#( i want them to argue and fight over how to handle cases and being reckless and putting themselves in danger bc they care for each other )

[brokenmagxc]

x. you know what i am really craving right now ?? x. cop partners / superheroes / crime fighting duo to lovers plotline.

[hotchs-bitch]

Okay you said anything fluffy or angsty so I will deliver!

Reader saving someone's life on a case but ignored protocol and direct orders in the field in the process and she has to have a meeting with Strauss and Hotch. Hotch is being more understanding compared to Strauss but Strauss is being very bitchy and unfair so reader gets into a huge argument with Strauss (nearly a full on fight but Hotch doesn't let it get that far and acts sort of as a mediator for them) after the meeting Hotch can obviously see reader is very upset and angry (like she's about to hit someone or something) but he calms her down and hugs her and just some fluffy stuff <33

Bonus points if Hotch has to physically stop/block reader from getting up in Erin's face because he's afraid she'll actually hit Erin lmfao.

I love love love this <33

“What were you thinking?” Hotch asks.

“Well, I wasn’t thinking tha-”

“That’s right,” Strauss cuts you off, rage boiling below the surface of her words. “That’s exactly right. You weren’t thinking. You were insubordinate.”

“I was going to say,” you snap, and Hotch grimaces, “that I didn’t think I was going to get a new asshole ripped because I saved a kid.”

Strauss sets down her pen, eyeing you over the top of her glasses. “Agent, I think you need to understand how the chain of command works around here. The bottom line is that you obeyed a direct order from your commander.”

“The bottom line is that nobody else died!” You argue.

“Alright, okay,” Hotch cuts in. “Agent, you know that your actions were unprofessional. We just need to discuss what can be done in similar circumstances in the future.”

You and Strauss turn to him at the same time, speaking over one another.

“I wouldn’t change a thing!”

“You’re letting her on the field after this?”

Your chair scrapes the floor of Hotch’s office as you stand up. “You want me off the field? You can’t be serious!”

“I certainly can be.” Strauss looks up at you without an ounce of fear on her face. “If I had my way, you’d be on your way out of the FBI and packing your desk right now.”

Hotch can hardly move fast enough to block you with one arm as you lurch forward, as though you’re ready to push the older woman off her chair. “That’s enough!” He raises his voice, and you both go quiet. “Okay. We aren’t getting anywhere like this. Agent, take a seat. Erin, let me handle this. You and I can discuss it later.”

Strauss shakes her head almost imperceptibly, but stands up. “You need to handle this,” she warns Hotch, who gives her a sharp nod in turn. “Do not make me regret letting you vouch for her, Aaron.”

The warning isn’t necessary. “I understand, ma’am.”

As she starts towards the office door, you sit back down and Hotch resumes speaking. “I don’t have to tell you that what you did was stupid. It was reckless. You got lucky, and there was a good chance that you could have hurt exactly as many people as you saved; yourself included.”

“You, too?” Tears of anger are stinging at your eyes, and you wipe them away furiously before they have a chance to fall. The door clicks shut behind Strauss, but you hardly register it. “She could have died, and I stopped that from happening.”

“I know,” Hotch murmurs, and his voice is suddenly a lot calmer than it was just moments ago when Strauss was in earshot. “I know. But we had a plan. And more importantly, you could have been hurt.”

“But I didn’t. And she didn’t. Everyone’s fine,” you protest.

“I know,” he repeats. “I know. But you got lucky. You got… very lucky. You can’t risk it like that again, do you understand me?”

You nod your head and stand back up, turning away from his desk. Tears are still threatening to spill over, and you press the heel of your hands into your eyes until your head starts to spin. “I know.”

“Good. Listen, hey,” Hotch stands up as well, circling the desk to stand in front of you. “Hey. Let me handle Strauss. I’m just glad you’re alright, that’s all. If you had gotten hurt out there…” he inhaled deeply, willing away the images that flash across his mind of just how badly your judgement call could have gone.

He watches while you nod again, and this time when you lurch forward you wrap both arms around his midsection as you start to cry.

It’s a surprising reaction, but he recalls being a wreck like this after tough cases as a new agent, so he takes it in stride. One arm wraps around your lower back and the other strokes your hair, rubbing circles while you sob into his suit jacket. “We just don’t want you getting hurt,” he whispers, unsure if you can hear him. “That’s all. Your safety is the most important thing, at all times.”

You hiccup against him and then pull away slightly, wiping at your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you croak, and Hotch shakes his head.

“There’s no need to be,” he promises. “Just don’t try to get lucky like that again. Please.”

[sokkastyles]

I was thinking about the moment when Aang burned Katara's hands. It's funny that there are people who blame Katara for her injury (because she was standing too close to Aang), although it is obvious that Aang is to blame for this. And only now I realized that Aang treated firebending as a game just like he treats his airbending, which is why he couldn't stop in time and burned Katara. It seems to me that this is the reason why fire became the last element that Aang had to study, for his full growth as a character, to start taking things more seriously and responsibly than before. While Zuko is learning on the contrary to be more free and liberated, like air.

I agree. I've said in the past that I feel like a lot of the hate Katara gets is because of the way the narrative positions her in opposition to Aang, both as a love interest and as the no-fun caretaker who is always trying to get him to take responsibility, and that's exacerbated when the narrative won't hold Aang responsible for things, such as the kiss in "Ember Island Players," which is why even people who like Katara argue that she really actually secretly wanted to be kissed (blegh), but Aang burning Katara is actually a place where I feel the narrative does do a good job of holding him responsible, and it's actually a huge part of his arc, so people who try to argue that it was Katara's fault for "standing too close" are not even paying attention to the show. There are other problems with the way that situation is addressed, and plenty of people have pointed out how Katara is the one who ends up having to comfort Aang over him burning her, while her pain is just magically healed, but it is something the show holds Aang accountable for and a big part of his development.

And you are right about him treating it as a game, just like he does with airbending, and this is an aspect of Aang's character that I feel is often overlooked. This isn't a criticism of Aang, it's very understandable that he is this way. He's a kid who grew up in peacetime. There's a tendency to idealize Aang's pacifism that I've seen in the fandom, and to portray him as someone who hates fighting, but that's not the case. He's a martial arts master, for Pete's sake! And he was just as hyped to learn firebending as any twelve year old boy would be. He thought the freedom fighters were super cool and didn't believe Sokka when he told them that Jet was dangerous. Even in "The Avatar State," which opens with his nightmares about the violence at the North Pole, he was totally into General Fong's plan and wouldn't listen to Katara when she warned him of the danger until Katara got hurt.

And this makes sense, if you think about it. Because Aang is a kid who grew up in an idyllic setting and was raised by pacifist monks, because airbending came easy to him, and because he wasn't there for the genocide of his people, he doesn't quite understand the real consequences of violence the way the other characters do. I'm not saying he takes violence lightly, because of course he doesn't, but he hasn't experienced things the way Katara and Sokka have, particularly how dangerous the Fire Nation can be, so it's more of a game to him until it becomes serious in a very real way, and by then it's unavoidable.

Look at when they go to the Fire Nation festival in "The Deserter:"

Katara: Aang, hold on! Where are we going?

Aang: I don't know, but there's a big crowd so it must be good.

Sokka: [Sarcastically.] Knowing the Fire Nation, it's probably an execution.

Aang: I gotta learn that trick!

It's not that Aang is naive, it's just that he doesn't have the same experience with the Fire Nation that Sokka and Katara do. Katara is cautious and fearful, and Sokka assumes the worst, while Aang is excited. Katara and Sokka grew up fearing violence from the Fire Nation, and lost their mother to that same evil, while Aang, despite the trauma of losing his people and witnessing the devastation at the Southern Air Temple, still remembers having Fire Nation friends. He's excited to be part of the firebending show while Katara is clearly terrified.

Aang didn't grow up in constant fear of raids like Sokka and Katara did, and he didn't grow up in a violent and abusive environment like Zuko did, so it makes sense that the consequences of violence aren't as real for him (this is also an aspect of what Zuko says to him in "The Southern Raiders" and why it annoys me when people say that Zuko was in the wrong to say what he said). And because Aang is also twelve, his initial feelings about firebending are more "fire cool" than anything.

That's why he's impatient with Jeong Jeong, and also why he's so shocked and upset when he does accidently burn Katara. And because of this he does a complete 180 and is afraid to ever firebend again. I also think that both Katara and Sokka's reactions were unexpected for him. Katara's terror and hurt is so palpable and Sokka's reaction towards Aang, tackling him to the ground, becomes horribly tragic if you think about how much Sokka wanted to be like his dad and was raised to be a warrior and protector of his tribe and family, and the flashback we get later of Hakoda running towards Kya, who he will find dead.

It's also made clear by the narrative that it was Aang's fault. I mean, I'm not saying Aang should be blamed, because of course it was an accident, but the reason Aang lost control of the fire was because he was being reckless, and playing with it. Part of it is also Jeong Jeong's fault, because Jeong Jeong has the opposite problem, and I do blame Jeong Jeong largely for Aang developing a complex around firebending. Both of them, because of their bad experiences with fire, become so afraid of hurting other people that they don't know how to handle it. And Jeong Jeong was actually the last person who should have been teaching Aang, because of his fear of his own fire. Aang disobeys Jeong Jeong and is too reckless, but Jeong Jeong also is way too timid and doesn't teach Aang, who is eager to learn more, how to keep his fire from going out of control. He teaches Aang to be afraid of the fire because he is afraid of it.

(I actually also think this is tied to why Aang is afraid of Katara's desire to face Yon Rha in "The Southern Raiders" as well. When Aang is exposed to situations where he is confronted with the reality of violence, he becomes incredibly fearful and loses control. That's why he's afraid of Katara losing control and falls back on Air Nomad aphorisms that land on deaf ears to Katara and Zuko.)

This is ultimately why Zuko ends up being the perfect firebending teacher for Aang. Zuko had a lot of the same problems, and had to learn the hard way how to control his fire, but because he's had those experiences and learned from them, and decided that he wanted to become better, he's able to teach Aang how to have a more balanced view. Zuko had to learn how to be more like air, but one of the things I love about "The Firebending Masters" is how Zuko and Aang's roles are somewhat switched, and Aang is constrained by his own fears while Zuko is more free than we've ever seen him:

Aang: [Scared.] Zuko, I think the past is trying to kill me.

Zuko: [Kneeling down to inspect the spikes.] I can't believe it. [He picks the tripwire up and examines it.] This booby trap must be centuries old and it still works.

Aang: There's probably a lot more. Maybe this means we shouldn't be here.

Zuko takes two steps back and runs toward the wall adjoining the path. He runs on the wall before jumping on the other side of the spikes.

Zuko: [Dusting some dirt on his shirt.] Where's that up-beat attitude you were talkin' about?

(This is also a rare scene of Zuko bending air.)

Because in the end, it's all about balance. Aang learns to have more confidence and Zuko learns to be more wise. There's a great message there about learning from your mistakes. Yes, you should be careful especially when you are in danger of hurting others, but if you're too hesitant then you'll always be held back by your fear, and you might end up hurting others more in the end.

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

John Munch / Simple

Prompt: “Suck it” “oh i’m gonna suck something” 

Word Count: 3,887 

Warnings: canon typical situations and violence, discussion of rape (non-graphic), hurt/comfort apparently, fin and munch are literally some of my fav characters to write for lmao, some discussion of the psych evals from 1x22

A/N: what is this? how did this happen? I don’t know - i blame @laneygthememequeen​ mostly, but also my friends for enabling me beyond belief lmao. 

“Am I allowed to come in or must I bow and show my allegiance before I am deemed worthy?” and you didn’t need to look up from your desk to know who it was. Your pen still moved, scribbling notes in the margins of the answer that was given to you by Roger Klessler — more hassle than law. 

“No need for allegiance, Detective Munch — I know you only give that to your squad and your string of conspiracy theories,” you finish with the page, sparing him a glance, “only compliance is needed — the one thing you didn’t do on the last case.” 

“Your hands aren’t exactly clean yourself, counselor,” he shuts the door behind him, slipping his hands into his pockets, “what did you do to get that warrant again?” 

You raise an eyebrow, “Are you questioning my integrity?” 

“Funny, I didn’t know lawyers had any,” 

“They don’t, but I can try, can’t I?” you lean on your elbow, “what do you need?” 

“We have a suspect in holding who just invoked, we thought they might be a little more conducive to having an A.D.A. in the box with them,” he tilted his head. 

“Alex isn’t available?” 

“Alex told us to get you,” you held in your sigh, “don’t you lawyers talk to each other?” 

“No, we communicate through telepathy,” you reply drily, grabbing your coat and bag, “Let’s go.” 

~~~

“Counselor, you should remind your client that his options are running out,” to say this meeting was going poorly would have been the understatement of the century, “and my patience is running thin.”

A serial child and women abuser — with videos abusing so many children and women over the last twenty years, videos that made your stomach turn — and to make matters worse, he had made into a business, selling these children and women and their pain for profit — and now it was time to make his pain your profit. 

“You have no evidenc—” 

“We have a witness who saw your client, we have his DNA being run against the blood that was found at the scene, and when it comes back it will match and your client will be facing life in prison—” your teeth grit,  “And I’ll be sure he gets it. Or, give up your sick buddies. And maybe you’ll have the possibility of parole in the far off future.” 

“You fucking bitch—” he spits at you. 

“Is that the best you can do?” you raise an eyebrow, as you see Munch tense out of the corner of your eye, “Mr. Bradford,  I’m not scared of you. I’m not a defenseless child or battered woman you can intimidate—” you cross your arms, “not so easy picking on someone who can fight back, is it?” 

 Bradford lunges,  but Munch shoves him back into his chair, “Do we need to add assault on an A.D.A. to your laundry list of charges, Bradford?” and you blink, slack jawed, a shiver going down your spine — if Munch was a second later— “Try that again and I’ll have you—” 

There’s a knock on the window, and your eyes snap over, “Control your client, counselor, or I’ll have him locked up in solitary,” your jaw is set — you wouldn’t give him the pleasure of seeing you waver, “the offer had 24 hours — it now has an expiration date in ten, so look forward to hearing from you in one.” 

The door shuts behind you, your fingers white knuckling the handle of your briefcase. Liv frowns, “Are you—” 

“I’m fine,” you wave them off, as Munch emerges from the room as well, “tell me when he caves to my offer. And when you’re setting up the sting to get the other guys — I want to be there to make everything go smoothly. No screw ups this time.” 

“All due respect, counselor, but we don’t need a babysitter,” Fin says. 

“All due respect, Detective, maybe you do,” you swallow the lump sitting on your throat, “we need to nail these guys — we have all of New York, 1PP, and the D.A.’s office all breathing down our necks — it needs to be airtight,” you scan all of their faces, “unless all of you would like to take the heat?” 

“I don’t think any of us want that, counselor,” Cragen cuts in, “we appreciate your help. We’ll let you know when we decide to go ahead with the sting.” 

You nod curtly, intent on leaving the precinct as quickly as you could — the image of Bradford lunging at you still fresh and stinging — but nothing was that easy, “Counselor,” Munch was at your side, standing beside you at the elevators, as you pressed the button, “in a rush?” 

“To go home? Yes,” 

“I just wanted—” 

“Wanted what, Munch? What do you want?” you sigh exasperatedly, fighting a losing battle for your voice not to break, “I’m not in the mood for a verbal sparring match, so why don’t we take a rain check?” 

The elevator doors ding, and you step in, hoping to spare yourself the agony of a response, but he follows, the doors shutting behind him. 

But surprisingly his voice was soft,  “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” 

“I’m fine,” you cross your arms, hoping that it would hold you together, until you got to your office, “I’m not scared of him, Munch—” 

“I know you could kick his ass, counselor, I’m not asking you if you’re ready to go seven rounds in the ring with him—” he leans against the wall of the elevator, “I’m just asking if you’re alright.” 

You raise an eyebrow, “John Munch asking me if I’m alright? No sarcastic remark?” 

“I know, I’m surprised myself, I might have to ask Skoda to do a psych eval on me,” and you crack a smile, shaking your head. 

“It was scary,” you admit, something you didn’t want to, “I’ve been threatened before — messages, verbally, even had a guy say he would kill my family—” you bite your lip, “but I never had someone try something, physically before.” 

“It’s okay to have been scared, y’know,” the elevator doors ding, and you step out, shaking your head, “no one expects you to be strong all the time, counselor.” 

And you pause, looking back at him, “But I do,” you blink away the tears, “good night, detective.” 

