#when i eat around people i do it motherfucking QUIETLY and with my mouth MOTHERFUCKING CLOSED THE WHOLE TIME. YOU DON'T NEED TO OPEN IT...

[fantabulisticity]

Waiting in the airport for 2 hours and someone is fucking C R U N C H I N G behind me and I am going to DIE

#it's okay i got my headphones out. and they're crunching semi-quietly but like. doing it SO SLOWLY so the sound takes as much time as... #...possible and they do it with their whole ass mouth OPEN so it fucking ECHOES in there and i can hear EVERYTHING #i fucking HATE it #but like. bro. if you're going to eat something crunchy in a place like an airport gate where I LITERALLT CANNOT FUCKING LEAVE #PLEASE PLEASE PLEAAE PLEASE PLEASE DO IT WITH YOUR GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING MOUTH CLOSED #AND DO IT AWAY FEOM ME 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 #personal #misophonia #food #eating #okay nvm it's NOT okay bc between songs i can hear them SMACKING THEIR WHOLE FUCKING MOUTH WETLY IN THE OPENEST WAY POSSIBLE #STOOOOOOOOOOOP MAKING LOUD ASS WET ASS FUCKING EATING NOISES IN CLOSED SPACES WHERE PEOPLE CAN'T LEAVE. DON'T FUCKING DO IT. LEAVE ME THE.. #...FUCK ALOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 #when i eat around people i do it motherfucking QUIETLY and with my mouth MOTHERFUCKING CLOSED THE WHOLE TIME. YOU DON'T NEED TO OPEN IT... #...ALL THE DAMN TIME. JUST LEAVE IT FUCKING MOTHERFUCKING CLOSED YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE LEAVE ME ALOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE #and now someone is coughing/clearing their throat every 60 seconds. i'm in hell. #WHY CAN'T I JUST SIT HERE IN PEACE. #he just did it again. #into his hand. #okay edit -- i found a table away from those guys and turned my music up as much as i can without hurting my ears #well. not acutely hurting my ears but like. definitely not good for my hearing. just not like. actively painful.

[likedovesinthewindd]

Request for reader taking Rues place in s1 ep2 when mouse pays a visit to Fez

ofc, hope you like!

fezco x fem!reader (season one ep 02: stuntin' like my daddy)

warning: drug use/abuse, coercion, violence, swearing, slight sexual language, mentions of overdosing, after effects of naloxone (narcan) and fentanyl like nausea, urinary retention, drowsiness.

wc: ±2465

a/n: requests welcome!

gif not mine, all credit to original creator.

The only time you'd ever really see Fez at a party was if he was dealing. He wasn't one who really enjoyed going out or being around a lot of people, but parties were one of the fastest ways to sell his shit, and a guy's gotta eat. On the days he had all to himself, he'd often be at home doing nothing.

The only thing he enjoyed more than relaxing at home, was relaxing at home with you. You seemed to have that effect on him; he enjoyed doing things more when you were around. He'd take you shopping because he knew you'd buy actual food and not just any random stuff with no nutritional value. He'd take you with him on random night drives through the city because you had the best playlists to listen to and he wouldn't admit it, but he secretly loved listening to the different genres of music you enjoyed. He always enjoyed having your presence around the house, and around him.

Right now, however, he really really wished you had stayed home. Not that he didn't want to see you, but he was about 5 minutes away from doing business with one of his suppliers (not one of the nicests guys either), and he didn't want to anywhere near when they arrived.

"Hold on, you can't be in here right now," he drawled nervously when he saw your wet frame enter the living room. "I just came to make you guys dinner, got everything for your favorites," you smiled as you made your way inside, placing the groceries you had bought on the kitchen table. You toed off your shoes and made your way to Fez's room. "Nah, you gotta go Y/N," he said following after you.

"Why, am I not welcome anymore?" you joked, looking through his drawers for dry clothes. You settled for a pair of old sweatpants and a t-shirt you had forgotten there, and swiftly changed.

"I'm serious, come back in a few hours but right now you gotta get the fuck up outta my house," he said seriously. You frowned at his words. Was he seriously going to kick you out in the middle of a rainstorm? "It's fucking pouring outside, Fez. I can just—"

"Nah you ain't listening, you gotta go right now before these motherfuckers come through," he interrupted you. By now you had grown irritated by his behavior. "Who are you talking about?" you asked angrily, walking past him to go sit on the couch in the living room. "My guy's boutta come through and I don't want you here when he gets here, you understand?" he said following you. Right. His guy, as in his supplier. You were on the verge of asking him what the big deal was if you just stayed out of their way for the few minutes, when his phone buzzed from the table he was previously sitting at.

You peered behind the back of the couch towards the table and then back at him. He did the same, and when your eyes met, you could see the anger mixed with fear on his face. "I could fuckin' kill you right now," he muttered before reaching for his walkie talkie. "Yo Ash, they here," he spoke into it before he started packing stacks of money into a paper bag.

By now you had grown a bit nervous at what was about to go down. Fez never allowed you to join him when he was doing any of his deals. He wanted to keep you as far away as possible from that side of his life, and right now you were about to meet one of his suppliers.

He walked over to the couch were you still sat frozen in fear, pushing his hands between the two cushions and pulling out a gun, checking to see if it was loaded. Your eyes widened before meeting his. "Look I'm serious Y/N," he said quietly, "just stay right there, keep your mouth shut and be cool. These dudes ain't fuckin' around." You could only nod in response, watching closely as he placed the gun back between the cushions.

☆☆☆☆

To say the big bald guy with the face tattoos currently standing behind you was scary, would be one hell of an understatement.

"So this your little bitch?" you heard him ask. You didn't dare turn around, nervously clasping your hands together in your lap to stop them from shaking too visibly. "Nah bruh, that's my girl," Fez subtly corrected him as the guy made his way around the back of the couch. He kneeled infront of the couch and extended his hand in greeting. "Well hello there," he said. You nervously unclasped your hands and placed one in his, which he took and kissed softly. You wanted to retract your hand from the feeling of his cold, dry lips on your skin, but you had no idea if that could potentially piss him off, and you didn't want to find out what he'd do if he got mad.

"My name is Mouse, it's a pleasure to meet you," he said. How ironic you thought, but you couldn't find anything humorous in the way his stare sent chills down your spine. When he walked away you looked over to Fez again, who was sitting right across from you. He gave you a small nod as you tried your best to calm down your racing heart.

Mouse started unpacking and naming all the diffrent drugs he had available. You tried not to look as shocked as you felt, but truth was you weren't used to all of it. Yeah your boyfriend was a drug dealer, but you didn't do drugs, and he's made it his life's mission to keep it that way You turned around and caught a glimpse of all the different bottles and pills all packed in big plastic zip lock bags.

"7750," Mouse's lackey Custer said as he finished calculating the price of everything at a quite impressive speed. Fez quickly got the paper bag with the money, throwing it to Mouse, who threw it to Custer. "Sure you don't want no Fentanyl?" he asked. "Nah man I'm cool off that shit. Too many OD's, man. I don't want the heat," Fez said calmly.

Mouse turned around to where you sat. "How about you pretty girl," he asked, "you ever tried Fentanyl?"

"No," you said quietly, still looking down at your lap. "Nah, she's good bro," Fez said as Mouse took a seat next to you on the couch and placing his arm behind you on the back of it. He used his outstretched hand to play with the loose strands of your hair. "You gonna let your boy talk for you?" he asked with a smile. You looked over at Fez, not knowing of you should answer him or not. "I don't know—"

"Don't look at him, look at me." You felt as though you might burst into flames if you did look at him. You turned your head slightly towards him, and you were met with a smile that made your stomach churn nervously. "You ever tried it?" he asked again.

"Yo forreal bruh, I don't want her fuckin' wit that shit," Fez said through a clenched jaw. You could hear the irritation and anger in his voice. Whether it was aimed at you for being here right now or at Mouse talking to you, you didn't know.

Mouse ignored Fez's talking, moving closer to you until his mouth was at your ear. "You know that feeling when you cum so hard you can't feel or hear shit?" he asked. You frowned, turning your face away from him and looking down at your lap once again. You didn't want to answer him, you didn't want to be talking to him anymore. "You like that feeling?" he added. You couldn't do anything but nod dumbly, afraid of what he might do if you ignored him.

"Well shit, you gon' love this."

Soon he was reaching for his pockets, pulling out a knife and a pouch of liquid Fentanyl, placing a small amount of the substance on the tip of the blade. He bought it closer to your face, and before you could think you were instinctively shaking your head and moving your head away from the knife.

"I don't— I don't think I should," you said softly. "What, you don't trust me?" he asked. "Yo for real man, she's good," Fez said desperately trying to diffuse the situation. He was praying that you didn't come close to that blade, he didn't want you using that shit at all. "Shut the fuck up bitch," Mouse said, still looking at you, "ain't nobody talkin' to you."

"Tell your boy I ain't talking to him right now. Tell him to shut the fuck up," he said to you. You looked over at Fez, the tears already burning behind your eyes. "C'mon don't be scared. It won't bite you." His voice bought your attention back to the blade that was still infront of your face.

"C'mon, try it."

Fez was shaking his head at you, praying that you weren't stupid enough to take up his offer. You were shaking like a leaf. You didn't know what to do, you just wanted to get out of this situation as fast as possible.

Without a second thought you placed your mouth on the tip of the knife and licked the substance off. Please don't let me die the words replayed in your head over and over and over as you felt yourself slowly and quietly slip into a diffrent state. After a while you couldn't even sit up straight anymore, and you found yourself softly falling on the couch cushion. Please don't let me die please don't let me die please don't let me die please—

"It hits quick," you heard Mouse's voice faintly as you tried desperately to hold onto some form of lucidity. Fez was watching you closely, trying to see if you were still conscious. "You like the way that feels?" he asked placing your leg over his lap. "Mhm," you managed to get out through lips that felt as heavy as concrete. "You wanna couple of patches pretty girl?" he asked and you replied with what you hoped was a yes. He got the patches from his jacket pocket and placed them beneath the waistband of your sweatpants.

"Its gon' cost you three hundred," he said to you, but looking over at Fez, "C'mon, pay up pretty girl."

"I only have like, seven dollars on me," you said, slurring your words like a drunk. "I said three hundred," Mouse repeated running his fingertips along your leg. "I bought like, groceries and shit." You could feel the drool running out your mouth and down your cheek, but it felt like your body was nailed to the couch. You felt so relaxed, so good and fuzzy that you couldn't even be bothered by the drool.

"Yo Mouse, lemme pay for it man," Fez spoke up. "I thought you was too good for Fentanyl" Mouse said with a taunting smile. "What is it, everybody changing they motherfuckin' minds on me?" he asked turning to Custer who sat on the back edge of the couch laughing.

"She can't afford it, she gon' have to find another way of paying me. Straight up," he said, now rubbing along your leg. "Ok," you replied, thinking he was still talking to you. Fez wanted nothing more than to pull out the gun from between the two cushions and shoot Mouse right there and then. He could feel himself getting angrier with every stroke of Mouse's hand along your clothed leg.

"Yo man, jus' lemme pay for it. Got the money right here."

Fez stood up from the couch, and placed three hundreds in Mouse's hand. "Damn, your boy must love you. Its gon cost you six hundred now, man."

☆☆☆☆

After Fez gave Mouse his extra money he counted the bills before standing up to leave. "It's always a pleasure doing business with you," he smiled, pushing your leg from his lap and getting up from the couch. As soon as the door closed behind him, Fez stood up, taking the Fentanyl Mouse had left on the couch and calling Ash. "Flush that shit down the toilet, and go grab the Narcan, just in case," he said placing the pouch in Ash's hand.

He went over to the couch were you were still laying quietly and motionless, your one leg still hanging off the couch. He carefully pulled it back up the couch, maneuvering it to prevent you from rolling onto your stomach, and covered your body with the small blanket that layed by the couch's end. He sat by your head on the couch, softly stroking your hair and praying that you were okay. Your eyes fluttered open when you felt his soft touch on your head. "'M sorry," you slurred, trying to keep your eyes open, to stay awake. Your breathing was irregular and soft, and you felt a dull discomfort in your chest.

"It's ok," he said softly, wiping away the layer of sweat from your forhead. "I ain't leaving you."

When Ash returned with the Narcan you were quickly given some in each nostril and after a while your breathing returned to a somewhat normal tempo. You couldn't fight the urge to sleep anymore and soon you were closing your eyes and dozing off.

☆☆☆☆

You layed in bed next to Fez feeling like absolute shit. You couldn't fall asleep. The dull pressure in your bladder and the constant nausea made it impossible to get comfortable. You turned around slowly, to find Fez laying next to you, his eyes trained on you. He hadn't left your side since your little run-in with Mouse, and had you stay with him until you felt better. He even went as far as to ask one of your friend to bring you clean clothes from your house.

"How you feelin'?" he asked, voice thick from sleep. You only shook your head no, you couldn't even find the strength to talk. "You want some' to eat?" he asked softly. The mention of food made your stomach churn uncomfortably and before you knew it you were jumping out of bed and making a beeline for the bathroom for what felt like the millionth time.

You felt Fez's hand rubbing circles into your back softly as you threw up once again. "Let it all out, baby," you heard him say softly. He knew you hated throwing up, and he hated seeing you ill, so he tried his best to give you any sort of comfort.

After you finished you flushed the toilet and wiped your mouth. The cold tiles beneath your knees and the warm press of Fez's hand against your even warmer body grounded you. "I'm sorry for taking that shit," you said through quiet sobs. You hadn't even noticed you'd been crying. "Is alright," Fez said softly. He hated seeing you cry more than anything. "You'll be alright, okay?" he said, pulling you into a hug, "I ain't going no where. Gonna look after my girl."

#fezco euphoria #fezco fanfic #fezco x you #fezco x reader #fezco fic #fezco x y/n #fezco #fez euphoria #fez x reader #fez x y/n #fez fanfic #likedovesinthewindd

[stannyramirez]

𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞

 ❝Not a side or a main, I’m the only bitch he entertains. ❞

 ❝All my battles have been won but the war has just begun. ❞

 ❝The city looks so pretty, do you wanna burn it with me? ❞

 ❝As in heaven as on earth, we’ve been dead since our birth. ❞

 ❝Thank God I ain’t have to smack a bitch today. ❞

 ❝If I see you in the street, bitch, your ass is done. ❞

 ❝I don’t need your opinion, I do what I fuckin’ want. ❞

 ❝If he don’t eat it, he a d-bag. ❞

 ❝I’m killing myself when bitches would kill to be me. ❞

 ❝He keep calling, I ignore it. he says I’m crazy. Don’t I know it? ❞

 ❝I’d rather just do it then I’ll think about it later. ❞

 ❝I never learn my lesson, so I always do it twice. ❞

 ❝Say something once, why say it again? ❞

 ❝Cut deep and I’m still alive, I’ll talk my shit ‘til the day I die. ❞

 ❝They won’t fix it, they ain’t with ya. They won’t muzzle the mouth that just bit ya. ❞

 ❝Might show up to the party with a blunt — might get stoned, might get drunk. ❞

 ❝Walking passed the mirror like, ooh, damn, I’m fine. ❞

 ❝Haunted house, I make him scream. ❞

 ❝Bonafide hustler making my name. ❞

 ❝No one on the corner has swagger like us. ❞

 ❝We pack and deliver like UPS trucks. ❞

 ❝I got a basket full of lemons and they all taste the same. ❞

 ❝You can spend your whole life working for something just to have it taken away.❞

 ❝I don’t know why I say the things that I say, but I say them anyway. ❞

 ❝Keep on building prisons, gonna fill them all. Keep on building bombs, gonna drop them all. ❞

 ❝Chaos and commotion wherever I go. ❞

 ❝Tonight, I’m gonna let the Devil in. ❞

 ❝It’s my party, and I’ll fuck who I want. ❞

 ❝Who are you to change this world, silly boy? ❞

 ❝I’m a gangster, but I’m such a fuckin’ lady. ❞

 ❝First to watch my story but don’t like me? Weird. ❞

 ❝Never mind what I had to do to get these diamonds. ❞

 ❝These bitches wanna judge me but I don’t care. ❞

 ❝Only want a love where the card never declines. ❞

 ❝My baby is my employer. ❞

 ❝No, I don’t want your number. No, I don’t want to give you mine. ❞

 ❝Sun goes down, another dreamless night… you’re right by my side. ❞

 ❝You say go fast, I say hold on tight. ❞

 ❝Got you so obsessed, it’s sickening. ❞

 ❝You know I might break your heart, just let it slide. ❞

 ❝Could hurt you really bad, take everything. ❞

 ❝I let you try it, now you want to buy it, but you know my price is going up. ❞

 ❝So what if I’m toxic? ❞

 ❝Yes, sir, I’m’a do it again. I’m fucking him, her, probably they and them. ❞

 ❝I know you’re wondering what I’m gonna say, I do, too. ❞

 ❝My mind always wonders what will I say? I wish I knew… ❞

 ❝I love myself, I wanna see it. ❞

 ❝I’ma do just what I like on the regular. ❞

 ❝It’s really not my fault if you’re scared of a sweet little unforgettable thing. ❞

 ❝No, I’m not sorry. I’m just loving my body. ❞

 ❝You know I don’t give a motherfuck about your last name. ❞

 ❝Has someone like me ever existed? ❞

 ❝I can’t help it, I just woke up like this. ❞

 ❝Nightmare dream girl, I am what your type is. ❞

 ❝When I go into that ground, I won’t go quietly. ❞

 ❝I got troubles, they won’t let me be. ❞

 ❝I’ve been on the run since I was a boy. ❞

 ❝I’ve got troubles of more than one kind. ❞

 ❝If I had a dick, you’d probably lick it like a lollipop. ❞

 ❝Bitches say they fuckin’ with me, chances are they’re probably not. ❞

 ❝If he had a twin, I would let them run a train. ❞

 ❝I swear I feel like a toilet bowl shitting on everything I’ve said or I’ve done. ❞

 ❝Thanks for the talk, are we done? ❞

 ❝I’m over wasting time in life trying to be something I’m not. ❞

 ❝Do you ever feel like you’re underwater, drowning inside? ❞

 ❝I’m not gonna hang my head and be another accident. ❞

 ❝I’ve given up our romance. I have nothing left for love. ❞

 ❝I’m not sick, but I’m not well. ❞

 ❝Fingertips like memories, I can’t forget the curves of your body. ❞

 ❝Been around the world and found that only stupid people are breeding. ❞

 ❝I don’t even have a TV. ❞

 ❝Put me in the hospital for nerves and then they had to commit me. ❞

 ❝It’s a sin to live so well. ❞

 ❝I’d like to turn off time and kill my mind. ❞

 ❝Hear the voices in my head, I swear to god it sounds like they’re snoring. ❞

 ❝If you’re bored then you’re boring. ❞

 ❝The agony and irony, they’re killing me. ❞

 ❝She says she loves me at dusk, but at dawn I pack up my things and I’m gone. ❞

 ❝Never been a perfect soul but I will not apologize. ❞

 ❝I did a lot wrong that I can’t make right. ❞

 ❝That face, baby, it ain’t fair. ❞

 ❝I eat boys like you for breakfast. ❞

 ❝I never said it’s right, but I’m gonna keep doing it. ❞

 ❝I’m sick and, honestly? I’m getting high off it. ❞

 ❝We don’t deal with outsiders very well. ❞

 ❝They can smell the intention on you. ❞

 ❝They call me an American horror show. ❞

 ❝What I gotta do to find a sub or a dom to choke me? ❞

 ❝I could be your little monster. ❞

 ❝I like when you piss me off, it usually means the sex is rough. ❞

 ❝I am the big idea. ❞

 ❝If you got a problem, better speak up. ❞

 ❝My generation’s had enough, and you should be afraid. ❞

 ❝I like my coffee black just like my metal. ❞

 ❝I can’t wait for you to shut me up. ❞

 ❝I’m friends with all my demons. ❞

 ❝I’m the definition of the worst kind of mean. ❞

 ❝I will not die in the night but in the light of the sun with the ashes of this world in my lungs. ❞

#rp meme #sentence meme #inbox meme #vvmeme

[holdmecloser-gandydancer]

for the prompts to shake things up: 21 with thb and/or anyone else you feel like from at the bureau, if you feel so inclined!

"so it was YOU who took a full bite out of that stick of butter!! please. please. why??" from this prompt list!

Taako can’t stand living with other people.

Eh, that’s a little harsh, he supposes. He can stand it just fine, he just hates it. That’s a little nicer. Probably.

It’s not so much the being around other people he hates, it’s the sharing of space. He’s very particular with how he thinks stuff should be arranged. That’s not such a bad thing, he thinks.

But the communal kitchen thing will probably kill him if it doesn’t kill a colleague first.

He swears he’s the only motherfucker on this moon who has any idea what food safety even is. Every single day he has to remind these dunces that meat can’t defrost on the counter and milk shouldn’t be stored in the door and that you shouldn’t eat two fucking deviled eggs that have been sitting out on a windowsill for gods know how long, are you actually a lunatic?

That’s why he takes advantage of the kitchen at, what some might call, whack ass hours. Nobody to bother him, nobody sniffing around his pots and pans, nobody trying to sneak a bite.

He doesn’t share food and nobody needs to know why.

He’s craving an omelet. A fancy one. One with potatoes. And spinach. And lots of goat cheese. And onions. And garlic.

He’s contemplating more components as he whips his eggs up. As he’s rummaging around one of the cabinets he’s charmed, he idly wonders whose bright idea it was to build a secret moonbase without decent storage in the living spaces. His hand closes around the cool metal of his nice copper pan and he does his best to extract it noiselessly.

He turns the burner on and looks around for his nice butter. They apparently like, sing to the cows or some shit. It’s one of the little luxuries he’ll indulge in since it just makes food taste so much better. When he pulls it out of the fridge, however, he’s horrified to see just how the damn stick’s been brutalized.

He can’t use the rest of the stick, the thought genuinely makes him want to gag. So now he’s out a nice breakfast and a few silver pieces.

Good thing he’s going to be so calm and normal about this butter abuse.

-

Attention all occupants of this dormitory, please make your way to the kitchen ASAP. Or else.

Taako, what are you—

All good here, Madam D, never you mind!

Taako, this is inappropriate use of Bureau—

The intercom cuts off abruptly. Even with having just met the guy, Magnus has a feeling that Taako means business and isn’t keen on waiting. Merle and Robbie stir and make their way to the elevator. On their way down to the kitchen, even more groggy Bureau members step onto the elevator.

Merle and Magnus find themselves quietly humming along to the tune.

They all find Taako standing in the dorm kitchen and scowling. He says nothing for a moment before marching up to Robbie. “Open your mouth.”

He looks down the line at other Bureau members. “Uh, wh—”

“Just show me your teeth and this will be painless,” Taako demands, clutching a stick of butter in other hand.

After a reasonable amount of hesitation, Robbie opens his mouth and grimaces, exposing his teeth.

Taako squints, looking from the butter to Robbie’s mouth and back to the butter. “Close it, you’re clean.”

“Taako, what’re you doing ‘sides freaking out Rusty here?” Merle asks.

“Uh my name’s actually Robbie,” Robbie clarifies before being waved off by Taako.

“Well, Merle, I was just trying to make myself a bangin’ breakfast. Big ol’ omelet with a ton of shit. But do you know what the first step of making an omelet is?” Taako paces up and down the line of Bureau members he’s assembled in the kitchen, smacking the stick of butter in his hand against his palm.

“Cracking some eggs?” Avi ventures. Taako glares at him.

“Cracking some eggs,” Taako repeats, “Is but one of many ‘first steps’ in making an omelet. Don’t ask how there are multiple first steps, I am a wizard and a chef, not a fucking scientist. But perhaps the most important step is putting a big knob of butter in the pan and letting it become nice and foamy. But I can’t do that today! And do any of you care to venture a guess as to why?”

He’s met with blank stares. Typical.

“It’s because one of you has decided to bite into my stick of butter with your gaping wide maw,” Taako hisses.

“Can’t you just like, transmute some more butter or some shit? That way you don’t have to interrogate us at ass-o’clock in the morning?” Killian says flatly.

It’s a blink and you’ll miss it moment, but Taako’s jaw tightens and his eyes harden a little. Whatever comes out of his mouth next is going to be some evasive shit and Magnus knows it. And he’s not sure how.

“It’s about the principle of it all,” Taako deflects. That tracks.

“Wait, I thought we were calling her the Director, not the principal,” Merle interjects.

Taako casts him a withering glare. “Also, who has the spell slots to waste?”

Magnus grimaces and puts his hand up. “Hey, listen, Taako. Don’t be mad—”

“Probably gonna be mad now, my man.”

“—But it was me,” Magnus admits. “You can check it against my teeth or something.”

“I could cast Zone of Truth,” Merle offers.

“Eh, not so sure you should be wasting your spell slots. After all, they’re so helpful when you use them,” Taako says. “Why the actual shit have you done this?”

Magnus looks around sheepishly for a minute. “Well, I was eating this spicy soup, like really spicy, and my mouth was burning and you said that drinking milk straight from the carton was a no go but I also knew that dairy soothed mouth burn.”

Taako doesn’t say anything for a little while. He pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a sigh that could extinguish a hundred years’ worth of birthday candles. “So instead of drinking milk straight from the carton, you decide to bite my stick of nice butter.”

Magnus nods.

“I hate the moon.” He tosses the stick of butter towards Magnus. “You’re all dismissed, except Magnus who is going to Fantasy Costco, replacing my butter, and dealing with that cat at the cash register.”

#rip (reeses in pieces) #anistarrose #thanks rose!! #reese writes #taz balance #it is vital to me that we all operate under the assumption that the first dorm thb lived in did have a big communal kitchen #that was shared with the rest of the dorm #and also this takes place before murder on the rockport limited which is why they aren't calling robbie pringles yet lsdfjlsd

[fayoftheforest]

rating CATG based on how sickly I think they’d be <3

(part two to this post about the main five :)

Craig: 8/10. We’ve all heard this motherfucker speak. This guy’s sinuses are Fucked Up! He has a recurring case of the sniffles and he is not happy about it >:( He rarely gets seriously ill, but even a minor cold is enough to have him moping about with a cartoon rain cloud over his head. He is simply So Over being sick, and can you blame him? His sinus troubles often lead to headaches, or worse, earaches, which sucks major ass. No matter how much of a dickhead he may be, his pitiful appearance when ill is enough to melt even the coldest of hearts.

Clyde: 6/10. Oh my god, is this guy gross when he’s sick :/ You know those little kids who cough as loudly as possible with their eyes bugging out of their head, right into your fucking face? Clyde was that kid, and he never grew out of it. He is just simply so overwhelmed by how shitty he feels, that he feels the need to constantly remind everyone else of it too! Pity is his lifeblood. If he’s lucky, he’ll get a couple tuts and a “Poor thing,” and if he’s even luckier and has a Special Someone then perhaps they’ll agree to stroke his hair whilst he lies, snivelling, with his head in their lap.

Jimmy: 4/10. In contrast to Clyde, the absolute last thing he’s after is pity when he’s ill. He’s out here making crack-ups between coughs and grinning like this whole sickly business is some sort of private joke. People ask him how he’s feeling, and he’s like, never better lol! And they’re like, um?? Lol?? If things get bad, he will quietly ask a close friend or Special Someone for assistance, and whether they might be able to take care of him for a few days. He might secretly feel a little anxious about being a burden on his caretaker(s), but they reassure him that’s never the case, and he’s able to rest easy with them by his side until he recovers—goofing around all the while, of course.

Tolkien: 2/10. Being vitamin C’s number one biggest fan, Tolkien’s immune system is thriving. He rarely gets sick, which of course pisses off those in his life who do, because it’s Just Not Fair! Just because he gets a full nights sleep, eats plenty of fruit and veg, and regularly exercises doesn’t mean he should be able to float through life this easily! How dare he >:( On the occasion that he does fall ill, he will do the sensible thing and rest up until he’s feeling better. In doing so, he will be careful to isolate himself so that he doesn’t spread it around. Sure, he might get a little lonely, but he doesn’t mind too much, and reassures himself it’s the best thing to do right now. However, this gets his friends very worried because Tolkien is sick?? Sick all alone?? By himself?? With no one to help/make things worse?? Oh, that simply will not do! Cue the rest of the gang showing up unannounced at his door, interrupting his tranquillity to “take care of him”. He’s all, ‘Guys, you really shouldn’t be here, I’m contagious,’ but do those fuckers listen to him? Hell no! Which of course leads to the rest of the gang catching his cold, leaving him to deal with the fallout, exasperated. (But perhaps that’s for another post >:)

Tweek: 7/10. This guy never sleeps and lives on a diet of coffee beans which may or may not be laced with meth. You think he has what it takes to fight off a cold? Please. His immune system is in shambles. But because Tweek is already pale, with chapped lips and dark rings under his eyes, it’s hard to tell when he’s come down with something. The true tip off to his poor health is his drowsiness. His typical skittish, light-sleeper status is no more. You could crash symbols next to his ears and he’d just huff and roll over. No longer a nocturnal menace to society, Tweek is out cold by 7pm every night, and does not rouse until 11am the next morning, peppering the rest of the day with naps. During the fleeting moments when he’s awake, he is mumbling about headaches and a dry mouth, and how everything is terrible and life is just a never-ending cycle of suffering and anguish, or something. On the plus side, he will carelessly fall asleep cuddled up to whoever is sitting next to him on the couch, which is pretty cute.

