”
“I don’t know if mortal enemies can be best friends anymore, Taehyung.” Jimin mutters, but he still doesn’t leave.
“But you haven’t killed me,” Taehyung sputtered, “and there had been so many opportunities in the past where I could’ve just died, but you still managed to save me. I know you still care about me.”
“It goes against my morality to kill people. It’s nothing personal.”
“Don’t say that.” Taehyung’s voice cracked, but he continued, “Don’t say that. I know I mean something to you, I know I matter to you.”
“You matter to me because you keep vandalizing the city, putting the public’s safety at risk!” Jimin roars, turning back around and slamming his hands on the table. “As a hero, would it make sense for me to just ignore that?”
“It’s all because of you! This is all your fault!”
“All of my fault?” Jimin scoffed, “now you’re just reaching. How can I be the reason the city is in peril?”
“You stopped talking to me,” Taehyung whimpers. “When we got older, you started spending time with other people. You told me that you would still hang out with me, but you never did, because you were out there making new best friends!” Taehyung’s eyes watered, and he turned his head away from Jimin for the first time. “I was so lonely, Jimin. You are my only friend.”
Jimin stared at Taehyung for a while, the gears slowly churning in his head. Incredulous with the outcome of his thoughts, he murmured, “is that why you’ve been terrorizing the city? Is that your way of hanging out with me?”
“Well, I… I would’ve done it regardless. But I stayed in this city so that you wouldn’t forget me. I can’t have my best friend forget me,” Taehyung spoke softly. He looked back at Jimin with wide eyes, afraid that that moment would be the moment Jimin gave up on him.
Jimin took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it again, the words stuck in his throat.
Taehyung watched as his old friend open and close his mouth like a fish, and for the first time in a long time, Taehyung felt nervous.
“That’s a really convoluted way to maintain our friendship,” he finally says.
Taehyung lowers his eyes to the table, pretending that didn’t hurt him. “I do what I can to keep your attention, I had no other long lasting options other than using your job and your wife.”
“Taehyung,” Jimin started, “if I start coming by here twice a month to spend time with you, will you stop hurting my city?”
Taehyung’s head hangs low, but he nods ever so slightly.
“And will you tell me what the word is to save my wife?”
Taehyung hesitates, “I think my favorite game between us was the detective and criminal one.”
“Not this again,” Jimin groans, pushing himself away from the table.
“We used to have so many names to call each other during those times, but you and your limited vocabulary, you kept calling me the same damn stupid thing. I, an intellectual far past your capabilities, had the best and diverse names. But either way, sometimes I knew that you grew tired of the game really fast, even though I loved it.” Taehyung chuckled to himself.
Jimin left the room, tired of his antics and feeling like his confrontation led him somewhere and nowhere. Just as the door was closing and he was only within earshot, he faintly heard the last sentence Taehyung stated.
“You still played it anyways; thank you, Jiminie.”
Jimin plopped on his mattress, staring at the ceiling in exasperation. You may or may not be dying by the end of tomorrow, and for that, he is wary. Taehyung gave him little to no clues at all, and he wondered what he’d truly done wrong in this world to receive such predicament.
He closed him eyes, breathing deeply to relax the growing. He thought back to his conversations with Taehyung, breezing through them with no tell-tale hint in sight.
He goes through it over and over, until one detail speaks out to him.
Taehyung mentioned the criminal and detective game more than once.
‘We used to have so many names to call each other during those times, but you and your limited vocabulary, you kept calling me the same damn stupid thing.’
The answer he was looking for was given to him after all. Was it that nickname?
Jimin furrowed his eyebrows, thinking hard about their old childhood, but he could vaguely remember something from at least 20 years ago. He only remembers images of playing around with Taehyung under the slides, but never what he said.
What could it be? What could it be? Dinglebat…? No, it couldn’t have been.
Jimin yanked at the roots of his hair in frustration, feeling the answer at the tip of his tongue, but not quite there.
His phone vibrated in his back pocket, startling him momentarily before he reached for it. “Yes?”
“Hey, Jimin,” Namjoon said, typing in the background. “Any updates?”
“My wife is going to die tomorrow.”
A beat of silence passed. “Well, that’s a little negative, don’t you think?”
“No, Namjoon,” Jimin sighed, “I spoke with V today. It turns out tomorrow will be the day that she will have to die in order to blow up some building or bridge.”
“Oh shit,” Namjoon whispered.
“Yeah,” Jimin affirmed. “I don’t know where though, can you look up some major bridges or buildings nearby that may have been scouted by her?”
“Sure thing, dude.” Jimin waited patiently as the furious clicking and typing resumed, standing up with the phone nestled between his shoulder and ear as he sifted through files on his desk. “Okay, so we have the big ole water tower, the channel news building, city hall, the Blue Bridge - oh my god.”
“What, what is it?” Jimin examined the photo of his wife aiming a gun at him. It’s totally living room wall worthy.
“Get your stuff ready; Y/N is already there setting up machinery along the bridge. If what you’re saying is right, then those are probably bombs.”
Jimin cursed before speeding out the door.
You check the fourth bomb that was set up along the bridge, the wiring complex and you couldn’t risk the bomb being improperly wired. How embarrassing would it be if one of your impressive bombs just fizzed into smoke because the blue connected with the red and not the green? You reached into the depths of your Duffle Bag of Cool Gadgets, as V so eloquently labeled it and double checked the instructions manual V so artistically drew out.
To be quite fair, the manual was detailed down to the T, save for the fact one of the pages had a a very detailed phallic in the corner, but you had disregarded that.