~~~

“It’s too risky!” you ignore Munch, continuing to fix your makeup, “You saw how you acted when Bradford lunged at you — why—” 

“I would do anything to make sure these men get put away,” you finish your makeup, grabbing the outfit Liv had handed you, “and that includes this.” 

This being an undercover operation designed to get names of victims, ages, and dates if possible, before arresting the group for exchanging pictures and videos of their crimes. 

“Putting yourself in the middle of this chaos? You’re being reckless—” 

You slide past him and into a bathroom stall, “I know what I’m doing,” 

“Do you? Do you know how many things could go wrong?” he continues, “I could list them for you for posterity — assault, battery, rape, and let’s not forget murder—” 

“I don’t think Liv will let me get murdered when she’s in the room with me, and I would you, Fin, Stabler, and the Captain wouldn’t either—” 

“Things go wrong on these ops, counselor — the field isn’t as safe as a courtroom — court officers, a metal detector right outside—” 

His words fail when the door swings open, a skin tight bodysuit clung to your figure, crimson, just as his ears nearly were, his eyes raking over your outfit, before finding their way back to your raised brows, “You were saying?” 

He stumbles over his words, “I was saying that—” you cross your arms, waiting and he finds himself distracted all over again, before he shakes himself from his stupor, “I was saying that this is too dangerous—” 

“Munch—” you cut him off, “I appreciate your concern, really I do, but I’m going to nail these guys anyway I can, so you can’t change my mind,” your hand finds his shoulder, squeezing, “but I can count on you to have my back right?” 

He simmers, sighing, his eyes softening, “Of course,” and you squeeze his shoulder, and he calls after you as you head towards the squadroom,  “I just hope they taught you taekwondo in law school,” 

“And I hope you know by ‘having my back,’ I meant more than my ass,” you flash him a smile over your shoulder, shaking your head, and flexing your fingers. 

It would be fine. 

You would be fine. 

~~~

It wasn’t fine. He couldn’t find you. 

“Where is he? Where is that son of a bitch, he took—” 

“Munch, calm down,” Liv starts, and he’s shaking his head, his finger in his face. 

“You were supposed to watch them, you were supposed to—” 

“Hey, Munch,” Elliot cuts between him and his partner, his hand on his shoulder,  “we all were there, Bradford slipped out during the raid, there wasn’t anything we could do. We’re going to find them.” 

Munch brushes him away, finding Fin, “Where are we on Bradford?” 

“Got him sneaking out during the takedown,” Fin points you out in the crowd, “looks like he had a knife pressed against counselor’s back, just out of view.” 

“How the hell did that scum sucking, gangrenous low life of a—” 

“Looks like he stole it off one of his buddies he was setting up,” Fin rewinds the tape, and points it out, “lifts it right from his pocket.” 

“Where does he go?” Fin fast forwards, until he gets to the cameras outside, shooting from the van itself. 

“He steals a car down the street, must belong to that brownstone,” Fin shoves the equipment at another officer, “Let’s get the license plate and get a bolo out.” 

Liv and Elliot join the two of them, handing a report to Fin, “We got a list of places that Bradford was known to hang out at—” 

“What are we waiting for?” Munch brushes past them to the car, rounding the car to the driver’s seat, pulling it open, before Fin stops him. 

“I’m driving,” Fin says, holding his hand, and Munch opens his mouth to rebut, “do we really have time to argue right now?” 

Munch glares at him, before handing him the keys, “You better not abide by any traffic laws,” 

“Do I ever?” 

~~~

“Can we go any faster than this? I swear my great uncle could drive faster than this,” Munch expects his partner to be angry, but he’s only sighing and shaking his head, “what?” 

And Fin side eyes him, “If you’re in love with—” 

Munch gapes at him, “I’m not—” 

“--then why don’t you just say something, man?” Fin scoffs, “you can deny it all you want, explain it away with one of your crazy ass conspiracy theories, but it’s there, John.” 

Munch pulls off his glasses, running his hand over his face, fingers resting right below his nose, “You know every time I got married, I thought I was in love,” 

“I know, and then your ex-wives screwed you — what about it?” 

“This is different,” he sighs, “and I don’t want to admit that to myself.” 

“What’s so bad about that, Munch? You want to try again,” and Munch is shaking his head. 

“You know a psychiatrist once told me that the reason all my marriages failed was because I chose women who were spoiled, beautiful, and not my intellectual equal?” 

“Meeting some of your ex-wives, I could believe that,” Fin’s eyes fall back to the road, “what’s your point?” 

Your name slips from his lips, “this is different — this is someone’s who's my equal — smarter than me, beautiful— it could — we could be—” he cuts off, “I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose--” and he cuts off, sighing, “I don’t know.” 

“Well that’s easy, John,” Fin pulls over, the car screeching as it does, “we won’t,” and he jerks his head, “whose car does that look like?” Munch calls in the car, unbuckling himself and slipping from the car, “We have to wait for back-up—” 

“I’m not waiting—” before he adds, “you don’t have to come—” 

“I’m not letting your bony ass get shot again,” Fin is already shutting the car door, pulling his gun out, “let’s go.” 

~~~

“Are you scared now?” Bradford asks, circling you — a predator gauging its prey — no, he was simply playing with you now. Your wrists flex against your restraints, the wood grain of the chair digging into your skin the more you struggled, the rope around your wrists ungiving, “are you, counselor?” 

It was rhetorical — judging by the tape stuck to your lips and the fact he continued to speak, and his fingers fist into your hair, pulling your head back, “Come on, no smart remarks now?”

Are you that stupid that you’ve forgotten that you taped my mouth over? 

No, wait he was that stupid. 

And he slaps you — the sting of his palm against your cheek dazes you a moment, and then his fist lands a blow in your stomach, choking on the same air you breathed, tears burning before slipping down your cheeks. 

“Do you think this is bad?” and now he’s holding your face between his fingers, nails digging into your cheeks, and he grins, a shiver going down your spine,  “just wait.” And he disappears a moment, his shadowy figure rifling through a bag on a table. 

Your eyes darted around, looking for something that could help you, something to help you escape, but nothing was within reach. Your chest squeezed — what if you died here? What if you never saw your family again? What if you never saw your friends again? What if they never found your body? Fear claws up your throat, eyes burning. 

What if they found your body? 

What if Munch found your body? 

You had promised him you’d be careful, but you were careless. You didn’t watch Bradford close enough, you didn’t stick with Liv, you were stupid — so stupid. 

And you wondered if he’d rape you before he was done — if they would find your body like so many victims that came across your desk. You wondered if he’d kill you at all — or just let you live with the memories of his torture. 

And you didn’t know what was worse. 

But then something clatters in the distance, and his head is whipping around, there are footsteps, and he’s grabbing a knife, cutting your restraints free,  “Come here bitch,” he mutters, hurrying to cut the ropes, at your feet before moving to the ones at your wrists,  “they aren’t taking me before I get a chance to slit your throat.” 

Blood roaring in your ears, you know you have to do something — he’s almost done cutting the last rope at your wrist. You couldn’t wait for help. 

You rear your head back, before smashing it into his, hard. His groan gets caught in his throat, as you lunge for the knife, the handle within grasp of your fingers, and you’re trying to crawl away, a deep ache in your skull. You’re stumbling to your feet, but his fingers close around your ankle. 

“I should have fucking killed you from the start,” and you kick him with your free foot, hearing him scream and the satisfying crack of his nose breaking, gripping the knife in your hand and pushing yourself to your feet. 

And you rip the tape from your mouth, “Get the fuck away from me!” you point the knife at him, heart pounding against your ribcage, as he lays clutching his bloody nose. 

But he’s still getting to his feet, “You better hand over that fucking knife—” 

“You better not take another step before I blow your brains out,” and suddenly Fin and Munch are there, Fin stepping forward to arrest Bradford, as Munch is beside you. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” and he’s trying to ease the knife out of your fingers, but you won’t let go, “let go of the knife, it’s okay,” he’s murmuring in your ear, slipping the knife from your fingers, “you’re okay. I got you.” 

Your knees are buckling, and he’s holding you, your head buried in his chest, “I thought he was going to—” 

“I know,” he says softly, “I know, but you’re okay.” 

“Because of you,” And he’s helping you up, and police sirens in the distance, as he helps you out of the building, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he whispers, “I’m sorry,” 

“For what?” and his arm around you squeezes you gently. 

“For not saving you sooner,” And suddenly EMS and police are flooding the scene, Fin is shoving Bradford into a car. And you spot him, glaring, but Munch steps between his view, his arm around your shoulders, “don’t bother with that scum. He’s not worth it.” 

And he wasn’t — you knew he wasn’t, but you know that you wouldn’t be able to prosecute him now. But, you craned your neck to watch him be taken away, you wanted to see the bastard get put away at least. 

It’s over, you tell yourself as you rest your head against Munch’s shoulder. 

It was over. 

~~~

“I just want to go home,” you shake your head, but he pulls you along regardless, protesting all the same.

“Just let them look at you, please?” he asks, “if only for my sanity.” 

And you scoff softly, “I thought you lost that a long time ago,” 

“There’s that wit,” he replies, and you go with him, fingers intertwined with his. E.M.S. examines you, insisting on taking you to the hospital for a possible concussion. But you don’t want to — you just want to sleep, you want to take a shower, you want to forget this ever happened— 

“Please just let me go,” you’re pleading with him, tears slipping down your cheeks, “John, please let me go home.” and he’s wavering for a moment, before his hand is on your shoulder, gently pushing you back down. 

“I can’t, and you know that, counselor,” he never wanted to see you cry like this, he never wanted to see you as a victim — because you aren’t just another victim at his desk or in photos spread across his desk — you were you. 

But you were also a victim now. 

“Why not?” you lie against the pillow in defeat, tears slipping down your cheeks, and he’s leaning down to your level, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Because you’re hurt, and you need to be seen. I don’t trust doctors as much as the next conspiracy nut, but you still need to see one,” he tilts his head, “do you want me to come?” 

And you’re blinking back tears, before nodding, “I’m sorry, I’m—” 