Thanks for reading! I’d love to see your own headcanons & ratings too :)

#south park #sp craig #sp tweek #sp clyde #sp jimmy #sp tolkien #i actually loved writing these so much i'm definitely gonna do more headcanon stuff in the future ^-^ #headcanons

[takamikeiigos]

• though keigo tends to be loud, seemingly carefree, and outgoing, he's convinced himself that hero work is his #1 priority and he has zero time to be getting all up in a tizzy about feelings

• this man probably doesn't even know what a long, meaningful hug feels like. but what does it matter because he's a hero, he doesn't have time to be mulling over that kinda stuff

• now don't get me wrong, keigo has all of the basic human wants and needs for love, affection, companionship, etc. but has managed to tuck those thoughts away deep in the back of his mind

• so he spends his free time alone watching movies by himself while eating takeout, or finding somewhere high on the skyline to perch upon while the breeze caresses him and gives him comfort while he's deep in his thoughts

• when it comes to his avian characteristics and needs, he knows many people don't understand so he tends to them himself

• long tiresome processes of preening his own wings, often getting aggravated when he can't reach a spot or can't get certain feathers to lay flat

• or when it's that time of the season and he continuously chooses to go through his ruts alone because he hasn't allowed himself time to slow down and properly take care of it, because he grew up too fast and exploring his own wants and needs was never an option

• let's talk about keigo nesting during a rut bc of pure instinct but suddenly coming to the harsh reality that he has no one to share it with

• ouch

• imagine the first time he meets you

• you think he's probably the most loud and obnoxious motherfucker you've ever met but he grows on you over time

• its only after spending a bit of time by his side that you realize little things about him that kinda break your heart

• he smiles and jokes around a lot, but when you catch him deep in thought or slipping you notice the vacant stares that make him seem far, far away

• or the fact that he doesn't touch people unless they prompt first, whether it's a high five or a pat on the shoulder, but his hands mostly remain in his pockets or by his sides otherwise

• so it breaks your heart even more when you go to give him a quick hug before checking out for the day and he completely tenses up, clearly not sure how to react

• it occupies most of your thoughts that night, before it finally dawns on you that keigo didn't reciprocate because he didn't know how to (not literally, of course)

• from then on you touch him more often - like gently putting your hand on his shoulder when you're reaching over him, or placing your hand on the small of his back when moving around him

• over-all you're in his space more, always standing a few inches closer so your shoulders touch or your hands brush

• but let's talk about that one time you both go on a mission together and keigo gets knocked around a lil bit

• you're finally able to catch up to him and the idiot is standing there covered in bruises, feathers missing and his hero outfit almost torn to shreds, and he has the audacity to smile at you like he didn't just get knocked into next week

• he tenses again when you run up to him and pull him into a frantic hug, worry ebbing from your entire being but grateful that he's still standing and alive

• but the exhaustion finally catches up to him and its then that his wall comes crashing down, his arms wrapping around you like he's clinging to you for dear life, and his head is resting on your shoulder, coming free of all those heavy thoughts he's been carrying with him

• things slowly change after that

• months later you two end up together, like two pieces of a puzzle that were lost but finally found, a relief of a perfect fit

• he texts you constantly - whether it's of things that remind him of you, or a picture of a cat he saw while on patrols, or even just to let you know you mean the world to him

• when you’re both together he almost always ends up being the one to initiate physical contact now, staying close in your space and his hand always rest against you

• on nights after a long day of patrolling, he'll come over and you'll put a movie on, cuddling close together on the couch while eating the most unhealthy junk food you could find to take the edge off

• you catch him smiling to himself one of those times, and when you look at him curiously, he shakes his head and laughs quietly

• "'s nothing baby bird, just nice to finally have someone to do this with"

• on another tiresome evening of patrolling, he flies through your bedroom window (you always leave it unlocked and open for him) and perches on your windowsill

• you can instantly tell something is bothering him by the way he's holding himself, his wings twitching and his body tense

• so you beckon him to come sit on your bed with you, thinking maybe a back rub will ease the tension. but when he finally sits down in front of you, the disarray of tangled feathers is the answer to your unasked questions

• you tell him to relax and he does, but when you hesitantly run your fingers against his feathers he nearly jumps out of his skin

• you pull your hand away as if it was burned and when you ask if you accidentally hurt him, he flushes and avoids eye contact

• "no! no, you didn't hurt me. they're just.. sensitive. 'm just not used to people touching them like that. but it.. it feels good"

• so you continue running your fingers through his feathers gently, making sure they're all in place and pulling the loose ones from his wings

• he’s all breathy sighs underneath your hands and you swear you hear him cooing every once in a while and your heart melts at the amount of intimacy and trust

• it turns into a ritual after rough days, and neither of you mind it

《《 NSFW 》》

• so look, i’m not saying keigo is a virgin but we're gonna keep going with this little needy & touch starved trend we got going. to each their own

• keigo loves being touched, but he also loves touching you

• i’m talking always pressing up against you when you’re both alone, face nuzzled in your neck while biting and licking, hands on your hips and squeezing

• clinging to you when you’re about to get out of bed, or sneaking into the shower with you bc he misses your warmth and is craving some skin on skin contact, his head nuzzled into your shoulder and his arms wrapped around you from behind

• tbh he’s probably still half asleep as he does this, too. you basically have him completely limp in your arms when you turn to start scrubbing his hair

• i’m getting a little off topic, huh?

• he’s always trying to get your attention, especially when he knows you’re busy

• he’s almost always breathless when things get hot and heavy, nearly falling apart over a make-out session

• but when you finally get him out of his clothes and on the bed where you want him, the experience is one you want to relive forever

• he’s got this wonton facial expression, chest flushed and wings puffed out, lips parted with unspoken pleas as you touch him

• the first time you even touch his dick he nearly loses it, head tossed back and fingers gripping the sheets

• "fuck.. fuck that feels so good dove, please don't stop"

• he’s so sensitive, his skin feels like it might burst into flames because of how worked-up he's getting

• the sight of him falling apart from a simple hand job is a sight to see, something you weren't expecting to get you going but it is

• you stroke him slow, your grip just loose enough where he ends up having to work for it, all the while you're gauging his expressions

• keigo is a talker, loud and completely unashamed of the filth pouring from his lips as he fucks up into your fist, his jaw slack and his brown pinched in pleasure and concentration

• "please baby, right there. god, you feel so fucking good, please don't stop. fuuuuck"

• when you decide to touch his wings out of sheer curiosity, you weren't expecting to his reaction to turn you on as much as it did

• keigo arching off the bed with a broken "f-fuck!", yanking you forward into a harsh kiss as he moans broken please and appraisals into your mouth, whining

• he finally comes in thick spurts over your hand, his hips stuttering as he thrusts upward to milk the final drops of his come, chest heaving and breathy pants falling against your lips, his hands tangled in your hair

• touch starved, needy, and sensitive

don't get me started on my man's going into a rut. whoo, good stuff.

sorry this is so long!! i got very carried away once i got into it.

if anyone wants to request anything, please do?? i would love that, especially since I'm trying to learn more about this beautiful bird-boy. nonetheless i hope y'all enjoyed!!

♡ ky

#keigo takami #bnha hawks #bnha keigo takami #mha hawks #mha keigo takami #hawks headcanons #keigo takami headcanons #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #takamikeiigos #ky writes #headcanons #bnha #hawks

[milkacchan]

Request for anon: Fav boys with an S/O that's usually a hardass but has a moment of just 'oh my god that's so fucking cute' that they start crying??

Bakugou:

• Listen, you weren't totally against showing emotion but you really only showed two

• Frustration and 'happiness'

• Aka you laughed a lot but had no problem blowing up on someone

• No one had ever seen you outside of those two moods

• Half the class just assumed you never got sad or anything

• The other half assumed you never really had a reason too but maybe one day you'd snap

• Crying? You? Off the table.

• You're not capable of it

• They'd seen you detach yourself from things without a second thought

• CRAZY how you and Bakugou actually WORKED together in a relationship

• To be honest Bakugou doesnt even know if he's seen you cry

• He figures he'll see it eventually

• And he's right :)

• Bc one day you two are walking ahead if the bakusquad

• And theres this fucking puppy

• And it's so small

• Its a lil weiner dog

• And an audible rasp is ripped out of your throat followed by a small 'oh my god'

• His head fuckin WHIPS around• And he's met with you tearing up as you stare at this small dog and his mouth d r o p a

• This??? This is what it takes for you to cry????

• You put a hand over your mouth, mumbling something else and Bakugou is having a stroke

• You're like full crying now

• There are t e a r s

• He moves a little closer, wrapping and arm around your shoulder

• "Are you seriously crying over a dog right now?"

No words. You just nod.

• He accepts it

• No questions asked

• Bakusquad is what you call

• V fuckin confused

• "I want a puppy," you mumbled, breathing uneven.

"I know,"

"Katsu he was so tiny,"

"I know,"

• Cue more crying

Izuku:

• Hard ass 100%

• emotionally constipated on the Bakugou level

• emotion what's that??

• Idk

• Neither do you apparently

• You were just chilling most of the time

• Just- looking really blank

• never really felt comfortable with showing a lot of emotion

• People could use that against you

• call you week-

• You didn't want that

• you were dating the new symbol of peace, you had to keep up

• This happens during a rescue

• You get people out and once you're standing on the sidelines, the fight over- this little boy runs up to you, hugging your legs

• Thank your's are falling out of his mouth and he looks teary eye'd

• He puts his hands up and makes grabby hands and you immediately pick him up

• You kiss his forehead, your hold on the child tightening

• I mean at this point you're crying too

• Bc he was so damn cute

• Even with all the dirt on his face

• And Izuku is just standing there

• baffled

• bc you

• the person who was literally STABBED four times and kept a straight face the whole time about a year ago

• is crying over a child saying thank you

• He takes care of the press- and whatever else he needs to before slowly making his way over to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

• The boy was still in your arms

• "You okay princess?"

"Fine, thanks,"

• New image for the press!!

• You went from known for no emotion to Oh my god they have emotion????

• ur v upset about it

Hitoshi:

• He know you cant express emotions exactly how you want

• you'd told him it always felt weird and uncomfortable

• Especially letting other people see it

• Deadass took him 3 months after the initial four you guys were dating to pry that out of you

• He's never really minded though

• he just wants you to feel comfortable and be okay

• So he's always gone along with the casually mean laugh a lot vibe you've had

• But one day

• one faithful day

• you two are walking after an icecream date

• And you see these 2 little kittens in a beat up box

• you GASP and your hand immediately leaves his as you jog over

• And you coo at them, picking them up, one in each hand

• He's behind you when the water works start

• "Toshi...they're so cute-" you sniff

"Are you crying?"

"No- Yeah, just look at them. They're so tiny, they're gonna die out here alone,"

"Oh my god babe,"

"Toshi we have to take them back."

"I don't know if we can do that, we can take them to a shelter-"

• you're full on sobbing now, a blubbering and hiccuping mess

• he feels like he's gonna pass out

• what's he supposed to do

• you chose now to start crying??

• "No-No because they might end up on the street again and they need love, toshiiiii-" you whine out

• So he hugs you from behind, using one hand to pet the cat in your left hand. "Okay, we'll take them back. We can talk to Aizawa sensei."

• he presses a gentle kiss to your neck

• You def apologize later for crying in front if him, almost refusing to look him in the eye

• He flicks you and tells you to do it more often

Sero:

• hardass?? Yes and no

• You vibe

• you just chill and go with the punches

• but GOD do you refuse affection and basic human emotion.

• It took him 3 MONTHS to convince you to go out with him

• That he wasn't going to hurt you or judge you

• 3 MONTHS

• And what felt like fucking forever for you to accept his advances for affection

• He's so patient with you, you'll never find another man like this

• pls keep him forever

• Anyway now yall just vibe together

• But he's never seen you upset tbh

• And he's never seen you cry

• You push all that down, constantly just staying in a place of whatever

• He's a little concerned about it ngl

• but he doesn't know how to really help it

• Has deadass secretly been reading books about it

• Anyway

• One day y'all are chilling

• You're in his room

• he's at his desk- looking over an essay that was due the next day and you were in his hammock, already having finished it

• But he was bopping

• he had an earbud in one ear and he was mumbling along with the song, bopping his head and moving around in his chair, randomly bursting out a lyric here and there

• And then he heard a sniffle

• He immediately turns around and he see's you

• Your eyes are watery

• he pulls his earbud out and he's making his way over to you, clearly worried

• "Babe what's wrong?"

You shake your head, waving him off.

"No no, c'mon tell me-"

"You're just so damn cute and I love you so much. Precious."

• He's confused for a moment before it processes and he grins

"Is that why you're crying?"

"Yes!" You wipe your eyes again. "Thank you,"

He climbs into the hammock carefully, and wraps his arms around you.

• Not particularly what he had in mind when you finally decided to show emotion like that but he'd take it

Kirishima:

• puppy and cat

• aka

• Bubbly jock and hard ass motherfucker who can and will kill you

• He knows that you cant freely express what you feel all the time

• He understands more than most people think

• Because he knows it's easier to just be bitter than risk getting hurt again

• and you've opened up a lot!!

• and he's proud of you! Really.

• He tells you all the time and you gag and call him a sap but he knows that you secretly enjoy it

• Anyway you two are eating lunch outside

• Kirishima is babbling about something that happened after class the other day and you were eating quietly listening to your boyfriends ramblings

• And suddenly he feels a finger on his lips

• He opens his eyes confused, going to talk again before you sush him

• You're looking at a bird

• a REALLY small bird

• you take a small piece of bread from his sandwhich

• "Hi baby," you coo, "how you doin? Want some food?" You slowly hold the piece out

• The birds head tilts a little and he takes a hop

• then another

• and he watches you tense up

• and the bird takes the bread piece and flies away, he watches it go before looking back at you

• he about has a stroke

• you're fucking crying

• "Babe- wait- why are you crying?" He puts a hand on your shoulder

"What the fuck, that was so cute. Eij, he was so cute."

"Well yeah-"

"Jesus he was so tiny," you sniff, "did you see the way he tilted his head- oh my god and his little hop? No fuck off I'm gonna cry more,"

• And you do

• But honestly he doesn't even care bc you're finally letting something else in

• and it means you're comfortable around him

• so he only wraps his arms around your waist and pull you closer

• "he was very cute,"

#Bakugou Katsuki #Katsuki Bakugou #Bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou Katsuki x reader #Izuku Midoryia #Midoryia Izuku #Izuku x reader #Midoryia x reader #Deku x reader #shinsou hitoshi #hitoshi shinsou #hitoshi shinso x reader #hitoshi shinsō #sero hanta #hanta sero #sero hanta x reader #Sero #eijirou kirishima #kirishima eijirou #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima x reader #eijirou x reader

[bolontiku]

"Jerk"

Quick Fic

Characters: Brock Rumlow, Reader

Posted: Apr 10th

A/N: I haven't written anything I've wanted to but I remembered this one time the boss made me blush so here it is. With Brock cause I love him.

WARNINGS: none

Like, Comments, & Reblogs are always appreciated and loved.

It was really unfortunate timing. Honestly, it was why they had dubbed you Murphy. Anything that could, would go wrong. 

In this case it was someone overhearing your opinion on dating. 

Brock stopped right in the doorway as you finished speaking, your gaze meeting his as he offered you a smirk. 

Honestly. You purse your lips together and stir your coffee while looking away. Why was it that he happened to show up when you said the most ridiculous things? 

He was there when you had declared that you would fight, more than likely get beaten down but that you would go down swinging to which Brock had chuckled quietly.

It wouldn't be so bad if you didn't have a major crush on the guy. 

He was a jerk. A major asshole of a jerk. Everyone knew it, he knew it, walked around with the knowledge of it. Still, he flirted with Myrtle at the front desk, getting her flustered and readjusting her glasses as her face grew hot. He always stopped by Grace's desk to remind her she was a grumpy old woman, who flicked him the bird but smiled as he cracked up and walked away. Dropped his coffee off at Ronald's desk telling him he spat in it (it was perfectly fine and exactly as the old man took it). 

Such a jerk. 

Back to the matter at hand, namely your mouth. He had moved to stand closer to you. It wasn't hard to miss the guy, even being a super jerk, he definitely stood over you, shoulders broad and a presence that wasn't to be ignored. You usually had no problem running your mouth and here he was, you steadied yourself knowing he wasn't going to let this go. The girls that had been chattering with you skipping away, deserting you. Great. 

"So," he started, brown eyes intense on you, "what you are saying is that if someone just asks you out on a date you'll go? That right?"

You took a sip of your coffee, wondering what exactly he did in this office, he seemed to just be wandering around everyday. "Why not?" He raised an eyebrow, you sighed, "people make dating to be this serious shit and that's their mistake. Dating is supposed to be fun. It's where you find things out about the other person and see if it can lead into a relationship and that's where it's supposed to be serious. Dating is silly and full of mistakes. Sometimes it takes one date, sometimes a few. That's just the way I see it." You end with a small shrug of your shoulders.

You watched as he stepped closer, invading your space, you turned your face away, hands still on your cup. He didn't need to know that he intimidated you, that he was stupid hot, that you had a horribly unfortunate crush on him. 

"Then go on a date with me."

You could feel your face begin to burn. Was he serious??

He chuckled, the low deep sound causing a shiver to run through you, settling low in your belly as he leaned down, "aww, are you blushing?"

You glared up at him, "I don't think you can handle me. I like to eat."

Brock's answering smile made your breath catch. "Good. I like a girl that can eat. Tonight. After work." He pulled back, taking a step away and you realized how close he had been as cold replaced the warmth of his body. 

You stuttered, "b-b-but I'm in my work clothes!" 

His dark gaze swept down you and you held your cup to your chest as he licked his lips and nodded meeting your gaze, "that'll do."

The burn was back, chest, neck, face and ears. He couldn't be serious. This motherfucker. He always picked on you during meetings and singled you out during conferences. Constantly forcing you to step into the center of attention when you didn't want it and… now he was taking you to dinner?!

You fumed. 

Fine. 

You were gonna make him regret taking you to dinner. 

Jerk.

#jerk #brock rumlow #reader #quick fic #alternate universe

[cruisinwritealong]

R/S CandyHearts Challenge

Thank you @goodboylupin​ for this wonderful challenge! I had so much fun thinking this through. I hope you enjoy it! ♥♥♥

Thanks to @starstruck4moony​ and @kattlupin​ for the beta 😘

Remus hauls his backpack strap back up his shoulder with a frustrated groan, tightens his scarf around his neck, and then shoves his mittened hand back into his coat pocket. The bitingly cold wind blows hard and he hunches his shoulders against it. 

AAah-choo!

Shit, he feels like death. His throat is on fire and all his joints ache. His nose is raw and red, his eyes are puffy and heavy, and all he can think about is the warm blankets draped over his comfy sofa that he crawled out of this morning to trudge across the freezing campus to this fucking final. 

Last. One. 

He just has to get through this exam. One last final exam and then he’s free to sleep for the rest of his life...or until next term but still. If he was feeling well he’d be all but skipping to class. He knows this material backward and forwards. But his head is swimming and he keeps on snee- sneez-

Ah-CHOO! 

Uuuuugh.

He just has to get there, regurgitate it onto the page, hand it in, and then he can go home. He can do this. 

The snow crunches under his boots as he trudges along, forcing his feet to move one in front of the other towards his building. He’s probably sick enough to call in, but this test is with Professor McGonnagal and she only accepts death as an excuse to miss her class so she’ll definitely fail his exam if he doesn’t show and then he’ll fail the class and he could lose his scholarship and have to drop out. Then he’ll never get a job and end up on the streets and then people will look at him with pity in their eyes and hopefully toss him a coin and—oh, the coffee shop. 

Tea.

Fuck yes. A huge ass cup of tea will get him through this. That’s exactly what he needs...aaaaand if he gets the chance to see Sirius Black real quick well, that’s always good medicine—even if he doesn’t know that Remus exists. 

Sirius Black has only said six words to Remus in his whole life—“Would you like a honey bun?” And Remus had stared at him for an alarmingly long time just thinking to himself, “As long as it’s you,” but then Sirius looked confused and all Remus’ blood rushed to his face and he only mumbled a quick no thank you, grabbed his tea, and ran. Sigh. 

That was exactly 5 weeks and 3 days ago, not that Remus is counting. Or going to the coffee shop on the daily to see if he’s working. Or ordering a honey bun almost every time. Or dreaming about calling Sirius his honey bun or—

Cough Cough COUGH

Ouch. 

On second thought, maybe a coughing, snotting, feverish mess isn’t his best look. But fuck it’s freezing and he needs that tea. What time is it? Yes, he’s got plenty of time to duck in, warm-up, and make it to class. 

As soon as he’s inside the shop he pulls off his mittens, loosens his scarf, and unzips his coat a bit, all while stomping the snow off his boots before walking further in. The heat from the cozy little coffee shop defrosts his bones and hugs his aching muscles and it feels so nice that Remus moans out loud before he can stop himself. He hears a throat clearing from behind him.

Shit.

“Come on in, I got the heater cranked nice and toasty just for you.”

When he looks up, none other than Sirius Black himself is standing there in all his glorious perfection. How he can even make a barista apron look sexy is beyond Remus’ comprehension and really, really unfair.

Everything about Sirius Black is simply gorgeous. Every inch of him, down to the last detail just does it for Remus. The wisps of hair that fall around his temples, the silky look of his longer raven hair, the piercing, unique silver-blue of his eyes outlined by the curving, eloquent lashes. Remus could and has written poems and pages about just his face. Not to mention his sharp, stubbled jawline and pouty rose colored lips. And then there’s the strong, wide shoulders and strong, toned arms, and long fucking legs and that goddamn body and OK Lupin focus! He’s talking to you!!

“Umb, h-hi. It’s really cold.” Remus internally cringes at his horse and stuffy sounding voice and lack of intelligent conversation and when he looks to Sirius’ face he sees his easy smile falter a bit.

“Hey, are you ok? Don’t take this the wrong way please but, you look miserable.”

“Oh. Yeah,” he tries to laugh it off, “I habe a co—a col—AH-CHOO!” He lowers his handkerchief, “A cold. Sorry aboud that. I—”

“Remus, you should be home in bed. What are you doing out?”

“Well I juss needed some tea before my final. Trust me, I’d much radder be in bed—wait. You know my nabe? How do you know my nabe?”

“Oh, um,” Sirius’ laugh sounds forced and almost embarrassed. He scratches the back of his neck. “The red head you come in with sometimes is sort of hating, sort of dating my best friend. So...I um, I asked her who her cute friend was.” He swallows hard.

Remus has forgotten how to have a coherent thought and just stands there in silence with his jaw dropped open a bit. He blinks. 

“Buuut I’ll just get you that tea,” Sirius spins away on his heel, completely misinterpreting Remus’ silence. “Still on a cinnamon kick? I can make you your usual. Or I could make you something herbal with some ginger. I hear that helps with a cold. But I’m sure you know what’s best.” Sirius talks rapidly as he walks behind the counter and fusses with the equipment. 

Remus realizes Sirius is trying to fill the silence and quickly move on from what he just said. Because Remus is still gaping at him with his mouth open and still hasn’t said anything because motherFucker he thinks I’m cute! Cute. I’m cute. Cute friend? Oh, that’s me. Nice to meet you.

All he’s ever said to me is “honey bun” and now he knows my fucking name and I’m the cute friend and am I awake? Maybe I’m still on the sofa at home? I must be asleep because he knows my fucking name. He said… shit breathe. I have to breathe. I have to breathe and I have to talk!

“Honey bund,” blurts out of Remus’ stupid, traitorous mouth. Fucking hell.

Sirius stops the frantic tea making and lifts an eyebrow in confusion, “Honey bun?”

“I mean... I didn’t dow you dew my namb. And you asked me if I wanted a honey bund. Before. When I came in before, but that’s it.” Remus scrunches his face and tries again. “Sorry, I took bedication and I think it’s eating my brain. You said …I’m cute?”

A smile unfolds on Sirius’ face and it is like sun rays breaking through the clouds. It is breathtaking and Remus can only stand there and bask in him. Without conscious thought the corner of Remus’ mouth pulls up a bit too.

“You’re sweeter than a honey bun. And very cute.” 

“I...No that’s...You—Ah-Choo!”

“You’re also pretty sick. And as much as I want you to stay, I’m thinking you should probably be resting, yeah?”

“You’re sweet doo.” Remus smiles. “Um. I have to go take this stupid test and then sleep for a few days but...um, could we maybe, um—”

“Yes.”

They both laugh and smile at each other.

“I’d love to go out with you Remus. As soon as you feel up to it of course.”

“I’d really like that Sirius. May I habe—hab—Ah-Choo!”

Sirius frowns in sympathy. “Well I hope you can rest really soon. Here. It’s not actually tea, just um, just hot water with some cloves, lemon and ginger because my friend swears by this when she’s sick. I hope you like it. I can make something else, I just thought—”

Remus reaches out to take the cup but when his fingers wrap around the cup and Sirius’ fingers, he doesn’t let go. “This is perfect. Thank you.” 

“Good. ...Good.”

After a moment Remus lets their fingers slide apart and wraps both his hands around the steaming cup. Now he’s warm for more than one reason.

“Oh,” Sirius says, “I um, I wrote my number on the cup. You can call me if you need more tea or anything. Soup even. Or a date. Whatever you need.”

Remus laughs. “Sounds good...I’b glad I stopped in.”

“Me too.”

“See you soon Siri—Siri—Ah-Choo! Uugh.” He does his best to smile back at Sirius while he bundles up again. “Bye Sirius.”

“Feel better, Remus.” 

Sirius’ sweet caring face consumes his mind as he walks to his building, somehow not as cold as he was before. When he enters the classroom he nods hello to Lily and she waves him over to his saved seat. When he reaches his desk he sets down his tea, pulls off his mittens, scarf, and coat. Lily begins giggling to herself and Remus is very confused.

“What?” he asks her quietly. All she does is rotate his cup around so he can see the writing on the side and gives him a very knowing look.

438-9713

Feel better soon Honey Bun 

xo SB

#RSCandyHearts #wolfstar #remus x sirius #marauders #wolfstar fluff #meet cute #rated t

[cozycryptidcorner]

The Mad Prince, Chapter 13 (slightly nsfw)

tw: alcohol/drinking, drunken consensual groping.

“What are you doing?” Clementine asks, almost amused.

You’re busy rummaging around all available cabinets in the kitchen, several of them open, plates, glasses, and other kitchenette stuff laid out on the counter. While you’re pretty sure there’s a far better kitchen below your feet, this one appears mostly for aesthetic and midnight snack reasons. You, though, have a very intentional way of searching, fingers nimble as you run your hands over the inner panels, just one.

“I’m bored,” is all you say, as if that’s the only explanation she needs. Unsatisfied with what you’ve found so far, you begin to put everything back, sealing the cabinets firmly on the latch. Jumping down from the upper counter, you continue on your quest on the lower compartments.

Once you resume your rummaging, it doesn’t take you too much longer to find a strangely shaped bottle, glass long and ornately spun around a strange purple liquid. All you have to do is unlock the seal at the top, and the scent of the thin, violet liquid makes your eyes water. You haven’t had a single thing to drink with any kind of percentage since the Starward Matchmakers™ took you into their loving flock, and to say you’ve been itching for a goddamn shot would be an understatement.

“Holy shit,” you half gasp, half wince. Whatever is in the bottle smells like paint stripper, your body is already trying to cough back up the liquor you haven’t even had a chance to drink.

“What are you going to do with that?” The shell slips as a touch of her real personality peeks through, her face scowling before she catches herself.

“Drink it, duh,” you can’t read the label, the large, swooping lettering elegant and filled with opulent promise.

“Is that a good idea?” Clementine prods further, arms on her hips.

“Oh please,” you glance over your shoulder just to make sure no one else is eavesdropping on the conversation, “if I couldn’t keep my mouth shut while drunk, I’d never have a job. Besides, I have a super fun idea.”

“Super fun,” Clem echoes, eyebrows arching.

“Come on, bestie, let’s go find two other players.”

It doesn’t take a lot of time to locate the prince, in his own makeshift office he’s turned one of the rooms into. The desk has a holographic screen hovering just slightly over the slab of dark metal.

He looks at the crystalline bottle in your hand, then back up at you. “Yes?”

“I thought we could have a fun game night.” You say, gently swirling the bottle around and offering it up like a vicious cat bringing its master a dead thing as a gift. “Involving liquor, of course.”

His eyes widen as his brow arches, a quizzical gesture, you’ve come to learn, and you feel his gaze flicker over your shoulder and land on Clementine, who is probably doing her best to appear like she thinks that this idea is the motherfucking best. Then he looks back at you. “And what games are you thinking?”

“Well…” you try to wrack your brain, “I was thinking poker, but I’d be fine with blackjack, diamonds five, lemon lemon…. Or like, old maid. Monopoly, even, if you like.”

The prince blinks. “Most of those are forms of gambling.”

You feel Clementine’s aggressive aura on your back, but you offer up a nonchalant shrug. “I suppose so, but like… we don’t have to play for money or anything. Winner or loser, doesn’t matter.”

There’s a beat of silence, you can see the synapses firing within his brain as he thinks over the suggestion. Then, calmly, he suggests, “I suppose that there are things we can gamble other than money.”

“I like your style!” You shake the bottle, “I was thinking about inebriation.”

”Babe,” Clem says, her voice slightly grated, “fun idea… but no.”

Oh, now it seems like the prince is very much interested, but only on account of Clem’s quick attempt to shut it down. “What do you mean?”

You’re quick to talk over Clem’s continuing protests, “instead of gambling money, the loser of the round takes a shot. Uhhh, but since your body’s like three times bigger, you get to take two.”

“Oh, I get to take two?” He asks, cocking his head with a slightly amused look. And he’s not immediately refusing, either, you knew he wouldn’t, but you supposed he wouldn’t actually consider it so seriously. “Is this something humans do?”

“Yes,” you say, nodding, “for fun.”

“And you would like to play it with me?”

You nod again.

He mulls it over, looking back at a now-silent Clem, and says, “and will you be playing.”

“I suppose,” she says, pursing her lips.

“We were also hoping that Elias would play as well,” you say, almost slyly, “to make it an even four.”

“I will let him know.” He says, completely serious, as though he’s talking about affairs of the state, and not about getting drunk while gambling.

“Okay,” you say, bouncing on the edge of your toes in excitement.

“Okay,” he echoes, as though tasting the word on his tongue.

“See you later, then,” you take a step back, trying really hard not to smile.

“Oh my god,” Clementine mutters as you turn around, quietly enough for only you to hear. “You two are ridiculous.”

“I hear most couples are,” you whisper conspiratorially back at her as the door to the office closes.

“And here’s to thinking you were at your wit’s end just a day ago,” she says, and you can feel the motion of her eyes rolling even though you’re not looking at her. “I can already see you making out with him in your head.”

“Okay but also consider: inebriation makes for honest conversations,” you say, running your fingers along your scalp, “and I plan on having a very calm and collected conversation about things like how many people he thinks are planning to kill me, while you, my dearest and most precious friend in the entire universe, are going to be keeping Elias distracted with your fantastic tits.”

She chokes, scrabbling for words, voice cutting in and out as though her brain is fried. “He does not think my-”

“You may be trained to clock someone’s fighting style twenty klicks away by the way they shake their ass, but I,” you turn around and walk backwards to drink in her glaring face, grinning, “have been teaching myself to recognize carnal lust on sight.”

“Princess,” she says, her voice full of warning, “you’re on thin fucking ice right now.”

“See you later!” You sing, escaping into your room before she sees fit to smack you into the next century.

---------------------------------------------_

“Okay,” you say, shuffling the cards between your fingers, “rules are simple.”

To your right side, the prince, and to the left, Clementine, with Elias sitting across the table. The bottle of liquor is in the center of the table, four shot glasses in front of each person as a grim reminder that you’ll have to drink the moment you lose your hand.

“So the loser of each hand has to drink the shots placed in the betting pool,” you say, cheerfully, “except for Aksanos, who has to take an extra two because his blood alcohol level is more difficult to raise since he’s bigger than my first studio apartment.”

Their first mistake: letting you deal.

“We bet with alcohol shots based on how confident you are with how good your hand is.” You begin to deal out cards, mentally counting to five for each stack. “High card is when you have no matches, two of a kind is when you have two of the same numbers, three of a kind is the same but with three-” etcetera, etcetera. The winner isn’t the important hand, here, it’s the loser. “Folding in this context means that you take the shots you threw into the pot. Any questions?”

“I don’t understand why I have to be here,” Elias says, holding his cards like this is a game of Go Fish.

“I mean any questions in regards to the game rules?” You skip over him, just for the sake of being annoying.

“What does the winner get?” Clementine asks, lounging with one arm swung over the back of her chair. “I think the person who wins first the most should get something.”