Humming to yourself, you decided that the bomb looked fairly decent, and settled to move to the next step - building a bomb on your body.
It never crossed your mind that the severity of the situation and that you were going to die would be something to panic about. You felt that you were in a mindless zone to follow the handbook that V had made for you when you arrived in his secret lair. You went through each mission in order, but not stopping to realize that this one was going to be the last one.
Your skin itched, the worn elastic of your bodysuit was uncomfortable, but it also may be due to the fact that you didn’t wash it from the last battle.
Fishing through your duffle bag for extra wiring, the influx of traffic that busied the bridge blocked your hearing of a certain someone flying by.
Jimin surveilled the scene, noting that you were awfully distracted and your senses drowned by the honking of cars. There were six bombs in total, and two of the ones in the middle looked awfully larger than the rest.
“You see what I’m seeing, Namjoon?” The static of the other line echoed in his bluetooth.
“Yeah, man. This is scary. Judging by the build and the amount, they’ll probably detonate all at once with a button. As long as you get a handle of it, and I’ll get all the cars off the bridge, you’d be on solid ground.”
“Thanks, man.” Coming to a stop a good 20 feet away from you, he shouted, “Y/N! Stop what you’re doing!”
You groaned at the familiar sound before turning to face him. “Suddenly, I stop what I’m doing because a lame ass in a cape told me to!” You press the watch on your wrist that activates the jet packs attached to your shoes and you fly up to face him head on.
“Shoo fly, stop bothering me.” You take out the gun strapped to the back of your leg and shoot tennis balls at him.
“Shit,” Jimin mutters before dodging your attacks. “Why do you like to throw things at me so much!” Jimin cried. A tennis ball lands right where his goods were, and of course you would always aim balls at his balls. He topples to the ground, skidding a few meters, deliberating between clutching his hurt shoulder from the impact or his crotch.
Thankfully, by then, Namjoon contacted the local police to block the entrances on the bridge, clearing citizens from any harm. Police stood by with their guns ready to fire when given the command, but with so many bombs around, they couldn’t risk misfiring.
“These balls are calibrated to fire at 110 miles per hour,” you smirked, blowing the tip of the barrel for good measure. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” Deciding to forego assembling the bomb vest, you swept back to the barrel, locating the detonator remote to get the deed over with.
Finally grasping the remote, you were half a second away from pushing the sole red button when Jimin’s body comes slamming into you, once again, knocking the remote out of your hands.
“Oh, fuck you!” You pushed at his shoulders and punched him square in the nose. Depending on the short amount of time his shock allowed, you kicked at his torso to remove him off of you and clamored towards the remote some feet away.
Jimin gasps at the sharp pain on his left ankle; much to his dismay, when you pushed him off his foot caught in a juncture in the cement and twisted his ankle. He grunted, maneuvering his body to crawl towards to you. He yanked at your ankles, dragging you back to him, attempting to pin you down. “Stop it!” Jimin’s mind reeled as he struggled to recollect the nickname he used to call Taehyung. “Stop, dinglebat!”
You wriggled in his grasp, making his efforts more difficult and scoffed, “oh, so now we’re calling each other names?”
You back elbowed him in the jaw, and crawled faster, more desperately to the detonator. You were so close, you just needed a little more.
“No, ninnyhammer!”
The remote in your grasp, you smiled victoriously and tilted your head to see the fear in Jimin’s eyes as he limped towards you. You pressed the button, waiting in the few seconds for the bombs to activate.
In that moment, it was almost as if Jimin’s mind cleared, and he yelled, “PINHEAD! PINHEAD! PINHEAD!”
You froze, the remote dropping from your hands as you slowly regained control of your mind. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and your body collapsed to the ground as all your energy fell from you, giving you a nice sideways view of Jimin screaming at you and just barely reaching you -
The ground collapsed beneath you, the bridge exploding to smithereens and you were falling.
There was debris around you and you registered that you were falling. You were falling. You were falling. Panic swallowing your body, you frantically pressed the button on your watch to activate the jet packs but to no avail.
“Y/N!” Jimin yelled, falling briefly before he started to fly again, this time flying straight towards you.
Gravity proved to be a much faster competition, and you plummeted into the depths of the dark blue lake.
Diving into the water, Jimin swam amidst the dust filled water until he saw you sinking deeper into the lake. He swam fervently towards you, grabbing your arm and yanking you into his grasp, holding you as if he were hugging you before he floated upwards. Once above water, he propelled himself upwards and flew the both of you to land.
Placing you on your side on the grass hill beside the lake, Jimin forcefully patted your back to help drain any water from your nose and mouth. “Y/N! Y/N! WAKE UP!” Jimin’s heart crushed seeing the gash on the side of your head, presumably from a large chunk of debris colliding into you. He turned you back on your back and listened for a pulse. Hearing the faint beating of your heart relieved only a small part of him as he immediately propped open your mouth and pinched your nose with trembling hands. Taking in a long, shaking inhale, he pressed his mouth to yours, exhaling four breaths of air and checking your pulse once more. He repeated the cycle over and over until your eyes fluttered open and you violently coughed.
“Y/N,” Jimin spoke softly, lifting the back of your head gently to help you.
Your eyes blurring and your throat and lungs burning with soreness, you made out the shape of Jimin hovering above you, watching as he’s sobbing and stroking your cheeks.
“Hi... Jimin,” you croaked, tilting the corners of your mouth when he envelopes your body in a hug, careful not to hurt you and burying his face into your neck.