“Don’t apologize,” he’s wiping your tears away, “don’t ever apologize for this.” 

~~~

You don’t remember much else — it’s a blur of testing, until finally they let you sleep. And you don’t know how long you sleep. But you don’t dream, and for that much, you’re thankful. You awake to the low hum of hospital machinery, and quiet voices in the room. And you blink, the fluorescents much too bright for you, and your eyes flutter shut again, before not before voices creep in. 

“—been asleep?” 

“It’s been a few hours,” Munch whispers, assumedly trying to keep from waking you, but that was out of the question already, “docs gave something for sleep.” 

“Have you said anything yet?” and it’s Fin asking. 

“When? In between the ambulance ride here and the C.A.T. scan and the fifty other tests they ran?” Munch replies drily, sighing, “it’s not the right time,” 

“You know there’s never going to be a right time, John,” and you’re grateful that you’re turned away from them, your brow furrowed, their voices growing louder, “you have to say something or is counselor a mind reader now?” 

“Well—” 

“Don’t spout another conspiracy theory or you’ll be the one in the hospital bed,” you could almost see Fin crossing his arms. 

“You know that psychiatrist also told me I could make a conspiracy theory from a five-year-old’s lemonade stand,” 

Fin raises an eyebrow, “Well now that I believe,” 

“What am I supposed to say?” Munch asks, “‘hi, I know you almost just died, but I think I’m in love with you?’” 

And your eyes snap open, the air sucked straight from your lungs — “It can be that simple,” 

He was in love with you? John Munch was in love with you. Your heart squeezed at the thought — you hadn’t a clue that he was. You knew he cared — but you didn’t know he… loved you.  

“Nothing is ever that simple,” and you turn around, the words leaving your lips without a thought. 

“It can be, John,” and both him and Fin’s gazes snap to you, a small smile on your lips, “if you let it be.” 

Munch is staring at you slack jawed, while Fin is grinning, elbowing him, “I’ll leave you two alone,” before he adds, “remember that there is an officer at the door—” 

“Fin—” and he’s gone, disappearing out of the door, and Munch is wiping a hand down his face, his cheeks flushed red, “so how much of that—” 

“All of it,” and he’s covering his hands with his face, “for someone who claims to be so evolved, you’re very cute when you’re embarrassed,” 

“I’m cute?” he repeats, and you hold out your hand to him, and he’s staring a moment — as if he can’t believe it — before taking your hand, “how cute?” 

You snort, “Just cute enough, don’t go getting an ego,” 

“You’re sure it’s not just the concussion? And the almost dying?” and you roll your eyes, tugging him closer, by his coat’s lapel, and he’s whispering your name. 

“How’s this for an answer?” and you kiss him — his lips barely brush yours a moment, but he’s already pulling you back in, parting and meeting until you hold him there a moment, fingers twisting in the hair resting on the small of his neck, “John—” you breath against his lips. 

“I don’t understand why…” he whispers, your foreheads brushing. 

“Why...?” 

“I don’t understand why me,” his fingers cup your cheek gently, as if you’d disappear between his fingers, “you could be with anyone — why would you choose this paranoid, old detective?” 

“Because it’s you,” you softly chuckle, and you draw your lips to his again, “and I wouldn’t want you any other way,” before you add, “except maybe sharing your feelings more so I don’t have to overhear any other conversations to know how you’re feeling.” 

“I could say the same to you, counselor,” 

“Excuse me, I said how I felt first,” you gape at him, in mock offense. 

“Only after hearing how I felt,” but you shrug, smiling as your noses brush. 

“Still, I was the first, so suck it,” you reply, and he laughs, a warm sound that makes your chest stir. 

“Oh,” his lips brush yours, a smile on his lips,  “I’m gonna suck something.” 

[my-darling-luna]

Your Majesty Chapter 12

Summary- It has been more than a decade since the Kingdom of Ultron lost their princess. (Y/n) was just a 17 year old that didn’t know much about her past. Realizations happen and lives are crossed. How will (Y/n) handle the new pressure?

Stucky x reader

—

“Stupid men!” Rumlow yelled, slamming his hands against the table. “How did they find out?” His eyes trained on Pierce.

“Because you were reckless and they know that you left at the same time she did. If you would’ve listened to me-”

“I’m not interested in being scolded.” Brock said simply and Pierce looked at him unhappily.

“Do not speak to me in that way. It is your fault for them being on my case and this whole kingdom will be destroyed because of you!” A knock stopped from Brock retaliating. “Come in!” The doors opened and (Y/n) walked through quietly.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but I heard of the wedding being pushed forward and I was hoping to know why.” Brock sighed.

“It is nothing to worry your small brain about.” Brock hummed while stroking the raised skin of her neck. She whimpered quietly, but stopped when she was given a pointed look.

“Rumlow, stop.” He looked over at his future daughter-in-law. “Don’t worry, it’s just some issues with officiant that you wouldn’t understand.”

(Y/n) frowned. “Oh, okay.”

“Rumlow, help her out, I think we’re done here.” Pierce watched the two leave quietly before falling into his chair with a sigh.

***

“Why aren’t my parents going to be here? They live in the Kingdom.” (Y/n) said, looking at her soon to be father-in-law.

“They aren’t interested in coming, they’re simply too busy.” She shook her head at his stupid explanation.

“They love me. There’s no way that they wouldn’t come. Plus, I was all that they had in that little cottage so they wouldn’t be busy with anything else.”

He walked up closer to her with a flicker of rage in his eyes. “They don’t love you.”

(Y/n) stayed quiet as the maids fluttered around her. She was styled and the infamous white dress was tightened around her. “Thank you.” Her maid nodded at her mumble and she moved over to her father-in-law.

“Let’s move, we don’t have all day.” He rolled his eyes and (Y/n) shook under his stare. The door was opened for him when there was a loud ‘boom’ that made the girl jump. She looked over to her maids who made quick eye contact with her before they all looked away. “Go!” Pierce yelled as he pulled her down the hallway. Yanking a door open, they came face to face with a man that (Y/n) had never seen before.

“Princess,” he was paused when Pierce unsheathed his sword and went to attack the man. He too, pulled out his sword and began to fight her future father-in-law. A quick swipe to the neck caught Pierce off guard and blood splattered through the small cut. (Y/n) watched as he fell, his eyes glazing over as the blood continued to pour, “we have been waiting to find you.” The man smiled, his chest heaving as he took deep breaths.

“I don’t know who you are.” She said simply, studying the man’s face carefully as it fell after each word. “Frankly I’ve never seen anyone like you before.”

“(Y/n), I’m Vision. You met me when you were brought to the castle to meet your father.”

“My father was a farmer, why would he be here?” Vision shook his head before sighing.

“You need to come with me.” Vision grabbed her hand tightly, and pulled her through the crowd of men advancing on Hydra’s men.

“Where are you taking me?” Her voice shook while she tried to twist and pull her wrist free of Vision’s grasp.

“Rhodes! I have her.” Another man came forward, a smiled breaking across his face.

“Princess.” Vision whispered something to him and Rhodey nodded before leading the two through hallways that (Y/n) had never seen before. A crash came from one of the doorways off of the hallway and Rhodey stopped to look over. He sighed. “Take her down the hall and turn right. There should be a door that leads to where the king is when you follow it.”

With that, he left and Vision trudged forward through the sound of swords clashing and people yelling. (Y/n) squinted at the bright light of outside. The indoors of the castle was mostly dark, all of the windows were covered with red curtains that completely blocked out the sun. A loud cry from a woman made (Y/n) jump, and soon enough, a pair of arms wrapped around her body and Vision dropped her wrist.

“Get off! Get off!” (Y/n) yelled tugging her body away from the woman’s. Her face was contorted with hurt and confusion, but there was little that (Y/n) cared about besides getting away from her.

“Darling…” the woman trailed off, slowly holding her hand out for (Y/n).

“Pepper.” A man’s voice came from behind her and the woman stopped. “Something is wrong with her.”

“No really?” Pepper sobbed. “I couldn’t tell. Tony, what are we going to do?” Tony sighed and motioned towards another man with brown hair white peppered within it.

“Bruce, take her please and check her out.” Along with that, Tony grabbed her arm, forcing her in place while Bruce came forward with a needle in his hand.

“I’m sorry Princess.” The needle was pushed into her neck.

***

Commotion was the first thing that (Y/n) heard when she woke up. Her neck throbbed, but she felt little else that was part of her body. With her eyes closed, she recognized the man talking loudly: Steve.

“We are her fiancé’s! We deserve to be allowed in that room with her. She was found two days ago and we haven’t been allowed to touch her yet!”

“I’m sorry, Steve, there’s nothing we can do.” Bruce’s soft tone fought back.

With great difficulty, (Y/n) was able to open her eyes, her eyelids already feeling heavy. To her right was an empty chair, but that was all that she was able to see because of the pain in her neck.

There they were: Steve arguing with Bruce and Bucky pacing back and forth outside of the room. (Y/n) laid quietly as a doctor walked in with a smile on her face.

“I’m Helen Cho.” She said, her voice kind. “I’m your doctor alongside Doctor Banner. How are you feeling?”

“Tired. My neck hurts, but I can’t feel anything else.” She wrote something down on her clipboard before nodding with an indifferent look on her face. “Why can’t they come in.” Helen looked over to the boys.

“We didn’t want to stress you out, especially when you’re asleep.”

“Can we let them in?” Helen hummed quietly before opening the door to her room.

—

Tag list- @aikeia

[just-a-quirkless-loser]

The Days of Your Youth

Young Enji Todoroki x F! Reader

Hanahaki Trope + BNHA Universe

Words: 5.9k

Warnings: Angst, Enji is an asshole, sexual content, A bit of the redemption arc at the end, graphic descriptions of violence, Characters are 18+

Asagao flowers bloom so beautifully in Sakai; what a shame that Musutafu is four hours away from those gorgeous flowers. So, you knew whenever Enji came bearing the dark blue edged flowers with purple insides, that he had endured the voyage to get them. It was small things like this that made you fall in love with him. If only you didn’t, then maybe you'd still be alive.

The two of you met in your youth when you both attended U.A. High School, both of you having dreams of being the number one pro-hero for the next generation. You hated him at first, which is understandable seeing as he’s brash and cares for no one but himself. He always argues with you, he doesn’t hold back during training, and he has an unhealthy obsession with your childhood best friend Toshinori Yagi, known to the public as All Might.

Your quirk was strong, the ability to heal from any wound and regeneration of your limbs but, he made you feel trivial in comparison to him.

“You can take a bullet, great. How useless that would be in a battle with a villain? You can’t even inflict any damage,” his words stung. All your life, you’d been ridiculed as having a “rescue” quirk, always being told that you’d never have the chance to fight “real villains.” You wanted to prove them all wrong...although, you didn’t prove anything in the end.

Because of the nature of your quirk, you were often paired with Enji whenever it was time to spar. He’d hit you with his fire, blistering your skin with no mercy. He’d knock your teeth down your throat, making you cough blood at his feet. He’d choke you with your own support weapon, making you feel weaker than what you thought you were. He made your life a living hell. So, how did you fall in love with him?

Your love didn’t happen overnight. Actually, the relationship between the two of you changed drastically after that day. The day is clear in the archives of your mind, almost like you’re watching a movie through your own eyes.

“Are you sure you can handle Todoroki today?” you were walking to the training rooms with Toshinori Yagi. He loomed over you as he glanced anxiously at the man in question. Everyone knew about the obvious tension between the two young men however, that day was different. Something primal was lurking in Enji’s glance whenever he looked your way.

“Regeneration, remember? I’ll be fine,” you pat the large man on the back. “Plus, I don't think he could kill me even if he tried.”

“I’m just worried. He’s off today. More confrontational.”

“He’s like this every day, Toshi. He’s probably just on his man period or something.”

“...Y/N, you do now men don’t have menstrual cycles? Right?”

“Yes, Toshi, you’ve told me dozens of times. It’s just a metaphor...till I can get some proof,” he facepalms as you rub your hands together to mimic scheming hands. “He’ll have to take his clothes off eventually.”

“You’re a menace to society; I love it,” you lean against each other as you laugh, attracting the attention of your classmates. “But, seriously, I’m worried.”

“Toshi, I will be perfectly fine. What’s the worst that can happen?”

***

“More! Get up,” you were gripping the right pant leg of Enji’s training suit, trying to pull yourself up to face him again. You body begged you to stay down but your mind -your pride- forced you up. The right side of your face was scorched. One of your eyes was missing from its socket. The guns you normally wield for support were thrown elsewhere, leaving you vulnerable to his onslaught. “You’re pathetic. U.A. isn’t meant for the weak. You don’t belong here with us.”

“You don’t get to tell me where I belong,” you charge to attack, switching your technique at the last minute so you could throw a hard jab to his abdomen. He countered with raising both of his fists above his head in a gorilla fashion and slammed them down on your spine, once again taking you to the mat. But, this time you heard a crack from your spine.

“I don’t know why you waste my time. Sensei just needs to let Yagi and I fight,” you laid at his feet paralyzed. However, the inability to move doesn’t hinder your ability to speak.

“Awww, Todoroki, you miss your boyfriend? I knew you had a hard on for him,” and, while you felt there was nothing wrong with being homosexual, you knew Todoroki was a traditional man who wouldn’t want a rumor like that to be spread. You snicker at his silence. “Must be true if you haven’t denied it.”

Words are meaningless if he can show you with his actions. He wastes no time dropping to his knees so he can lean over you, pushing you into your back as he slaps your face from side to side.

“You,” smack. “Have,” smack. “Issues,” smack.

“ENJI,” you hear Yagi yell in the background as rushes in to save you from your beating. Toshinori’s strong hands pull Todoroki up by the scruff of his neck, looking at the bloody mess your body has come to be, checking to see the rise and fall of your chest before he deals with the man he’s holding. “You could have killed her!”

“She can’t die,” to prove his point, Enji encircles your form with a ring of Fire, the smoke clogging your lungs as your skin is barely holding its form. However, you don’t feel the familiar tingling sensation of your regeneration.

“It doesn’t matter if she can’t die. She’s still human!”

“I’m making her stronger.”

“You’re abusing her,” they both glance down to see that you’ve stopped twitching. You look like you’ve been hit by a land mine: body bloodied, bones exposed, missing limbs. The smoke has cover you in a fine layer of soot, the particles of your own flesh smothered in your nose. “Fuck, Y/N? Y/N?! ANSWER ME! PLEASE! SENSEI!”

There’s only a few things you can recollect clearly. You were rushed to the hospital and you could hear the urgency in Yagi’s voice. If you closed your eyes long enough, you could still see your Sensei’s face looming over yours as he tried to get your attention. The smell of Enji still invades your nose whenever you remember how he sat next to you in the ambulance. You think he felt guilty for letting his desire to measure up to Yagi blind him once again. It’s just a shame that you had to be beat close to death’s door for him to feel remorseful.

You awoke to an obnoxious beeping to your left, a throbbing pain in you head, and a nuisance fire wielder to your right (you had to do a double take to make sure he didn’t beat the sense out of you).

“You’re awake.”

“No thanks to you,” he winces.

“Let’s just be thankful you’re alive.”

“Unfortunately.”

“That wasn’t a funny joke.”