“You mean besides an intact liver?” You ask, taking a peek at your cards. Nice, unless everyone has a really fortunate hand, you should be alright this first round. “I don’t know, I’m not exactly in a position to hand anything out.”

All eyes turn to the person with the fattest wallet, and, to his credit, the prince actually looks like he’s pondering the question. “A favor,” he seems to conclude.

“From you?” Clementine asks, sounding suddenly like she’s ready to put her competitive hat on.

“Yes.”

“And what if you’re the winner?” She asks, prodding.

“I suppose that my prize will be peace of mind.” He says, looking at his cards. “Since I won’t have to offer up my services otherwise.”

“Awesome,” you say, reaching over and pouring the potent liquor in every single one of your shot glasses, sliding one into the center of the table. “Let’s begin.”

When you first pitched the game, you thought your only real competition would be Clementine. After all, you’ve seen soldiers like her lay waste to the poker tables before, especially since ceasefires make for bored tacticians with little outlets for their strategies. As predicted, Elias continuously seems to either fold or lose, he doesn’t seem to have much of a grasp for the game in general, nor does he even care to try. The prince, however?

He starts out slowly, cautiously. Like he’s testing his boundaries. He folds once or twice, watching you closely as he throws back his shots of purple liquor. After you’ve leapt into a significant lead, the thrum of hot alcohol from your folds burning through your blood, he seems to take a sharp turn and starts winning, as in, beating you as time eats into the night.

As you shuffle the card stack once almost every hand possible could have played, you observe him closely. He’s staring at your hands, intently, watching the way your thumb flicks one half into the other, head shifting slightly as you twist your wrist to part the deck once more. Almost in an accusation, you don’t look down at your hands as you shuffle, knowing this movement by heart, and then begin tossing everyone their cards.

Elias doesn’t even look at his hand as he folds, face and ears a mottled blue as he nurses a glass of water. Clementine is ‘resting her eyes’ for ‘just a minute,’ head slumped over on the table, her bra hanging from the side of the chair (when did she even take that off?).

The prince has already learned to only look at his cards once, hand over the backs, then gauges you for any sort of reaction as he pushes his filled shot glasses in. Luckily, though, the more you drink, the less your face works, so all you offer up is a resting bitch face that would kill any human man, matching him without hesitation.

You lay your cards out, revealing a four of a kind.

He lays his out, revealing the same hand… but with straight aces.

Four shots. You have to take in four shots.

“Careful,” he says, as though he has no cares in the universe, “I hear alcohol poisoning is a terrible way to go.”

You drink the first, wiping your mouth with your sleeve and refusing to give him the satisfaction of wincing from the burn of the liquor. “I’ve had worse.”

The second shot is harder to drink without making a face, you think your nose twitches despite your attempts not to move.

Your body is sending warning signals to your head as your fingers wrap around the third shot glass, not exactly nauseous yet, but with the knowledge that you definitely will be if you finish what you started.

“I fold,” the prince says just before the liquor hits your lips.

“What?” It takes you a moment to process what he just said.

“I fold,” he repeats, pushing his winning hand to the center and grabbing the remaining shot glass.

“You can’t fold after you’ve played the round,” you say, though your body screams in relief at not having to finish the shots.

“I don’t remember that being in the rules,” he says, “besides, it’s not going to be fun if you’re passed out on the table like your friend here.”

“-’m wrake,” Clementine mumbles, her words so slurred you can barely recognize their meaning.

You wait for a beat, then put the glass down and push it in his direction. “Fine. Here, don’t forget the extra.”

“I would not dare,” he says, amusement in his tone. True to his word, he pours another shot, drinking all three in quick succession.

For a while, you didn’t think he was getting drunk, blaming his more spidery bits for his supposed immunity to alcohol, but the more you stare, the more you notice unusual symptoms in his body. Like the flushed skin around his eyes and nose. Or the way his shoulders slant as he sits. How he’s started to rest his chin on his hand.

Slowly, you begin to shuffle the cards, keeping an eye on how he seems to be watching you with more intensity than before, and you realize something. Oh, oh, for fuck’s sake, you should have noticed it before, but now that he’s drunk, he’s not hiding it so much.

“You’re counting cards,” you accuse.

“And you’re playing with a marked deck,” he responds just as snidely.

You hesitate for just a moment because you hadn’t expected to actually get caught, and then you realize; oh. OH. That’s how he started making a heavy-hitting comeback, he figured out the almost nonsensical pattern on the back of the cards is actually a code.

Fuck.

And then you think further, hands folded like you’re praying. Yes, your mind is clouded with drink, but you’re still capable of weighing the pros and cons of an extremely critical concept. It’s not about the how he figured it out, you decide, but the fact that he quickly adapted, continued playing, and even started winning… without saying anything. He could have demanded a new deck in the face of fairness, but he didn’t.

That’s so…

So…

“Hot,” you say out loud.

“What?” He sounds confused.

“I mean,” you lean back in your chair, clarifying, “if you’re going to continue being so smart and attractive, I’m going to have to have sex with you.”

Elias coughs into his glass, bless him, you forgot he was even there, with his eyes bugging out of his skull. ”Keias,” he almost sounds like he’s begging, “please excuse me for the night, I’m afraid in order to best serve you, I will need to rest and recover.”

“You are dismissed,” the prince says, face a shade of blue you didn’t think he was capable of having.

And oh boy, does Elias leave like the entire goddamn room is on fire, though with the efficiency of an incredibly drunk individual. Even though his first few steps are wobbly, he still manages to flee the thick sexual tension your aura is probably emanating through the air, shooting out the door and disappearing into the ship.

Mercilessly, as soon as the door shuts, you turn back to the large drider at the receiving end of your arousal. To his credit, he seems to be so unused to blatant invitations to use someone’s body like a goddamn carousel that he’s at a loss for words. On the other hand, you have a variety of positions you would like to try out if what the anatomy charts they showed you back at the Starward Matchmakers™ are accurate.

But first… you need to take some measures to dull the oncoming hangover.

“Let’s raid the kitchen,” you say, knowing the sudden change of pace will give him whiplash.

“I’ll call someone to carry her to bed,” the prince says, gesturing to Clem’s body, “someone who isn’t inebriated.”

“Excellent idea,” you say, knowing full well you would drop her halfway through the hallway and somehow end up breaking both your noses in progress.

A servant is ridiculously quick to retrieve her, as though they had been lying in wait just outside the door at the prince’s beck and call, but you find yourself not caring about that creepiness factor in the face of food.

“Shall I call the chef?” He asks as you push through the doors leading into the kitchen.

“Nah,” you say, “they’ll need all the sleep they can get for the breakfast we will collectively want tomorrow. I can cook, I’m not an animal.”

Already, your vision blurs as the last two shots fully hit your system. Even with the glass of water you absolutely chug like a dehydrated lava scrapper, you know it’s going to be a hot minute before you start seeing straight again if you don’t start shoving carbs down your throat. So, quick as you can, you start rifling through the many different cabinets and the three (?!) refrigerators to locate something that your drunk stomach positively craves.

“Normally,” you say, “during my nights out, I go to one of those hover-stands that park out by the clubs and stuff specifically for the drunk hungry people leaving. I don’t know how to describe just how good Abuelita’s Tacos are when it’s three am, and you’re stumbling out of the club, exhausted.”

“And is that something you often do?” He asks, voice slightly slurred.

“It’s a good way to meet people,” you climb up one of the counters, rifling through bags of food with labels you can’t read. “Especially if you’re freelance. You never know who needs to transport cargo if you don’t start asking around.”

“Mmm,” he muses, “and do many pilots tend to frequent bars for customers?”

“Only the ones that aren’t in a guild or privately hired,” you say, hopping down from one counter and heading for the other.

“And you’re not?” He’s wheedling you for information, but you’re comfortable with offering up more than usual.

“Do I strike you as someone who likes being told what to do?” You ask instead of answering. “Oh, my god, the guilds have so many rules. Cut your hair like this, wear these clothes, go to those places, don’t do drugs. Gets old fast when someone is in charge of how you live your life.”

“Hm, we will have to agree on that.” The way his hands are cradling his head is… cute, you think. “Unfortunately, sometimes we don’t have a choice.”

“Yeah I’ve heard that your mom’s a mega-bitch,” you say, surprised that you’ve never outwardly spoken against the queen before.

For a moment, you think you’ve gone too far, but then he laughs. He laughs. And it’s a beautiful laugh, you think, head empty but for the warmth of the sound. Sweet. Gentle. Nothing like the stories of a cruel, maniacal shriek, you have to stand there, speechless, committing that fucking delightful voice to memory.

“What?” He asks when he notices you’re uncharacteristically still.

“You’re cute,” you say, resuming your hunt. Aha, bread! Finally! Your stomach gurgles with joy, and your liver sighs with relief.

“Oh,” you can hear a bashful tone tangled with his words. “Thank you. It’s not every day I am observed to be so.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll just tell you every day from now on.” You find a knife and a slab of plastic you assume is a cutting board, and unwrap the bread from the clear wrapping plastic. Everything in your body screams for protein, so you begin to rummage through the fridge for anything that smells vaguely like it will satiate the craving.

Once you bring a pile of stuff to the counter, the prince says, almost like he’s taking a gamble, “you’re not exactly what I was expecting.”

You start cutting slices of bread. “You mean today? Or just in general.”

“You were such a meek little thing when we first met,” he says, almost dreamily, “I was afraid you would be so easily crushed by my enemies, and so I tried to protect you like a little, delicate flower.” He holds his hands out, as though simulating how he might hold the aforementioned plant.

“But?” You prod, adding a slab of… meat? Maybe. Cheese? Also maybe. It’s a gauntlet of stuff you’re adding to your strange sandwich.

“But, I now see that you’re a manipulative, lying cheat.” Even though those words should make your heart sink, he says them with such fondness you don’t feel an ounce of rejection. “It takes a very smart person to outdo my careful planning, and you’ve done so many times.”

You lick your thumb clean of a spread you found in the door shelf, finding it strangely savory. “And… you like that?”

“Absolutely,” he says with no hesitation. “You challenge me in all the best ways. No one does that, not anymore.”

Trying to come up with a response that doesn’t involve crying on the floor, you slide the finished sandwich in his direction. “Oh.”

“That wasn’t very romantic,” Aksanos seems to realize, eyes snapping back into reality. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound so terrible-”

You kiss him. Hard. Without the tentative shyness you had kissed him with before. Oh, no, this kiss is hungry, it’s starving, it’s full of desperation and adoration, laced with heated attraction and stifled desire. It doesn’t take long for you to introduce a tongue to this equation, and even though you don’t think he’s familiar with that concept, he’s a fast learner.

The cold metal of the counter presses up against your ass as you use it for leverage, lifting one of your legs and slinging it over his waist, pulling him closer. His hands come to rest on your hips, gilded claws pressing through your clothes, you can tell that he’s unsure of what your boundaries might be. So you help him out, breaking the kiss long enough for you to find the hem of your shirt and lift it up over your body. Just as quickly, you unclasp your bra, tossing it to the side.

He stares at your breasts like he’s never seen a pair of naked tits before, and you suppose that anatomy differences between your species might be throwing him for a loop.

“Wow,” he says, and immediately looks like he regrets it.

You laugh softly, tracing his jawline with your fingers. “Thanks, I grew them myself.”

And then you’re kissing him again, guiding his hands up to your chest as a way of encouragement. He’s careful and slow, the cool sharpness of his claws ghosting over your skin, lips and fangs so eager to please. There’s a heat building between your thighs, one that the seam of your pants only marginally relieves as you grind up against his waist.

“Give me your hands,” you manage to whisper, breaking away from him long enough to draw breath.

He’s a tad confused but obeys.

“I’m going to show you where to touch me,” you murmur, “but those knives strapped to your fingers need to be off.”

“Good idea,” he breathes in agreement.

You take his dominant hand in both of yours, taking a quick moment to kiss the heel of his palm. Then, carefully, you reach for the piece of clawed jewellery on his index finger, picking at the clasp with your fingernail until it comes loose, pulling it off and setting it to the side. You keep your hands as steady as you drunkenly can, knowing each individual ornament is worth more than what you would make in a year.

Next, pants- you need to get the last barrier between him and you off and gone. Hands shaking, you manage to undo the button just above the zipper, clasping that tiny piece of metal between your fingers-

The door opens to someone who looks like they immediately regret every single life decision that’s led them up to this point. And, in fact, they look like if you and the prince weren’t staring at them at this very moment, they would duck out and act like they never laid witness to this mess.

“A- a thousand and million apologies-” they begin.

“State your business.” Like a switch is flipped back on, he’s a regal and terrifying monarch again.

“It’s first shift for the kitchen staff, my keias, I didn’t- if I had known-”

You look up at the clock, realizing just now how late- or early, really, it is. If you were still on the planet, the prince would be getting up to start his duties soon, so... conceivably? A cook would need that head start for a fancy breakfast.

“Yeah, thanks,” you say, twisting your body to protect your nakedness as you find your shirt. Though, through your panic and drunkenness, you can’t seem to locate your bra. Oh well, the sooner you’re out here, the better. “Sorry we wrecked the place, this should have been a bedroom activity, anyways.”

And then you drag the sole heir of Lolth’s monarchal throne out of the kitchen before he decides to kill that poor cook.

#drider #exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster lovers

[lihikainanea]

After a day of dealing with a feisty/sassy Tiger, Bill loses his patience and tells her none too kindly to go fuck herself ... so she does 😈 which, in turn, only pisses Bill off more. Also, while I know that isn’t a pleasant thing to ever say to someone, I like to believe that name calling is kind of just apart of their dynamic because they don’t ever mean it as harshly or as horribly as most people do when saying things like that. To them “get fucked” is truly a term of endearment 🥰✌🏽

Ohhhh god I LOVE THIS. My favourite expression of endearment is telling people to get fucked.

Listen man, sometimes tiger is just in Brat Mode. And it’s not because she necessarily wants a punishment, it’s not because she’s fussy--it’s just because she’s tiger. She was a fireball before their whole dynamic and while he tames a little bit of it, tiger will never be fully tamed. There will always be a part of her up to no damn good, a part of her that just LOVES shoving it back to anyone and everyone, and that will never change.

So maybe she’s being a little bit bold that day--not unbearably, but homegirl ain’t backing down when she usually would, and Jesus Christ the mouth on her. Bill has had quite enough but he’s also quite aware that she’s totally goading him, that she’s doing it on purpose, and that she just wants to be a sassy little thing--so he’s not giving in either. And while this would usually merit a punishment, Bill knows that tiger is just trying to rope him in so in turn, he’s not giving in. And when she pushes again, he tells her just that--to get fucked. Shoves her away.

And tiger thinks hey big boy--that’s a hell of an idea.

So maybe with a nonchalant shrug, tiger gets up and moseys to the bedroom. Maybe she even slams the door, because she knows that it really grinds Bill’s gears. She locks it.

And then she reaches into her drawer and pulls out Jason, and gets to work. Bill is far enough away that he can’t hear it, but tiger is going banana balls on the whole sitch--so she facetimes him. And when he sees her name pop up he’s a little confused, but maybe he gets a little soff for a second because his girl is probably in there all apologetic, all small and shit, and she's too shy to come out and get him and ask for snuggles so she’s doing this instead.

“Oh sweet gi--” he coos, but then he stops. “You motherfucking son of a--”

Her moans come through the call, the camera positioned between her legs so Bill is getting a prime view as she thrusts up on her vibrator. She’s soaked, he can hear the filthy sounds the toy is making as she plunges it into her.

“Tiger, I swear to god,” she hears his footsteps stomping down the hall and she smirks, biting her lip. The doorknob jiggles--and doesn’t budge.

“Tiger unlock this fucking door right fucking now,” he slams his hand on it, and she has to stop the giggle from escaping when, seconds later, she hears his shoulder being thrown into it. It rattles in the frame--but it still doesn’t budge.

“Tiger!” he bellows, whacking his fist on it again.

Tiger just moans exaggeratedly, and Bill makes an incoherent noise as he jiggles the door knob again.

“I will spank your ass raw for this kid, I swear to god,” he shouts, “Keep fucking going, I dare you.”

“Don’t mind if I do buddy,” she yells back, followed by another moan.

And like here’s the thing right? Bill is fucking raging. And he knows tiger is really stubborn, and she’ll absolutely stick to her guns--but in the long run, he’s got the upper hand here. Tiger is in the bedroom. Eventually, at some point, she’s going to have to use the bathroom. She’s going to have to eat. And all of that? All of that is out there, with Bill. And he’s a real patient man.

Maybe he doesn’t hear a peep from her for the rest of the night, which is juuuuust fine--because now it’s a mind game. Now is when tiger is starting to regret pushing his buttons so hard, because she’s been in there for hours and all she can think about is that she’s going to have to face him eventually, and the longer she waits, the worse it’ll be. It’s the scary moment of acknowledging that this shit will have CONSEQUENCES.

And tiger waits as long as she can. Hell, maybe Bill is even mildly impressed that she has been in there for this long. He’ll check in a few times just to be sure--just a text asking “colour?” so he knows she’s not in a bad space in there, and she’ll text back “green.”. He knows the game is still afoot. He’ll even leave a little plate of food outside the door because no way he’s letting her stubborn ass go to bed hungry, and he’ll let her know with another text. Food outside. Safe zone. Won’t grab you.

Two minutes later she quietly unlocks the door and snakes a hand out, snatching the plate and true to his word--Bill stays far away and doesn’t grab her.

The game is still afoot.

Maybe tiger even lasts well past bedtime, into the middle of the night. But around 2AM, her bladder is screaming at her. She can hear Bill’s snores from the couch and she thinks that she just might be safe, so quietly--oh, so quietly--she tiptoes out of bed. It takes her nearly five minutes just to slide the lock out of its hinge because she’s so desperate not to make noise, and it takes about another five minutes for her to slowly turn the doorknob and pull it open. The blankets are rumpled on the couch, and she takes a Pink Panther-esque step forward.

She nearly screams when a hand closes around her throat, and then she’s backed up into a wall. Even in the darkness she can see the glare of his green eyes, full of fire and challenge. He leans in close to her mouth as he tightens the grip on her throat.

“Bullseye,” he growls.

#bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drabble #BFF!Bill

[threeletterslife]

01 | Ignis Fatuus

→ part 1 | part 2

→ summary: Who knew six grown men plus stupid Jeon Jungkook were so whiny? You're out here in a fucking zombie apocalypse for God's sake. They need to grow the fuck up. And while all of you are waiting for the zombies to eat your brains, why don't you play a nice game of rated-R never have I ever?

→ pairing/rating: jungkook x reader | NC-17

→ genre: 60% crack, 40% angst | apocalypse!au

→ warnings: profanity, depictions of blood, gore and death, sexual innuendos, crude humor

→ wordcount: 26k

cr.

Jeon Jungkook's taut thigh muscles are digging against your own, making you grit your teeth and glare at the rather annoying individual. The city bus bumps along with the dips on the street, pushing the man way too close to you. You can even smell his spearmint cologne.

"Jeon, I swear to fucking god if you scoot any closer to me, I'm going to swing your head off with my bat," you threaten menacingly, already tightening your grip on your beloved softball bat.

To your dismay, Jeon Jungkook gives you a cheeky grin before leaning his perfectly fit body on you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder with calculated subtlety. "Oh, Y/N," he chuckles under his breath, fingers dancing around the handle of his own baseball bat. "You forget that I also have a bat with me. Besides," he hums, squeezing your shoulder, "you and I both know your threats are always empty. I think you told me you were going to dislocate my neck at least a thousand times before. My neck's still fine, as you can clearly see."

You roll your eyes. "Whatever, Jeon," you mutter before leaning against his chest in defeat.

Your relationship with Jeon Jungkook is quite questionable. It would be weird to call him your friend, but even weirder to call him your enemy. Jungkook was... an acquaintance... who you merely got a bit touchy with at times. In a way, he was kinda like your fuck buddy, minus the fucking, of course. A friend with benefits minus the friend and benefits. None of that made any sense whatsoever. But that's just how fucking complicated your relationship with him is.

You'd first met the 19-year-old on the bus, catching him unabashedly eyeing you up and down. You boldly called him out for that. That bus ride was awkward because you'd spent the whole time tugging down your shorts and glaring at Jungkook, and he'd glared at you right back because apparently, he hadn't been checking you out that day. (He had been shamelessly ogling at the Victoria's Secret ad plastered on the wall behind the window of your seat.) But you didn't know that at the time, of course.

It was even worse when you got off at the same stop—at the practice field. But an unlikely 'friendship' had blossomed after that day. There was something about that Jeon Jungkook that was captivating to you, and there must be something about you that had captivated Jungkook. Ever since that incident, the two of you wordlessly saved each other seats on the local bus, and once at the field, he always walked you to your softball practice field before he sauntered off to play baseball.

Despite the constant bickering between the two of you, you swear leaning up against him, or having him wrap his arm around you feels natural.

You're just too damn stubborn to admit it out loud.

Looking up, you get an unobstructed view of Jungkook's sharp jawline, how his nose stands in all the right angles, and how his eyes sparkle when he—oh shit—your eyes meet his. Mission abort! Mission abort!

He caught you checking him out.

Oh god no. Your face flushes red, dreading what kind of saucy comment Jungkook would have for you.

But to your surprise, he squeezes you tighter, holding you close to him as his eyes are trained straight in front of him. "What in the world..." he breathes.

"What?" you mutter, confused. Your eyes trail up to follow his line of vision.

Oh, what the fuck.

"Isn't it too early for Halloween get up?" You frown, cocking your head at the mangled figure that's slowly limping its way towards the stopped bus. But one figure quickly becomes two, then, three, four, five, ten—twenty. All staggering towards the bus.

You can only seem to focus on the hoard of hobbling figures as your eyes follow their every jagged move. But one moment you're shaking your head in disdain at cheesy 'costumes,' the next you feel bile rushing up your throat.

One of the mangled figures hobbles up to an innocent pedestrian on the street and attacks them. And not like how a normal human being would do—not with fists, or some man-made weapon. But with decaying teeth. You see with your very own eyes a... a monster bite through the neck of a human—and although you are too far away, you swear you heard the crunch of bones. You most definitely see blood.

It's so horrific, the hairs on the back of your neck stand tall.

The innocent victim's screams are silent, mouth open, neck gashed apart by their attacker. Their blood is splattered everywhere and their eyes are glossed over. Lifeless. Dead. Soon to be undead.

Oh my god.

You jerk your head away, unable to look any further, placing your hand on your heart in an attempt to calm it down—no use. Your breaths become shallow and quicken as you grip your fists in order to keep yourself from vomiting and making the situation worse than it already is.

Oh god. Oh, fuck.

The images of blood and gore are sealed to your head. It's too real to be fake.

It pains you to realize that... that this is obviously not some Halloween get up.

"Fucking hell, Y/N... I don't think those are people," Jungkook says, holding you protectively in his arms. "They look a lot like—"

"ZOMBIES!" a man in a crisp, black suit shrieks, jumping up and running to the very back of the bus to where you and Jungkook are sitting.

"ZOMBIES!" the others on the bus scream in response.

"GET ME OUT OF HERE!" Suit Man hollers, curling up in the back seat as he rocks back and forth. With his neat and tidy suit, he definitely looks like he doesn't belong in a public transportation vehicle. In fact, he looks like he's never even used any public service. The kind of person who probably owns a private jet or something. "GET ME MY SECRETARY!" he shrieks.

He is not helping.

Another man stands up, crossing his arms over his chest. His dyed dirt blond hair sweeps just above his eyes and you can see his dimples when he presses his lips into a thin line. "Hey, bus driver?" he calls.

The bus driver grunts. "What?" he yells. His hands are shaking, but he's doing a hell of a good job maintaining a steady hand on the wheel.

"Maybe we should turn on the radio?" Dimples Man suggests. "We need some sort of explanation for this!!"

"Um, maybe we should, I don't know, drive away first???" another man suggests. He's clutching a Gucci messenger bag and nervously twists an Apple Watch on his wrist. He seems a lot like the younger version of Suit Man—except he was just born rich with a silver spoon in his mouth.

"The zombies are coming towards us!" Jungkook shouts. "Of course we need to drive away!" He squeezes your arm. "We need to get home, now!"

"You and your girlfriend can wait!" Suit Man hollers. "I want to go to my penthouse suite, first!"

"Why are you a priority?!" a man with puffy cheeks and plump lips argues. "We all have equal rights in a crisis! Cop in training!" he huffs, holding out an official-looking badge. "Bus driver, step on the gas!"

The bus driver rolls his eyes. "I do whatever the fuck I want on my bus."

Contrary to his unyielding attitude, he clicks on the radio and simultaneously steps on the gas.

Everyone lurches backward and some of the men who were standing fall down. For a few seconds, it's all chaos—shouts and yells bounce off the walls of the bus. All until the fuzzy crackles of the radio emit from the speakers.

Then, everyone becomes dead silent, waiting to hear what the news had to say.

But the radio static is so serious, you're unable to make out a lot of the words.

"... Inside... Not... Anywhere... Stay Inside..."

"What the fuck is wrong with your radio??" Suit Man complains.

"It's not my radio, you idiotic swine. The problem's not from my end," the bus driver snaps.

"Idiotic swine?!?! How dare—"

"Oh shut up, will you??" a man who had been quietly sitting down this whole time laughs. He twiddles a frying pan in his hands before he says, "Stay inside?? Don't you think it's too late for us to do that?"

Suit Man scowls, slumping down in his seat and grumbling about how important he is and how much he needs his secretary—who's apparently not answering his frantic texts and calls.

Abruptly, the bus driver swerves to the right to avoid limping zombies, but he manages to run some of the monsters over anyway. The bus hovers over the air for a few seconds, then crashes down on the road, jerking everyone in their seats.

You and Jungkook say nothing, you holding onto Jungkook and Jungkook holding onto his seat. But the others are more vocal.

"Hey, who taught you how to drive, motherfucker?!" Gucci Man yells.

The cop holds up his hands. "Are you even going under the speed limit??"

Oh my god. These men are driving you insane.

And just when you thought it couldn't get worse:

"No... Origin... Rapidly... Increasing..." the radio suddenly buzzes.

"Well, great," Dimples Man sighs. "Seems like the cases are multiplying out of nowhere. Maybe it's some kind of new virus. An epidemic, if you please."

"Oh, sit down, doctor boy," Suit Man yells at the tops of his lungs. "No one cares about the how. Right now, we focus on getting away from these monsters!"

Jungkook slips his hands into yours. The two of you look out the window to see the zombies chasing after the bus from behind. They're thankfully too slow to catch up to the bus driver's 85 miles per hour reckless driving, but they're not as slow as some movies depict them.

You watch the turmoil unfold behind you, disgusted and terrified at the same time. There are zombies trying to knock their heads against the glass to get into stores where trembling families are waiting to fight. Zombies biting the necks of victims. Blood spurting everywhere and painting the streets in crimson red.

You have to look away after some time.

It's too much to process.

The bus driver continues to make random twists and turns, making the bus lurch every which way every few seconds. The six men continue to argue, raising their voices over each other until you can't even make out what they're saying.

They're acting like babies, you think. You admit, you're terrified, which is exactly why you haven't said one single word out loud yet. Jungkook taps your shoulder, leaning into you. You catch a whiff of his cologne and strangely, it relaxes you.

"Hey," he whispers. "You okay?"

You manage to nod.

"Think this has spread to other cities yet...? Other states?"

Oh god.

The thought of that is horrific.

"I... I hope not... My family's in a state across the country though..." you manage to say in a low voice.

"Same..."

This time, it's your turn to ask a question.

"Do you think we'll ever get to our homes?"

Jungkook snorts in response. "Well, maybe not. I have no idea where that crazy bus driver's taking us."

And it's true, five different men are yelling at the bus driver to tell them where the fuck he's going, but the bus driver remains completely silent. Instead, he flips everyone off with one hand, vigorously steering the wheel with the other.

Everyone goes absolutely bonkers after that.

You've heard blaring fire alarms that sound like music compared to this.

"You have earphones?" Jungkook asks.

"Well, yeah..." you trail off. "But maybe we shouldn't listen to music now. We should save our phone batteries."

"Oh yeah, duh," Jungkook grins in a silly way. "My bad."

This is kind of the first time that you and Jungkook have been civil and kind of nice to each other. I guess it takes a whole ass zombie epidemic for that to happen.

You just try to focus on clutching onto Jungkook, trying to drown out the incessant yelling of the man babies.

And finally, fucking finally, the bus skids to a stop. But not in front of a house, but in front of a familiar-looking red and beige building. Your mouth drops open.

"TARGET???" Cop Man shrieks. "You brought us to Target??"

"Genius, aren't I?" the bus driver grins, leaning back from the steering wheel as if to admire his handy work. "This is my new home. The rest of you can leave if you don't like it."

Nobody moves a muscle.

You desperately want to go back home, but you have to admit, living in Target sounds pretty smart. Endless supply of blankets and food. A ton of gadgets to build when you get bored. At least one of the men on the bus has a brain. Thank god.

"I can't drive you guys home," the bus driver says a little bit more apologetically. "But you saw what's out there. I'm not going to waste gas getting everyone to their homes. And I surely don't wanna risk my life just to get you home, okay? I'm not your chauffeur. So you can stay with me if you like. Or you can walk home yourself."

"I can pay you to be my chauffeur," Suit Man mumbles.

The bus driver's ears perk up. "How much?"

"One grand."

"Ha!" the bus driver snorts. "You think I need money in a supposed apocalypse?? No thanks."

"I'LL PAY YOU THREE GRAND!" Gucci Man shrieks. "I-I'll call my parents! They always have cash on them!"

Frying Pan Man rolls his eyes way up to the ceiling of the bus and waits three dramatic seconds until he stares straight at Suit Man and Gucci Man. "Shut up, ya spoiled brats," he says. "Stop trying to bribe the bus driver and take his fucking offer to stay with him."

The others nod, agreeing with the Frying Pan Man's wise but snippy words.

Suit Man and Gucci Man shut up when they realize their wealth can't get them out of the situation this time.

"Well then," Jungkook sighs. "We all agree to stick together now, right? Nice group of people, aren't we?"

The last part sounds a tad bit sarcastic, but the others seem to take it as a compliment.

"First thing's first," Jungkook announces, "you there!" He points at the Suit Man. "Use your jacket to cover up that window over there. You!" He continues to point at the men, ordering them to place their jackets and bags over the windows. The bus driver manages to cover up the glass doors with a spare blanket he found in the glove compartment.

You just stare at Jungkook in awe. You're even more in awe that everyone is following his orders.

"If the zombies can't see us, they won't get us," Jungkook says very knowledgeably. "At least I think so. Just in case, we should all crouch down though."

"Are you serious? I'm not sitting my ass down on the bus floor," Suit Man scoffs.

"I'm wearing Gucci," Gucci Man complains.

The bus driver grins. "They scraped twenty pieces of gum off the floor only a week ago."

"I think we can all agree that we could've totally done without that information," Cop Man sighs.

Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief. "My god, would you rather die than get your pants a little dirty? Come on, Y/N." He tugs you down on the floor and the two of you sit cross-legged. "It's not even that bad."