“Who said it was a joke?” you spot Asagao flowers on your bedside. “Who brought the flowers?”

“I did.”

You move to sit up but hiss and grab your side. “Welp, that’s new.”

“Take it easy,” Enji rises and gingerly presses you back into the bed.

“You expect me to believe you spent eight flowers just to bring me flowers?”

“Yagi told me they’re your favorite. I figured it’d be a good way to start amending for what I’ve done.”

“You almost killed me. All because you have a superiority complex that I’ve done nothing to fuel. And, you call yourself a future hero?” you snort. “Oh, wait, let me correct myself, you call yourself the future NUMBER ONE hero!?” you turn to face him so he can’t escape your eyes. “Everyone’s right about what they say about you. You’d do anything if it meant you’d have a chance at facing Toshinori. You don’t care how many people get hurt in the crossfire. As long as you win this competition Toshinori doesn’t even know he’s a part of,” you laugh at the irony.

“What part of ‘I'm sorry’ do you not understand?” Enji growls as he pushes your body into the hospital bed, face coming to stare you down.

“What part of ‘you almost killed me’ do you not understand?” you return his energy with a sneer. “You don’t intimidate me; I’m not some bitch that will tuck her tail and run just because you try to throw a hissy fit.”

“You’re playing with the wrong person, little girl,” he fingers caress the side of your cheek.

‘Once again, this dude has issues.’

“I’m definitely playing with the right person. You need someone to knock you down a few pegs,” and this was when the doctor came to check on your condition, catching Enji and yourself so close that your foreheads were touching. His hands were parted on the sides of you as he puffed out some smoke through his nose.

“Sorry, lovebirds. I should’ve knocked. I’m Doctor Sugo and I have a few questions,” you nod in comprehension.

“Fire them off,” you intentionally use those words to make Enji tense. After years of verbal, physical, and psychological abuse, this was your opportunity to exact your revenge.

“You came in with extensive burns, missing limbs, choking around your neck, blackened lungs, and, it looked as though you died from asphyxiation. Your sensei notified us of your quirk, however, your behavior was reckless and had unforeseen consequences. I doubt you burned yourself alive. Did someone try to kill you?” this was your chance to end Todoroki’s chance of being a hero and end this silly game he’s created in his mind. It would’ve been easy.

“No, we were sparring and it got intense. Enji wanted to stop but I’ve been pushing my quirk limits to the maximum with the coming of our graduation. He lost control of his quirk,” you’ve never been the type to do things the easy way. “I apologize for the trouble my actions have caused.”

“Are you sure this wasn’t a young-domestic abuse situation?” he eyes Enji’s burly frame.

“No, Enji would never hurt me,” to prove your point, you intertwine your fingers with his and kiss the back of his hand, maintaining eye-contact with him. He blew more puffs of smoke into your face.

“In that case, I’ll notify your Sensei of what happened. Just let me check your vitals and I’ll leave the two of you to talk,” the whole time the doctor was in the room, Enji kept blowing smoke. You figured it was something he did when he was uncomfortable but, you couldn't be sure this was the first time you witnessed something like that in person. You both waited a couple of seconds after the doctor left before you continued the actual conversation.

“What the fuck was that?”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you cuss...Do it again,” he gives you a pointed look.

“Answer the question.”

“For someone that’s ranked at the top of your class, you’re pretty dense. It’s simple; I’m blackmailing you.”

“Why?”

“Because, you need to be held accountable for your actions and, selfishly, I want to make your life a living hell. It wouldn’t be practical to let a strong quirk like yours to be sent to prison for attempted murder; you’re useful to the world and there’s no way I can’t acknowledge that you’d be formidable if you chose to become a villain due to my inability to keep my emotions in check,” he just stares. You spot Toshinori in the door frame and wave. “Toshi! Come in. I was just explaining to Enji what’s going to happen to him from now on.”

“Y/N,” he said in a warning tone. “Are you sure this is a good idea. He tried to kill you.”

“Shut it, Toshi. You’re too loud,” you roll your eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. This is perfect.”

And, it was perfect. Graduating U.A. High felt unreal at times; it felt even more bizarre as you managed to become a pro-hero alongside your friend, Toshinori, and your personal butler, Enji. Yep, he became your butler as a way to repent for his actions (his words, not yours) and you actually found his company enjoyable when he wasn’t engrossed with beating Yagi. He’s dedicated to the tasks you give him, even if they’re demeaning like walking around with a collar (the press had a field day with that one) or task oriented (like making you fresh coffee whenever you please).

“ENJIIIIIIII,” you’ve taken to bothering him immensely. “Put on this skirt.”

“Y/N, I’m not putting on that skirt. It would tarnish my image.”

“Hm, guess I’ll have to call Sensei. He'd probably believe me if I said you attacked me again. I mean, I’m just an innocent woman. I could just say I was scared the first time,” and that’s how Enji Todoroki was seen wearing a skirt for training multiple times. In all fairness, he looked like a menacing kitten. And, you've grown to like him. Maybe, it was his guilt for almost murdering you but, he found himself showing you tenderness as well. He just couldn't hate you no matter what you did.

“You idiot. I told you not to jump in front of me,” he was carrying your limp body in his arms as though you were his bride. Holding close to his heart, he could feel the warmth of your breath on his chest.

“Why wouldn’t I? I can’t have you dying on me yet. I haven’t gotten you to dress in drag yet,” blood spills from your ears as you blank out of consciousness. There were plenty of times you protected Enji from a villains attack and each time you told yourself you did it because you wanted to continue to blackmail him to be by your side. But, you just wanted him to yourself.

As the years roll on, you find yourself getting closer and closer to him, just barely missing his flames. You became used to patrolling with him as the Pro-Hero ‘Zombie.’ You enjoy going to Sakai in search of the perfect flowers. You treasure being able to see him every day. But, it’s not all peaches and cream.

“Enji, get over it. Toshi worked hard to be first,” you’re arguing again. Two years after the incident and he still hasn’t let go of his yearning to be the best. While sometimes you want to admire his hard work, you can’t help but question his motives. He’s lost the very reason he wanted to become a hero.

“Toshi just leaves to go to America, didn’t tell you, comes back to climb the ranks of the hero charts, and you’re just okay with that? Meanwhile, you lose your mind on me after I don’t answer your call on the first few rings?” he’s sitting on your bed, his jogging pants hanging down dangerously low on his navel, a few red hairs peeking at you. You lick your lips.

“I’m not saying what he did was okay but, you’re blowing this out of proportion. You’re twenty years old. You need to let go of this foolish rivalry,” you throw your legs over his lap. “It’s not healthy.”

“I’m not having this argument with you again. You always take his side,” you slap his chest, gulping at the strong pecs. You wonder how’d they feel bearing down on your back as he-

“Y/N, are you listening?”

“Flamehead, you know I don’t listen to dumb shit,” he puffs out smoke in irritation. “But, I’m not taking his side. I just think we’re getting too old for this.”

“That’s what you always say,” and you laid there with him watching t.v. The conversation ends like it always does but, you can tell Enji isn’t upset with you. It’s the same routine you always follow whenever he wants to talk about Toshinori’s “false achievements.”

Somehow, you end up cuddled into his chest, head pressed firmly into his neck as you feel the warmness of his pulse move underneath you. His arms keep you against him, caging your legs around his hips (it takes a lot to keep your mind from wandering off).

His fingers play with the exposed skin of your back, leaving scorching trails around his fingertips.

“Are you hungry? I still can cook-” Enji’s phone goes off. He gets up and softly pushes you to the side, answering his phone as he absentmindedly rubs your hair. He’s soon getting up to get his things, pulling on his hoodie and ending the call, staring at the phone for a few seconds.

“Who has you up and in a hurry?” you’re kneeling at the edge of the bed, his jacket in your fist to keep him from leaving.

“My finacé’s family.”

‘Fiancé?’

“Fiancé? Who is she?”

“I don’t know yet. All I know is that her quirk is the perfect compliment to mine, which is the only thing that I need,” he’s pulling away. You’re speechless. Is-Is this jealousy? Is this bubbling fury jealousy? Is this small pain jealousy? Is this mind-numbing sensation jealousy? You can't be jealous. Not of some woman you don’t even know. “I have to go. I need to get ready to meet her?”

“B-But, you don’t even know her!”

“I know she’ll ensure that I beat All Might,” so, that's what this was about. Another last ditch effort to win something with no prize. You should’ve known those touches meant nothing but, how could you when they felt so tender? “Plus, you shouldn’t care. Soon, we’d both have to leave and start our own families; this would have had to happen eventually.”

“You don’t love her. You just want to beat him,” you slump down, your calves touching the back of your thighs as you feel a stirring in your chest. “I just don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret when you’re older.”

“That’s not your concern. I’ve got to go.”

You cough up an Asagao flower, staring at it with trepidation.

‘Oh shit.’

The next time you see him is two weeks later. His hair is still styled upwards, his scowl has deepened making him look older than what he really is, his eyes darker than before. Both of you sit one a rooftop, starting over Musutafu. His body is curled in on itself, the flames of his suit keeping you warm in the brisk fall night. Part of his arm is slung over your shoulder, drawing you into his side.

“Have you ever been in love, Enji?” you see him puff out a few smoke clouds, a telltale sign that you've either made him embarrassed or uncomfortable. “Like, real love? The type of love that doesn’t go away no matter how much you try to kill it?”

“You know I don’t have time for sentiments like that,” he looks at your wistful expression, wondering to himself how you manage to look even more breathtaking than the last time he saw you.

“But, what if you could fall in love? What if things like time and being a hero didn’t matter? Wouldn't you want that?”

“No, there’s no girl good enough for me or my love,” such sweet lies sound true coming from him and that burns you more than his fire ever has.

“What about marriage? Kids?”

“You already know I have an arranged quirk marriage. I met her and she is adequate enough to give me a child fit to be the number one hero of the new generation.”

“Jeez, you sound like you’re quoting a business proposal.”

“It is business,” he sounds like he’s scolding you for not knowing this. You feel your stomach fill with more flowers and you feel some crawling up your throat. It’s suffocating you but, you chalk that up to your nerves bothering you. “I’m guessing you brought this up because you think you’re ‘in love.’ “

“I know I am,” you stop your sentence to cough into your arm, catching a few Asagao flowers in your elbow. So, this is how you’re going to die? Dying from a disease that even your regeneration can’t save you from? Choking on flowers because Enji can’t reciprocate your feelings? “As you can see, it’s one sided.”

“Leave them alone. Feelings go away,” but, they didn’t. It just got worse and worse and worse. Because, as much as you knew you should leave Enji, you just couldn’t. Your heart longed for him. Your heart belonged to him. And, Toshinori couldn't understand why.

“Y/N, please, I don’t understand why you'd die for someone that wants nothing to do with you,” Toshinori chided. “Get the surgery. They can take the feelings out. I’ll be right by your side to help you.”

“You’d never understand, Toshi. You'd never understand waking up every morning, wanting someone so bad you have no motivation to do anything but lay in your own tears. I’d rather die loving him than pretend I never felt these feelings at all.”

“But, why?”

“Because, he’s hurt me so much; this is my last ‘fuck you’ to him. Because, I know one day he’ll change. One day, he'll want to see me and I'll be dead. I want him to feel the same pain that I feel now. He needs to feel my rage, he needs to feel my abandon. HE NEEDS TO FEEL ME!”

“Y/N, I’ve already lost Nana. I can’t lose you too.”

“I love you, Toshinori Yagi. Be great for me,” and that’s the last thing you ever said to your childhood best friend.

***

When you opened the door, Enji wasn’t expecting to see you only in a long shirt, tuffets of a flower stuffed in your mouth.

“What the fuck, Y/N? You look like shit. You can’t open the door like that,” he comes in and you immediately cling to him.

“I love you.”

“What?”

“I’m in love with you Enji.”

“You can’t be.”

“But, I am,” you hold one of your saliva covered flowers to his heart. Your eyes are tired and barely stay open but you can't take your eyes off of him. “This is for you. All of them are for you. Loving you is killing me,” you laugh at the irony. Who would’ve thought Enji would end up killing you anyway?

“Then, stop,” Enji rips the flower from your fingers and throws it to the side. You dive for the flower, causing him to follow you down to your floor. “Let it go.”

“I can’t. It’s all I have right now,” you’re sobbing while retching up flowers. His arms encase you, almost like he’s trying to keep you from falling apart. “I can’t just let go. I can’t just stop loving you, Enji.”

He doesn’t really say anything to you. Maybe, he’s too stunned or maybe he’s too afraid he’ll say the wrong thing but, he finds that it’s better to just hold you.

“Enji, could you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“Could you make love to me?” he can’t deny you your wish with how pitiful you look. So, he scoops you up in his arms and takes you to your bedroom, heart pumping hard at what he’s about to do. He’s getting married in a week yet, he’s here about to give his body to you.

Laying your body down on the bed, he watches as your covers fan around your head like a halo and, for a moment, he wonders if that’s what you would look like as an angel. Ethereal and tired. The air in the room is growing hotter as he sweats, nervous to strip you down. He’s no stranger to sex but, this is the first time he’s ever focused on someone else’s pleasure.

“Just, lay there.”

“What the fuck else am I going to do? Run off,” he chuckles. Leave it to you to find some comedy in your weakest moments. He starts with stripping you of your long shirt -actually, his shirt that had gone missing the last time he stayed at your house- and stares at your body, naked and exposed to the air.

He takes a few minutes to take in your beauty, ghosting over your skin as he watches you quiver in anticipation. Your eyes are blown and a petal is on your cheek, reminding him of what had happened to you. Your hands wrap around his forearm as you silently beg him to touch you.

“Always have been needy,” when he kisses you, it makes your toes curl from his smokey breath. Envisioning his taste held no comparison to what he really was. It’s like he was breathing his smoke into your lungs, making sweat bead on your skin.

His hand grasps your neck and you moan at the warmth that he gives you, toes curling at the pressure he puts on your throat. The flowers slide down your esophagus, allowing some of your essence to mix with his. He’s weighing you down into your mattress as he’s ripping off his shirt, buttons flying everywhere as he tries to shimmy out of his pants. His kisses trail down the column of your neck and he’s groaning at the way you whine. Your body reacts so wonderfully to his touch.

“You should have told me sooner; you could’ve had all of my cock before this,” you giggle at his attempt of dirty talk. It’s weird to have the proper and correct Enji speaking naughty in your ear. “Damnit, woman, will you stop laughing? I’m trying to be romantic.”

“I can’t help it. You're like Recovery Girl whenever she tries to be cool.”

“Why did you have to bring her up?” he drops his head on your navel. “Are you trying to kill my erection?”

You did a mouth zipping motion and laid your hands on his shoulders, looking down your body to catch him staring at you as he licked below your belly button. The sensation of his textured tongue against your smooth skin is almost enough to send you into your orgasm. He brings his arms up to grab your breasts in his hands as he continues to slide down to your slit. Your smaller body is completely open to him as he tongues your small clit, keeping your legs spread around your head.

“Enjiiiiii, please,” you beg for your release. The inner sadist inside of Enji preens as you beg, his mind thinking you look beautiful at his mercy with a few tears in your eyes. He plunges his tongue inside your hole, only shallowly fucking your tight hole. He brings one of his hands beside his mouth, which is an awkward position for his large frame, and pushes his finger inside your tightness till he’s met with some resistance. You’re met with wide eyes.

“You didn’t tell me you were a virgin.”

“You never asked.”

“I’m serious, Y/N. If I didn’t find out, were you just going to let me pound into you,” he smacks your thigh as a way to punish you.

“As long as it’s you, I’d let you use me like a doll,” the words incite a new type of fire in Enji’s body. He gets hotter as he enjoys the words of someone that’s completely submitted to his control.

“Then, I’ll use you till I can’t use you anymore,” he places one last kiss to your hole and slivers up your body. Everything about this moment is perfect for you; the man you love is hovering above you as he looks at you with adoration and desire.

“Are you ready?” His forehead is leaned on yours as he wavers on top of you, his cock kissing the entrance of your folds. You can’t speak due to the flowers that are lodged in your throat, so you nod as you stare into his eyes. For the first time, you can feel the love he has for you. If only this moment could last forever for you as it would for him.

The first few moments of him stretching you make you whimper in his ear, your nails cutting into his back as you try to ground yourself in the moment. He tries to push into you at a slow pace, bottoming out and sitting there for you to adjust. Your pussy clenches him like a vice, testing his self control as he wants to grab you by your waist and use you like a fuck doll.

It’s hard not to scream when he pulls back slightly and snaps his hips into your own. Both of you are breathing into each other's face as he fucks you with slow, deep thrusts, pulling your hips to meet his thrusts in an angle.

“Such a problematic woman. Couldn’t just tell me you loved me,” you whine as he sits up on his knees and begins to fuck you with fevor. His cock rubs against that spongy spot in your pussy, pushing you toward your first orgasm. “Such a bad girl. I didn’t tell you to cum yet.”

“Enjiiii please fuck please I’ll be good for you,” he smiled through the pleasure that rips through him and pulled out of you to lay on his side behind you. He wasted no time lifting one of your legs and pushed into your heat, fucking you deeper in this position. He could now see the way you try to push your hips against his, fucking you with a patronizing smile.

“Such a horny girl,” you moan into your hands as you try to hide yourself from his gaze but he rips your arms away from your face, forcing you to scream for him. He makes it a point to fuck you harder as he’s addicted to your beautiful voice. “Scream for me little girl.”

“Dadddyyy gonna cum again,” your tearing u again as he keeps brutalizing your pussy.

“Oh I’m daddy now,” he’s grunting as he feels you clench again. You give him no answer as you cum once again, this time pulling him into his orgasm as you feel him spurt deep in your womb. But, even though he cums, he doesn’t stop. He’s determined to fuck you into oblivion.

“I’m not done with you, keep cumming in my cock,” your toes keep curling as you try to push away from him. However, that makes him wrap his arms around your shoulders and slam you down on his cock, keeping your legs spread as he fucks you so hard some of his cum is dribbling down the side of his cock. You’re shaking hard as your pleasure blinds you, the pressure in your abdomen building in a different way.

“Fuuuuckkk Enjiii, I-I- love you,” clear liquid squirts from your pussy as he slows down his thrusts. You lay there in your juices with his cum splurging out of you once he pulls out of you completely. He leaves you there as he runs you a bath, leaving you to think about what just happened.

He didn’t say he loved you back but, you hoped he would. With gentle hands, he put you into your tub, softly rubbing your hair like he had done many times.

“Y/N, we need to talk,” you smiled over at him. His pants were pulled back on his hips but he couldn’t meet your eyes. “You know I care for you and you know I wouldn’t want to hurt you but, you need to get the surgery. I can’t just love you the way you love me and, I don’t want you to die because of that. I’ll pay for the surgery. I’ll pay for you a new apartment and everything. I’ll even-” you droned him out.

“You know,” you shiver in the warm water as you start to tear up. You hacked up flowers and continued with a shaky voice. “I thought that having sex with you and telling you would make it go away. I thought that maybe, just maybe, I meant more to you than what I thought. I’m such a dumbass. You’ll never love me; you’ll never love anyone but yourself. Why can’t you just be a man and tell me I’m nothing to you compared to whatever the fuck you have with Toshinori? IT’S BEEN YEARSSSS,” you croak out as you sob, your heart hurting. “AND, YOU HAVEN’T CHANGED AT ALL. You’re still the Enji Todoroki that tried to kill me. I just tricked myself into thinking that you were a different person.”

“Y/N-

“Get out,” you turn to the shower wall, too heartbroken to stomach the sight of him.

“Y/N, just listen to-”

“GET OUT,” he goes silent as he looks back at you from the door frame. He wants to say something but, the thought of ruining his future keeps him silent. He leaves with a look of pity for you.

“I’ll leave money for the surgery on the table by your bed,” he calls before he leaves, the door slamming pushing you to your last limit.

And, he left you there to you die in your bathtub alone, body worn from the sex you had with the man that you knew you couldn’t have emotionally. Your flowers soaked up the water as they kept falling, your eyes glued on one of the bruises he left on your leg. It’s too painful to try to move, so you lie there as your quirk does nothing against the disease. Getting the surgery would have saved you but, your body and mind would still remember the pain of your first and last love.

Per your request, Toshinori has your body cremated after they perform the autopsy. The young hero, grieving the loss of his best friend, doesn’t contact Enji to inform him of your timely death. He’s pained that he’ll never see you smile or hear your jokes or call your name and hear you respond. You're gone and part of him feels like he’s the blame. He can’t help but think that things would have turned out differently if he told Enji that he never cared about being the number one hero.

As for Enji, he doesn’t look back as he goes on to have his family. He goes on to marry his wife that he’d always compare to you (her hair wasn’t vibrant as yours, her voice wasn’t as smooth as yours, her eyes don’t set him ablaze like yours did). He goes on to have his kids and he wonders what they would look like if they came from your womb. He goes on to be the number one Pro-hero yet, he doesn’t feel like he’s won anything. He goes on to have a decent relationship with Toshinori yet, he feels as though he’s missing something -someone-.

“Toshinori, do you have Y/N’s number?” he called Toshinori one day, tired of letting his pride get the best of him. He’d grovel at your feet, stay by your side, sleep at your doorstep till you find it to forgive him.

“Enji, she’s dead.”

And, he sits in his house alone. His family has left him, their bonds slowly resurrecting from the dead but still fragile. His career being the only thing he has left, slowly showed him how truly unprofilling his life has been. His love for you, eating away at his heart. Why did he have to be better than Toshinori? Why couldn’t he tell you how much he loved you? Why did he let the both of you waste the days of your youth?

He coughs a single Asagao flower, the process of his unrequited love beginning. Because, let’s face it, how can you return his love if you’re dead?

——————————————————————————-

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@orokayagi @sakurashortstack @sinclairsamess

[sixofpomegranates]

Rain in California - Act 1 - California

🥀Mini Series “Rain in California” Act 1 - Part 1 - California🥀

✨My Main Masterlist✨ | 18+ | AO3 | Wattpad

🥀Soundtrack🥀 | ✨Aestethic Trailer✨ |  🥀Masterlist🥀 | Words: 9.4k

A/N: The music used in this story is not owned by me (obviously) & I used it in the same style that 'Rock of ages' and 'Mamma Mia' used songs. I gave them a different meaning and context. The meaning and context are NOT representing the one that the ORIGINAL ARTIST had.

TW: ANGST, mention of loss/death/addiction/sobriety/murder, suicidal thoughts/tendencies, depression, addiction, substance abuse, drugs, alcohol, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, stalking, death by overdose, mentions of OD, passive aggressiveness, arguing,

Songs in this Chapter: La di die – Nessa Berrett Going to Hell | My Medicine | Heaven Knows – The Pretty Reckless

“Spence?”

 Spencer looked up from his book.

Oh, so now he was allowed to talk with them about the case.

Since the briefing they hadn’t talked to him about anything. Spencer had to beg them, to let him work on this case.

He had really felt left out and why?

Because the stalking victim was a famous Rockstar with addiction issues. Spencer was hurt about his team not wanting him to be on the case because of this. Yes, he had struggled with addiction in the past, but he had been clean for over ten years now.

Was this unfair treatment…this distrust in his sobriety, ever going to stop?

It wasn’t like they had cared much about it when Emily had faked her death or when Maeve died, but this, for them, looked like a too high risk? Because there was a pretty girl involved?

He tried his best not to sound passive aggressive when responding.

 “Yeah, JJ?”, with success.

“I asked if everything´s okay.”

“Sure. Why should anything be wrong?”, the blonde shrugged a little, an apologetic look on her face.

“Well the case-“ “It´s just a stalking case. Nothing we haven’t already seen. I actually wonder why we even need to come. The stalker isn’t aggressive and hasn´t hurt anybody. Right now he´s just importunate. The police should be able to catch this unsub themselves.”, he had accidently let a little of his passive aggressiveness slip and Emily, who was sitting next to JJ, looked at him.

“The record label convinced the police to contact us. They seem worried about their artist.”

“From what I know…this girl can take care of herself.”, Luke snickered, earning himself a ‘Come on, really?’-look from Emily. “Sorry, but have you seen or listened to her music? She could probably beat Reid in a fist fight.”

“Just because she´s making rock music, doesn’t mean she´s tough. But we should talk a little about the case, Reid if you ever feel unco-“, he quickly interrupted her with a snappy tone.

“Why, because she´s an addict? I don’t care about that.”, Emily lifted her hands in a calming manner.

“Okay, jeez. Just the way you´re on edge, since the briefing, doesn’t look like you are okay.”, Spencer took a deep breath, trying to talk calmer this time, now almost pleading in tone.

“I-I know. But I´m clean since was twenty-six. I never touched anything again and I don’t feel the need to. I even regulate my alcohol intake, never drinking more than a beer, maybe two glasses of whiskey. Which means, that statistically all of you are at a higher risk, of becoming addicted, during this case, then I am. You guys need to trust me.”, the dark haired woman sighed and nodded.

“You´re right. I´m- We´re just worried. You´re our friend, Spencer.”, she handed him a file. “Just promise me you talk to one of us, if something changes.”

 He nodded opening the file. A picture of [y/n] looked at him. Dark heavy make-up, dark clothing and jet black hair with colorful streaks.

His younger self would´ve been as attracted as terrified of her.

He flipped through the pages. [y/n] [y/l/n]. Twenty-six years old. Stalker since approximately two years. Nothing extremely outstanding for a stalking case…which was kinda outstanding. No letters, no calls, no pictures, no break in, no threats…sometimes she would get random, expensive present delivered to her mansion, but that was it. Given that she was famous, this presents did not even have to be from a stalker.

 “Are we sure there´s even is a stalker?”, Spencer frowned at his own question, Emily shrugged as a response.

“According to the manager, Philip Schuyler, since the first time she played his concerns down, he gets these calls of a man asking for [y/n] and how she is doing. The label didn’t take it serious after he told them, but then the unsub stole the last finished album from [y/n]´s band ‘Shot Monarch’, before it could get released and distributed, also erasing every digitally existing copy. He then called the manager and send the owner of the record label a letter; typed on a computer, no fingerprints; stating that he wanted to be taken serious. Later [y/n] got the USB, containing all her songs, with a dozen white lilies, her favorite, back per mail with an apology letter; stating that she had done nothing wrong and didn’t need to worry, since he could never harm her or her carrier. That´s when the label pushed the police to contact us.”

“Because they are worried about the music…not the woman.”, JJ sighed, shaking her head.

“Well, that´s the industry. At least her manager is worried. Police states that he got himself a gun license after that and tries to be everywhere [y/n] is.”, Luke added.

“Something about that is off.”, Spencer whispered, rubbing his stubbles, before looking at JJ, Emily and Luke again. “There is nothing that indicates a stalker, but every time somebody doubts his existence, he does something noticeable. I know she is famous and that comes with the stigma of having crazed fans as stalkers, but most stalking in general is committed by someone known to the victim, such as an ex-partner or acquaintance. We should check that out.”, JJ nodded.

“It would also be smart if one of us stays by her site.”, Luke quickly raised his hand.

“I volunteer. I- Like- Really! If necessary I´ll sleep in the SUV.”, Emily raised an eyebrow.

“Can it be that you´re a fan? I heard you and Penelope freak out a little over the case earlier.”, a shy smirk appeared on his lips.

“‘Shot Monarch’ has really good music. Since my road trip a year ago, I love their stuff. Penelope actually tol-”, Spencer interrupted him determined.

“I´ll do it.”, Emily quickly shook her head.

“Reid, no.” “Why not?”, his voice got high, making him quickly cleared his throat. “Because-“ “Because she is taking drugs. Do you trust me that little, Emily?”, Spencer snapped at her and she leaned back into her seat. Sure the others from the team were older than him, but he was in his late thirties, and yet was treated like a child.

 “Fine. If you think you can handle it, do it. But stop being so sassy, I hate that.”, Emily looked at look in defeat. “Luke tell him what you know about [y/n] and the band.”, he nodded pulling out his phone.

“Okay so, [y/n] is the lead singer of ‘Shot Monarch’. She´s from a small town in Ohio and came to LA when she was eighteen, to become a singer after going viral. They are a band since five years, the name never really got explained by them, but it has something to do with the butterfly; at least that’s a fan theory I now from Penelope. Plus it makes sense, because [y/n] has a tattoo of one on the back of her hand.”, Luke flipped through some pictures of older man, reminding Spencer of bikers and insurance agents at the same time. Like middle-aged fathers that liked rock but still had a nine-to-five job.

“Hank, the guitarist, was a lawyer before and in a cover band with his high school friends Tom, the bassist, who worked for an insurance company, and Leroy, the drummer, who was history teacher and is also married to Hank. They met [y/n] at an open mic night and even though she´s twenty-six and they are in their late forties, early fifties, they got along so well, that they became a band. That´s ‘Going to Hell’ by the way. One of the more controversial songs.”, Luke pressed play on the video and already moved the lips to the lyrics.

  “Father did you miss me,

Been locked up a while.

I got caught for what I did but took it all in style.

Laid to rest all my confessions I gave way back when.

Now I'm versed in so much worse,

So I am back again, and he said

For the lives that I take, I'm going to hell!

For the love that I make, I'm going to hell!

Gettin' heavy with the devil, you can hear the wedding bells.”

  “The guitar you´re hearing is a classic Hank. That guy knows what he´s doing.”, Luke added, seemingly in his element, reminding Spencer a lot of Garcia when she was excited.