One by one, the men follow you and Jungkook, sitting down, if not crouching, on the floor. Even Suit Man and Gucci Man obey Jungkook, though they have disgruntled looks on their faces.

"Now what?" Frying Pan Man says. "We wait this whole thing out? Until it's safe to get into Target?"

"I suppose so," Dimples Man says. "A little waiting never hurt anyone."

Suit Man rolls his eyes. "You would be terrible in the business world."

"I'm a respected med school student, thank you very much," Dimples Man replies curtly. "I don't need business lessons from you."

"Okay, okay!" Jungkook raises his voice. "You know what? Let's just introduce ourselves to each other. You know, ages, hobbies, whatever, I don't care. Just something the others can use to get to know you. We might be stuck together for a while. I'll start," he says. "I'm Jungkook. 19. I play baseball in college, and I'm pretty fucking good. Okay, who's next?"

Cop Man raises his hand politely. "I'm Jimin," he giggles as if his name itself is the cutest thing in the world. "And I'm the top-ranking cop in training," he says. "Oh yeah, I'm 21 years old. And I just got wasted two days ago when I turned 21."

"Yoongi," the bus driver says. "I drive this bus. 25. Next."

Everyone frowns at his short introduction but Yoongi shrugs.

"Hello, everyone," Dimples man says. "I'm Namjoon. I studied biochemistry in college, but I'm currently aiming for my M.D. I'm 24 right now, but I'll be 25 in a couple of months. It's nice to meet you."

Everyone mumbles their greetings back, but no one is really in a jolly mood.

"Well, I'm Seokjin, a worldwide famous chef," Frying Pan Man says. That explains the frying pan a lot. "I—"

"If you're so worldwide famous, how come I've never heard of you before until now?" Gucci Man snickers.

"Shut the fuck up," Seokjin answers simply. "I will be a worldwide famous chef. I'm interning at the esteemed restaurant, the Summit House. And for my 25th birthday, I got this lovely, new frying pan. I bring it with me everywhere because it is my lifeline."

You raise your eyebrows and so does Jungkook but neither of you says anything.

"I'm Taehyung, then," Gucci Man says. "I'm 23, but I'm already a law school student. Work hard and play even harder is my life motto. Also, I like expensive stuff."

That explains the Gucci.

Suit Man scoffs. "I'm Hoseok, but all of you must call me Mr. Jung because I'm 27 and I'm the respectful CEO of a rapidly growing business right in this city. I've been on the cover of Vogue twice this year alone. Any questions?"

"None at all, Hoseok," Yoongi snorts.

Hoseok scowls. "I just said—"

"Oh, shut your trap and let the girl talk," Seokjin chastises the businessman. You're starting to think Seokjin has a talent for shutting people up.

Well, great. Now everyone's staring at you. And it's only then when it occurs to you that you are the only female in the group. Oh god.

"I'm uh, Y/N..." you say. "And I... I play softball," you say, gripping your bat in your hand. "I'm 19 and I play for my college team."

"She's really good," Jungkook says. "Got that nice swing." He nudges your shoulder assuringly. It almost makes you crack a small smile. "Anyways, now that we all know each other a little bit better, let's be... uh..."

"Civil," you finish for him. "Let's please be fucking civil." You stare at Hoseok and Taehyung specifically.

"Fine!" Hoseok says. "Fine, then. Let's be totally civil trying to fight off uncivil monsters. Makes sense to me."

"We need to stay civil to stay calm," Jimin says, putting a hand on his hip. "My special cop training taught me how to stay calm in dire situations! I'll teach you guys a thing or two sometime."

"Oh god," Yoongi mutters.

"More importantly," Namjoon sighs. "If this is a zombie breakout, we'll need to start strategizing on how to stay safe. We'll need to gather supplies, make a hideout and find some weapons." He looks over at Jungkook and your bats, nodding his head approvingly. "Those will do good," he mutters. "But I'm afraid hiding out in Target might be a bit difficult. The building is large. Way too large for it to be safe..."

"Do you have any better suggestions then?" Yoongi says.

"Not as of now..."

"I say we go full-out," Taehyung declares. "Like we get cool leather jackets and sunglasses and make spiked bats and get guns!!"

"You mean... like in the movies," Hoseok scoffs. "Kid, hate to break it to you, but this is real life."

"Okay, but Taehyung might have a point," Jungkook says.

"Thank you!!" the law student exclaims.

"Yeah, maybe we can use some elements of what characters did in the movies and you know, apply it to our situation now," you say thoughtfully. "So we're not going into this catastrophe completely blinded."

"You read my mind," Jungkook smiles. You manage to smile right back at him.

"Whatever," Hoseok sighs. "I'm gonna call my secretary again."

Everyone else ignores him, opting to do their own individual activities.

Namjoon pulls a giant binder out of nowhere and begins to actively highlight things. It looks a lot like he's studying. In a fucking crisis.

You shake your head in disbelief. Med school students, I swear.

Taehyung taps away on his phone. Either texting or playing Candy Crush. You can't tell. Seokjin's sanitizing his precious frying pan while Jimin's polishing his official badge over and over again. In the far corner of the bus, it looks like Yoongi's dozed off.

The silence is awkward but it's much better than the complete ruckus before, so you let it go. Meanwhile, you take out your earbuds. It won't hurt to let some music distract you and calm down your spiked nerves.

"Hey, what percent battery is your phone at?" you whisper to Jungkook.

"23%, you?"

"23%?!" you gasp. "Why is it so low??"

"Forgot to charge it last night," Jungkook answers, ducking his head down in embarrassment. "Could not have been a worse timing."

"Well, I'm at 97%, so I guess we can listen to music on my phone." You plug in the earphones and hand one bud to Jungkook.

He takes it gratefully. "Thanks."

You feel much more relaxed when the music floods through your ear. If Jungkook doesn't like Beethoven's Sonata, he doesn't complain. And everything, just for a few songs, seems all right.

Until:

"Dammit! Godammit!!" Hoseok yells, flinging his phone to the side of the bus seat. "My phone's dead!"

There are annoyed groans everywhere, and you can just tell Seokjin's about to tell the man to shut up again when there's a loud bang! at the side of the bus.

Everyone freezes.

"Did you lock the bus door??" Namjoon hisses quietly.

Yoongi nods, clearly terrorized. "Just... everybody... Stay... still," he says.

He doesn't need to say anything; everyone's already become a statue. Even more so when the aggressive banging continues. You bite your lip to suppress a whimper and Jungkook hugs you in his arms. His heartbeat's rapid but he manages not to tremble, unlike you.

But when the banging is ceaseless even after a couple of minutes, Taehyung sighs. "Should we check it out...?"

"Are you fucking crazy??" you blurt, quickly lowering your voice when you realize you'd been rather loud. "If the zombies see us, they get us. I thought you saw the movies."

That shuts everyone up. Sweat starts to collect on everybody's foreheads but no one dares to move to wipe it off when the banging's continuing.

It sounds like zombies are head-butting on the bus' walls. Maybe they can smell humans. The thought riles up your stomach so you force yourself to bury your nose into Jungkook's shirt to take your mind elsewhere. He pats your back comfortingly in response.

The Chopin blaring through your left ear doesn't sound so comforting anymore—the pace is too fast, too allegro to fit in a terrible circumstance such as this one. But you try to focus on each note, concentrating on the keys rather than the beat. It drives your focus elsewhere, thank god.

And finally, eventually, the banging slows to a stop.

"Well!" Taehyung yells.

"SHH!" Jungkook shushes him. "We don't know if they're gone yet," he whispers urgently.

"Oh, right."

So it's completely still for a few minutes before Taehyung decides that's enough silence for him.

"This is very, very bad news," he grumbles.

"Really?" Seokjin snickers. "I thought it was good news."

Taehyung rolls his eyes. "My Apple Watch's about to die. So yes, it is bad news. I won't be able to tell the time anymore."

"That's the least of our worries, dude," Jimin says, shaking his head in disbelief.

Before another large argument breaks out, you cut in. "I think we should try to get into Target before nightfall."

You thought everyone would agree immediately, but you're hit with Yoongi's laconic, "Why?"

"What do you mean why??" Taehyung laughs at the bus driver. "Haven't you watched the movies?? Zombies get crazier during the night."

"Um, in Train to Busan, they don't," Namjoon points out.

"Okay, but in Minecraft, they do," Taehyung argues.

"But Minecraft is a video game, not a movie."

"Oh, whatever."

You sigh. "I just thought it'd be better to go now than take chances later."

"But this is real life," the bus driver says. "Getting out of this bus is taking a chance at this point. We might not ever make it to Target."

"Fine. Then I'll go and check it out myself then," you scoff.

I'd rather get mauled by a zombie than have to listen to incessant bickering in a small-spaced bus for fuck's sake.

"You literally have a death wish don't you?" Jungkook says. "But I'm coming with you."

"BOTH of you have a death wish," Hoseok says.

"OR, Yoongi can drive the bus closer to the entrance...?" you suggest.

The bus driver grumbles but he complies, never taking off the clothes covering the windows but managing to peek out of a small corner to safely drive the bus straight to the exit.

"If one of you gets bitten, you're not allowed back in here," he says.

"How comforting," you mumble.

"I guess it's just the two of us, then," Jungkook shrugs when no one else volunteers to go on the trip.

"Well you two do have the best weapons," Namjoon says, nodding at the bats in your hands.

"That's true..." you murmur. "We'll try to find a good spot to stay in... Or maybe just get some supplies..."

Now that you think about it, your own idea might be the cause of your demise. God, you might die just because you opened your mouth.

It's okay, you tell yourself. It'll be fine. I have Jungkook. He's... not that scared... right?

Namjoon convinces everyone to memorize a morse code knock so that the others can let you and Jungkook in when the code is knocked on the bus door. There is no other preparation.

Other than the time you completely winged a final exam back in high school, this is the riskiest thing you've done in your life.

Side by side, you and Jungkook creep out of the bus; the doors shut behind you as quickly as they had opened and the blanket drapes over the windows once more.

The coast definitely looks clear... for now. Warily, you and Jungkook step closer to the entrance of Target. That's when it occurs to you that Target has automatic doors.

You and Jungkook look at each other. With your eyes, both of you communicate something on the lines of 'so much for living here.'

It's a universal fact that zombies are stupid and can't complete simple human tasks such as opening doors. But if Target's doors are automatic... Well, then anyone can come in. Human or zombie.

The two of you creep into the store with caution, scanning from left to right to see any source of movement. Luckily, so far, the building seems empty. It just must be your luck that today happens to be a weekday and the time is barely before noon. Plus, you're in the middle of a zombie apocalypse and everyone was ordered to stay home. For the most part, it looks like this Target is abandoned. It helps calm down your rapidly beating heart just a little bit.

Still, the silence is eerie. Clutching your baseball bat, you try to make a mental list of the supplies you might need to take. From the checkout aisle, you and Jungkook each grab two plastic bags each.

"What are the top five things we need?" Jungkook whispers to you.

"Um, food, probably," you say. "Toiletries, for sure. Sleeping bags, maybe? Chargers... Portable chargers...?"

"What about water?" Jungkook says. "Maybe we should also get a first aid kit too..."

"There's so much we need!" you let out a frustrated sigh. "And I am not going back in here twice. Once is risky enough."

"Well, we definitely need food, water and a first aid kit. Why do we need toiletries?" Jungkook asks, cocking his head curiously.

"Oh, I don't know, because I bleed out of my vagina once every month??"

"Oh. Right. Forgot about that," Jungkook says awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. "So, um... we need food, water, a first aid kit, toiletries and..."

"A backpack," you finish for him. "We'll carry the backpacks out on our backs, fill two of our four bags with food, then one bag we can use for water and water bottles. The last bag for the first aid kit and the toiletries."

"Look at you, all planned out," Jungkook grins. You wonder how he's managing to smile in a crisis.

"I'm usually very spontaneous," you mutter. "But I guess it takes a zombie apocalypse to get me to plan ahead."

Your life's on the line. Of course you're going to plan ahead to avoid death.

Jungkook laughs quietly. "Me too, honestly," he says. "I think I can stuff at least one sleeping bag in the backpack. And maybe we'll get some toilet paper."

You nod. "A flashlight might be good too. We don't really need to get weapons, right? We're only trying to survive, not fight."

"We'd be crazy to get a gun," Jungkook snorts. "Have you seen the grown men we got stuck with?? Giving them a gun might be the worst thing we can do."

"Especially that cop in training," you say. "Idiots. The whole lot of them."

Making the youngest ones do the dirty work.

Conversation is sparse for the rest of the supply gathering. You and Jungkook talk minimally, rather opting to point and mouth words just in case zombies were sound-sensitive as they were portrayed in most movies. (But you're honestly not sure how well their auditory skills work, especially when they're so lacking in motor skills.) Still, better safe than sorry.

Canned foods pile in two heavy bags that Jungkook offers to carry. He also volunteers to carry the bag with the heavy water jugs and water bottles, so you let him, glad that Jungkook is polite enough to keep his manners during an apocalypse. The two of you find large duffel bags in the sports corner, which you sling both over your shoulder. A couple of sleeping bags find their way into the duffel bags. By the time you arrive at the aisle with all the feminine hygiene products, your arms are starting to hurt, but you don't complain because Jungkook's carrying things twice the weight of your luggage.

In fact, you shouldn't complain about anything at all. For one, you're stuck in an apocalypse with someone you know at least. You have someone to lean on. Someone who constantly offers to protect you. Someone you can trust. And you haven't had any run-ins with zombies so far. So you've been blessed.

You clamp your mouth shut and pick out a generous amount of pads and pantyliners, quickly shoving them into the duffel bags. "Let's go," you tell Jungkook who nods. His arm muscles are straining against the heavy weight of the bags and his knuckles are white but he stays silent.

All those times you ever insulted Jungkook, you want to take them all back right now. It only takes a crisis to get to know someone.

The two of you nervously, steadily, begin to walk towards the entrance of the store. It's a pity you won't be able to pay for the hundreds of dollars worth of stuff you're shoplifting. But you don't think money holds enough value in a situation of life or death.

For a split second, you worry that the other men have left. But you don't think they would stoop that low... right?? The thought makes the hairs on the back of your neck bristle. If they did leave you and Jungkook stranded in this vast Target... it's game over.

You nearly cry from relief when you see the bus still waiting loyally at the front of the store. Maybe you've underestimated the others.

"Coast's clear," Jungkook whispers. "I'll go first." He begins to creep forward the automatic doors, lugging his bags when you let out a whisper-shriek:

"Wait, stop!"

Jungkook whirls around, eyes wide and lips parted.

"The alarm might ring if you take items you didn't pay for," you whisper urgently. "Leave the stuff here, wait for them to open the door, then help me carry these and make a run for it."

"Well, that was close," Jungkook nods. "Good idea." He sets down his bags and steps forward cautiously. The mechanical whirring of the sliding door opening sounds too loud in the silence. You hold your breath as Jungkook carefully steps closer to the bus, hoping and wishing and swearing. When he knocks at the glass door in the morse code that Namjoon had taught him, you feel ready to burst from the stress.

Constantly, you look behind yourself. If a zombie appears, you'll have to save your life first and lose the supplies. Or maybe, you can carry the food and water first and leave the rest. Or you can try to fight the zombie off with your bat?? But your arms shake from carrying heavy luggage around the whole Target. Your aim might be messed up; you can't risk that, can you?

While you're scheming in your head, Jungkook's managed to get the others to open the door of the bus. The coast is clear now. You gulp.

If the Target alarm sounds and it wakes up any zombies that are nearby, you're dead. You can see the scared faces of the other men peeking out from the door. Jungkook bravely steps back, waving his hands as if to tell them to keep the door open. Then, he rushes back inside the Target, hoisting up the bags.

On cue, you grip your bags too—so tightly that your hands feel numb.

"On a count of three, okay?" Jungkook says.

"No, let's go now!" you whisper as you begin to dash headfirst out the automatic doors. The moment the bags cross the invisible line, the alarm blares. Your heart nearly stops at the racket, but you don't dare to pause. You don't cease your running until you've zoomed right into the bus, collapsing on the floor and throwing the bags away from yourself. Jungkook's right behind you, gasping for breath from the short sprint before whirling on you with a look of frustration on his face.

"I wasn't fucking re—"

"Shh!!" Yoongi says, draping the locked glass door over with a blanket. "We're going to stay very, very still."

You can hear the alarm still blaring in the background, shaking on the floor of the bus and clutching your hands together. Jungkook gives you the side-eye but he crouches down with you and holds you in his arms.

You shouldn't have left earlier, but you couldn't risk waiting for a second more in the empty Target, anticipating for disaster to come. Jungkook must've panicked with you too. But he can't stay mad at you for long, not with another crisis on its way.

"Uh, I think we should go right now," Taehyung whispers.

"Shh!"

"No, seriously," Taehyung says, lifting up the cloth off the windows and pointing.

Oh no. Looks like this is where your luck runs outs. Zombies are slowly making their way towards the entrance of the Target where the stupid alarm still hasn't shut up. If you don't leave now, you might drown in a sea of those monsters. And one rule of thumb—you never let zombies begin to hoard.

"Dammit!" Yoongi curses. "Hold on!"

The zombies are still several yards away, but Yoongi slams on the gas, lurching the car forward. There's no time to think. No time to talk. Yoongi tears away the cloth in front of his window and begins to drive with sickening speed.

"Where are we going??" Hoseok yells over the screams of the engine.

"To my house!" Yoongi screams back.

"WHAT??" the businessman shrieks. "WHY AREN'T WE RUNNING AWAY?"

"Running away attracts more zombies!" Taehyung says. "That always happens in the movies!"

"Does your house have a good kitchen??" Seokjin yells.

"Does it matter???" Yoongi yells back.

"Why can't we go to my house??" Taehyung shrieks.

"Shut the fuck up!" Seokjin tells him.

Yoongi continues to bump over mystery speed bumps (no doubt, bitten people) as zombies slowly try to follow the vehicle. But they're way too slow for Yoongi's speedy driving. He manages to throw them all off track as he drives away from the city.

And when there are fewer buildings and more grassy fields, things almost look... normal. As if you hadn't just seen a zombie apocalypse unfold in the city. Until you notice the blood splattered on the windows and the survival luggage that you and Jungkook had hauled on the bus. That's when you realize this is still very, very real.

But now that you've escaped the city, the roads are ironically smoother without the undead scattered on the ground. As a result, Yoongi begins to drive comfortably, the bus no longer threatening to tip over at every turn. Finally, it seems like the chaos has calmed down.

You take the time to apologize to Jungkook. "Sorry I just left like that," you say.

He shrugs. "It was stupid for me to countdown anyways."

And that was that.

He sits down next to you at the back of the bus as the other men (except Yoongi) crowd around you to ask questions about the risky trip.

"Were there zombies inside the store?" Namjoon says.

"We didn't encounter any," you reply. "But we're not sure."

"Do you think we could go back in there when we need more supplies?" the med school student asks.

"I mean..." you trail off, looking at Jungkook.

Jungkook shrugs. "We'll have to see, I guess."

"Make do with what Yoongi has in his house?" Seokjin says. "Hey, Yoongi, you got a big house??"

Jimin gasps. "You can't just ask people that, Seokjin! Hey, Yoongi, do you have eight bedrooms?"

You feel like facepalming. And if your hands weren't so wet with sweat, you would've done it too.

"Do I look like I'm made of money??" Yoongi scoffs. "I live in a one-bedroom house."

"One bedroom?!?!? One bedroom?!" Taehyung shrieks.

"Would you like to live outside the one-bedroom house?" Yoongi shrieks back.

Taehyung shuts up.

Sure, Yoongi's being extremely generous right now. He could've dumped all of you out the moment the chaos hit. But he had chosen to bring everyone along with him. Still... eight people in a one-bedroom house? You're not so sure about that.

"We'll make it work," the bus driver grumbles.

"As long as there's a kitchen," Seokjin says, "I'm all right."

Ten minutes later, following Yoongi's lead, everyone quickly piles into the one-bedroom house.

It looks modest but poorly decorated. A shaggy rug with mysterious stains, zero decor but a single couch and a small television is set in the living room. The only bedroom in the house isn't very spacious either, with just enough room to fit one full-sized bed and a couple of other sleeping bags on the floor. Yoongi keeps his humble collection of clothes in his bathroom sink. The bathroom is standard and looks barely used. But the worst part of the house is the kitchen, much to Seokjin's despair. There's more dust than counter space.

"I don't cook," comes Yoongi's simple answer when Seokjin gives the man a bewildered look.

And just like that, the house tour is over in a couple of minutes.

"Do you have a car?" you ask cautiously.

Yoongi shakes his head. "Left my bike at the bus parking lot." He shrugs. "But we have the bus."

You bite your lip. Buses use way more gas than cars do—you don't even have to be a mechanic to know. It might've even been better to have a bike.

Everyone is silent for the most part, taking in their new surroundings and unsure what to make of it. Yoongi collapses on the couch. "I have beer somewhere in my fridge. Help yourselves."

Hoseok makes a face—as if he's never had a cheap beer in his life.

You and Jungkook make faces because neither of you is of legal age to drink yet. Yet another reminder that you're stuck with actual adults.

Once those who want a beer get a beer and all the canned foods and water are stashed in the fridge, everyone gathers around awkwardly in the living room. With so much afternoon chaos, the evening seems eerily quiet. It's like all of you are waiting for disaster to strike again.

You, yourself, begin to think about your safety. The thing about Yoongi's house (no matter how small and shabby it is) is that it's out in the open without any other houses nearby. For one, that's a good thing because there's less chance that zombies will make their way out here. But there's also no barrier either.

And suddenly acquiring seven male roommates out of nowhere? Seven men you barely even know? Sure, you've spoken to Jungkook a lot of times, but never outside of the bus or the practice field.

But you guess you have to sacrifice comfort and privacy to survive.

Finally, when the silence stretches on for nearly thirty minutes, Hoseok speaks. "We have to talk about the elephant in the room," he announces.

Everyone raises their eyebrows.

"What elephant??" Jimin says. "Where's the important question? Did I miss something?"

"No," Hoseok sighs. "What are we going to do about the sleep situation?"

"What do you mean?" Yoongi scoffs. "I get the bedroom, everyone else sleeps out here." He gestures at the living room.

"At least four people can fit in that bedroom," Namjoon says. "I suggest you can choose who gets to sleep there."

"You have to take in count that we have a lady present too," Seokjin says.

"Shouldn't she automatically get the bedroom then?" Jungkook says. "And she chooses who sleeps in the bedroom?"

"That's not fair!" Taehyung says. "Why does gender matter in this situation?"

"Yeah, and you're only saying that because you know she'll pick you!" Hoseok scoffs.

"Well, I'm sorry I want to make her feel comfortable in a male dominant household!" Jungkook shouts.

You feel awkward, biting your lip and looking back and forth between Jungkook and the two other men.

"Um, if you'd let me choose, I'd have to go with Yoongi, just because it's his house, Jungkook and Namjoon..." you say.

"Goddamn!" Jimin exclaims. "What did I ever do to you??"

"Nothing!" you protest. "I'm just—"

"My house, my rules!" Yoongi shouts over everyone. "I get to choose! And I pick Y/N, Namjoon and Jungkook. That's final!"

While Jimin, Hoseok and Taehyung are grumbling, Seokjin seems rather happy. "I'm closer to the kitchen in the living room," he grins. "And besides, it doesn't matter whether you sleep in the bedroom or in the living room. You get the same sleep." He pauses. "Unless you get the actual bed."

"We can take turns with the bed," you tell the three other men.

"Nah," Yoongi says. "Never liked that stupid thing."

"I also prefer sleeping on the ground. It's good for my back," Namjoon says.

Jungkook shrugs at you. "You can take the bed."

You're left gaping at them. "Are you sure...?"

"Just take the offer before they change their minds, honey," Seokjin laughs.

"O-Okay."

"Now what?" Taehyung says, exasperated. He seems let down that he doesn't get to sleep in the bedroom. Nor does he seem keen on the idea of sleeping in sleeping bags. Hoseok looks equally annoyed.

You suppose you can understand them in a way. You don't exactly have many things to lose. In fact, now, you probably don't have to pay off student debt. But Hoseok and Taehyung, well, they're not used to living in cramped up places. It's not really their fault that they're being so whiny. But at the same time, you wish they can shut the fuck up and stop complaining.

"What do you mean, now what?" Yoongi says. "We're gonna sleep. I think I have an extra blanket or something..."

"Sleep?" Hoseok says. "It's barely 6 o'clock."

"Well, what else do you suggest we do? Go outside and hunt the zombies??" Yoongi says. "Excuse me, I'm gonna go to bed."

"Wait!"

Yoongi turns around and glares daggers at the rich businessman. But Hoseok doesn't budge. "Do you have a phone charger?" He holds up his phone, the latest model of the iPhone—the one that costs more than some laptops.

The bus driver cocks an eyebrow. He holds up his own phone in the air.

Everyone else gasps when they realize Yoongi's phone is a battered, out-dated Nokia. The model that is so old that you swear you had that same phone when you were in sixth grade.

"A Nokia?!" Taehyung shrieks.

Everyone pulls out their own iPhones in rapid succession.

"Oh, god," Namjoon mutters.

"I guess it's goodbye to our phones," Seokjin says. "A pity..."

"We should've grabbed iPhone chargers at Target," you sigh, shoving your phone back in your back pocket. A forgotten necessity...

"Yeah, you should've," Hoseok agrees.

You give him the nasty side-eye when he turns his back to you.

"Well," Yoongi shrugs, "it's not the end of the world. Besides, I think I have an iPhone charger somewhere..."

"You used to have an iPhone?? Why the switch?" Jimin says, twiddling his one iPhone X in his hands.

"No, never had an iPhone. I hate Apple products," Yoongi scoffs. "I'm a die-hard Samsung fan, but I had to switch to Nokia to pay the bills. I just had an ex-girlfriend who left her iPhone chargers at my house. I might find more than one if I dig around, I guess."

Everyone whoops with joy.

After a hunt that lasts for an hour, two pathetic, dirty iPhone chargers sit in the middle of the shaggy carpet while everyone else crowds around them.

"I call it first!" Hoseok and Taehyung say at the same time.

No one dares to argue.

"Now can I sleep?" Yoongi sighs.

"You don't want dinner?" Seokjin says.

"You're going to cook?" Yoongi raises his eyebrows.

"Well, I'll make do with the canned foods," Seokjin says.

"We should also probably try to watch the news or something," Jungkook says. "To see if they're calling for any survivors..."

The mood suddenly becomes dim.

Right. The past hour had been so busy that everyone had somehow forgotten about the zombie apocalypse.

Jungkook senses the mood and quickly changes the topic. "Just kidding. Let's play a game."

"A game?" Jimin says. "I love games!"

"Depends on the game," Taehyung says. "I call beer pong."

"I'm nineteen," you say.

"So? I took shots when I was eight," Taehyung argues.

You roll your eyes.

Amongst the commotion, Seokjin manages to sneak his way into the kitchen. No one really cares.

"Okay, then does anyone have game suggestions?" Jungkook says. "Just so we can get to know each other better. We don't know how long this will last, right?"

"I think I'm too old for games," Hoseok grumbles.

"I don't think I've played a game in my whole life," Yoongi says.

"Can I study for my exams?" Namjoon pipes up.

Jungkook sighs. He looks at you for some help but you shrug. If they don't want to play games, then they won't play games. You don't want to force them into it and end up having no fun at all.

"Maybe we should just let them do what they want," you whisper to Jungkook.

He gives you a look of incredulity. "That's it!" he yells. "We're all in a shitty mood, but you know what? I don't give a flying fuck. We're going to play fuck, marry or kill!"

Seokjin groans from the kitchen. He pops his head around the corner while holding a big container full of food in his hands. "Will the game mess with everyone's appetite?"

"What even is that?" Jimin points at the bowl.

Seokjin shrugs. "A bit of beans. A bit of corn. A bit of sauce. I don't even know, but it tastes good." He grabs some spare plates and bowls and sets them down in the living room along with an array of plastic utensils.

"Where did you even get the sauce and utensils?" Yoongi scoffs. "I swear I don't own any of that."

Seokjin grins. "I carry a good sauce and extra utensils everywhere."

And you have to compliment Seokjin's cooking skills because the mystery mixture is actually delicious.

"Um, hello??" Jungkook says while everyone else is scarfing down food. "Fuck, marry or kill??"

Namjoon looks up from his bowl. "That game's hardly fair."

"And why is that?" Jungkook cocks his head to the side.

"Y/N's the only girl," Namjoon says.

"That's true," Jimin pipes up. "We can't really play unless... you know, you suggest we fuck each other. No homo though, bros."

You scrunch your nose. "Yeah, Jungkook, that's a bit—"

"You got a better idea?" Jungkook says. "C'mon."

Yoongi grumbles. "I thought this game was supposed to make us get to know each other better."

"It will!" Jungkook says.

"Yeah, it'll let everyone know our sexual preferences," Taehyung sniggers.

Everyone groans.

"I agree with baseball boy," Taehyung says. "I used to play this game all the time. I'm hella good."

Hoseok frowns. "How the fuck can you be good at this game??"

Taehyung completely ignores the businessman and whirls around at you. You nearly spit out your food in surprise. "Y/N! Yes, you. Fuck, marry or kill? Jungkook, Namjoon and me?"

Everyone groans again.

"He's just saying that so Y/N can pick him to fuck," Jimin giggles.

"You're way too obvious," Seokjin snorts.

You sigh, shaking your head. "Well, I guess I'm killing Taehyung off just for asking me the first question." At that, Seokjin leans across from you and gives you a triumphant high-five. "As for fuck..." you trail off, looking between Namjoon and Jungkook. "I'll fuck Jungkook and marry Namjoon."

Jungkook gasps. "You've known me for longer and you'd rather fuck me???"

"Yeah, what does that have to say about your personality?" you tease.

All the men—except Jungkook—erupt in laughter. In just one sentence, you become the most popular person in the room, everyone complimenting you for putting Jungkook in his place.

"Y/N, you've officially become my new favorite person," Seokjin declares.

"Really?" you laugh. "Okay, then Seokjin. Fuck, marry or kill: Hoseok, Taehyung, Jimin."

"Ouch," Yoongi mutters.

"Ouch??" Jimin huffs.

"Ouch," Seokjin repeats. "I can't choose whether I want to kill Hoseok or Taehyung."

"Hey!" Taehyung yells. "Don't kill me again! Y/N already did that!"

"All the more reason for me to kill Taehyung," Seokjin sings. "I'm fucking Hoseok so I can get a limo ride or something from him the morning after. And Jimin's cute. I can work with that. I'd marry him."

"Yes!" Jimin yells, pumping his fist up in the air. "I'm husband material!"

Taehyung groans. "I've been killed twice," he mopes.

"Okay, then you try," Jimin says. "Yoongi, Seokjin, Y/N."

"I'm killing Y/N for revenge!" Taehyung declares but when he looks between Yoongi and Seokjin, he changes his mind. "No... wait, uh... I'm killing Seokjin for revenge! I'd fuck Y/N and marry Yoongi but it would be a sexless marriage."