 Spencer nodded and watched the music video, the overall theme was dark and heavy. [y/n] voice was nice, a little smoky and strong, but everything just sounded so angry. Not really his style, although he preferred older, classical music in general over the ‘normal’ things ‘normal’ people liked. [y/n] wore tightfitting latex, while the men from her band mostly just wore black jeans and shirts, sometimes leather jackets. At one time, she was surrounded by snakes, only wearing white lingerie. She was really pretty, red lipstick making her look like a biting version of Snow White. Like a princess that would rather save herself, becoming the villain along the way, before letting someone else save her.

  “Father did you miss me,

Don't ask me where I've been.

You know I know, yes, I've been told I redefine a sin.

I don't know what's driving me to put this in my head.

Maybe I wish I could die, maybe I am dead!

And he said

For the lives that I fake, I'm going to hell!

For the vows that I break, I'm going to hell!

For the ways that I hurt, when I'm hiking up my skirt.

I am sitting on a throne while they're buried in the dirt.

For the man that I hate, I'm going to hell!

Gettin' heavy with the devil, you can hear the wedding bells.”

  The lyrics and symbolistic in the video mocked parts of the Christian belief system. Such as the bite Eve had taken from the apple, showing [y/n] taking a bite from the forbitten fruit. The last supper and the crucifixion were shown with a dark twist too. This could be a hint of rebellion, to cope with religious trauma, or simply be a way to cause controversy.

“Please forgive me father,

I didn't mean to bother you.

The devil's in me father.

He's inside of everything I do.

For the lives that I take, I'm going to hell!

For the laws that I break, I'm going to hell!

For the love that I hate, I'm going to hell!

For the lies that I make, I'm going to hell!

For the way I condescend and never lend a hand.

My arrogance is making this head buried in the sand.

For the souls I forsake, I'm going to hell!

Gettin' married to the devil, you can hear the wedding bells.”

As the video ended Luke took his phone and put it back into his pocket.

“Their earlier stuff had a little more emotion to it, was about heartbreak, suffering and made you feel. This is one of the more recent ones and you can hear that it´s now mostly just stuff like sex, drugs and anger. Most people think that´s because [y/n] writes all of their music and she´s…seen better days…”, Luke sighed, trying to make it sound as polite as possible.

“Because she started taking drugs?”, Spencer raised his eyebrows, but Luke shook his head. “Oh, no. She, according to many rumors and an interview with her father, has taken drugs since she was a teen. But at this point…she just simply seems to have given up, having chosen to not go deeper with her songs anymore. I mean, they still slap. They just don’t slap your heart anymore, you know?”

“Not so nice, when your father talks to the press about your addiction. Could her father be a suspect?”, JJ asked, making Luke shrug and shake his head at the same time.

“Most likely not. He said in that interview that he wishes her the best, but doesn’t want to speak to her again.”, Emily mouthed a silent ‘ouch’, the whole talk about the rockstars private life making Spencer think.

“Maybe that´s part why she´s taking drugs? Often people use them to cope with-“, Emily interrupted him, profiling [y/n] and her substance abuse, quickly.

“Reid. We´re not going there to fix her, just the stalking situation.”, he nodded, knowing that he had a savior complex, always trying to help and save everybody.

“Exes?”, Spencer asked and Luke shook his head.

“Just one is known, Dean Lennox, singer, now married with kids. He and [y/n] were together for two years and according to him it was toxic. Like, always fighting, jealousy, distrust, fear of being left but she still didn’t want him close at the same time, lying. After their last breakup, he told a gossip magazine, he just couldn’t watch her destroy herself anymore. She never commented on it.”, JJ looked at Spencer worried.

“She seems like a handful, are you sure you can handle her alone?”, he chuckled while nodding.

“I´ve been through worse. How hard can it be to watch a twenty-six year old? When she, like Luke said, really doesn’t want anyone close, I´ll just sit on her couch and let her do her thing.”

*****

After landing in Los Angeles and checking into their hotel, the team drove to police station. There already waited a massage for them with an address. It was from the manager, he wrote that he was terribly sorry, but they needed to come to the recording studio, since the band was on a tight schedule all morning. Luke had tried his best, but Spencer could see his excitement through his tough-guy-façade. He, JJ, Luke and Emily took one of the SUV´s and drove to the address.

 The building they entered was large and with great security. Expensive, white marble flooring in the entire entrance hall. They showed their batches to the lady at the front desk and the security, she called somebody and soon a short, pudgy man, dressed in a designer suit walked out of the elevator and up to them. He smiled at them friendly and shook everyone’s hand.

 “Ah, the agents. I am so glad that you´re here. Hi. Hello. I´m Philip Schuyler, the manager of ‘Shot Monarch’.”, Emily shook his hand and pointed at the team.

“Nice to meet you. I´m unit chief SSA Prentiss, those are SSA Jareau, Alvez and that´s Dr. Spencer Reid. He will take on the job as bodyguard for Miss [y/l/n].”, the man scratched his brown hair, avoiding the bald spot on top.

“Yes, uhm, please just call her [y/n]. She really dislikes being called Miss [y/l/n]. We also already have police and security around her house, so I don’t know how important a personal bodyguard is. I really want this case solved and it would be terrible if we would hinder your work.”, Spencer lifted a finger.

“Actually, it would be better if I´m able to stay close to [y/n]. Normal police and security could probably oversee minor details about the stalker, Mr. Schuyler.”, the man waved off.

“Please, Mr. Schuyler was my father. Philip is completely fine. Everybody calls me that.”, he started walking to the elevator and the agents followed him. “Right now the band´s having a little break. After that, we need to record one more song for the ‘live in the studio’-version of their new album, that just came out. Are you familiar with their music?”, they got into the elevator and Luke already nodded.

“Yeah. Really great. Big fan.”, Emily lifted her hand, silencing Luke.

“I´m sorry. If that´s a problem we can-“, Philip laughed, interrupting her.

“Oh, no, no. [y/n] will love that. She likes meeting fans and showing off her music.”

 They got out of the elevator, walked through the little hallway and entered the large double door in front of them. There was the recording studio. A lot of technical things, Spencer didn’t know much of, and a large glass wall in front of it, showing another room.

 The recording room was large, with a black leather couch and beanbags in it and nice, warm, wooden flooring. A drum set was placed on an vintage looking, red carpet and the overall lighting was warm and inviting as well. The door to the room was open and he could hear the three men, from the band, talking and laughing inside.

 “Guys, can you come out for a bit?”, Philip asked them and they looked up, walking up to them. “Okay, uhm, guys, those are the agents from the FBI. You know? The once coming because of [y/n]´s stalker.”, the largest man, a head taller than Spencer, smiled through his long grey beard that contrasted his bald head.

“Nice to meet you then, I´m Hank. That my husband Leroy,”, they shook hands with the dark skinned, skinny man, who in contrast to his husband was cleanshaven, with short black hair and glasses, “and that´s our friend Tom.”, the chubby, white, blond waved at them friendly.

“Why would like to talk with each of you individually, later at the police station, if that is possible.”, Emily said before introducing her team again, also mentioning Spencer´s duty as bodyguard. Leroy grimaced his face.

“Uh, [y/n] will hate that. The girl does not like being babysat.” “I´m not going to babysit her.”, Spencer answered, making Leroy chuckle. “That´s not how she will see it though.”, Hank sighed and put a hand on Spencer´s shoulder.

“Our girl is going through a lot right now. So it would be nice of you, to not take everything she´s saying personally, okay?”

“Personally?”

 Spencer raised his eyebrows. He desperately hoped [y/n] wouldn’t be a bitch the entire time, since he couldn’t promise to not give her a piece of his mind, if so.

“[y/n]´s a little belligerent…Easy to get triggered and then she blows up like a bomb.”, Tom said and JJ cocked her head. “Is the stalking getting at her?”, Leroy shook his head. “Not really. But her mother died a few months ago and since then…little rough patch. She´ll get better. We all hit rock bottom once.”

“Is she going to therapy?”, Emily asked straight forward, making Tom, the chubby one chuckle. “Not since she hit the last therapist a few years ago. We paid his medical expenses and he was nice enough to not sue her. But we are here to help her, once she´s ready to let us.” “Must be exhausting, for you.”, JJ said empathetic and all the men waved off.

“Because of the drugs? No, it´s not that bad. She´ll collect herself. I have seven kids. Four of them are going through puberty right now. Phil has a toddler and Leroy and Hank have three rescue dogs and a couple of snakes. We can handle her.”, Tom laughed and the rest of the men started too.

“And that little stalker…Imma just say, I´m gonna rip him a new one, should I ever get the chance of meeting him. Counts for all of us.”, Hank added with everyone nodding in agreement.

“[y/n]´s a really nice girl and she´s been through a lot. If you´re nice to her, chances are high she´ll warm up to you and you won´t have any problems.”, Tom said to Spencer making him nod.

“And if she doesn’t?”, the tall doctor didn’t get an answer and just witnessed the rockers share a look.

 Nice girl. Drug issues not so bad. Be nice and maybe she´s nice to you. For Spencer all of that sounded like he would have to walk around on eggshells, while she would blast through walls like a wrecking ball. The manager, Philip, checked his watch and looked around.

 “So, where´s [y/n]? One more song and we´re done. Would be great not to hold up the investigation for too long.”

“She went to the toilet thirty minutes ago. We just ate our sandwiches. She said she wasn’t hungry.”, Leroy answered and at the same moment [y/n] walked in.

 Spencer looked at her and for a moment forgot how to breathe. Short, high waisted, leather skirt, low cut, tank top and biker boots, all black, rounded off with fishnet stockings.  [y/n] looked like she had climbed out of a teenagers wet dream. The perfect, little goth-girlfriend. She stretched a little and Philip looked at her.

 “Bonjour, Philly.”, she said with a sassy undertone, while walking up to him and leaning on his shoulder. He was the same high as her, which wasn’t really tall, about 5,4, if Spencer had to guess.

“Hey, where were you?”, the pudgy man asked her.

“Took a nap in my car.”, she booped his nose and gave him a sheepish little smile. Spencer knew she was high. In fact the whole room knew it.

“You drove here?”, Tom asked shocked and [y/n] grinned sarcastically.

“I guess so, else somebody explain to me why my car´s here.”, Phillip patted her shoulder, looking worried as she took four pills out of an orange pillbox from her bag. He gave her a glass of water and she swallowed them. The men from her band looked at her concerned, making her give them a pearly white smile.

“Headache.”, she explained and they only nodded. Spencer couldn’t help but think, that she wasn’t having a headache and even if she had, it was probably a withdrawal symptom.

“You know that I don’t want you to drive when you´re…”, her manager looked at the agents and stopped talking, making her look at them as well.

“What? Why´d you stop talking? That the fun police?”, she started giggling at her own joke, making the band chuckle, since she clearly didn’t know how accurate she was with her joke.

“That´s the FBI, Princess.”, Hank told her and she made a fake shocked face and then laughed again.

“Officer- No wait, agents, right? I swear I did nothing wrong. Weed´s legal in Cali.”

 The team shared some looks and Spencer couldn’t help but roll his eyes. [y/n] was not just on weed. Most definitely not just on weed.

 “They are here because of your stalker.”, Philip explained and she shrugged almost disappointed.

“Oh, that guy. Well, then hello. Nice to meet you. I´m [y/n].”

 She shook hands with JJ and Emily as they introduced themselves. Luke couldn’t help but breathe in sharply, as he shook her hand and almost choked on his own spit as an aftereffect. She started patting his back with wide opened eyes.

 “Shit, you okay? Asthma?”, [y/n] reached into her black, designer handbag and gave him a bottle with clear liquid. Luke took a sip, quickly grimaced his face and began coughing harder.

“Vodka.”, he stated through his coughing. [y/n] quickly took the bottle from him and took a sip too, without flinching. She then started cracking up at her mistake.

“Whoops. Mixed up the bottles, the other´s probably in my car. Philly, can you bring him…?”, Philip nodded and gave Luke a fresh water bottle from the mini fridge.

 Wow. Vodka hidden in a water bottle. Spencer licked his lips, taking in the view of her bandmates looking at each other. ‘Not that bad’ looked different. ‘Not that bad’ would not have her sleeping in her car, midday, with a bottle of ‘water’ and coming back high as a kite. Luke, by now, had stopped coughing and [y/n] stepped away from him again.

 “You good?”, she asked him, watching him wipe away his tears.

“Y-Yeah. Sorry.”, the black haired girl waved him off.

“Nah, don’t worry. I had asthma till I was twelve.”, he shook his head.

“I- I- No asthma. Just a really big fan.”, she started laughing again and although the light was dimmed, Reid could clearly see Luke´s cheeks turning red.

“Oh, that´s cute. But ‘Take My Breath Away’ is by Berlin.”, that sentence actually made the whole room laugh except for Spencer, who didn’t understand the reference. “What´s your name?”

“Luke Alvez.”, she shook his hand again, this time he didn’t almost choke.

“Well, nice to meet you, Luke. What´s your favorite song of ours?”

“25, no doubt. Really amazing. Like a James Bond song.”, the bandmates chuckled.

“We said that too.”, Leroy snickered, patting Luke´s shoulder and [y/n] nodded.

“It´s also my favorite. Excited to hear one of the new songs?”, Luke nodded excited and she turned her head to Spencer. “We both don’t know each other yet. Hi, I´m [y/n] and you are?”

 She sounded quite collected. Clearly high, but able to think straight if necessary. [y/n] must´ve been doing this for a while now, seeming to have figured out, how much she could handle while working. Spencer had been at that point too once. You wanted to do your work and be good at it, but needed to be high, to make it through the day. So you just tried over a period of time, bit by bit, how much you were able to take before doing a shitty job. ‘Not that bad’ didn’t make you figuring out a system to be high all the time.

 “Dr. Spencer Reid.”, he shook her hand.

“Dr. Reid will be your bodyguard, [y/n].”, Philip explained and quickly earned an angry look, as she let go of Spencer´s hand instantly.

“What? I don’t need a bodyguard, we talked about this.”, she hissed at her manager, but then started laughing after looking Spencer up and down. “And then that guy?”, Philip nodded as she rolled her eyes at him. ‘Do not take it personally’, Spencer told himself.

“I am more than capable of protecting you.”, he stated as friendly as possible, making her giggle.

“From what? A difficult math question?”

 [y/n] mocking tone started to piss him off, but as Spencer felt Emily´s look on him, he played it cool. After all, he had to proof himself able to handle her.

 “Your stalker.”, he corrected her and she licked her lips, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, looking at Luke.

“Since you don’t have asthma, would you mind if I…?”, Luke shook his head and she smiled. “Nice.”, she looked back at Spencer, at his gun. “Philip has a gun too.” “But Philip isn’t an FBI agent.”, Hank told her, making her shake her head in protest, like a little child.

“That´s ridiculous. And all of that just because a stranger sends me stuff, people send me stuff all the time.”

“You should be more worried about this guy.”, Leroy said and Tom nodded in agreement. “Yeah, what if he´s dangerous?”

“What´s the worst that could happen, like honestly, Doctor?”, she cocked her head at Spencer, looking up at him with an almost flirty smile.

“He could kill you.”, he gave back objectively, making the rockers obviously worried. “Geez. You make that sound like it´s a bad thing.”, she snickered and looked over to Luke. “Luke, wanna hear some music?”, he nodded.

“It would be an honor.”, his sentence made her giggle as she walked past him.

“You´re really cute.”

 [y/n] walked into the recording room, Tom, Leroy and Hank following her. She put on her headphones and lit a cigarette, putting the package on the little table next to her mic. Philip closed the door and started pushing some buttons on the sound mixer in front of him. JJ whistled impressed.

 “You do the technical stuff too?”, he nodded, chuckling.

“Since the stalking started, I try having as little people near [y/n] as possible. Thought it might just be a little crush from a weirdo and when he doesn’t get to see her, he gets over it.” “We need a list of the people that worked here though.”, Emily told him and he nodded.

“Of course.”, then he pushed a button and started talking into his microphone. “You guys, ready? Last song. ‘My Medicine’, then we can go home.”

 They all approved of his words and started to playing. [y/n] relighting her cigarette and clearing her throat. Spencer couldn’t tell if that was her simply not caring or doing it for the feeling of the song. However, it seemed to fit the style.

“Somebody mixed my medicine

Somebody mixed my medicine”

“I love this already.”, Luke whispered and JJ chuckled.

“You haven’t even heard anything yet.”, she snickered.

“Doesn’t matter, the feeling is there.”, he lifted his arms, showing her his goosebumps.

“Well you hurt where you sleep and you sleep where you lie

Now you're in deep and now you're gonna cry

Got a woman to your left

And a boy to your right

You start to sweat so

Hold me tight 'cause

Somebody mixed my medicine

I don't know what I'm on

Somebody mixed my medicine

Now baby it’s all gone

Somebody mixed my medicine

And somebody's in my head again

And somebody mixed my medicine again, again”

Spencer watched [y/n] starting to move to the rhythm, swaying her hips and tapping her left foot to the beat, then looked to Philip pressing some buttons.

 “She´s gonna be happy with that one.”, he whispered almost to himself and the next time Spencer looked at the band again, it almost felt like she was attentionally singing in his direction.

“Well I drink what you leak and I smoke what you sigh

See you cross the room with that look in your eye

Got a man to his left and a girl to his right

You start to sweat so

Hold me tight 'cause

Somebody mixed my medicine

I don't know what I'm on

Somebody mixed my medicine

Now baby it’s all gone

Somebody mixed my medicine

Somebody's in my head again

And somebody mixed my medicine again, again”

She started moving her head in a way that made her long black hair fall in her face, framing her features almost delicately. While Spencer starred and earned some grins from [y/n], he could hear Luke whisper with Emily, who actually seemed to like the music too.

“There's a tiger in the room and a baby in the closet”

The room laughed and Spencer looked confused, having JJ tell him, that it was a movie reference. Sometime he felt like an alien, having such simple references fly over his head. Star Trek or Book references would´ve been easier for him…although he still didn’t know what that ‘Twilight’ book was Penelope and JJ talked about a couple of times. Or that other book all the women had talked about in their break….what was it called, ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’? They had told him it was a romance novel, so he just assumed it was like ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen.

“Pour another drink mom I don't even want it

Then I turn around and think I see someone that looks like you”

Philip pressed some buttons again, [y/n] now harmonizing with herself.

“Well you hurt where you sleep and you sleep where you lie

Now you're in deep and now you're gonna cry

Got a woman to your left

And a boy to your right

You start to sweat so

Hold me tight 'cause

Somebody mixed my medicine

I don't know what I'm on

Somebody mixed my medicine

Now baby it’s all gone

Somebody mixed my medicine

Somebody's in my head again again

And somebody mixed my medicine

Again, again, again

Again, again, again

Again, again, again”

The music started to slow down again, just like [y/n] movements, making Luke whisper words in awe.

“Somebody mixed my medicine

Somebody mixed my medicine

Somebody mixed my medicine”

Philip and the team applauded as [y/n] took her headphones off and the men put their instruments away.

 “I´m happy with that.”, she said looking at Philip. “You, Philly?”

“Sounded great to me.”, he gave back, happy to answer.

“What about my new favorite fan. Luke?”, Luke quickly pushed Spencer aside to get to the microphone.

“Loved every second of it! Like- Amazing! Really!”, she giggled, throwing her head back and came through the door.

“What about my new guard dog?”, Spencer pointed at himself, not knowing if she was talking about him. “Of course you. So, what do you think, Doctor?”

“I- I don’t really know.”, she raised her eyebrows at his answer.

“Okay? Was it the drugs or just the music in general?”, he felt himself go pale. “Ah, okay. You´re prude, get it. I mean you already have that whole tutor-thing about you, so…Bach or Chopin?”

“Pardon?” “Which one? Or is it Mozart, or the deaf bitch, Beethoven?”, she grinned snarky.

 [y/n] had a mocking tone in her voice, making Spencer feel embarrassed and like he was in school again, when the other kids in high school were making fun of him for not being cool enough. But he was too old to be bullied by a little junkie, who thought she was better than him.

 “I´m surprised somebody like you would even know them.”, her smile vanished.

“Little bitch.”, she snapped at him, stepping closer as he cocked his eyebrows at her. Philip quickly walked between the two of them and smiled.

“So, what are we doing next? The albums done. Taken care of. [y/n] have you eaten something today? You wanna go out for dinner?”

“No, I haven’t and no, I don’t want to, when THAT is around.”, with ‘that’ she clearly meant Spencer.

“Now don’t be grumpy, Princess. You started it.”, Hank told her and she started to pout, shoulders relaxing.

“Wasn’t worth my time anyways.”, she murmured and Spencer felt himself getting proud. This was the first person, trying to bully him, he had stand a chance against.

“So, we´re gonna need you at the police station, if that´s okay?”, Emily asked Leroy, Hank and Tom, who nodded. “And Spencer, you should take [y/n] home and check out her house.” “Mansion.”, [y/n] corrected Emily. “I have a mansion. Worked too hard to have it being called a house.”, Emily only nodded, not letting herself get bothered by her words. Philip nodded, completely ignoring his clients snappiness too.

“I follow you in my car.”, he told Spencer. “[y/n] give Dr. Reid your keys, please.”, she shook her head indignant.

“No. That guy is not driving my car. I´ll drive.”, the whole band now started saying no.

“[y/n], you´re not driving.”, Tom ordered and Leroy nodded. “You´ll get an DUI so quick, it´s not even funny.”, Spencer lifted his hand, waiting for the key. “Oh, come on.”, she groaned, looking at her bandmates like her childish behavior would change their mind.

 A nice sound. An annoying person, not getting what they want. Almost as beautiful as her [y/e/c] eyes, that actually were rather bloodshot, when Spencer thought about it.

 “Should the police pull you over and see that you´re high, they´ll look through your car and I don’t think you want be taking in custody for drug possession, right?”, she handed him her keys and Spencer couldn’t help it and whispered “Thank you”, in the most mocking tone he was able to.

“Fucking cunt.”, she whispered back at him and he just chuckled.

“I´ve been called worse. So your little words don’t hurt me…sorry.”, she then grinned.

“Things like Spencer?”, [y/n] asked him, spitting his name like poison.

 Spencer took a deep breath and watched her go out the door, telling himself to not answer her.

 “Hey, kid.”, Spencer looked at Hank and he just lifted his thumb.

“You held yourself better than we thought you would.”, Leroy added, Emily looking at Spencer concerned.

“You sure you can handle her?”

 He nodded, walking out the door and to the elevator which doors [y/n] was holding open for him.

 “Hurry up, bitch boy! I wanna go home.”

 *****

 Of course the rich, spoiled brat drove an imported sportscar. When Spencer got in, he firstly had to push back the seat, not having enough room for his legs and then tried getting [y/n] to tell him where she lived.

 “Try google, smart ass.”, was her answer and he sighed.

 [y/n] then rolled down her window and grabbed a joint from her glove compartment. Spencer quickly leaned over and snatched it from her hand, making her whine as she tried getting it back.

 “You´re such a bitch. Give me-“, he interrupted her whining.

“No. First tell me you´re address.”, she sat back into her seat.

“Fine. I´ll lead you there.”, [y/n] said, making grabbing motions with her hand and he handed her the joint back. She lit it and smoked out of the window.

 Spencer knew he should have questioned why she gave up and let him win so easily. After ten minutes they weren’t at her mansion, they were at a McDonald´s.

 “You´re fucking kidding me, right?”, he snapped at her and she began to giggle.

“You´re kina hot when you´re angry.”, her flirty grin and the way she bit her lip made him furious, because it was hot.

“What is wrong with you?”, Spencer almost yelled and she leaned back and pointed somewhere. “I´m hungry. Drive-Through. Over there.”

“No.” “Come on. Don’t be a bitch, dog.”, she snickered, resting her feet on the dashboard.

 He looked at her, for a second thinking about simply getting out of the car and leaving, before he could hurt her. Maybe she was really too much for him to handle, the drugs were manageable, but it was her personality that drove him mad, yet he wasn’t someone to give up easily. Cars started to honk behind them.

 “You´re holding up the traffic. I just wanted something to eat.”, [y/n] said, now almost annoyed because she wasn’t getting what she wanted. Spencer took a deep breath.

“Okay.”, she looked at him confused.

“Okay?”, he nodded, pulling into the Drive-Through. He was above this. ‘Give her what she wants, so she´s at least quiet.’

“You win.”

 She started clapping and hugged him, smelling like marijuana and something he couldn’t quite make out. When they came up to the microphone box, [y/n] crawled over Spencer´s lap, forcing him to look and think respectfully. She ordering a bunch of stuff and then looked at him.

 “What do you want? I only have booze at home, so…”, he looked at her a little startled. Was she trying to be nice to him?

“You wanna buy me something?”, she nodded like this behavior was normal to her. “Sure.”

“Surprise me. I never eat fast food, I don’t know what´s good.”

 She nodded and then told the voice from the box to double her order. Sitting back into her seat, [y/n] took out a hundred dollar bill from her purse, handing it to Spencer. When they pulled up by the window, taking their things, the woman in the window nearly lost it when she saw the rockstar, starting to cry. [y/n] was really nice to her and asked her if she wanted to take a photo in the parking lot. Of course the woman said yes and after paying, where [y/n] had left almost fifty bucks as a tip, Spencer had to park and wait till they had made the photo and given an autograph.

 “Okay, now drive before it goes viral. I wanna eat that stuff before it gets cold.”, she told him, taking a sip of one of the milkshakes.

“That was nice.”, she shrugged and then told him her address, telling him she´d scream when they reached it.

 *****

 Lo and behold, no twenty minutes later they parked in front of [y/n] mansion, next to another, more run down car, belonging to Philip. The mansion would´ve made Rossi´s mansion cry. At least twice as big and the property was enormous. In contrast to [y/n], it was very light and minimalistic from the outside and the inside.

 “Most rooms are empty. Too big.”, she explained walking straight into the open living area, that had a large terrace with pool and a view over the Hollywood hills. She put the paper bags filled with food on the large kitchen island and sat on a barstool.

“You could sell it and buy a smaller one.”, [y/n] shrugged and took out a burger, starting to eat it.

“Philip says I´m gonna grow into it.”, she answered, mocking the tone of voice her manager had probably had.

 Spencer watched her type something on her phone and a minute later Philip came into the room.

 “Hey, where were you? I got worried.”, he asked them and [y/n] handed him a salad.

“It´s the one you always have.”, he smiled at her.

“Thank you. You´re so nice.”, she shrugged at his words, not really caring.

“Yours is in here too, dog.”, she now told spencer.

 Ah, yes. She was being bitchy again. Spencer had only waited for it to happen. He said nothing, but walked up to the white kitchen isle and took the bag she pointed at.

 “Milkshake, burger, fries. Fast food essentials.”, she stated, finishing her small cheeseburger and getting up to her fridge, taking out a beer. She held it to Spencer who declined and then to Philip who did the same. “Lame asses.”, she chuckled, opening it and standing at the counter, watching Spencer eat. “So you´re here for…?”

“Technically it would be the easiest for all of us, if I just stayed.”, she raised her brows.

“Staying like, in my house staying?”, he nodded and she shook her head. “No chance. I enjoy my solitude.”

“[y/n]. If it´s easier for the agent and better for you…”, she sighed, opening a drawer and taking out some pills, swallowing them with her beer. “Fucking hell. But don´t expect me to be considerate of you.”, the rockstar told him.

“Should you consume them with alcohol?”, Spencer asked, taking a bite of his burger and she shrugged.

“I´m going to sleep…you guys…do what you want, I don’t care…”

“Do you need me to do your laundry?”, Philip asked and [y/n] shrugged again, it seemed to be her favorite motion. As she walked down the hallways and Phillip yelled after her. “Don’t forget that you have a gig tonight, [y/n]!”

“THAT`S WHY I`M GOING TO SLEEP NOW, DUMB ASS! WAKE ME UP WHEN WE NEED TO GO!”, she yelled back, followed by the smashing of a door.

 “She´s a nice girl.”, Philip said in the middle of the silence, as Spencer took place on one of the barstools.

“Like a car crash.”, the man in his fifties chuckled.

“I know she´s difficult, but in here she´s good.”, he pointed at his heart. “She has suffered a lot of losses in her life.”

“Then, just as a random thought, you should get into therapy before she OD´s.”, Spencer answered sassy.

“I know what you mean. But as long as she doesn’t want help or overdoes it…she has a system.”, Spencer let his head fall back and groaned.

“You know about that fucking thing?” “You too?”, Philip asked back in surprise. “Profiler. Took me no longer than the nap in her car, to figure that out.”

 Yes, a small lie from Spencer, but it sounded better then: Oh yes, I was addicted to dilaudid once. I had a system too!

 “Tell me, how does that train wreck of a system work?”, Philip leaned back from his salad.

“Well, she takes her painkillers in the morning and smokes some cannabis to get out of bed. When we´re touring or she has to be at shootings, interviews or anything else that needs her to focus, she only smokes and takes the pills all day, alcohol in water bottles is a new one though.”, Spencer sighed and thought if he even wanted to know more.

“And when she´s alone or not busy?” “Then she does the harder stuff.” “Harder stuff like cocaine, LSD…?”, Philip nodded. “Nothing with needles though…she´s scared of them.”

“She will not always be, if she continues like that.” “I know. That´s why I do my best to keep her busy. She even has her own recording studio here, knows how to handle everything herself. I thought it might make her spend more time making music than getting high. I also go out with her a lot, to a point where my wife starts to get jealous.”, he laughed bittersweetly. “Have you ever been to Disney World, agent?”, Spencer shook his head. “I take [y/n] there once a week, because she likes it there. I spend more time with her there then with my own daughter.”, [y/n] was famous, no chance people wouldn’t notice her.

“Does she even get to do anything there?”

“Not often. She mostly meets her fans there, but she loves that a lot. She is really sweet to them too, they mean everything to her.”

 That was the first time Philip had said something that was true about [y/n]. She had, not once been mean to a fan. The complete opposite actually. She had been nice and thoughtful, going out of her way to make the woman at the Drive-Through happy and was nice to Luke.

 “I know she was a little mean to you today, but she also bought us food, seeing it as a matter of course. There are two sides to every person, like a coin.”, Like a coin, just that [y/n] sides flipped as quickly like one too. Philip sighed and got up from his barstool. “I´ll show you around a little, if you want to.”

 Spencer nodded, getting up, following the short man around the house.

 *****

 [y/n] had been right.