"You only chose to fuck Y/N because she's a girl," Hoseok snorts.

"What?? She's hot."

"I'm right here!"

The game goes around in circles for hours and by the end, everyone is engaged in it. You win for getting the most marries. You also tie with Jungkook for getting the most fucks. Hoseok and Taehyung tie for getting the most kills. And Namjoon gets an honorable mention for being neutral in everyone's minds.

By the end, it becomes very clear that you and Jungkook are the most likable people, followed up by Yoongi and Seokjin (for knowing how to cook). It feels good to be liked by complete strangers. Normally, you wouldn't give a shit whether strangers like you or not. But... you might be stuck with these seven men for a very long time.

They're not so bad once there is nothing threatening their lives.

You don't mind being here that much anymore. With just a little bit of time, this place could feel like home. And these strangers can be your friends.

But right now, your first priority is to survive.

Okay, so, fast forward four months, and now your priority isn't exactly to survive. Pretty strange, to be honest. In over 120 days, things have taken quite a worse turn—the city is becoming more dilapidated and there are more zombies roaming about, but truth be told, you and your seven friends are doing just fine. In fact, you are doing great. More than great.

Now, your priority is to live comfortably. Ironically in an environment that prioritizes survival.

It's genuinely because of the advanced system Hoseok bestowed upon the household one faithful day. (He wasn't the successful CEO of a rising company for nothing.)

The businessman gave everyone a designated job to work depending on their skills. You think he especially thought of this system when Taehyung and Namjoon somehow managed to set the kitchen on fire back when kitchen duty was rotational. Seokjin had grieved for days because the fire left ugly burn marks on Yoongi's counters. And now the intern chef's the only one allowed in the kitchen. Seokjin faithfully cooks three meals every day—enough for everyone to have seconds. Enough to even have leftovers.

In turn, Namjoon takes care of all the medical stuff. He claims that he can cure anything except a zombie bite. When Taehyung challenges him that he can't cure all cancer, Namjoon gets unreasonably pouty and the whole next day, he decides to study. But he comes up with nothing, to Taehyung's delight. But to Taehyung's distress, Hoseok assigns him as Namjoon's medical assistant (only because Taehyung had ditched nursing at one point to pursue law). Now Taehyung's right back where he started.

But the two of them manage to get along. Sometimes. And they are responsible with the medical supplies. Sometimes. And they remind everyone to take their vitamin supplements. Sometimes. Namjoon's also crazy good at taking splinters out. That's an always.

Jimin's assigned to keep a lookout on the news through the rather spotty radio. So far, there's been nothing. But the cop in training is persistent and hopeful. Well, everyone is. You all hope that someone announces the apocalypse is over and there's a safety station not too far away from here. But the announcement never comes. No problem. You're in a situation where you're not that desperate—you can wait it out.

Hoseok gets to order everyone around and makes sure all the household duties are fulfilled. Strangely, after you get to know him for a while, he's actually a pretty chill guy. Just a little uptight when it comes to serious business. He's a huge scaredy-cat with a big heart and only becomes irrational when he's in fear.

Arguably, you and Jungkook are in charge of the most dangerous job. You are what everyone else calls the 'suppliers.' At least once every two weeks, the two of you hop on the bus with Yoongi (who drives) and go to Target to pick up groceries or anything else the others needed. The job is dangerous all right, but you and Jungkook haven't come across a major zombie attack yet, so the bi-weekly outings are a bit of a joke. (The two of you fool around in Target and spend a bit too much extra time in there than necessary.) But what can you say? It serves as a little escape from the cramped house!

Yoongi doesn't really have a job except to drive you and Jungkook anywhere you need to go. Hoseok decided to let him slack off—only because he sacrificed his house for the crew.

In four months, you're able to get to know the men better. In normal circumstances, you doubt that you'd ever come near a rich businessman. But here you are, cracking jokes with Hoseok every night. You wouldn't even have gotten to know a cop in training either. Or a law student. Or a med student. Or an intern chef who's actually talented. Maybe you knew Jungkook from before the apocalypse. But you never really connected with him on another level. Now, you know a lot about the seven men you're forced to live with.

A bit more than you would like, too.

You know that Hoseok likes his soup cold, which convinces you that he's a total psychopath, but whatever. Seokjin secretly likes to bake more than he likes to cook. Namjoon still studies for his medical exams (that are very obviously never going to take place) because he can't stand having nothing to do. Jimin's actually really insecure about his physique (despite his sassy and confident nature) and constantly needs someone to tell him that yes, Jimin, your ass looks fan-fucking-tastic in those tight jeans. Taehyung—you think—watches porn when everyone's asleep. So he might kinda be a porn-addict but you're not really sure. You don't wanna find out. And Jungkook... You know that he likes to read romance novels. Which you found out when he dragged you down the literary romance aisle in Target and suggested you save space in your bags so he could take some back to home base.

But no one else in the house likes to read, so Jungkook doesn't get his books in the end.

It's hard to believe that you're in the midst of a zombie apocalypse—especially with the comfortable way you're living—but still, you and Jungkook only try to take home what's necessary. To save time and space, of course.

A couple of months into living together, all of you had even celebrated Namjoon's 25th birthday. He didn't get a cake, but Seokjin managed to make cookies in five minutes in Yoongi's old microwave. The rest of the day was spent relaxing in the tight living room, playing what Jungkook liked to call 'family games.' Games that you should probably not play with your actual family (because of the level of inappropriateness), but games that bring friends together to the point that they feel like family.

So, in conclusion, the seven men aren't as horrible as you thought in the beginning. Sure, they have their strange and eccentric quirks, but it's refreshing to see so many different personalities in one house. You can't imagine how shitty life would've been if you were stuck with seven men with the same character as a doorknob. It's nice to live with people with such... unique personalities.

And at this point, they're like your friends—if not—best friends.

And best friends are not afraid to call each other out.

"WAKE UP YOU FUCKING SLOTH!" Taehyung screams.

You can hear Yoongi let out a dead groan from the bedroom. But it doesn't look like he's going to be barging out anytime soon.

"WAKE UP!!!!" Jimin shrieks.

Everyone covers their ears. Jimin's voice is definitely loud and shrill enough to burst someone's eardrums. But none of you want to find out, of course.

"I didn't haul my ass out of bed early in the morning to break my back cooking for everyone for you to not fucking wake up!" Seokjin yells. "Wake the fuck up!!"

From inside the bedroom, Yoongi groans. And then: "SHUT UP OR I'M KICKING EVERYONE OUT!"

You snort. Everyone else rolls their eyes, picks up their utensils and begins to scarf down the scrambled eggs.

Yoongi tends to get very cranky when he's woken by the sound of yelling. When the man is cranky, he makes empty threats that he never really means. Of course he wouldn't kick everyone out of the house. Though he doesn't like to admit it, Yoongi loves the company of the others.

The bus driver stumbles into the kitchen with his hair up in the air and his eyes barely open. "I hate you all."

"Really?" Seokjin smiles, handing the cranky man a plate of still-warm breakfast. "Love your hair."

"Shut up." Yoongi ducks his head down and begins to eat with vigor.

"Hey, chef?" Taehyung sighs, pushing his half-eaten plate of eggs away from himself.

"What is it, lawyer boy?" Seokjin says, crossing his arms. "Do you want escargot to go along with that? Or caviar?"

Taehyung is the designated picky eater of the bunch. But no one blames him. If you grew up eating filets and caviar, you'd probably be picky too.

"The eggs aren't salty enough," Taehyung says. "Do we have salt?"

"Nope, we're out," Seokjin says.

"Ugh," Taehyung groans. "I can't eat this. It tastes too bland."

Seokjin frowns. "Just appreciate what I made for you, you ungrateful swine."

Of course, it isn't a normal breakfast in the group if there isn't an argument. In the beginning, it had been annoying, but now everyone is so used to it, they let it fly.

"Y/N and JK? Can we get some salt today?" Seokjin sighs as he turns to you and Jungkook. "Someone's being a picky bitch again."

"Hey!" Taehyung says.

Hoseok just talks over him. "Anyways," he says, "Jimin, any new reports?"

"Nothing," Jimin sighs. "Radio's basically dead. Honestly, we might be the only ones alive in the whole state at this point."

"That... is not exactly statistically possible," Namjoon points out. "If you really think about it, the probability that—"

"Shut up, please," the cop in training says, exasperated. "Let us go one day without your lectures. God."

You and Jungkook give each other a 'here they go again' look.

"Can we have at least one day where we don't bicker like big babies?" Yoongi scoffs, throwing down his fork. He still looks half dead, his voice gravelly and deep.

Taehyung raises an eyebrow at him. "No, bitch," he answers. "The bickering is what makes us such a great motherfucking team."

"Actually—" Namjoon starts.

"Everybody just shut the fuck up and eat!" Seokjin yells.

Just like always.

This is a very typical breakfast in the household. Where everyone yells at Yoongi to wake up. And then the arguing commences up to the point Seokjin can't take it anymore and screams at everyone to shut their traps. That's when everyone obeys him (because Seokjin can be quite scary when angry) and eats silently.

After breakfast, Hoseok calls a meeting in the bedroom. You and Jungkook sit on the bed as everyone else sits around the floor; Hoseok stays standing.

"Look, guys," he says, "it's been four fucking months. We're lost."

You cock your head. Lost was the last thought in your head right now.

"At least we're alive," Jungkook snorts. "At least none of us have been bitten. At least none of the zombies have turned up around this area yet. At least—"

"Okay, okay, we get it, Jungkook," Hoseok sighs. "It's just that we're in a tricky situation right now. It's been four months..."

"Yes, we know," you say. "But haven't things been going smoothly? I mean, look, we have enough food, we're safe here and we're happy. What more can we ask for?"

Seokjin hums thoughtfully. "Well, Hoseok might be right, Y/N," he says. "It's only been four months, right? So the utilities are still working. There's still gas in the gas stations, the fridges are working... You know?"

Namjoon nods. "Exactly. But when will that run out?"

"When will the food run out? When will we have to live off of rationed canned foods because the fridges in Target broke? What if our fridge breaks?" Seokjin says. "We're in a tough spot."

"But we're not lost... yet," Jimin says, "right??"

"But we don't know when the doomsday will come," Taehyung sighs. "That makes this whole situation shittier."

It's not very often that the group sits down to have a serious conversation—it's not often at all that everyone can be serious in one setting. And it's a bit unsettling.

Especially when you had thought you were doing fine. But what would you know? You're only nineteen; you've yet to experience hardships that the others have gone through. So you know what the others are worrying about is valid.

"So what do we need to prepare for?" Jungkook asks.

"That's what I wanted to talk about today," Hoseok says. "How are we going to prepare for a potential zombie attack if we had minimal contact with zombies so far?"

"That's true..." you murmur. "Kook and I are the only ones who've seen zombies without a barrier separating them and us... But even then, they were several yards away."

"We don't know their weaknesses at all," Namjoon says. "We just know that once you've been bitten, you'll die and then become undead after some time. But we don't even have a specific number on that either."

"I mean, do you really want to find out?" Taehyung snorts. "Why would any zombie come around here, anyway?"

"But this is all a 'just in case' situation," Hoseok says. "We just want to prepare for the worst possible scenario."

There the businessman goes again, thinking ten steps ahead of everyone.

"I feel like we'll have the best solutions when we actually face the problem," Jungkook says. "We definitely don't feel threatened right now. We're not gonna get an effective solution." He shrugs. "I say we go with the flow."

"And wait until it's too late and one of us gets bitten?" Namjoon says.

"Have you ever heard of procrastinating?" Jungkook says.

Namjoon and Hoseok gasp like they've seen the devil.

"If we wait until we're threatened, we'll do ten day's worth of work in ten minutes," Jungkook says.

"And if we try to force a solution now, we'll probably do ten minute's worth of work in ten days. Or worse," you add. "Trust me, as a procrastinator, I would know."

"They kind of have a point," Seokjin says. "I guess if we run out of food, we can always... grow it? I don't know, we can be self-sufficient. There's always a solution, no matter how late in the game we find it."

"Are you saying we should wait until we're actually in trouble before taking action...?" Jimin says slowly. "Because that sounds dangerous... I mean, I don't uh, work well under pressure."

"I think we should invest in a gun," Taehyung says. "'Cause in the movies, they totally gun the little shits down."

"None of us knows how to shoot a gun," Yoongi says. "And I don't trust any of you with one."

"Hey! I'm a cop—"

"Cop in training, I know, I know," Yoongi says. "But I don't care. You get scared easily. You're gonna accidentally shoot one of us while you're at it."

Jimin can't argue with that.

"We can't live like this forever," Hoseok says, shaking his head disdainfully.

"Who knows? Maybe this will lead to the extinction of the human race," Namjoon says. "We might have to live like this forever."

"See? If we go on forever, then we won't have to come up with solutions right away. We'll make them up as we go," you say.

"Procrastinating is a horrible—"

But before Hoseok can go on a lecture-rant for two hours straight, Yoongi stands up.

"Well, I'm done with this conversation," he says. The man gestures at you and Jungkook. "C'mon, you two. Let's get to Target."

You silently thank Yoongi for helping you escape Hoseok's long life lectures. Swiftly, you and Jungkook grab your weapons—your bats—before cautiously stepping out of the house and climbing into the bus.

The bus ride to Target is silent as usual. Yoongi likes to drive in complete silence, observing the city's hollowed-out, empty look. Sometimes, zombies lurk about in the shadows, but they're always too slow to catch up to the bus. And they rarely swarm around Target for reasons that are so lucky that you don't even question it.

Once Yoongi's bus pulls up to the Target parking lot, you and Jungkook cautiously tug back the curtains draped around the windows to check if the coast is clear. Usually, it is. Yoongi always murmurs some sort of subtle words of encouragement before the two of you leave. But you and Jungkook never need it.

Swinging your bats over your shoulders and walking side by side in Target, you feel like you're the Harley Quinn to Jungkook's Joker. Not that the two of you are romantically close. Ew.

It's just that you spend a lot of time with him. Going on supply missions, sleeping in the same bedroom, listening to music together during otherwise silent bus rides... Jungkook's a great shoulder to cry on when an existential crisis hits you at 4 a.m. in the morning. He's always able to wake up and calm you down before the others are awoken from the sounds of you sniffling under the covers.

Granted, the two of you still tease the living hell out of each other, you think you make a great team with Jeon Jungkook.

Sometimes, zombies will creep into Target and roam about with their limping legs and horrible posture. You and Jungkook aren't very scared of them because at most there are only two or three at a time and that's a number you and Jungkook can easily beat with your bats. Plus, the two of you have trained short-distance running for years. You're fast. If you ever get in a position where you have to run for your life, you think you'll survive.

Besides, the zombies are stupid. There are too many ways to outsmart them. I.e. throw a noisy kiddy toy in the opposite direction and have them hobble towards it while you can run away. Seriously, how dumb can you be to let a zombie best you???

Despite being overly confident about your survival skills, you and Jungkook still take safety precautions. (It's always better to stay safe than be sorry.) The rule of thumb is that you're only allowed to carry one shopping bag each, which leaves the other hand empty to handle the bat.

Today's Target trip is just like any other. You get some salt for Seokjin and manage to salvage the gummy bear vitamin supplements that everyone raves over.

You're just about to call it a day and suggest you go back to the bus when Jungkook tugs at your shirt and points at the sports section. Your eyes fall on the baseball bats and softballs in the corner. Nostalgia hits you hard.

"Oh..." you breathe.

"Yeah..." Jungkook sighs. "When's the last time you even had a game?"

"It feels like it's been years," you sigh. "But probably four months and a few weeks."

"We should really start working out again," Jungkook says. "I heard it's bad for athletes to suddenly stop."

You snort. "Working out's the last thing that should be on our minds in the midst of a zombie apocalypse though."

"True." Jungkook grips his baseball bat in his hand and stares forlornly at it. "I really can't imagine trying to hit something that's not a ball with this bat."

He makes a sad point. "Me too," you agree with him. "I'd never want gross zombie guts on it."

"You know, I wish I could swing my bat and hit a ball right now," Jungkook sighs. "That's literally my only wish at this point."

"It's a risky wish..."

"I know..."

The conversation is sad—too sad for you to handle. Too sad to be talking about with fun-loving Jeon Jungkook.

"Whatever, right?" you say, trying to lighten the mood. "When all of this ends..." Even you can't finish your sentence. You find yourself wondering, but when will it end??

Jungkook pats your back. "When all of this ends," he continues for you, "we should come to each other's games."

You smile at him. "Promise?"

"Promise."

It's silly to be so caught up in playing a goddamn sport in the midst of an apocalypse. But softball had been your life, and it had been stripped away from you. It's worse to have to carry around your bat all the time—not to hit a ball, but for protection. Protection against monsters.

"We should go," Jungkook whispers, nudging you. He points his head in the direction of some zombies who had caught sight of the two of you in the sports aisle. Neither of you panic, but Jungkook grabs your hand anyway. "Wanna make a run for it?" He grins as if nothing is wrong at all. "It'll be like a mini-workout."

You smile back. Four months ago, you would've been terrified if a zombie was within even a twenty feet radius around you. But you've grown now. You're used to a couple of zombies. And Jungkook's never terrified, so you have no reason to be terrified either.

"Let's go!" you say, returning Jungkook's smile.

The two of you begin to dash away, hearing the inhumane moans of the zombies echo in your ears as you run not from fear but to exercise. Maybe you are living in more comfort than you've bargained for.

Survival just isn't a priority anymore.

"What the fuck happened to your arm?" Taehyung shouts the moment you and Jungkook walk into the cramped house again with Yoongi trailing behind the two of you.

"Who, me?" Jungkook says, turning his head to inspect his arms.

"No, Y/N," Taehyung sighs, rolling his eyes. "You have blood running down your arm, dude. Does it not hurt?"

Now that Taehyung mentions it, your right arm begins to throb with sudden pain. When you turn, you see a small gash coated with blood; the droplets are rolling down your arm in a dramatic fashion, but the pain is tolerable.

"DID YOU GET BITTEN?!" Jimin screams.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. "If she was bitten, she would've dropped dead." He picks up the plastic bags and carries them over to the kitchen as everyone trails behind him. "As you can see," he gestures toward you, "Y/N is fucking fine."

"I must've cut my arm on some cardboard or something. I don't know," you say. "We were running away from some of those creeps, so..."

"Are you okay, at least?" Jungkook says. "It looks like it hurts."

You snort. "I mean, it's only a cut. Hey, Tae, a little help over here?"

"Only a cut? Dude, nothing's ever only a cut in a fucking apocalypse," Taehyung says. "I'll take a look." He disappears into the bathroom to wash his hands and comes out holding the first aid kit.

While Taehyung treats your little wound, Seokjin begins to serve lunch—grilled cheese that's crunchy and flavorful and definitely not bland. Taehyung gives his compliments to the chef, which almost makes Seokjin break down in blissful tears.

But then the bickering commences as usual.

"I'm not trying to point fingers here," Namjoon starts, but he very obviously stares Taehyung down. "But I haven't touched my phone since the apocalypse began. Yet it seems like Taehyung can't get enough of his phone the whole day."

Taehyung takes a ginormous bite of his grilled cheese sandwich and shrugs. "It's important stuff," he grumbles with his mouth full.

"How, though? We've already established that none of our relatives are answering our texts or calls ages ago," Hoseok says.

"What could possibly be so important on your phone, I wonder," Seokjin says. He raises his eyebrows, but everyone already knows that he's suspecting.

Taehyung rolls his eyes. "It's good leisure time."

You make a face. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I can confirm it," Jungkook says. "He watches porn."

Taehyung scoffs. "You don't??"

"Well, jacking off is the least of our worries," Jimin adds to the conversation. "Though I'm sure it feels good."

Everybody groans. You especially.

"I can do whatever I want with my fucking dick," Taehyung announces.

"Please," you say, "can I eat in peace without having to think about dicks?"

"Thank you!" Taehyung says. "Everyone please shut up and eat Jin's delicious grilled cheese."

Seokjin smiles proudly. It seems as though Taehyung's learning a thing or two from Seokjin.

"I really go through the mill every day to cook for you guys and Taehyung's the only one who's complimenting me?" the talented chef sighs, shaking his head. "Don't be surprised if I accidentally spill dirt in your dish the next meal. Seriously, guys. I think I deserve some standing ovation or something—"

But before Seokjin can go on one of his famous self-esteem raising rants, you excuse yourself and make a mad dash to the only bathroom in the whole house. Even the talkative chef stops his ranting when you disappear behind the locked door so quickly.

Jimin's the first to speak. He giggles, "I think she's getting diarrhea from your delicious meal, chef."

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "You're an idiot, Jimin. She's definitely not taking a shit."

"I am not an idiot!"

"What are you trying to say?" Yoongi says, feigning disinterest, but he's obviously curious about your sudden escape to the toilet.

"It's her time of month," Jungkook whispers to the men. Their eyes turn large at the relayed news. "You guys better not get on her bad side in the next few days. Or let her be in a bad mood. Run it with me, guys," he says quietly. "She gets cramps in the first three days. She gets bad cravings on the fourth. After that, we should be safe. Anyways, just be especially nice to her. She wasn't exactly having the best day today."

"How the fuck do you know her cycle?" Hoseok narrows his eyes.

"I accidentally might've... um, grazed my hand against her ass one time um, and... I heard a crunch... Turns out it was her pad," Jungkook sighs. "It was a total accident. But I almost lost my head. Ever since then, I've been keeping track in fear for my life."

"Must kinda suck being a woman in these times," Yoongi says.

"Yeah, respect for Y/N for sure," Taehyung says.

"She's a strong woman," Namjoon nods. "I agree. Imagine trying to live with seven males you barely know in a world where there are so many dangerous predators—cough, men."

"I know, I know," Jungkook sighs. "I feel bad because she totally switched from pads to tampons because of me..."

"Tampons are better for active girls, anyway," Namjoon says. "I think."

"I never really notice when Y/N's on her period though," Seokjin says. "I mean, she doesn't have mood swings at all!"

"That's 'cause she has mood swings all the time," Jungkook snickers, bending the truth to earn some laughs from the boys. But it doesn't become very funny when:

"I can fucking FEEL you guys talking about me!" you shriek from the bathroom, and though the door is closed, everyone else can hear you loud and clear.

It becomes completely silent; the men suddenly become very invested in eating.

A few seconds later, you walk out of the bathroom looking a little peeved already. You sigh as you pick up your leftover grilled cheese. "Hey, Jin, can I get something warm to drink?"

"Warm water?" Seokjin says. "Of course, honey."

You raise your eyebrows at Seokjin's sudden sweetness, but you don't question it.

Meanwhile, Jungkook looks at the other men and gives them the 'I told ya so' look. Cramps 101, warm water helps ease the pain and so do hot packs, which unfortunately aren't available at the moment. Jungkook's done some extra research himself. Maybe on your birthday or something, he can surprise you with one of those cute animal-shaped hot packs or an extra supply of painkillers. (You never waste a precious Advil on period cramps, no matter how bad they get.)

The rest of the day, the men surprisingly keep quiet. And it's doing wonders for that headache that's creeping in. Normally, you try not to make a big show that you're on your period, so everyone tends to treat you the same. But today... well, it's almost as if they know they're walking on thin ice. You can't say you don't like this special treatment. Especially when dinner is actually civil for once, with no one calling others out or displaying horrible table manners.

It's even hilarious how after dinner, Jungkook takes you aside and very, very cautiously asks, "Hey... I don't know if you're down or not for family time today... but—"

You cut him off, laughing, "I'm always down!!"

On your cue, the group gathers around in the living room and Yoongi even offers you the single couch that he always claims is his. You gratefully take his offer and hug your pillow in front of you to keep your stomach warm. Jungkook sits next to you (as usual) but perches upon the couch arm.

"Anybody have a nice, tame game for tonight?" he says.

"Tame??" you say, raising your eyebrows. "Why tame?"

"Er..."

Luckily, Taehyung comes to the rescue. "Never have I ever!" he shrieks. "But the nasty version, how about that?"

"Tae—" Seokjin starts, but you interject.

"Nasty never have I ever!" you say, gripping your pillow tightly against your stomach. "Sounds like a plan! The ten fingers version please." Jungkook notices you biting your lip in discomfort and offers you his hand to take. Though you raise your eyebrows at him, you take his offer. No one else notices.

"Okay, I'll start," Namjoon says, crisscrossing his legs and looking smugly at everyone—almost as if he knew he had a good question. "Never have I ever had a friends with benefits."

"Oh, come on!" nearly half of the group screams.

"You've really never had a friend with benefits??" Jungkook gawks at Namjoon. "Seriously dude. Harsh first question."

"Don't have time for friends with benefits," Namjoon answers, grinning.

You, Seokjin, Yoongi and Namjoon laugh triumphantly as the others lose their marbles over already having nine fingers left.

"I don't have friends to benefit from," Yoongi snorts, looking proudly at his ten still-standing fingers.

"I'd get attached to the 'friend,' which wouldn't be good for my mental health," you giggle. "So no. Never had or never will have friends with benefits."

Seokjin just shrugs, grinning rather innocently.

"Fine. I'll go next," Hoseok grumbles. "Counterclockwise, right? Hm..." he trails off, scrunching his eyebrows. "Ooh! Okay, never have I ever sexted the wrong person. Almost did, once."

"Dammit, Hoseok!" Jimin yells.

"You sexted the wrong person?!" Jungkook doubles over in laughter. "How???"

"My ex's contact was dangerously close to my mother's," Jimin grumbles. "I had to do a lot of explaining that day."

"Oh my god," you deadpan. "I'm so sorry, but that's just fucking hilarious."

Jimin huffs, puffing out his cheeks and angrily putting another finger down to have a total of eight fingers left. "I'm losing now."

"Relax, you haven't gotten to zero just yet," Taehyung teases.

"My turn!" Seokjin announces, "and I got a good one. I'm gonna get everyone out." He puffs out his chest and smiles a devilishly handsome smile.

"I doubt it," Yoongi says, raising his eyebrow.

"Yeah, it's hard to get everybody but yourself out," Namjoon says. "Especially with more people. You're looking at getting seven people out with one statement. Not impossible but very unlikely."

"Okay. Bet," Seokjin laughs. There is a dramatic pause (wherein it's so silent you could probably hear a pin drop) before he speaks: "Never have I ever had sex."

The whole group goes berserk.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE A VIRGIN?!" Hoseok yells.

"I HATE YOU!" Jimin screams, now at seven fingers.

"HE LITERALLY STILL HAS TEN FINGERS LEFT!"

"HE WASN'T FUCKING KIDDING!"

Seokjin just relaxes and enjoys the chaos unfolding before him.

But the next round, Yoongi says something on the lines of "Never have I not had sex before." So Seokjin loses a point because of that—but not until at least seven minutes of arguing back and forth.

Taehyung, though, comes up with an interesting question that's very obviously targeted at you.

"OOH!" he giggles, eyes turning wide. The law student grins at you specifically. "Never have I ever held hands with the opposite gender during a never have I ever game!"

"What?!" you and Jungkook shriek in unison, but keeping your hands intertwined. Instead, Jungkook squeezes your hand in response.

"That was so obviously aimed towards us!" you complain.

"Oh, then go on, aim something at me, then," Taehyung giggles. "We're tied in points anyway."

"Okay, fine," you sigh. "Never have I ever had a dick."

"You just did not—"

"That's not fair!"

"I can't fucking help what I was born with."

You shrug. "Let the aiming begin. Sorry boys, I wanna win this game."

Even Jungkook looks offended that you had attacked him.

"If you're playing dirty, I can play dirtier," he grins. "Never have I ever had a vagina."

"You stole mine!" you complain. Jungkook just laughs and pats your hand.

"Never have I ever slept with a guy," Jimin says.

"Never have I ever played softball," Namjoon says.

"Never have I ever been penetrated," Hoseok smiles at you angelically. You want to slap them.

"Never have I ever inserted a tampon," Seokjin sings.

"Never have I ever worn a bra," Yoongi says with a shrug.

"Never have I ever held Jungkook's hand," Taehyung laughs.

"That's double-dipping on the last one!" you argue.

"Too bad!"

Now it's your turn. And you only have one finger left. Well, this took the disastrous route.

"Never have I ever kissed a girl," you sigh defeatedly.

Though everyone else puts down a finger, you're still losing big time. One more blow would mean you've lost.

Jungkook smiles, turning to you. "Ready for the finale?"

You roll your eyes. "Whatever. Bring it on."

"Never have I ever had a period."

"I hate you guys," you grumble, sinking into the couch and letting go of Jungkook's arm. "You really ganged up on me."

Though you've lost the game, you're not that mad—not as mad as you thought you'd be. When you see your friends laughing their asses off and high-fiving each other to celebrate your defeat, it ironically makes you feel better. Good to see them get along.

Four months ago, they would've done anything to rip each other apart in shreds. Now, it looks like they've gotten close to the point they'll gang up to spite you.

While clutching your stomach to numb yourself from the pain, you can't help but smile. They've come a very long way. Now they don't really seem like the annoying man babies you knew. Granted, they're still man-babies, but less annoying and slightly more caring and thoughtful. But you'll take any kind of man-baby as long as he respects you and his friends.

Being on your damned period makes you want to sleep in the whole day. Except you're in a zombie apocalypse and sometimes, you have to sacrifice your wishes for the good of the group. Which means, getting up when Seokjin calls for breakfast.

But it's just so hard to get up... You end up ignoring Seokjin and everyone else yelling at you to come eat. Seokjin has to knock on the bedroom door, telling you that you can't skip breakfast or else it'll be bad for your uterus. You're not really sure that's how it works, but since he asked very nicely, you comply.

Groggily, you slide out of bed and make your way to the restroom. You feel heavy, bloated and just plain gross. You quickly change your tampon, scrubbing your hands with soap and water before finally walking out.

Whoever's the last one to wake up usually gets to walk the walk of shame with everyone else yelling at them. But it's silent today.

The moment you join the group and Seokjin hands you your breakfast, Namjoon's considerate enough to ask you if you had a good night's sleep.

"No," you answer, gesturing towards your whole face. "I'm bloated. I have dark circles under my eyes. And I feel ugly."

"N-No, you're beautiful!" Jungkook says quickly.

You give him a look. "Don't lie."

"Do you want me to tell you that you are ugly and bloated?" Jungkook asks in confusion. "I mean, I'll do it if you want, you know."

Oh god. His ignorance makes you want to strangle him.

When Jungkook notices that he's stepped into a dangerous zone, he backs away. "I-I mean, no, I wasn't lying! You're always beautiful, Y/N. I swear!"

You huff but don't respond.

It's obvious that you woke up on the wrong side of the bed. You don't even know why you're so cranky today, but you guess you have to blame it on the fact that you're bleeding out quite uncomfortably. Apparently, your uterus is extra mad this time around that you didn't try for a kid again. And it's getting its revenge by releasing its wrath on your body, which aches about everywhere.

"It must be inconvenient to change your uh, menstrual... products every day," Yoongi says, supposedly trying to cheer you up. "I would be too lazy to do that."

"Yeah. It fucking sucks," you sigh. "Part of me wishes I just had an IUD so my period would stop altogether for a while... or at least lighten it. But then we wouldn't have a doctor to get it out of me after a few years."

Namjoon clears his throat, "Excuse me, I'm a—"

"No, you're not," you cut him off. "You're a med school student. Huge fucking difference."

Namjoon looks a bit hurt, but he dares not to say anything else.

"Whatever," you say bitterly. "Since we're on the topic, I need to get more tampons."

"At least use pads, Y/N... Much safer..." Namjoon tries.

"Yeah, pads are rad," Taehyung snorts.

"Period," Seokjin adds on.

"Oh god. Did you just make a period joke?" Hoseok groans, shaking his head.

"Why, yes," Seokjin grins. "Why yes, I did. I'm just going with the flow."

"Please shut the fuck up," Jimin says for you.

"I second that," you say. "And I'm not switching. Pads annoy the shit out of me. I don't wanna be more annoyed than I already am."

Nobody bothers to argue with you.

The day flows on as usual—with barely anything to do inside the house. The summer heat washes over everyone; it's nearly impossible to go outside because of it. Oh, and also, zombies. No one dares to step foot outside unless you, Jungkook or Yoongi have to get on the bus to get supplies.

But it's days like this where there's not particularly anything to do that makes this whole thing so much harder. The zombie movies make it look so easy, Taehyung points out.

And he's right. There's always so much action going on in apocalypse movies. Guns, knives, cults, blood and gore... But in reality, an apocalypse is much more... boring. It's a waiting game, really.

The eight of you just lie around, counting the fibers of the rug or daydreaming about how the world used to be. Jungkook manages to convince you to work out with him, so the two of you work on your core muscles, which ache by the time you finish because of the lack of use. You finish the work out much earlier than expected. It pisses you off that your stamina has dwindled down to nonexistent in just a few months. If it weren't for the stupid apocalypse, you'd still be one of the star players on your team. Now you're not even sure everyone on your team is still alive.

You call it quits and take a refreshing shower.

With your hair still wet and your clothes clinging onto your body, you lie on the bed right next to Jungkook whose eyes flutter open. "Back from your shower?"

"Mhm..." Instinctively covering your stomach with your hands, you turn your head to look at Jungkook. "I barely got through that workout."

Your friend laughs, clearing his bangs from his eyes at the same time. "You'll get better once we start working out more regularly."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know, though..." you sigh. "What's the point anymore?"

"The point?" Jungkook asks. He shifts his body to look at you, but you don't meet his eyes. "The point is to... survive... Right?"

"...I guess." You wince when your stomach cramps get worse. For some reason, the shower had left you with depressing thoughts and being skeptical of survival. "I dunno. What's the point of living now? We're just stuck in this house. It's cramped. We can't go outside unless we really need to... And I feel like absolute shit about myself. There's just no... purpose."

"Yeah, it sucks," Jungkook agrees. "But hey, you made a purpose by doing something you wanted to do yesterday. Remember? You finally worked out! And even during your period. You should be proud of yourself."

His enthusiasm and kind words make you feel a bit better. "I guess I did accomplish something pretty worthy today."

"See?" Jungkook grins. He sits up on the bed and smiles at you. "You did good."

You laugh, sitting up with him. "You mean, I did well."

"Literally no one cares about grammar."

"Oh, really?" you giggle, nudging Jungkook so hard that he almost falls off the bed. He grabs onto the sheets in a frenzy, and the two of you begin to laugh uncontrollably.

When the laughter dies down, you can't help but keep smiling at Jungkook. He must be having a hard time himself. (Either that or he's just a rock with no feelings.) But it's nice that he actively tries to make you feel better. Even if he jokes about inappropriate things all the time. Thank god there's someone your age living in the household. You doubt that anyone else would understand your PMS-ing and arbitrary existential crises as well as Jungkook.

"I'm sorry I've been such a grouch," you tell Jungkook. "If you guys were meaner to me right now, I'd stop whining. Coddling does bad things to my attitude."

"Nah, if I was bleeding out of my nonexistent vagina, I'd be pissed too," Jungkook says. "C'mon, let's go grab some lunch. I smell Seokjin's cooking."

During the meal, Hoseok sets down his silverware and sighs very loudly. "Everyone," he announces authoritatively. "This place is a pigsty."

Yoongi looks up from his dish. "Excuse me, this is my house. You can't say that."

Hoseok just rolls his eyes. "I'm just saying if I had my secretary, this place would be spotless."

"Well, your secretary isn't here though," Jungkook snickers.

"Thank you Captain Obvious," Hoseok glares. "We're still going to do some... summer cleaning."

Oh no. Everyone groans.

Once the dishes are washed and put away, Hoseok starts giving out the cleaning assignments. Seokjin is excited to get the kitchen. You get the bathroom (because your feminine hygiene products are there). Hoseok, Taehyung and Jimin get the living room area, while Yoongi, Namjoon and Jungkook get to clean the bedroom.

It's rather organized, but cleaning is not very fun. Back before the apocalypse, you'd probably clean your desk and room maybe once every six months. Or a year if you were particularly lazy.

Hoseok keeps yelling at everyone to "Put your backs into it!" Jungkook's ordered to scrub the floors and Taehyung gets to wash the rug. You just shut the bathroom door to drive a partition between the loud men.

But the repetitive scrubbing motions help soothe you. And you have to admit, it's a little bit satisfying to see all the muck wash down the drain when you scrub extra hard. However, after a while, it becomes a bit lonely to clean by yourself. Through the door, you can hear the others joke around and prank each other. Somehow, they're making cleaning sound fun.

You finish the last of your part in the bathroom and walk out with a PSA in mind. The men look up when you clear your throat. "Ahem, ahem. Please, for the love of god," you say, "put the fucking toilet seat down."

Jimin cocks his head at you. "But there are seven men and one of you."

"Oh, shut up!" Seokjin slaps Jimin. "Don't be a dick about using your dick."

"Uh, yeah, and it's just not fair that I have to clean up after your horrible aims," you say, shrugging.

"Oof," Jungkook whispers, nudging Taehyung and giggling.

"And I need to go to take out the trash..." you say. "...Anyone wanna come with?"

"Nah, Yoongi and I'll take care of it," Jungkook says. "You can stay and rest."

He doesn't need to say it twice. "Really? Thanks!"

While Jungkook and Yoongi go off to go to the local school to dump the trash, you decide to help Seokjin out in the kitchen. He normally doesn't let anyone around his precious workspace, but he found that you're significantly less clumsy than the other men.

The two of you end up making some soup from scraps and heating up bread. By the time everyone gathers around the living room with their bowls of piping hot soup, it's already dark out. Another day is nearly over.

And what better way to end the day than spend it with family time?

"I had so much time to think about this today," Jimin says. "What about twenty questions?"

"Oh, the thing where we ask twenty questions to come up with an object?" you say. "I'm down."

Everyone else mumbles their validations.

"I have a word," Jungkook snickers. "Shoot the questions." He downs his bowl of soup until there's nothing left.

"Okay, first thing's first," Namjoon says. "Is it alive?"

"No," Jungkook answers. "Is it not. The purpose of it is that it is not alive."

"Hmm..." Yoongi says. "Okay, then is it... um, a household object?"

"Well..." Jungkook pauses. "Yes?"

"Why'd you say that in a question?" you laugh. "Is it a weird household object?"

"Wait, that doesn't count as a question!" Hoseok says.

"Oh shit, sorry. I meant to say, have we ever used it in this house?"

"Um, I hope not," Jungkook snickers.

"Yes or no?!"

"No?? I think?"

"You don't know for sure??"

"I don't know if Yoongi has one of these! And if he uses it!" Jungkook says.

"Okay, fine. Then is it something essential to survival?" Yoongi asks.

"Oh, definitely not."

"Did you use it before the apocalypse?"

"Oh, hell no," Jungkook laughs. "But some of you might've."

"Some of us??" Seokjin says. "Wanna waste seven questions and find out who?"

"No!" everyone else choruses.

"So we know that it's kind of a household object, but we haven't exactly used it in this house... But some of us may have used it before we got stuck here..." Namjoon says. He hums thoughtfully. "Do you think it'd be smart to try to find out the general size of this object?"

Jungkook stifles a laugh.

"Why? Why was that funny?" Hoseok says. He narrows his eyes. "Hm, okay, is it larger than my hand?"

Jungkook laughs out loud. "I mean, it depends, really."

"You need to start giving better answers," Taehyung groans. "You're so fucking vague."

"So the size varies..." you say. "A shit ton of things have varying sizes!"

"I got a question!" Taehyung announces. "Would you typically let this object out in the open?"

"What kind of dumb question is that?" Yoongi rolls his eyes.

"What?? I'm sensing that this object is a weird one and I just wanna confirm it!!"

"No!" Jungkook exclaims. "Never. You would not wanna leave it out in the open."

"Money???" Namjoon guesses. "Do you guys think it's money?"

"How could some of us have used money before the apocalypse?" Hoseok laughs. "It's not money... We have to figure out which people would've used it before."

"Or we can ask where most people would keep the object," you say. "Here's my question, would it be in the kitchen?"

"Not typically, no. I also hope not," Jungkook says.

"Oh god, I can't help you guys now," Seokjin shrugs.

"Would it be in the bedroom, then?" Jimin asks.

"Oh, yes. Yes."

"What would you wanna keep hidden in the bedroom?" Namjoon scrunches his forehead.

Taehyung sniggers. "My mind is going places right now."

"Oh god," you groan. "Please don't—"

"Is it related to sex?" the law student blurts out before anyone can stop him.

There's a dramatic pause before Jungkook nods. "Yes."

"I KNEW IT!" Taehyung pumps his fist in the air victoriously. "It's a sex toy. I can feel it."

"Something that only a few of us would use..." Jimin trails off. "Is it for both sexes?"

"Um..." Jungkook says. "Yes? I mean, you would think it's for women... But I think some men would use it too... Aw man, I just gave you guys a huge hint."

All of the men turn to you. "What have you got for us?" Yoongi says.

You try to rack your brain. "Um... maybe a vibrator?"

"Is that your answer?" Jungkook says.

"Um, yes?"

"Nope!"

"How many questions do we have left?" Hoseok asks.

"Eight," Jungkook answers, grinning. "But I'm pretty sure you guys will get it right."

"Um... um..." you try to think, but nothing's coming up in your head. "I don't know! I don't really use toys in the bedroom!"

"I got it!" Namjoon shrieks. "I got it!"

"What is it??"

"Butt plugs!!"

Jungkook throws his head back to laugh. "N-No!!" he wheezes.

"Oh, wait," Seokjin says. "I think I know."

Everyone holds their breaths as he prepares to reveal the answer.

"A dilidio."

"A WHAT?" you nearly fall over laughing.

"NOOOO!" Taehyung screams, slapping his thighs and doubling over.

"Did you fucking mean dildo???" Hoseok yells, his face turning red as he laughs.

"Oh my god," Jimin giggles.

"I-I choked on my soup," Yoongi coughs, but he's laughing so hard it seems as if he doesn't mind.

"Oh no," Seokjin says. "I suppose I did mean dildo..."

Jungkook seems to be at a loss for words. He's laughing so hard that he's completely silent, his mouth open and his eyes squeezed shut as he gasps for air. "Y-YES!" he finally screams. "You guessed it!"

"Your word was dildo the whole time?!" you shriek. "And you thought some of us used it??"

"Wait, you never used one?" Jungkook gapes. "I thought all girls—"

"No! Not all—I am not talking about this in public!"

"I've considered it before," Taehyung giggles. "But I backed down before things got serious."

"Oh my god," Namjoon wheezes. "I almost lost my lungs thanks to Seokjin."

Seokjin just shrugs. "I'm just here for comedic relief."

"Did you really not know how to say dildo??" Taehyung says.

Seokjin laughs nervously. "I mean... it slipped from my mind for a second... C'mon I'm a straight male who's a virgin. Cut me some slack."

"Sure," Taehyung giggles. "...dilidio," he whispers.

That results in another loud friendly argument, and by the time things are settled and everyone's abs are hurting from laughing, Yoongi decides to call it a night.

You slip into bed after changing tampons and try to drift off the sleep. But the worst thing about being on your period is that sometimes, you get bad insomnia on top of cramps. Curling up into the mattress, you hold your stomach protectively as you try to count the sheep to bore yourself to sleep. However, in your visions, the sheep turn into mutated zombies, so you have to force yourself to open your eyes to get the hideous image out of your head.

Sighing, you turn over so you're on your side and facing the side that Jungkook's sleeping on.

"Still awake?" comes a hushed whisper from below the bed. You can recognize the silvery undertone of Jungkook's voice anywhere.

"Yeah, just some insomnia," you shrug. "And cramps."

"Sucks," Jungkook whispers.

"Yeah..."

"Want me to help?"

"What??"

Before you know it, you hear rustling and Jungkook slips under the covers with you. "Here, I'll big spoon you," he says. "Some extra heat might help, right?"

"O-Oh, y-yeah..." You're so caught off guard that you can't help but stutter. "Are you sure this isn't some plot to just sleep in the comfortable bed?"

Jungkook laughs quietly. "Something like that," he jokes. He puts a reassuring arm around you, and you can't help but flush when he whispers, "Comfortable?"

"Mhm... T-Thanks," is all you can manage. You're so caught up in the fact that you're spooning with Jungkook that you completely forget about your cramps. He smells like Yoongi's soap—clean and a bit minty—like his usual spearmint cologne. It brings back old memories of the Jungkook you barely knew but was still attracted to. The Jungkook you know now is infinitely better.

A part of you knows he actually, genuinely cares for you. But another part of you worries that he's just being nice to get into your pants. You're usually good at spotting the typical ding-dong-ditch boys, so you hope your good judgments about Jungkook are correct as well.

But what kind of bad man cuddles platonically with a girl to help her with her period cramps?? Exactly. Jeon Jungkook is a saint.

And that's the last thought you have before you drift asleep in his strong arms.

When you wake up, Jungkook's not in bed with you; nor is he in the bedroom. It seems as if it's just you and Yoongi left sleeping. The others must be awake.

Waking up without Jungkook next to you almost makes you feel like yesterday had just been a miraculous dream. But you know it had happened. Why else would Jungkook's sleeping bag be arranged so neatly? He'd definitely fallen asleep with you. The thought makes your cheeks blush and you try to shake the feeling away.

You rub your eyes, yawn and carefully maneuver out of the room, avoiding sleeping Yoongi. Making a quick stop to the restroom to change your tampon, you walk out, stretching your arms and yawning. The cramps seemed to have ceased early this time, so you're feeling much lighter and happier.

The others give you their salutations.

"Feeling better?" Jungkook says. He sits up from the single couch to let you sit down.

"Thanks," you say, smiling at him. "Yeah, the cramps are gone at least."

"Sounds good, Y/N!" Seokjin sings from the kitchen. "Can someone wake Yoongi up??"

"I'll go," Hoseok sighs. "I swear, that man could sleep through the world ending."

"He already is," Taehyung laughs.

You smile at Taehyung's joke, turning to Jungkook to see if he had found it funny too. To your shock, you see Jungkook already looking at you, smiling softly.

"The worst's already over, right?" he says. "Maybe we can snag some painkillers for you one day."

"Oh, we shouldn't bother—"

"Come on, lovebirds!" Namjoon says. "Breakfast's ready!"

"Lovebirds?!" you and Jungkook shout at the same time.

"As if you guys don't make it obvious enough," Yoongi grumbles, scratching his back and squinting at the bright lights. "Didn't you two play footsie last night in bed?"

"We did not!" Jungkook scoffs.

"Wait, does that mean I get to move into the bedroom?" Taehyung asks hopefully.

"Why would it be you? What about me?" Hoseok says.

"Yeah! And me??" Jimin argues.

"Whatever. Whatever!" you shout, effectively silencing everyone. "Let's just please eat breakfast."

After another meal consisting of everyone talking over each other and making hilarious jokes, Seokjin announces that he's in need of more eggs. More vegetables would be nice too.

You and Jungkook immediately stand up and Yoongi just groans. "Do we really have to go today?" he grumbles. "I just wanna stay home."

"You've been staying home for over a week," Taehyung says. "Hey, can I tag along this time? I'm not afraid of a couple of zombies."

"Why so suddenly?" Yoongi raises his eyebrows. "It's not a fairytale, you know. It's serious work."

"I mean, Y/N and Jungkook make it look so fun..."

"Yes, we're pretty cool, we know," Jungkook laughs, scrounging around for his baseball bat and picking it up. "We're every zombie movie director's dream."

"As long as you can run really fast, then sure," you say.

"Yes!!" Taehyung exclaims.

Jimin shudders. "I still don't understand why you would want to go outside into the zombie-infested world..."

"One wrong move could get you killed," Hoseok says. "It's dangerous."

You shrug. "We've survived every time. And besides, zombies are the lesser species. They're stupid. Slow. And incredibly weak."

"Careful. Don't get too cocky," Namjoon says. "You sure you need an extra pair of hands to carry everything?"

"The more people we have, the more supplies we can get at a time," Jungkook answers. "Tae can come and that's final."

Taehyung won't shut up about how cool it would be to have zombies chasing after him as he ducks heroically around obstacles and wacks a few of them with makeshift weapons. It's like his head's stuck in the movie world.

Yoongi ends up putting his earplugs in.

You and Jungkook patiently listen to Taehyung's fantastical visions, wondering if the two of you should break it to him that yes, being a supplier is cool, but no, it is not action zombie movie cool.

When Yoongi announces that you've arrived at the destination, Jungkook cautiously pulls back the curtains on the bus and then frowns.

"Yoongi, this is Costco, not Target."

"Yeah, I know," the stoic man answers. "Figured the eggs came in larger packs here. And they have a special section for their fruits and vegetables to keep them fresh."

"Fresh after four months?" you raise your eyebrows.

"You can see for yourselves," Yoongi answers. "If not, there's a shit ton of food there anyway. Thought we needed a little upgrade from Target."

"Right..." Jungkook says. "But we also don't know how many more zombies are roaming around here."

"Seems like none to me!" Taehyung exclaims as he scans the perimeter. "Uh, at least none on the outside."

"Well... we have each other's phone numbers just in case. Ringtones on silent, right?" you say. "We'll call you if we have any trouble. And you'll call us if you're in trouble too. Though I doubt it." You shrug. "The most zombies we might have to encounter might be ten. And we can take ten easily."

"Exactly," Jungkook says. "But we'll still exercise caution."

"Right," Taehyung says. "We must exercise caution."

"And try to talk in a low volume," you say.

"Then everything will be just fine," Jungkook says, puffing out his chest.

Five minutes later, things are looking out to be... quite... not fine. But it's also too late to back down. The three of you are already deep in the large Costco building, and though it looked like there were no zombies outside, there were a shit ton inside. All sleeping.

You try to signal Jungkook and Taehyung to go back to the bus just in case, but the other two are firm on going through with the mission. The three of you tiptoe carefully across the building, making sure to speak sparingly or stay silent altogether.

Unfortunately, Costco doesn't have plastic bags, so you end up having to carry the carton of eggs. The vegetable section stinks of rotten food, so you avoid it completely. There aren't that many fresh foods in Costco that you can hold without making a complete racket, so the three of you gravitate towards the canned foods sections once more. You admit, there are way more options in Costco than in Target, but you quickly find out that it's hard to carry multiple cans at once without a bag.

You ditch the canned foods and pick up boxes of waffle, pancake and cake mix. In the midst of choosing how many of these boxes you should bring with Jungkook, Taehyung interrupts the quiet conversation by whispering aggressively: "Look! Look at this!"

Jungkook puts his finger to his lips. "Not so aggressively," he whispers. He nods at the couple of zombies sleeping in the same aisle, just several feet away—the closest you've ever been to those limping monsters. And all of you know there might be tens and tens more scattered around the store. No one wants to find out what would happen if they all woke up.

Taehyung pouts and twirls around in—

"A leather jacket?" you say. "Where the fuck did you get that?"

"It was literally lying on the ground somewhere. Pretty neat, huh? Makes me feel like I'm the star of a zombie apocalypse movie!"

"That's half true," you say. "You're not a star in a movie... Also, that's a woman's jacket. See the details on the side?"

"I don't care! It's still fucking cool—"

"Shh!! Shut the fuck—FUCK!" Jungkook shrieks.

The zombies in the aisle have opened their eyes and have seen the three of you. They slowly get up from the ground and begin to limp toward you, but surely, gaining speed.

"Ohhh no, oh no, oh no," you panic, gripping Jungkook's arms and nearly dropping the eggs in your arms.

"S-Stay calm," Jungkook says, but his eyes are huge and he looks panicked. "Um... run!" he whispers.

Taehyung grabs an extra box of waffle mix before dashing away, catching up to you and Jungkook. The three of you dash for your lives. You take a look back to see if the zombies are still following you, but you wish you hadn't. There are way more than the two initial ones who had spotted you. Now there's a gigantic hoard of them limping after you.

And man, the movies got it all wrong! These motherfuckers are kinda fast.

Maybe they can't exactly run, but they can definitely speed walk. Your feet pound against Costco's floors and the impact vibrates from your foot to the top of your head. The bat wedged between your arms has never felt so useless. The eggs held tightly against your chest are threatening to crack under the pressure of your hold. But you don't care. You've never been more afraid in your life.

One or two zombies is a joke. But at least thirty?? Wanting to bite your neck off? No fucking thank you. You cannot possibly fight that.

The only solace you have is Jungkook, who constantly looks over to make sure you're next to him. Though you know he can run faster than this, he keeps his running at your pace, and Taehyung runs behind both of you because either he's willing to turn himself into a sacrifice or he's willing to prove he's not afraid of zombies.

It might be the latter.

There's no time to text Yoongi; you'll just have to pray that he'll be waiting on the bus, ready to zoom off the moment the three of you get on. But when you finally run out of Costco's confining walls, your heart sinks. Jungkook puts his arm out in front of you to stop you from running any closer to the hoard of zombies bumping their heads on the very walls of the bus.

But there's little to no time to think.

Taehyung gestures violently and leads you and Jungkook to hop into Costco's food court kitchen, where thankfully, the windows are open. Jungkook slides into the room first and double-checks that it's completely safe and empty before helping you in. Taehyung comes in last, just before the zombies spill out of the entrance of Costco. They look confused, wondering where their three meals have vanished off into nowhere. But they don't seem to mind, wandering off to the bus where the rest of their ugly monster friends are.

You're breathing hard, so hard that you can barely breathe. All you can do is clutch your carton of eggs and rock back and forth on the balls of your feet as you squat down on the ground. Even Jungkook, the brave, seems a little fazed as he tries to comfort your shaking body by patting your back.

Only Taehyung doesn't look affected at all. He shrugs, setting down the boxes of food and pats his newly acquired leather jacket. "Everything will be fine," he whispers so quietly you can hardly catch his words.

"I-It's not!" you manage to whisper. "Yoongi's on that bus! A-And... I—what if—"

Taehyung pats your leg, helping you put down the eggs. You just hold your bat—as if it'll save you from the at least fifty zombies waiting outside. "Yoongi will be fine..." he reassures you. "Things will work out."

Jungkook shows his phone to the two of you, and there are several texts from Yoongi that indicate not to go near the bus right now.

"Tell him that we're fine," Taehyung says quietly. "That we'll wait for the zombies to go away or something."

Thank god Taehyung's here. It always helps to have someone who is unafraid. Someone who is still able to think straight after being chased by a hoard of flesh-eating zombies.

You decide to check your suspicions and open the carton of eggs to find eight of them cracked and leaking. You don't know what washes over you, but you're suddenly crying silent tears. Something about being stuck in the Costco kitchen with zombies guarding the bus you're supposed to go into and not exactly knowing what the future holds for you is fucking terrifying. And even worse, you had one job. But you'd managed to crack the eggs.

Taehyung and Jungkook are surprised to see your tears—especially Taehyung because he had never seen your vulnerable side before. Jungkook just hugs you, and you try to focus on the scent of mint clinging to his hair, while Taehyung lets you hold his hand.

No one dares to speak after that.

The zombies are pretty far away, but you're not willing to take any chances when the kitchen is a closed space. There's nowhere to run. And you obviously don't want to stay here all night. Night is when the zombie numbers multiply—at least in the movies.

You try to take silent, deep breaths to calm your rapidly beating heart. Jungkook's chest rests against your back, and you can hear his thumping heart as well. You know that he's a lot more scared than he lets on. But he stays calm for your sake.

Meanwhile, Taehyung just looks bored.

He taps meme song rhythms against the back of your hand and frequently (but also carefully) looks out the window to check if the zombies are gone. But they are not. They continue to rack their heads against the walls of the bus, and there are so many of them that sometimes, with a particularly hard knock, the bus leans to the side.

Maybe they can smell humans...

You just hope if they can, they won't be able to smell you three. If worse comes to worst, you'll actually have to fight for your life.

It's been nearly five hours.

Your legs are sweaty and your thighs stick to the ground, and it's gotten so stuffy that you, Jungkook and Taehyung have all given each other some space. There's still not much to say and it's too risky to talk, though.

The silence is horrible.

You start to think about everything. All the people you've wronged. All the people who hated you and would probably kill to see you like this. All the people who love you and would be heartbroken over the deadly situation you've entangled yourself in. All the people who you loved and are dead now, after meeting a tragic, zombie-ridden death.

It's worse that you're still on your period, and you've still got the tampon in—for more than eight hours too. But you try to forget about it; it's the least of your worries now.

At this point, you're not sure if you should just accept your fate. It already feels like you've lost a big battle. Why not just give up? The five hours you've stayed cramped up in the small kitchen felt like five days.

The others must be worrying at home. And oh god, Yoongi... He must be even more terrified to be alone on the bus and surrounded by zombies.

"H-Hey..." Jungkook whispers, placing his hand on yours. "Maybe we should go now..."

"What??" you exclaim in a low voice. "What do you mean go now??"

"Jungkook's right. There're fewer zombies surrounding the bus," Taehyung says, he crouches down but levels his eyesight to the parked vehicle.

"If we can manage to push them away from the doors and get in..." Jungkook starts. "Um..."

"We'll be totally fine," Taehyung says. He's got a small smile on his face—not a hopeful smile but a confident smile. You wonder what it takes to be so unafraid and unbothered.

But they're right. What used to be about fifty zombies have dwindled down to a measly ten to fifteen. Possibly twenty-five since some of them might be out of your line of sight. But it's much better than fifty. Still...

This would totally be asking to get bitten.

"I've already texted Yoongi. He says he'll keep a close lookout for us, and when the coast's clear, he'll let us in," Jungkook says. "C'mon..." He squeezes your shoulder. "It's better to try now than later, right?"

"You two can swing your bats around like mad," Taehyung says. "And I'll just, you know, try to stay alive and hold the supplies."

You twirl on him, your mouth gaping. "You're not gonna fight??"

"Someone has to hold the groceries," Taehyung laughs. "It's better for me to hold everything so you two have more mobility."

"Oh god. Oh god," you mumble. "We're going to have to do it..."

"Duh," Taehyung snorts. "C'mon, it'll be fun. Like in the movies."

Fun?? You could think of a billion counterarguments, but you shut your mouth.

"Just pretend the zombies are that creepy sexist male baseball coach you had in high school," Jungkook says. "Does that help?"

"I'm not very imaginative—"

"Okay, the goal is not to beat them up, anyways," Jungkook says. "Just enough for us to get into that bus in one piece..."

"Right," you say with a curt nod. "Just enough to survive..."

"They're just a couple of idiots with mangled bodies," Taehyung grins. "We'll survive."

"Of course," Jungkook snorts. He looks over at you as if to check up on your mental state. Though you're screaming on the inside, you manage to put on a stoic look on your face.

"Okay, well I'm ready," you finally whisper, gritting your teeth. "We'll uh... yeah, survive..."

"Exactly," Taehyung says, he pats your back before beginning to pick up all of the supplies. "You guys got my back, right?"

"Sure," Jungkook grins. "We'll keep you covered."

You nod along, though biting your lip nervously. "So we're just going to... make a run for it?"

"We're not really in the position to make up a battle strategy," Jungkook shrugs. "I'll be in the front, you can be right behind me and Tae'll be right at the back."

"Sounds like a plan," Taehyung says.

It's a simple plan that seems to be effective, but there are still a million things that can go wrong. Jungkook grips his bat tightly in his hands before looking back at you. He looks a little apprehensive himself, but he offers a tight smile.

"On the count of three, right?" Jungkook says, he looks at you specifically. "And no running off before."

You manage to smile nervously. "Yeah..."

"One..."

You take in a deep breath.

"Two..."

You breathe out.

"Three!"

You hold your breath as you charge, right behind Jungkook. Your feet pad silently against the ground; your surroundings are blurred. You can only see straight ahead.

You raise your bat above your head, ready to strike. Your grip around it tightens.

The zombies are still oblivious, but there are so many of them. Your ears can't seem to comprehend sound anymore. Your eyes narrow in on the monsters, and you make a mental target of the ones you're going to go after first. It's almost in slow-mo. Right before two opposing sides meet in war and clash.

Jungkook lets out a muffled gasp when he hits the first zombie across the head.

It's enough force for the monster to stumble back and fall to the ground. The other zombies notice and begin to charge slowly. You hesitate for just a second, watching Jungkook lash out at the monsters to clear the way for you and Taehyung to get into the bus. Then with revitalized vigor, you move, swinging your bat with all of your strength at the nearest, blood-thirsty zombie.

It growls before flinging backwards. The impact of the hit has your arms shaking uncontrollably, but there's no time to pause and recuperate. In fact, there's no time for you to think. One wrong move can get you killed.

You swing your bat over and over again. Never hitting the same zombie twice. Knocking down as many as you can. Helping Jungkook protect Taehyung who has no weapons at all.

Blood splatters everywhere, but you don't dare close your eyes. And it's too much of a risk to scream. You pant quietly, sweating profusely but gritting your teeth and fighting for your life. Literally.

But the zombies won't die the second time around. They manage to stand straight again and hobble towards you and the two others.

"Y/N!" Jungkook hisses, hair wet with sweat and eyebrows furrowed. "Knock on the bus door!"

He swings his own baseball bat around, subsequently knocking down three monsters. He's offering you and Taehyung protection while your backs are turned.

Following his order, you frantically knock on the bus door covered by curtains. As soon as your knuckle hits the glass, Yoongi peels back the curtain, his eyes wide and lips parted.

You know he can see the hoard of zombies still trying to maul Jungkook. He gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing in the process. Nevertheless, in just a few seconds, the bus door opens.

"Hurry!"

Taehyung's the first one in, and you only stay to kick a zombie away from the entrance. Its hanging guts explode right on your shoe, making a disgusting mess.

"Jungkook!" you shriek.

He turns around, cursing as he knocks down more of the monsters.

You bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, looking between the safe insides of the bus and your friend struggling to fight the zombies. More of them are ganging up on him, definitely more angry that he'd tried to hurt them. There's no time to think at all. It's all instinct when you jump out, unexpectedly knocking one zombie over. But it creates a miracle domino effect.

Jungkook doesn't hesitate. He grabs your arm, turns around and runs toward the entrance of the bus. The moment your foot is in the door, Yoongi slams it shut.

Loud thumps can be heard from the glass as the zombies angrily protest against the loss of a meal.

Just when you worry that the glass might crack from their vicious head-butting, Yoongi gets in the driver seat and slams his foot down on the gas. The bus lurches forward, definitely crunching over some of the zombies and subsequently flinging you, Jungkook and Taehyung to the back of the vehicle. The gathered supplies fly every which way, but Yoongi continues on, jerking the steering wheel left and right to throw off the zombies.

Your heart is thumping so loud, you can't even hear the skids of the bus wheels against the concrete. Hell, you can barely even see straight.

Even after Yoongi pulls out of Costco's parking lot and continues to speed out of the city, you're unable to speak, completely frozen. And no one speaks another word until you can see Yoongi's modest home several yards away.

Safety is close.

The anxiousness is just about dissipating within you when—

"Oh, shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!" Yoongi curses, repeatedly slamming his foot on the gas pedal only for the bus to slow down, sputter and come to a complete stop. "Well, shit," he sighs, turning around to face you, Jungkook and Taehyung. "Bus broke down."

"Welp!" Taehyung sighs, standing up and brushing the dirt off of his clothes. He's got a few bloody smudges on his cheap Target t-shirt (he had to give up Gucci ever since the apocalypse), but he's in a much cleaner state than you and Jungkook. The law student shrugs, gathering up most of the supplies in his arms. "At least it didn't break down back at Costco."

"Do you think we can fix it?" you say, eyebrows furrowed. "And is it safe outside?"

"Zombies don't really come here... I think," Jungkook says, frowning. "Um, but I'm sure we won't be ambushed out there."

"We'll have to see if the bus is fixable," Yoongi says. "But I'm no mechanic." He looks more on the worried side, fidgeting with his hands. "Let's get out of here."

With your knees still shaking and head still light, you stand up, nearly wobbling over if Jungkook had not supported you. Yoongi carries the rest of the supplies, unveiling the bus door and busting it open. You and Jungkook carry your bloody bats, you especially distraught over the violent mess that had been made of your precious sports equipment.

Taehyung's the first one out, stretching his back leisurely before taking a look around the surroundings. "Zombie-free!" he exclaims. "Damn, look at the bus! Didn't know zombies could even bleed that much!"

You make a disgusted face at his comment. I definitely don't want to be reminded of fighting those monsters anytime soon.

Taehyung's right, though. The bus windows are splattered with now dried droplets of blood, and the sides are even worse, harboring the brunt of the zombies' remains. You have to look away.

Though there are seemingly no monsters roaming about in the vicinity, Jungkook ushers you towards the house as quickly as he can. It's not worth the risk. Not worth the extra trauma.

Before any of you can get to the front door though, it swings open with a very worried looking Jimin nearly in tears.

"I thought you guys were dead!" he screams, tugging everyone in the house before slamming the door shut. When he pulls back, Jimin's jaw drops open. "Blood?!"

"Oh god..." Namjoon gasps, quickly rushing over to check up on you and Jungkook. "Anyone bitten?"

"What the hell happened?" Hoseok cries. "We couldn't even call! Our phones died and you took the chargers!" He points at Taehyung.

"Oh, Y/N..." Seokjin gasps when he realizes you've started to cry. "Hey... hey..."

"We had a little bit of a problem," Yoongi says. "Went to Costco instead of Target. It's my fault... And they had to deal with it."

"It's cool, bro," Taehyung says. "Got this cool leather jacket out of it. But also almost died in the process."

Seokjin embraces you, making you cry even harder. The stoic façade that you had put up inside the bus and all throughout the afternoon had broken apart.

"I-It was," sniff, "n-not c-c...ool," you manage to get out against Seokjin's chest. "I... I've never b-been s-so... scared."

"You've made it out alive," Seokjin whispers, patting your head. "It's okay..." He pulls back and murmurs a quiet "Yikes," when he sees blood splatters across your face and even down to your neck.

"Y-Yikes?!" You cry even harder. Everything you'd been holding in for the last four months, all the times you missed everyone you'd known in your life, all the times you'd had a major existential crisis—it all comes crashing down on you. Leaving you broken.

Seokjin awkwardly holds you, not sure of what to say and do. The rest of the men seem at a loss for words as well.

Finally, Jungkook's the first to take action. He walks forward, wiping off the dried blood from your chin before sighing. "You're a professional zombie fighter," he says, crouching down to meet your eye level. "You were brave, calm and collected when you needed to be, and you survived. Plus, you saved me. You should be proud of yourself. You did good."

You manage to scoff amidst your tears. "Y-You mean," sniff, "that you did w-well."

"Yeah, whatever," Jungkook snorts. He just pats your back and helps you sit down on the couch in the living room.

"What's that about Y/N saving your life?" Jimin says.

"Um... well, how about we start from the very beginning?" Jungkook suggests, sitting on the couch ledge. "It's a long story."

"Man, it was bad fortune after bad fortune after bad fortune!" Taehyung exclaims. "Like literally, just when we thought we survived everything and could live to see another day, the bus fucking broke down!"

"Wait, the bus broke down??" Hoseok shrieks. "And eggs and what the fuck is that—cake mix—are the last things we got???"

When you look like you're going to start crying again, Namjoon cuts in. "Cake mix can last for months. And eggs are delicious!"

"We're doomed," Jimin groans. "How are we gonna get our supplies?"

"And the eggs are cracked," Seokjin says as he frowns at the opened carton of eggs. "Thirteen out of twenty-four."

You shake your head in disbelief, biting your lip to keep yourself from crying tears of frustration. Nothing had gone right today. Nothing at all.

"I'm so sorry," you mutter. "I was holding them so tight... I didn't think they'd..." You can't even continue on, losing your voice mid-sentence.

"Hey, no," Seokjin says. "I uh, didn't mean it like that. Um, I can still totally cook with what's left!"

He tries to lighten the downwards spiraling mood, but it's no use.

"You guys could've died," Jimin gasps, pressing a hand to his chest. "Like, Jungkook could've really been a goner."

"I can't even imagine myself being in a rocking bus," Hoseok shudders. "And zombies are the ones rocking it."

"I'm just glad no one got bitten," Namjoon says. "We were worried sick!"

"No, seriously," Jimin says, "we thought you guys died."

"Yeah, it felt like I was close to death," Yoongi snorts.

"Every day we're out here means we're closer to death," Namjoon sighs, shaking his head.

"Oh, man, I don't wanna die... and then become undead," Taehyung grumbles. "Then what's the point of dying??"

"Actually, though," Hoseok grumbles. "You're right. Would we still be conscious if we were bitten and turned into monsters? Or would we be stripped from our personalities and minds?"

"I'm not sure about you, but I personally don't think I have the 'I want to bite your head off' personality within me," Jungkook snickers.

"Ew, stop talking about death," Seokjin complains. "It's stinking up the whole place." He looks at you, Jungkook and Taehyung. "And you guys need a good shower," he says as-a-matter-of-factly. "I'll make some omelets for dinner. Jimin? Hoseok? Help me, please."

"Wait what about m—" Namjoon says.

"No," Seokjin says abruptly. "You're not allowed in the kitchen."

Namjoon pouts but he soon finds something to do in his study binder. Yoongi trudges into the bedroom saying he needs to sleep the terror off.

That leaves you, Jungkook and Taehyung amongst yourselves.

"You can go first, Y/N," Taehyung says, taking one look at the tears staining your cheeks and the state of your clothes. "You look like you really need that shower."

"Agreed," Jungkook says. "We might have to throw our clothes away too. The blood on it is disgusting considering that it's not even ours..."

"Wait... blood?" You freeze as horror dawns on you. "Oh no. Oh fuck."

Before either Jungkook or Taehyung can ask what's wrong, you dash into the bathroom and lock the door.

With all the stupid commotion, you had totally forgotten about your tampon. Cursing under your breath, you manage to get it out—though with a bit more struggle than usual. But no matter, right? It's out now. Albeit, it had been inside for way longer than eight hours.

But nothing feels wrong down there, so you shrug. You've lucked out; you just won't be as reckless again.

Hopping into the shower, you let the warm water caress your skin before scrubbing your body from head to toe. You leave the shower a bit early (so the others have warm water too), but you leave feeling more refreshed, alive and relaxed.

While Jungkook and Taehyung take their turns in the shower stall, you meander into the kitchen to help Seokjin. (Jimin and Hoseok had come up with elaborate excuses to not cook, leaving the intern chef to do everything.)

By the time everyone is gathered in the living room, dinner preparation is finished. Normally, there's a lot of chatter, but the mood is solemn today. Everyone eats in silence.

In the beginning, you're unable to conjure enough of an appetite to eat. But the omelet smells heavenly and watching the others scarf it down helps a lot. You're able to ignore all the horrible images of blood and gore and zombies from your mind, picking up your fork to finally dig into the food. The omelet is delicious, but you don't have the guts to compliment Seokjin's efforts. Even the normally talkative people are quiet, preferring to dine in silence to succumb to the somber mood.

You're not even sure family game time will progress like this. Everyone's too preoccupied with the fact that half of the group could've died today. From just a simple mistake. And the fact that you broke down crying multiple times has made everyone cautious of their word choice.

"...Maybe we shouldn't play a game today," Jungkook says, looking carefully at you to check your reaction.

You bite your lip. "I don't know... It's almost like tradition."

"I know..." Jungkook sighs. "But is everyone in the mood, though?"

There are quiet murmurs; no one's feeling like they have to outwardly voice their opinions, but everyone's nodding subtly. Even so, an awkward silence befalls upon the group. You fidget with your hands, unsure whether you should just go to bed or not. There's an unsettling feeling taking over your stomach, which you're pretty sure has something to do with the traumatic events that had unfolded earlier today.

Finally, Namjoon clears his throat.

"I never really told anyone this..." he starts, playing with his fork. "Um... but I guess I can say it now... Not that there's any way the secret'll get out..."

"Secret?" Hoseok raises his eyebrows. "Did you start the damned apocalypse?"

"Oh my god, movie plot twist!!" Taehyung gushes.

"What?? No!" Namjoon says. "It's just a small secret I've been carrying with me since I was six."

"Oh?"

"Yeah..." Namjoon sighs. "I know I'm supposed to be the face of intelligence, but I suppose I wasn't a bright child... Um, well... You see, when I was the ripe age of six, I genuinely thought the moon and the sun were the same thing..."

"No way," Taehyung gasps.

"Yes way," Namjoon shakes his head. There's a pink blush on his cheeks, signifying that he was already embarrassed. "I just thought people called the same circle in the sky different things depending on whether it was day or night! C'mon, I was six."

"Um, when I was six, I definitely knew the difference between the sun and moon," Jimin snickers. "That's like, common sense."

"Oh, I doubt you've never had a dumb moment in your life," Namjoon says sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"I've had plenty, actually," Jimin says—almost as if he's bragging about it—"you see, there was this one time—"

"Wait, are we just going to share our funniest secrets?" Hoseok cuts in.

"Yes!" everyone except him choruses.

"Anyways," Jimin drags out, "okay, so starting with the bad news first. I think it was back in high school or something. Junior year, maybe? I totally forgot we had a test in the middle of the week so, of course, I didn't study. Bombed that test. Like to the point that I was the lowest score."

"How can you have any good news after this?" you gape.

"You would not believe it," Jimin cracks a smile. "I got my test back and sure enough, I got a 43%. But the best part!!" Jimin pauses dramatically. "My class grade went up!"

Namjoon's jaw drops open and you wonder if it could've unhinged if he had dropped it any faster.

"What do you mean your grade went up after scoring a 43%?!" the med school student roars. "How low was your grade?!"

Jimin just grins. "One secret at a time, my man. One secret at a time."

"You think that's bad?" Jungkook chimes in. "I used to hold my breath in front of the microwave so I wouldn't get hit by the fucking electromagnetic spectrum microwaves."

"I'm pretty sure that's not how that works," Yoongi snorts.

"I know," Jungkook sighs. "That's why it's so embarrassing."

"Oh, really? I broke up with the love of my life because she didn't know who Gordon Ramsay was," Seokjin admits. "And now she's with a better man."

"Sucks, dude," Taehyung shakes his head.

"I know, it was some rough times," Seokjin shakes his head. "I really clowned myself on that one."

"It's okay," Jimin says. "Single people are superior people."

"That's what single people say to make themselves feel better," Jungkook snickers.

"It doesn't make me feel better. It's a fact!" Jimin protests.

"Where's the evidence, though?" Namjoon says. "Facts need supporting evidence."

"Oh my god, can we please go back to the confessions?" you say.

"Oh! I have a funny one from law school!" Taehyung volunteers.

Everyone shuts up and becomes all-ears.

"Okay, so in law school, sometimes, the prof cold calls you. You know, where they basically call on you in front of the whole fucking class to brief a case. Which basically means you're supposed to summarize the details of a case, right?" Taehyung laughs at his own memories. "But guess who didn't read about the case at all?" He pauses just a bit before declaring the obvious answer: "Me! That's who! Too busy getting hammered the night before. And guess who the fucking prof cold called? Also me!"

"Oh no..." you groan. "What happened?"

"I had no idea what the case was even about," Taehyung snorts. "So I made one up on the spot. A criminal case—just because those usually get so much more exciting. Everyone around me was confused as fuck. So was the professor. But I briefed such a good imaginary case that the prof let it go. I would've been the best lawyer ever if it hadn't been for this stupid apocalypse."

"What the fuck? Your professor didn't even get mad?" Jimin says. "What was the case about?"

Taehyung grins. "Oh, I put in a little bit of this, a little bit of that. A hybrid of a Ted Bundy, Jack the Ripper and Zodiac Killer did the trick. Also the story of a heroic woman who escaped the mad man and made it alive to press charges. It was insane. I loved every single second of it, and I was making it up as I went!"

"Sometimes, Tae, I think you're a different breed," Jungkook says.

"I think we all agree with that," Hoseok says. "I mean, imagine having the nerve to completely disregard important college assignments!"

"Everyone makes mistakes!" Taehyung argues. "You probably did a couple of stupid things in your life. Why don't you share some with us?"

"I don't think I've done anything stupid in my life," Hoseok says. But he freezes. "Well, I was only thirteen then... It shouldn't count."

"Thirteen-year-old boys are idiotic," you say. "That's tea. Continue."

"I-It's not uh, very dramatic at all," Hoseok says, suddenly turning a bright shade of red. "It was no big deal, actually..."

"Spill," Jimin threatens.

Hoseok sighs. "Fine. One faithful day in junior high, I got in a fight with my mother. I told her I never needed her help with anything ever again. So she told me she wouldn't drive me to school that morning. I said I didn't care and proceeded to put on my rollerblades and skated to school to show that I was an independent young man."

"Where's the catch?"

"Um... I forgot to bring an extra pair of shoes to change into at school," Hoseok says. "But I didn't want to call my mom because that would mean I would've lost. I voluntarily walked in my socks for the rest of the day."

"I mean, at least you went through with it," Seokjin laughs. "I kind of have respect for that."

"Well, thanks," Hoseok shrugs. "I thought I was an idiot. Looking back now, I guess we all made stupid mistakes."

"Not all of us. Y/N, do you have something to share?" Taehyung asks.

"Hm..." You try to wrack your brain to come up with something. "Oh yeah. Once, I got fired from my barista job because some dude tried to hit on me."

"Why would you get fired for being attractive?" Jimin squints his eyes.

"Uh... Well, he was rude when he tried to get me to go on a date with him. Think he was some fucking incel or something. Super sexist. Anyways... I might've lashed back and said something that really made him get mad."

"What did you say?" Jungkook says. "Did you put the pig in his place?"

"Well, kind of. I did get fired for it," you shrug. "After I refused his offer to go on a date, he scoffed and told me he was too good for me anyway. And that a woman's place was in the lowly kitchen, so I was just on the right track."

"Woah," Seokjin gasps. "That is not cool. That is disgusting."

"How did you react?" Yoongi says, raising his eyebrows. "It's not easy coming back from something so rude."

"I think I have a special talent for that," you smile. "I told him, 'you are absolutely right sir, lemme go grab a knife while I'm at it.' He got really pale and called the manager. I lost my job."

"That's unfair!" Namjoon shouts. "And he didn't get in trouble whatsoever?"

"Nope," you sigh. "I had to starve myself for a few days just to save up money after I lost that job. Tough times."

"Oh, wow... I'm sorry," Jungkook says. "Some men are just not... it."

"I figured," you snort. "But I know how to put bad men in their place."

"I think you also know how to put good men in their place," Jimin whispers under his breath.

Next to him, Namjoon laughs. "As she should."

"So? Yoongi? Have you got anything?" you say, turning to the sleepy man who was mid-yawn.

Yoongi shrugs with a blank face. He begins to stand up, stacking everyone's empty dishes and taking them to the kitchen sink. You think he has nothing to share and is done with the confessions, but you're proven wrong when he comes back to the living room. He only pauses for a second to think. "I don't regret bringing the seven of you here the day the zombie breakout hit our city."

And then without a second glance, he walks out of the living room and into the bedroom, mumbling that he was tired and needed some sleep.

The rest of you blink at each other, unable to believe your ears. Usually, Yoongi is quiet and when he does speak, it's often without much emotional input. But this...

"That was weird," Jimin says. "He dropped the bomb on us and then just... left."

"I think it was sweet," you say.

"I agree," Jungkook smiles. "It was a nice way to end the night, anyway. Yoongi must've been so tired... I know we were out there fighting off the zombies, but he was on the bus, waiting and waiting, barely sure if we could get out alive."

"The stress probably got to him," Hoseok says. "We should all go to bed early. After today, we all need a good night's sleep."

"Yeah..." Namjoon agrees.

"Can I sleep in the bedroom?" Taehyung asks hopefully. "It's the only way I can actually get to sleep tonight," he pleads, though everyone knows he's lying through his teeth.

You and Jungkook look at each other, wordlessly communicating that the two of you would share the bed again. Your cheeks warm even at the thought.

"Fine," Jungkook answers. "But the bedroom policy's strict. No talking after lights out."

Taehyung laughs. "Don't worry. I'm so tired, I'll fall asleep before my head even hits the pillow."

You'd gotten in bed with Jungkook, him holding you tight in his arms and playing with your hands until he'd heard your soft, even breaths. He helps you calm down. Helps you escape.

But in the middle of the night, you wake up shivering violently. Jungkook is still embracing you and there is a blanket encompassing your body, but you are uncannily chilled. Almost as if you can't breathe. You struggle against the blankets, kicking them away, much to Jungkook's sleepy groaning protest. And when Jungkook complains too much, you end up kicking him out of the bed. You just feel too suffocated.

And when you wake up in the morning, you dash to the bathroom and vomit last night's dinner in the toilet.

The moment Namjoon sees you looking barely alive, he declares you need to stay in bed. You comply, trying to fight off that stupid headache you have. Crawling back under the covers, you attempt to focus your mind elsewhere to ignore the pain burning throughout your whole body.

Even Namjoon and Taehyung are stumped.

"It can't really be something you ate..." Namjoon says. "Because we eat the same things. If you caught it, we all should've as well."

"And we've had literally zero contact with other people, right?" Taehyung says. "Where could she have gotten it?"

Nevertheless, Namjoon rules your illness as the stomach flu—especially when you'd started to get severe diarrhea. No one else is allowed around you, even though Jungkook tries to talk to you from the other side of the bedroom door.

And for two days, you're given the stomach flu treatment. Seokjin cooks up rice in the kitchen to feed you and Jungkook and Taehyung follow Yoongi on a walking trip to a small but local convenience store to get some Gatorade and frozen bananas. Namjoon even finds some antibiotics that might work.

Although you feel like shit, you know that with your friends nurturing you and making sure you eat all the right foods and get proper rest, you'll be up and at it in no time.

Except on the fourth day, you pop a 103-degree fever with symptoms that include but are definitely not limited to delusion, fatigue, redness and irritation.

Namjoon sighs, looking at Yoongi's old, outdated thermometer. "I really hope this is broken and the numbers are far off."

You're almost in no state to react.

"She's burning up, though," Taehyung says. "We've tried everything..."

They sound worried and unsure of what to do next. But you can barely comprehend their words, head lolling tiredly to the side as you try to shut out everything in the world and rest. It's a hard thing to do too—your body feels like it's burning in the pits of hell and your head spins even though you're lying completely still. Whatever cold you caught, it's the worst you've had in your whole life.

When Jungkook worriedly peeks his head through the bedroom door, Namjoon crossly waves him away. He lets out a frustrated grunt, looking between you and Taehyung with a frown stretched across his forehead. "Maybe it's not... stomach flu...?" He says it like a question rather than a sure statement.

"These are stomach flu symptoms, though," Taehyung sighs, pointing at you. "What else are we supposed to do?"

"I'm not sure..." Namjoon trails off. "Stomach flu symptoms usually call for a low-grade fever. 103 is something else. 103 is..." he trails off. "That's really dangerous..."

"Is she..." Taehyung bites back his words. "Is she going to be okay?"

Namjoon looks at you again. He reaches over with a moist rag and pats it across your forehead to clean up the perspiration. "Y-Yeah," he says in his shaky voice. "She'll be fine..."

The mood is quiet and solemn. It's hard for the two men to watch you suffer, but they're supposed to supervise you, so it's their job to stay put and tend to your every need. But Jungkook suddenly barges into the bedroom with wild hair and crazed eyes. He's panting, sweating even.

"I don't think that's stomach flu!" he yells.

"Shh!" Namjoon shushes Jungkook aggressively. "Keep it down!"

"Not stomach flu??" Taehyung gasps. "How do you know??"

Jungkook tosses Taehyung a blue box, which the law student catches with quick reflex. "Read the fucking box, guys. Read it."

"J-Jungkook?" you groan. Your eyes flutter as you try to get a clear vision of the man. "Kook?"

He just shakes his head repeatedly, unable to walk any closer to you. "Y/N..."

Taehyung holds up the blue tampon box, frowning. "So you're saying she has Toxic Shock Syndrome?"

Namjoon gasps. "Oh god."

"According to the internet, Y/N's showing the exact symptoms of it," Jungkook says. "We have to get her to the hospital."

"We can't be 100% about that, though," Namjoon says. "TSS requires a medical diagnosis... you know, with medical equipment."

"The hospital has medical equipment," Taehyung points out.

"We'll have to figure out a way to get there safely, though," Jungkook says. "Because the damn bus broke."

The others begin to pour into the bedroom, all looking extremely stressed and worried. "I told her tampons were dangerous," Seokjin says.

"Not really," Jungkook sighs. "Apparently, TSS is rare... but like... it kind of happens when you leave the tampon in for too long."

You deliriously shake your head. "A-Am I... Gonna d-die?"

"No," Namjoon says firmly. "We'll get you to the hospital."

"Yeah, and the nearest one's about a five hours walk from here," Yoongi says, crossing his arms. "And the box label right here says that TSS is a serious disease that may cause d—"

"Shut up," Seokjin scoffs, giving Yoongi a meaningful glare. "Serious or not, we'll cure it."

"We should leave right now, then," Taehyung suggests. "I mean, look, she's been like this for four days..."

"Right now??" Hoseok says, raising his voice. "We're not prepared! It's a five-hour walk. And we don't even have a bus!"

"Hoseok's right," Jimin butts in. "We need to prepare for this."

"So we prepare now, rest and go tomorrow morning," Hoseok says. "It's a plan, right?"

"We??" Namjoon counters.

You manage to turn your head to stare blankly at Jungkook. "Is... everyone gonna go...?"

Jungkook kneels down and grabs your hand. "We're all going to go. I promise."

"What??" Jimin hisses. "I thought when we were saying we, we meant—"

Namjoon shushes him.

"It's okay..." Jungkook whispers, resting his forehead against the back of your hand. "We'll get you treated," he says. "You'll be okay..."

It's the last thing you hear before you fall into a painful slumber.

—part 1 | part 2

—masterlist

#ficswithluv #bts #bts fanfiction #jungkook #ignis fatuus #igneous fatass lmfaoo (the alter ego of this short series) #THIS FIC TOOK /FOUR/ MONTHS TO WRITE #IT'S NOT EVEN THAT LONG COMPARED TO THE OTHER LONGASS FICS OUT THERE #BUT THIS ONE DRAINED ME :') #also every night after i'd write this fic #i'd get so scared #because i'm TERRIFIED of zombies #and i was CONVINCED there was one hiding under my bd #i swear i'm not ten years old #i'm a legal adult thank you very much #when will i start acting like one bye

[castielpit]

The Nightmares Don’t Stop- 4

Chapter List

You slap your phone hoping to cease the blaring of the alarm that you had set for yourself. You groan as the soreness of your throat makes itself apparent. You had slept through all of the nightmares, but at what cost? Hopefully your screaming didn’t wake the neighbors….on second thought, hopefully it did. Those motherfuckers upstairs deserved it. You sit up slowly, noting the pangs of hunger from your stomach. How long ago was your last meal? You have poor eating habits, you know this, but it isn’t on purpose. It’s just hard to remember to eat sometimes. You pour some stale cereal into a bowl along with some milk, gobbling it down like your life depended on it.

You go to get dressed, wondering what to wear on your first day. You settle on some leggings and a tank top, throwing a hoodie on over top. You slip on your pair of sneakers and head out the door with your laptop, phone, and some cash for a cab. Before you know it, you’re pulling up to the Avengers compound. You paid the cabbie and got out, standing on the concrete in front of the compound suddenly feeling a lot smaller than usual.

Following the instructions detailed in an email from a week ago, you walk up to the front door, feeling a bit stupid suddenly in your faded hoodie and cheap leggings.

“Hello, I am FRIDAY, which stands for Female Replacement Intelligent Digital Assistant Youth. Welcome to the Avengers compound,” you hear some shuffling behind you and see some other people gathering behind you, looking just as nervous as you feel. They are all wearing a weird looking black uniform of sorts, similar to that of Katniss in the Hunger Games. They must be some of the other recruits.

“Please identify yourselves in order to enter the compound.” the voice states calmly. Remembering the instructions per the previous email, you hold your laptop up to a panel on the wall.

“L/n, F/n. Security clearance 1.” Suddenly you see some lights scanning over your face and then a check mark appears on the screen in front of you. “Welcome to the Avengers compound. Please follow the lights along the floor of the hallways to the appropriate room.” The doors of the compound slide open suddenly and you feel your feet moving your body forward, almost like a reflex rather than a conscious decision. Behind you, the doors slam shut, causing you to jump at the sound. As FRIDAY said, the floor of the hallway is lit up along the sides. You follow the lights to a large room that seems familiar. There are rows upon rows of seats all facing a stage up front with a podium and two chairs. You realize you’ve seen this room before. It is the press room of the Avengers, where all press conferences are held when the team needs to make an announcement to the public.

You decide on a seat in the back row along the outside of the rows. You sit there quietly as people in those Hunger Games outfits filter in one by one, each one looking around the room and deciding on a seat as you did. Nervous chatter fills the room as the room slowly fills up. A younger boy sits next to you at some point. He is clearly nervous judging by the twiddling of his thumbs.

“Nervous?” you hear a slightly squeaky voice say. You look to your right to realize that it was the boy that had sat next to you. He was asking you if you were nervous. You give him a slight smile.

“I think that we all are,” you respond with a raised eyebrow. He away from you and at his ever-twiddling thumbs.

“Yeah, I suppose that was a stupid question,” he chuckles quietly. You feel a pang of guilt for making him undoubtedly feel even more nervous. The kid was obviously younger than you, probably still in high school. He was a bit mousey in appearance but in a cute way. He had wide brown eyes and what seemed to be a lot of pent-up energy.

“I’m y/n,” you say to him firmly. He looks back up at you as if surprised you were talking to him again. A small smile spreads its way across his face.

“Peter,” he says in response, holding his hand out for a handshake. You look at his hand and cringe slightly. He sees this and lowers his hand slowly. You open your mouth to say something to him in explanation for declining his handshake, but before you can everyone begins cheering and standing on their feet, looking towards the stage at the front of the room. Upon the stage you now see Tony Stark and Pepper Potts, two of the most powerful and intelligent people in the world. You get to your feet and begin clapping, while you notice Peter doing the same. His shoulders seem less tense than they did before Tony and Pepper entered the room. Tony waves to the crows goofily, absorbing the attention like a sponge, while Pepper steps up to the podium and the microphone. Everyone begins to quiet down and return to sitting in their chairs.

“Hello Maria Stark Foundation Scholars and welcome to the first day of your internships here at the Avengers compound. Congratulations on being picked for this program. This is our first year of this new and exciting program and we are excited to have you all here,” Pepper states with a smile. Looking around you realize you and Peter are the only ones not in a Hunger Games-esque uniform. You sink down in your seat a bit.

“Where did everyone get the outfits?” you whisper over to Peter. With his eyes still glued to the stage he whispers back.

“What outfits?” he asks absent-mindedly. You roll your eyes and the person in front of you turns around.

“They were outside our dorm rooms last night, I guess you two must not have seen them. Now SHH!” says a dark-haired girl, a bit harsher than necessary. Peter finally takes his eyes off the stage while Pepper continues on about how impressed she and Tony are with the scholars. Peter looks around sheepishly, his eyes growing wide as he finally comes to the realization you made minutes ago. “I don’t live in the dorm rooms. I live with my aunt in the city…” he says shyly. You look at him, that nervous look has returned to his face.

“Same here,” you say. He looks at you with a confused glance. “I mean I don’t live in the compound dorms. I don’t mean that I live with my aunt or your aunt or anything…” you sputter out quickly, putting your face in your hands, feeling blush creep up your cheeks.

“Would you please shut your stupid girlfriend up?” Says another one of the girls in the seats in front of you. She has light blond hair and freckles along with pretty green eyes which flit over to you as she glares at Peter.

“I’m not stupid,” “She’s not my girlfriend,” you and Peter say at the same time. Pepper is still speaking some ceremonial bullshit that even she doesn’t seem interested in with her tight-lipped smiles. You hear a few clicks and shuffling behind you to see some photographers taking photos of Pepper and suddenly this all makes sense. This welcoming ceremony is just really a PR moment before the real work begins. Suddenly, the dark-haired girl from before turns around.

“Just leave me and roommate alone and shut up,” she hisses, turning back around with the blond girl following suit. Peter quietly whispers to himself, barely audible if you weren’t listening as intently as you were.

“And they were roommates,” he snarks. You stifle back a chuckle and grin, looking at him.

“Oh my god they were roommates,” you whisper back, leaning towards him a bit. He looks at you and grins wider than ever with a mischievous look in his eyes.

...did you just make a friend? And by quoting a Vine of all things?

#bucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #fanfic #marvel

[noladyme]

Chess. Chapter 5

Y/N never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. She only took what she needed, or what she felt others needed. She’d stayed out of sight for a long time, avoiding anything that could get her in to too much trouble. But for some reason Rick Flag shows up in her life, and in an instant, everything changes.

(Fair warning, this is about to get even darker. We are moving towards a much deeper connection between Chess and Rick; but I find a deep connection needs a backstory. Also; let me know if you want to be added to my tag list. I’m still new at this, but I love knowing that people are actually reading my dribble.)

TW: sexual harassment/assault, torture, sexual themes, violence

I rubbed my neck, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

“Did you just microchip me, like some animal?”, I asked. “Something like that”, Flag said, and pulled a radio from his belt. “GQ, get the crate”, he spoke into it, and walked towards the door.

Diablo went to get a t-shirt, hanging over a chair, and put it on. “They got us rigged with some dynamite shit”, he said, and started stretching his shoulders. “Big boom”, Digger said, emulating an explosion coming from his neck. “Knocked String Boys head clean of”. “Slipknot”, Diablo corrected him. “Whatever”, was the answer, as Digger went to lay down on a bench, covering his eyes with his arm; apparently preparing to take a nap.

“Welcome to the family”, Diablo said, smirked at me, and went for a set of dumbbells in his corner.

Croc had pulled a slice of what looked like day-old pizza, from his hoodies pocket, and was eating it with a terrifyingly pleased face.

Harley – motherfucking Harley Quinn – was muttering quietly to herself, before lighting up in a big smile, exclaiming: “Ants!”, and skipping away to do whatever it is psychopathic criminal overladies do, when no one is watching.

The door behind me opened, and Edwards, whose acquaintance I’d made the day before, came into the gym. Behind him, the Tweedles were dragging a large box. Edwards and Flag exchanged a few hushed words; and Flag gazed over his shoulder to meet my eyes, before looking back at his subordinate. “… hope they’re ready”, was all I could make out from their conversation; and chills ran down my spine.

They put the box on the floor in front of me. Flag bent to unlock it, and his t-shirt rode up a bit, revealing some bruises and scratches on his lower back and hip. “Get into a fight?”, I smirked. “Just a feral cat”, he answered, smiling over his shoulder. Apparently, I’d gotten in enough punches, to make him feel it even now, quite a while later.

He opened the lid. “Here’s your shit. If you want to change, there’s a bathroom through that door”, he said, nodding towards the door Harley and Digger had come through. “Just be careful; you might get an audience. Which reminds me”. He walked over to where Digger lay; and kicked at the bench, making the peeping tom fall of it. “Hey jackass! Stop being creepy, and let people shit in peace”. Digger scrambled onto his legs, and made a mock salute. “Sir, yes, sir!”, he boomed, and laid back down, muttering curses under his breath.

“Ladies don’t shit, colonel. We powder our noses”, Harleys voice came from somewhere. Looking up, I saw that she was hanging upside down from a rope, one leg intertwined with it. Twirling her ponytails, she winked at me, before blowing a large bubble with the pink gum in her mouth.

Croc had pulled out a second slice from his pocket, and was chewing away. His enjoyment of the snack was almost obscene. He nodded towards the box in front of me. “What you got in there?”, he asked. I rifled through the things, recognizing some of my own belongings. It was now I realized that none of the crew were wearing all prison garb. Diablo had a bluish varsity jacket hanging from a chair, and Deadshots sneakers were definitely not prison grade; I could tell from the high-end label on the side.

The other three were also wearing some sort of personal addition to the orange pants and tank top, provided by Belle Reve. For Croc, it was his brown velvet hoodie; and Digger had on a coat that looked like it desperately needed a washing. Harley had on a pair of striped pink and blue shorts, held up by suspenders. The shorts barely covered her ass, and showed of the many tattoos on her legs.

Taking my favorite band t-shirt out of the box, I noticed it still had some cat hair stuck to it, from my beloved babies at home. Selina, I’m trusting you to take good care of them, I thought. I put the shirt on the floor beside me, and continued to go through the box. A polaroid of me on stage, my first night at Sammy’s; my copy of Alice In Wonderland; a pair of hot pink socks, I’d knitted myself; an oversized greyish flannel shirt, I’d stolen from an ex; some makeup and black nail polish, in a black purse; and a pair of broken, furry handcuffs – Ahh, Vegas, I smiled. Finally, I pulled out a small stuffed bunny, I’d won at a travelling fair, a few weeks before I’d been taken by Hatter. I stroked its tiny face, and discretely kissed its head. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Digger looking at me, sending me a friendly smirk and nod. I smiled back.

I kept searching through the box. “Looking for something?”, Flag said from behind me. “Where are my smokes?”, I sighed. “There were no cigarettes in the box when it arrived”, Flag answered me. He’d already gone through it.

A large scaly hand offered me a pack of Marlboro Lights, and looking up at Croc with a thankful smile; I took one of the cigarettes, and popped it in my mouth. “Anyone have a light?”. Diablos hand appeared in front of my face; pinky stretched. A tiny flame burned from it, taking me by surprise; and I half laughed, half guffawed, as I lit the cigarette.

“I knew you could do that!”, Harleys shrill voice sounded. Her head appeared next to mine, and she rested her chin on my shoulder. She smelled like bubblegum and cotton candy, and for a hot second I was tempted to turn my head and lick her face.

“Who the hell gave Croc access to cigarettes?”, Flag muttered to Deadshot. “You know how he gets when he runs out, and goes cold turkey!”. “You’re telling me, man. There’s still a hole in the wall between his and my cell, from when he ran his fist through it”, Deadshot smirked.

“Ooh! What’s that?”, Harley asked, and reached in to the box, revealing a false bottom. I removed the thin board of metal.

There you are!

Surrounded by the whole crew – a curious Digger having joined us – I picked up a black, cropped and hooded faux leather jacket. The pleather was undamaged still, and putting it on, I pulled up the hood, and closed the zipper. With the help of the hood and the large collar, my face disappeared into shadows. Flag looked at me, lifting his chin; staring me down. His gaze made me slightly uncomfortable – or was it stirred? – and I took off the jacket again.

A loose purple, off the shoulder crop top; and a pair of black, high waist, lycra and mesh leggings completed the outfit. Finding my favorite combat boots in the box, I only needed one thing.

I moved around rope, a crowbar, some lockpicks, and a hammer and chisel. There they were. My claws.

“Cute mittens”, Harley giggled, and grabbed for the black fingerless gloves. “Careful!”, I gasped, and quickly grasped them. Harley pouted. “What? You don’t like sharing your toys?”.

I put on the gloves, made a fist; and from my knuckles sprang 4 curved knives. Edwards and the twins quickly raised their guns at me, prepared to shot, if I tried anything. I rolled my eyes, and noticed Flag trying to hide a smile.

Picking up an old sock, I demonstrated the blades sharpness, by cutting through it. The knives went through the fabric like butter; and Harleys eyes widened. “Oh”, was all she said, after which she took a step back; and went to stand behind Deadshot. “Lady, you got some sharp nails there”, he said, and chuckled.

“You still know how to use them?”, Flag asked, not removing his eyes from the blades on my hands. I just smirked.

I went to stand by the wall. I could feel eyes on my back from my audience. I bent my knees; and then leaped. I grasped the wall with the claws, and started climbing upwards. At the top of the wall was a row of tiny windows. “Don’t do it, Y/N!”, Flag called, as I heard the soldiers cock their guns. I looked over my shoulder, winked at him; and smiled.

I quickly moved laterally on the wall. Gunshots sounded, and the wall beside me suddenly was full of holes. “Hold your fire! Hold your goddamn fire!”, Flag yelled desperately. The gunfire stopped, and I made myself reappear; hanging by my claws from the basketball hoop on the opposite wall. One of the Tweedles cocked his gun again; and everything after that happened in slow motion.

The soldier took aim at me; looking pissed. From out of nowhere, Flag jumped at him; knocking him to the ground. The gun went off; bullet narrowly missing my head – and I fell.

---

I landed on my back; the wind knocked out of me. I closed my eyes, and heard people running towards me. I felt a strong arm under my back, and a hand behind my head. “Y/N”, Flags shaking voice called out. “Come on kitten, wake up”, he whispered into my ear, his breath warm against my neck.

I opened my eyes, seeing his face inches from mine, mouth slightly opened to speak again. I suddenly noticed there were specks of green in his brown eyes.

I blinked once. “Are you gonna kiss me now?”, I asked, and smiled crookedly.

Flag let go of me, and pulled back, lips now in a thin line. He stood up, and stormed towards the shooting twin. He grabbed his collar; and slammed him against the wall. “What the fuck is your problem? Do you not know how to follow an order?”. The soldier put his hands up. “Sir, she was going awol!”. “She is an asset. Wallers asset!”. Flag punched Tweedle in the gut; making him double over. “Get this asshole out of here”, he called to Edwards and the other twin; who dragged the panting soldier out of the room, Flag following them to the door, still cursing.

Deadshot crouched in front of me, holding his hand in front of my face, a couple of fingers raised. “How many fingers am I holding up?”, he asked. “What are fingers?”, I joked; making him chuckle again.

He helped me onto my feet. “You are a hard one to kill, Chess”. “Nah”, I answered. “I can die plenty. I think my secret is, I just really don’t want to”, I said, and stretched my arms into the air, feeling my bones pop.

“Why didn’t you run? You could have made it through the window”, Diablo asked from behind Deadshot. “I wouldn’t have made it half a mile. I’m spent”, I answered. “I need energy to smile, and they’ve had me living on cat food for a month. Only just had a real meal yesterday”. “Que cabrón”, Diablo spat.

Politely refusing one of Crocs pocket-pizza slices; I went back to my box of belongings. Kneeling beside it, I quickly changed into the band t-shirt. It had been a snug fit once; but my kibble-diet had made it quite a bit looser.

Flag crouched next to me. “You good?”. He didn’t look at me, but kept his eyes on the ground. “That wasn’t supposed to happen”. I scoffed. “I’m fine. Just a few more bruises to add to the collection”. Flag exhaled. “You can keep the civilian clothes, and three items from the top layer of the box. Your combat equipment will be stored for you, until you need it”. He stood back up. “The rest will be destroyed”.

I scowled at him, and stood up, putting my hands on my hips; swaying back and forth a bit, deciding; then bent over, and started gathering the things I’d chosen. I felt his eyes on me. “Checking out the asset?”, I teased.

“Could you just for a second stop that shit? Stop flirting, and start being serious about the situation you are in!”, he growled at me. “Why? Am I getting in to your head?”, I twirled around, and pouted at him innocently.

He shook his head, and furrowed his brow, scoffing at me. “Just quit it, and do the job we brought you here to do”.

I stepped up to him, and looked him square in the face. “I’ll quit it, when you quit that good soldier bullshit”, I spat. “You had no right to go after me, and no right to keep me here”.

“I have every right”, he said calmly, staring down his nose at me. “You’re a scumbag. A criminal. The world would be better if you just disappeared”. “Oh?”, I asked; not breaking eye contact. “Tell me, what’s the difference between me and the Bat? That asshole is beating up people left and right; no badge, no warrant… He decides who he thinks is a bad guy, and drags them to the front step of Arkham, or airdrops them in to this shithole”.

I stomped away to grab the sack that had been over my head earlier. I stuffed the book, the makeup-purse, and finally the rabbit into it. I saw Deadshot and the others huddled in a corner; obviously trying to give me some space; and pretending not to be staring at the scene.

Flag stormed after me, grabbed my arm, and spun me around; holding me in place, as I struggled. “You are nothing like him. He brings down criminals. You kidnap judges, and torture them”. His face was inches from mine. “He has never stolen money from anyone”. “Maybe that’s because he is already the richest man in the goddamn country!”, I hissed at him. I looked at the squad in the corner. They didn’t seem to have heard.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”, Flag asked, and let go of my arm. I rubbed the spot he’d been holding on to. “Never mind”, I quietly answered, not wanting to get into it. The papers I’d seen in Lucius Fox’ safe, had made me put two and two together; but as I’d told Deadshot before, I really didn’t want to die – so mr. holier-than-thou Waynes secret, was safe with me. That was one wasps nest I was not putting my hand into.

Flags face had softened. “What happened with judge Kelper?”. “Your read the file”, I answered, not looking at him. “I kicked his ass”. “Before that”, he demanded. “What made you do it? If you’re not a bad guy, you must have had a reason”. I closed the box, and sat down on it. “Truth?”, I asked. He nodded.

“Kelper would show up at the club sometimes – slumming it. I knew who he was, because he was the judge at an arraignment, where I was charged with pickpocketing for the Hatter”. I folded my hands in my lap. “Someone caught you pickpocketing?”, he smirked, a slight warmth returning to his eyes. “Tetch hadn’t fed me in a couple of days. When my bloodsugar is low, and my energy is down, it’s difficult to keep up the mirage”, I admitted. “Anyway, Kelper would bring in whoever he was paying off, to further his political career, and wave money around; getting the performers to join them at their table. I was stupid enough to take some of it myself”. I winced; remembering how I’d sat on his lap, and played the part of willing participant in his little erotic adventure. Flag looked down. “I never let it go any further than a lapdance”, I said, actually worried he’d think even less of me than he already did.

“So, then what?”, he asked. I bit my lip. “Did you know he’s married? He’s got a beautiful trophy wife, and two teenage daughters, almost out of high school. Cheerleaders, blonde. Ditsy as fuck, but on their way to bright futures, due to daddys money, and mommys good looks”. “But?...”, he probed.

I sighed. “There was a girl at the club, Sarah, just turned 18; poor family, desperately trying to scrape up some money for college. One night, he invited her to join him and his friends in their limo. He said he’d give her a ride home, and maybe a recommendation for college”. Flags eyes turned cold again. I continued. “He kept calling her Stephanie, even when she tried to correct him”. I looked up at him. He was looking more and more aggravated. “She didn’t show up for work the next day, so I went to her place”. I ground my teeth together, before continuing. “Her mom told me she was in the hospital. When Sarah had refused to put out willingly, Kelper had held her down... When he was finished with her, he’d let his friends have the leftovers”.

I looked at my feet. “His youngest daughters name is Stephanie”.

I was jolted, when Flag kicked the box I was sitting on; clenching his fist, and cursing quietly. “Sorry”, he said, looking at me. I was unsure what the apology was for; the kick, or my story.

I stood up. “So, now you know. I beat that shitheads face into a pulp, clawed his skin; and made sure he’d never be able to do that to another person again”. Flag stayed quiet.

I picked up my sack of belongings, and went to face him again. “And just for the record, that last 13.000 dollars… Sarahs mom couldn’t afford the hospital bill, and became behind on the payments. They almost got kicked out of their apartment the week before I raided that safe”.

We stood there for a little while, staring each other down.

“I’m sorry that happened”, Flag said. He sighed. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t change the situation you’re in. You’re going to have to be a part of this team, if you want to ever get your life back”. He was almost apologetic. “I know”, I admitted. “And for the record; I am a bad guy”, I said. “A really good bad guy”. Flag smirked at me, and moved to the middle of the room. Apparently, our conversation was over.

---

“Alright people! Unfortunately, we won’t have a lot of time to get acquainted with our newest team member”, he called, grabbing the attention of the rest of the squad. “We have a new mission”. “That was fast”, Deadshot said. “Sorry, Floyd. You’re going to have to take a rest from the ball, and reacquaint yourself with your guns”, Flag answered.

“So. Here’s the brief…”.

Tag list:

@gloriousgam3r​

@hyp-oh-critical​

#rick flag x reader #rick flag #rick flag fic #rick flag imagine #suicide squad fic #suicide squad imagine #harley quinn #deadshot

[bteezxyewriter12]

High/ 1

Pairing- Yoongi x Named Reader

Includes-- drug use, alcohol use, depression, mention of previous death

Part 2. Ending 1. Ending 2. Epilogue

Yoongi POV

Swinging the bottle to my mouth, the alcohol burns my throat as I swallow

I don't care. Nothing can make me care anymore

My phone rings

Looking at the screen, I see it's Namjoon calling me. Again. Probably asking where I am. Again

I know I'm needed for practice and writing lyrics but like I said I don't care.

I haven't cared for almost a year

Not since she died

Sorry, I mean tortured, raped and murdered

I still remember what that motherfucker said in court. How she called for me. How my name was the last thing she said

I almost killed him

If the guards let me go, I would of killed him and the rest of the fuckers who hurt her

But instead the love of my life is gone

In one fucking second. It's all my fault

I shouldn't have let her leave after we fought. I shouldn't have fought with her in the first place. She was just concerned about me as usual

She hated when I locked myself in my studio, not sleeping or eating or coming home to her. She constantly worried about me. She'd send me food, asked me to come home to sleep, telling me she's scared I'm going to get sick

And I blew up in her face

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"You're such a cunt. Get off my fucking back Joanne. I'm not doing this for fun. I'm doing this for us, to take care of you. Stop complaining", I shouted

"I didn't ask you to do this Yoongi. You wanted to be an idol remember? And it's not like I'm asking you to fuck around, I'm asking you to come home. To sleep at home.", she shouted back, tears falling

"Just fucking get out. I'm not coming home. I don't want to be there with you. Not when you're acting like such a bitch. I can't stand you like this"

"Fine Yoongi. But don't come crying to me apologizing later. I don't want to hear it"

"Don't worry, I fucking won't"

She turned and walked to the door of my studio, opened it, then stopped

"I love you Yoongi. Just...come home soon", she said quietly, then she was gone

⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇

These fucking memories haunt me everyday

I just let her leave. I didn't tell her I loved her. I didn't kiss her. I didn't say goodbye. That was the last time I saw her

And I didn't know anything happened until two days later

Tears start falling as I remember

I went home two days later and she wasn't there. I was worried but I didn't panic yet. But she never came home

I filed a police report and they went to look for her. I looked everywhere for her. The guys helped me too

I looked for two weeks, until the cops came to our apartment.

To tell me they found her body

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"Hello, Mr. Min. Can we come inside?"

I nodded and let them in

"Did you find her?", I asked

"Uh yes"

"You did? Where is she?", I asked, feeling relieved

I was so stupid

"That's the thing Mr. Min. We found her but....", he trailed off

"But what?"

The other cop sighed, "We found her body"

"Wait what?", I said, not comprehending

"I'm sorry Mr. Min, but Joanne is dead"

"What? No she's not. What kind of sick joke is this?", I yelled, panicking

I thought it couldn't be true. Now way it was Joanne they found. No, she was still alive

"We found her in one of the parks by the Han river. She was hidden- that's why we couldn't find her immediately. That's why it took so long "

"No she's not dead"

I refused to believe it until they took me to the morgue to ID her body

When they pulled that fucking sheet off of her head, my world ended

I didn't even realize I started screaming

I remember holding her hand and it was fucking ice cold. I remember crying hysterically, hugging her. I remember the guys showing up and having to pull me away from her

Her funeral was the worst day of my life

So many people saying they're sorry but it doesn't mean anything

It doesn't bring her back

I lost it when they put her casket in the ground

I don't remember some of that day

The guys told me that I wanted to go in her grave with her and they had to hold me back. That I was crying so hard, I couldn't breathe. That I was screaming so loudly, just saying I wanted to be with her. I did then and I still do now

⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇

I shake the thoughts from my head. I can't think about this or I'm gonna fall apart again. The pain is getting too much again

Reaching in my pocket, I take out the white powder

My dealer told me this was stronger than the heroin I was using before

I can't handle these emotions, missing her, knowing what happened to her

I started drinking- all the time

I'm never sober- not for interviews, performances or concerts

At first it was enough

But when my body adapted to the alcohol, I needed something stronger. I tried all kind of drugs- cocaine, meth, acid, whatever I could get. But nothing really worked until I tried heroin

Mixing the white powder with water, I carefully draw it in the syringe. I tried the other ways to take heroin- snorting it, smoking it but injecting it gives me an instant high

And the high is different from the other drugs. It calms me, sedates me so I don't think. I'm hovering right between sleep and being awake

And the best thing, the thing that makes me keep doing heroin, is that when I'm high, I see her again

She comes to me and I can be with her

I'm not an idiot, I know I'm hallucinating, but it's the only way I can see her. And I want to. I miss her so much. She's still everything to me, my world, my baby, my love

If I believed in soulmates, then without a doubt she was mine. I'll do anything to see her again, even if it's just in my mind

Taking the needle, I inject it in my vein. I push the plunger on the syringe, the heroin going straight into my bloodstream. I feel instant euphoria and calmness

Dropping the syringe, I wait for her to come

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[elatedmarvel]

All Tied Up

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve Rogers comes to your rescue.

Work Count: 2k

A/N: Hello! Long time no chat! This was written for @wkemeup​‘s 4k follower celebration! Thank you for hosting this Kas! It was so much fun to write! If you have yet to check her out, go do it! Her stories are always soooooooooo emotional and good. Literally one of the best writers ever! My prompt was “ “Can you stop fidgeting? I’m trying to untie you.”. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: hints of sex, talks of having children (in the future)

“Agent, what’s your status?” Steve whispers into his comm, somehow, it still sounds loud and echoes down the hallway.  

He stands in the shadows, trying to hide his giant frame, his eyes flicker to a new location every few seconds. He can’t risk getting caught, especially since he lost communication with you. 

You had told him you were going to acquire the target, and slinked off into the shadows before he could tell you it was a bad idea. Now, here he stands, worried they had captured you. 

Not that you couldn’t handle yourself. It had been a beautiful sight the day you brought Bucky Barnes to his knees when sparring. He swears he saw a few tears in Bucky’s eyes, which of course he vehemently denied. 

Hell, you’ve even taken him down. But usually, you would just bat your eyelashes at him and kiss him till he saw stars before claiming your victory. He doesn’t mind though, getting to kiss you was his consolation prize. 

The comm floods with static noise when he checks it again, never a good sign. Sighing in frustration, he checks his watch. It reads 2:30 PM, 10 minutes past when you said you would check in. 

His gut tells him something is wrong, and it is rarely wrong. Except maybe the one time he had convinced you to eat 4 day old pizza that had been sitting on the island in the common kitchen. He’ll never forget the hours you spent throwing up, crying in a ball, and cursing his name. You still cringe a bit whenever the team orders pizza. 

Sighing and resigned to his fate, he moves as quietly as possible down the hall. He can hear the targets chattering in the next room, noisy for people that were supposed to be discreet, but he hardly blames them, they were able to secure an Avenger. Slowly, he peaks around the corner, trying to hold his breath.

All four hostiles were in the room, too occupied by their tablets to notice him. 2 of them sat with their backs to the open door, the other 2 were huddled in the corner laughing about something or other. Scanning the room, he feels hope blooming in his chest when he doesn’t find you among them.

The common space is the only other place you could be. Tiptoeing across the open doorway, he pauses on the opposite side of the door. The noise is the same, no indication that they heard or saw him pass by. Hoping his luck holds out, he maneuvers almost silently down the rest of the corridor.   

Stepping into the room, he finds you exactly how he thought he would. Hands tied behind your back, legs and torso tied to the chair. Duct tape covers your mouth, and your eyes glower in a deadly manner. It would be almost cute if you weren’t in the middle of a mission. 

“Mmmmm, hmmmm” you hum as you see Steve in the doorway. Your body starts to wriggle about, and Steve is pretty sure you’re gonna knock yourself over if you continue moving with as much vigor as you do.

“Shh, be quiet, you’re gonna give us away with all that noise.” he scolds as he walks closer. He won’t admit it, but he takes great pleasure seeing you struggle against the restraints. And not just because he tries to get you to go to escape training seminars. He bet’s you’ll go with him now. It’s actually an impressive set up, better than he would have expected from the enemy. 

“I’m gonna take off the duct tape, but you have to promise me not to yell.” The cold look you give him makes him chuckle under his breath. You were always so fiesty, one of his favorite pastimes was riling you up. 

The chair starts to scrape against the floor with your thrashing. Finally, he takes pity on you and gently peels the duct tape from your mouth.

“Motherfucker! That hurt!” you whisper yell. He rolls his eyes at that, he knows for a fact that the duct tape was mostly coming off anyways. You had a slobbered all over it, he’s pretty sure, in an attempt to break yourself free. You could never wait for someone else to rescue you, it takes a few seconds to remember the last time you needed help on a mission was. 

“You’ve been shot before.” he reminds you as he kneels down in front of you, quickly he releases your right foot. It almost kicks him in the face before he jerks out of the way in the last second. 

“Finally!” you shout, and wiggle the foot around. “My feet have been asleep for 10 mins now.” You stomp the foot on the ground now, trying to release the static feeling. 

“Maybe if you listened to me, you wouldn’t be in this position.” Steve says, smirking up at you as he unties your left foot. This time, your foot hits him square in the chest. 

“Shut up Rogers, you know you loved me tied up.” you wink. His cheeks feel warm and he thinks about things other than you naked and tied to the headboard of your shared bed. The thought of Bucky and Sam’s last attempt in the kitchen takes care of his problem. 

Clearing his throat, he slides on his knees behind the chair. Both your hands were tied together and your torso was tied to the chair. Knowing you would jump free the moment your torso was free, he grabs your hands to work on the knot first. It would be a disaster if you went running around with your hands tied together, trying to take down the hostiles. 

The chair keeps moving with your excessive wiggling, making his hands slip from the surprisingly sturdy knot. If this wasn’t time sensitive, he would have let you struggle a while longer, just to see how long it would take you to get yourself out of the mess. 

“Can you stop fidgeting? I’m trying to untie you.” Steve reprimands and gives a slight tug on your restraints. 

You stick your tongue out, but realize he can’t see it from behind you. Instead, a middle finger on both hands proudly stands out from behind your back. A smirk finds its way onto his face as he sees them and swats the fingers away. 

“Be nice.” he breathes close to your ear, tugging one last time to get your hands free. The shiver that ran down your spine as you remember when those exact words were last said. With him on top of you as he kisses every part of your body. Sweaty body on sweaty body, moving together towards the grand release. You reprimand yourself in your head, you promised yourself you wouldn't turn into someone that daydreamed about her boyfriend over everything else. Mission now, sex later.  

“I’m always nice.” you reply, struggling out of the torso restraints harder now that Steve has untied your hands. The sound of disbelief escapes him before he can trap it, many examples come to mind, almost making him laugh if he wasn’t trying to be discreet and quiet.

Your breath gets knocked out of you for a second as you accidentally choke yourself trying to get free. With a small “hum”, you finally fall complacent and let Steve work on the final knot in peace. 

A minute, maybe two passes by before you feel the ropes slack. The moment you do, you jump up, giving a victorious cry and shove the chair back with your knees. Steve gets up in the exact moment, and misses catching the chair by a millisecond. 

Blue eyes meet your wild, shocked ones as the sound echoes throughout the hallways. He can hear the moment the rascals register what the sound was, as they frantically run out of the room. 

With nowhere left to run, Steve shifts slightly in front of you, preparing himself for the battle he knows is to come. 

“No!” they scream as they stampede into the common room. 

“We tied you up so good!” Morgan Stark yells, running at full speed straight into Steve’s arms. 

“We even used the heavy duty rope we found in Uncle Tony’s lab.” Lila Barton states as she jumps and climbs up Steve’s legs. With both girls in Steve’s arms, they start talking a minute a mile about how they need to change the tactic next time. 

Nathaniel rubs his eyes sleepily as he walks into the room, almost an exact replica of Clint after a long mission, and holds out his arms, silently begging to be picked up. You take pity on the young boy and swipe him into your arms, holding him almost like you would a newborn baby. 

You both giggle a moment, before you right him in your arms and he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. You’ll ignore the drool on your shirt for now.

Only Cooper Barton seems to care about the scene of the crime, and gathers up the rope that limply lays on the ground. 

He takes a handful of rope in both hands and tugs for a moment. Steve swears he murmurs something about using vibranium handcuffs next time. He’ll make an excellent agent one day. 

“So, what do we get for winning? Ice cream?” Morgan asks with a sly smile on her face, gaining Steve’s and your attention. The exact look was copied straight from one Tony Stark, and it shocks Steve just how much she looks like the billionaire. 

Lila nods furiously next to her, and both the boys hum in agreement. 

“Technically, I freed myself. So you didn’t win.” you counter. Steve snorts at your comment, and you stick you tongue out at him. 

“Right, the knots magically slipped away. Not like I had anything to do with it” he counters. The girls giggle, and you shoot them your best mean face. 

“You’re on my team, and my boyfriend so that’s allowed.” you explain, slightly swaying side to side with a sleepy Nathaniel. You hope if you sway enough, he’ll fall asleep and that’ll be one less kid hyped up on sugar running around. 

“I think we earned the ice cream by simply being able to capture you and tie you up.” Cooper bargains, a huge grin on his face. The girls nod furiously at the statement, and even Nathaniel gives a weak noise of approval.

You lock eyes with Steve once more, you were both pretty sure this was how it was going to end anyways, but you always wanted to be on the same page as him. He nods slightly, and his lips curl up so minutely, you wouldn’t have caught it if you hadn't spent hours staring at his beautiful face.   

“Fine, but only one scoop.” you finally give in. 

The resounding scream of happiness they give out nearly deafens you. The girls scramble down from Steve’s arms, desperate to get to the kitchen. Even Nathaniel perks up from your arms, and wiggles his way down. Taking his brother’s hand, they follow the girls to reap their prize. 

“I can’t believe they actually managed to tie you down, we were supposed to be babysitting them.” Steve chuckles as he swings an arm around your shoulder and leads you to the kitchen.

“In my defense, you can’t kick and punch wards in your charge, so I let them.” you say and give his butt a pinch. 

He jolts away from you momentarily before laughing and spinning you in front of him. Lips drawn to yours, he kisses you slow and happy before moving away and pecking other parts of your face. 

“Stop,” you laugh, “you’re getting your spit on me.”

“You’ve never complained before.” he smirks at you, and laughs when your cheeks grow warmer. Giving you one last kiss, he takes your hand and drags you to the kitchen. 

It’s hard for his mind not to wonder what it would be like if this wasn’t babysitting. If this was really his everyday life, kids and a wonderful kick ass wife to share his days with. 

Would the kid have his eyes and your face? Maybe the serum would counteract the sickly boy he once was. He knows for certain that if he had one kid, he would want another. Being an only child, Bucky was his only savior for boredom and love after his mom passed away. 

As if you could read his mind, you rub your thumb across the back of his hand, catching his attention. 

“I’m glad Clint and Tony asked us to babysit, good practice for when we have some.” you smile at him. His heart races when he sees the excitement in his eyes. That’s just how you were, you complimented him perfectly. 

“Yeah?” he asks, elation growing in his body the more he thinks about his future with you.

“Yeah” you nod. Smile growing as wide as your face.

Steve leans in slowly, eyes still alight with joy and takes your face in his massive hands. The breath in your body leaves you for a moment, seeing the happiness in Steve Rogers is all you ever wanted. Having a front row seat was sometimes too much. 

Before your lips can touch, a shatter rings from the kitchen, shortly followed by a scream. A laugh leaves his mouth as he pulls you in for a hug and a kiss on the forehead. 

“I didn’t do it!” little voices yell, and it makes the both of you chuckle even more. 

You bury your head into his chest as he yells out that you are both coming and to stay where they are.

“We probably need more practice though before we have our own.” you say as you look up at him. 

“Ours will be more well behaved than that right?” he asks back, unfolding you from his arms and walking towards the kitchen.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” you laugh.

The second crash and screams makes you both lightly job towards the commotion. 

As he watches you calm down a crying Nathaniel and Lila while mopping up the spilled ice cream, his heart feels so full it could burst.

He can’t wait to share in the chaos of life with you.

~~~~

Thank you so much for reading! Always open to comments and feedback!

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