It was way too big and many of the rooms were empty. When Spencer asked Philip about the necessity of such a big mansion, he told him, that he had hoped to motivate [y/n] to have a family one day. But now the only rooms in use were her bedroom, one of the five guest bedrooms, which Spencer got to stay in, the open living area with kitchen and living room, the recording studio and a little library. The latter made Spencer a little jealous. In the middle of the room even stood a white piano with notes on it. [y/n] also had a lot of books, all dusty, because she never read anymore. He would´ve killed to have his own library…she probably didn’t even value what she had.

 When they returned into the living area, Philip gave Spencer some spare keys, beginning to clean up a little and putting the food in the fridge. [y/n] didn’t lie, when she said, she only had alcohol at home. JJ came over and brought Spencer his go bag, asking him how it was going. Of course he said he was doing great, but couldn’t help but rant to her about [y/n]´s behavior.

 “Well, she is an addict, Spence. You know how erratic some drugs can make you.”, he nodded.

“Yeah, but she really tries pushing me and then, one second to the other, she´s nice and polite. Have you talked to her bandmates?”, JJ laughed.

“Way too long. We had interviews with them and then Luke just couldn’t stop talking to them, he has also taken about a million pictures with them and facetimed Penelope so she could meet them too.”, Spencer chuckled.

“Sounds like they had a good time. Anything else happened? Found out something?”

“[y/n]´s mother was an addict and left the family when she was younger. When she found out her daughter was famous, she got back in touch with her, to borrow money. [y/n] didn’t care and even got her to live with her, in one of the guest bedrooms. She overdosed a few months ago, since then [y/n]´s addiction got worse.”, Spencer´s eyes got wide.

“She didn’t die in the guest bedroom though, right?”

 Just as JJ wanted to answer, [y/n] walked in. Philip walking behind her with a duffle bag.

 “She died in the bathroom and she didn’t overdose perse, she drowned after falling unconscious in the bathtub, while being high.”, she answered cold, seeming to have overheard their conversation. [y/n] grabbed a beer from the fridge and continued calmly while taking some colorful pills. “I found her. The bathroom that it happened in is always locked. Don´t worry.”, Philip fidgeted a little with his hands, looking for his keys.

“Uh-Uhm. Agents? We need to go. The concert…”

“You coming too?”, [y/n] asked, looking at JJ and she shrugged. “We could also invite the cute one…Luke. It´s about 20.000 people so two more won´t hurt…right Philly?”, Phillip nodded.

“You´re all invited. SSA Prentiss as well.”, he said and JJ smiled at them.

“Thank you. That´s very nice, but I´ll have to talk to them first.”, [y/n] shrugged at that and drank her beer.

“You have my number, just call when you know. We start half past eight.”, Philip then took the empty beer bottle from [y/n] and threw it away. “Show time.”

 *****

 Half an hour into the concert Luke had shown up, completely hyped.

 “What did I miss? We had some ex-staff members to talk to. Did they already play ‘Going to Hell’?”, Spencer nodded. “Argh, dammit. Doesn’t matter, that song´s amazing too.”

 During the whole concert Spencer watched [y/n]. The music wasn’t that bad, a little harsh, but it was mix of hard and alternative rock after all. At least that´s what Penelope said, when Luke started facetiming her. After the last costume change, Spencer pulled [y/n] aside. He asked her to not be so ‘touchy’ with her fans. Since she would kneel down and hold their hands. He tried telling her about the risks of having the unsub in the audience, but she only laughed.

 “I´ll be as touchy as I want, bitch.”, he started to frown.

“At least don’t stagedive. Luke says you always do that and the risk of the unsub use-“, she interrupted him, wanting to go on stage.

“Fuck off, dog.”, he held her arm, trying to reason with her.

“Can you ple-“, she tried pulling away, like an angry child.

“No.” “Stop being so fuck-“, [y/n] interrupted him again.

“Stop trying to fucking babysit me.”

“I just want to hel-“, she ripped her arm away. “Yeah, fuck you too.”, the rockstar answered, not letting him finish and walked back on stage.

 Philip walked up to Spencer, having seem the ordeal of him trying to talk to [y/n] and him now  driving the heel of his palm into his eyes. This girl gave him migraines.

 “What happened?”, Philip asked and Luke answered for Spencer.

“He told her not to stagedive.”, Philip laughed a little and shook his head.

“Oh yeah. Never tell her what to do. She hates that and then does it out of spite.”

“You don’t say?”, Spencer answered sarcastically.

 On stage [y/n] took her microphone, saying something to her bandmates and then smiling sweetly, while talking to her fans.

 “This next song is for my lovely new babysitter, who thinks he can tell me what to do.”, the crowd started booing and she laughed. “I know, I know. But it looks like he doesn’t know how things work around here…So I think we have to help him out a little.”

 The music started to play and Luke patted Spencer´s arm.

“She dedicates ‘Heaven Knows’ to you! Penny have you heard? She sings ‘Heaven Knows’ for Reid!”

“NO! SHUT UP!”, the blonde on the phone squeaked.

 He and Garcia started to freak out while Spencer watched [y/n] clapping her thigh and stomping to the beat.

“Jimmy's in the back with a pocket of high

If you listen close, you can hear him cry

Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

Sing it!”

She lifted the mic to her audience she started to sing for her.

Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below, way down below, way down below

“Judy's in the front seat picking up trash

Livin' on the dole, gotta make that cash

Won't be pretty, won't be sweet

She's just sittin' here on her feet singin'

Oh, Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

Go!”

Again her fans obeyed her, Luke and Penelope freaking out next to Spencer. If it wouldn’t have been a moment, were he had to fear which move she had planned next to unnerve him, he might have even enjoyed this song and the involvement of her fans in it.

Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

“Sing, oh Lord, tell us so, we belong way down below”

She now looked at him for a moment, while her audience sang. Before, again, walking around the stage, touching her fans hands.

Oh Lord, tell us so, we belong way down below

Way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below

“I've had better days, man, I've seen better days

I've had better ways, man, I know better ways

One, two, three and four, the devil's knocking at your door

Caught in the eye of a dead man's lie

Show your life with your head held high

Now you're on your knees with a head on low

Big man tells you where to go

Tell them it's good, tell 'em ok

Don't do a goddamn thing they say”

Spencer was surprised how well her fans knew her lyrics. She would just have to point at them or lift her mic and they would instantly sing were she stopped. Not missing a beat.

Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

Oh Lord, tell us so, we belong way down below

Way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below

“I've seen better ways, and I know better ways

I've seen better days, man, I've got better days”

[y/n] now stood at the edge of the stage, back turned to her audience. She smiled directly at Spencer, fingers held like a gun to her head.

“Gina's in the back with a pocket of high

If you listen close you can hear the cryin'”

At the last word she mimicked shooting herself and let herself fall back into the crowd. Her fans got wild and continued her song, while Spencer certainly not in a long time, if ever, felt so much spite and frustration against a woman, other than Cat Adams.

Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

Oh Lord, tell us so, we belong way down below

Singin' oh, Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below

Oh, Lord, tell us so, we belong way down below

The crown placed [y/n] back on her stage, where she walked up to her bandmates again, waving at Spencer and Luke with the sweetest smile.

Way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below

Way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below, way down below

 *****

 After the concert and the encores she and the band got behind stage, where Spencer for the least thirty minutes had waited to give her a piece of his mind. As [y/n] giggled and walked up to him and Luke. He grabbed her arm, a little harsher than planned.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”, she blinked at his yelling, answering with her innocent eyes blinking and a mocking tone.

“What´s the prob, dog?”

“What´s- Do you really care so little for your own safety?”, Hank came up to them, having seen Spencer´s grip on the girls arm.

“Hey! What´s going on here? [y/n], are you okay?”, Spencer quickly let go of her.

“Yeah, the dog is just pissing himself because I stage dived.”, he quickly took a deep breath.

“I´m not pissing myself, [y/n], but I told you not to do it. What would you have done when your stalker would´ve been in the crowd and lost it? Nobody would´ve been able to get to you fast enough and help!”, Hank looked at her in disappointed shock.

“Is that true, [y/n]?”, the black haired girl ignored her friend and just continued arguing with Spencer.

“Well, maybe I don’t want anybody’s help!”, she hissed at Spencer.

“Then why are we even here?”, Spencer hissed back. “BECAUSE I BRING MONEY! Else the label would let me rot in a fucking corner! GOD! You are ruining my after-show-high. I hate you!”, [y/n] yelled and Spencer tried not to yell back, tried to be the bigger person, only hissing back at her.

“Oh, trust me. That feeling is mutual.”, she swallowed hard and then turned around, stomping away.

 *****

After half an hour waiting, Spencer got a call from Philip, telling him that [y/n] refused to see him again and would be sleeping at his house tonight. He told him, that he should just let himself into the mansion and eat what´s in the fridge. It wasn’t from use, to try talking to [y/n], when she was that angry. Tomorrow Philip would call him and bring her back into Spencer´s care.

Spencer did as told, Luke driving him to the mansion, telling him that it wasn’t his fault. He then got into the large, empty mansion and grabbed himself a well-deserved beer. Being alone in this big house was depressing. After his third beer he stopped, walking into his room.

He pulled his blue and gold sobriety token, he had gotten for being clean ten years, out of his bag. Thumb rubbing over the golden X in the middle of it. He actually had deserved a twelve year token by now, but since prison didn’t actively attended the meetings anymore, having grown past it. Yet, he still kept the tokens he had, close to him.

They reminded him of his achievement, reminded him to be proud at himself.

Spencer never wanted to fall back into the dark hole he was in, when he was addicted, and even when [y/n] would throw tantrum after childish tantrum, she wouldn’t cause him to relapse. He was stronger than this. Stronger than her.

To be continued...

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Give me your feedback [also anonymous!]

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[nesquik-arccheron]

I have a Nessian!Cop/undercover plot bunny in my head.

Nesta is called into Rhysand's office. He is chief. He and Nesta do not get along, but he knows she is good. She is the best cop after all. Always follows the rules, has a sharp tounge and is amazing at interrogation, etc. The biggest issue is she has gone through 8 partners in 2 years. Unheard of. Because why? She may be the best but she is so uptight and has an attitude and scares away everyone.

Cassian is currently getting over the loss of his old partner. He didn't die (because I would never do Azriel that dirty), but he sustained a life changing injury that may never let him continue working with his brothers. They are all disappointed that they won't be working together anymore but Az is safe and alive and that's all that matters.

Anyway, then there is Cassian, who is also one of the best, but he is reckless. Willing to do anything and everything no matter how stupid or far fetched it is to accomplish his goals. And he accomplishes them, but not always without consequences. He may or may not slightly blame himself for what happened to Az. It's not his fault. He has gone through 3 partners in 5 months since the accident because he has become more reckless, as Az had held him back, and no one can stand working with him because he may be a safely hazard.

Rhy doesn't want to get rid of him, he's his brother and he knows how good he is at his job. He tells him in order to stay, he has to attend mandatory therapy and is getting a new partner.

He is called into the office as well and sees Nesta sitting there, all prim and proper and so fucking annoying to Cassian. Why he doesn't know, but what he does know is that he fucking hates her. Her and her stupid follow the rules at all costs attitude and her beautiful face.

Rhys tells then that they are now partners.

A fight breaks out. Insults are thrown and maybe guns drawn? They are so dramatic.

Rhys tells them that Cassian will be removed if anymore buildings collapse and Nesta, well she may be transferred or removed as well because they only have so many people she can work through until there is no one left for her to partner with.

They think he's crazy. Rhys thinks they can handle each other, create a balance. They deny that.

They end up going on patrol, fights happen and they hate it. But they pretend to get along, they both know their careers are in the others hands and they fake how well everything is going in front of Rhys and but argue constantly behind the scenes.

Rhys is so fooled by it, thinking they are making improvements that he gives them a big undercover case. After all, they were still doing amazing work together.

They go undercover as a wealthy couple. They have to make friends with the high profile socialite husband (lawyer maybe) and his wife who are big time ďŕùģ dealers. They get invited to parties and galas, fundraisers, etc

While in public they have to pretend they are the loves of each others lives. Be affectionate and maybe even kiss. Maybe Eris shows up and flirts with Nesta and Cassian is jealous. He says it's because he is playing the part, but is it??

Meanwhile, they are living in this house together and never thought the tension would be this thick. They see each other in such different ways (Nesta wears glasses and loves reading smut, but she also leaves random glasses of water all over the house because she has to stay hydrated, Cassian thinks she should just get a waterbottle. And Cassian loves to cook and is part of the big brother program, she heard him apologizing one night to the kid because he wouldn't be in contact with him for a while. He was breaking the rules but Nesta couldn't bring herself to say anything negative about it.)

Stuff happens like accidently seeing each other naked, Nesta watching Cassian's body as he works out and she is in the treadmill. They talk and learn about each others pasts and why they both became cops.

One night, while at a fundraiser, they are going to finally make their bust, (everyone is called in for this, like Rhys, Mor, Amren maybe even Gwyn and Emerie) but something's go wrong and it all goes down hill and ends up with Nesta being kidnapped.

Cassian looses his shit.

They try and calm him down and but he is ready. Because Nesta. She made him memorize the layout, possible escape routes different scenarios

...even a kidnapping.

She was fucking amazing to him.

He starts calling orders. Everyone is so shocked because...CASSIAN?!?! The goofy guy they all love is taking charge and demanding attention.

For Nesta.

Shit is going down with Nesta. They will get a good ransom for her. She fights them, because Cassian also taught her some moves because it's good to keep things fresh, he told her.

By the time Cassian and everyone gets there she has one on the floor and is making good on the others. He smiles because that's his girl.

HIS GIRL.

They get recgonition for solving the biggest ďŕùģ bust in Velaris history. This is doing amazing things for their careers.

Rhys tells them they can't be partners anymore. It hurts but they get it. Their feelings would compromise it. They both separately deny it to him, but hey know it's true.

They meet one more time at the house they lived in for months while undercover to get their things.

They talk about the time they had here. The things they learned and how they changed.

They finally kiss.

Fade to black lol

[infinitesundrop]

Read Chapter 2:  Perks of Being a Civilian on AO3 | FFN

Banner Credit to the Amazing @the-dream-team​​

Fic Summary:  They say time heals. It’s been nine months since Lily lost her mother and sister, but she still feels their absence every day. The only thing getting her through these difficult times has been the masked hero, Spider-Man. With the attacks on the city getting worse each day, and with the growing animosity towards London’s only hope, Lily has no choice but to act. After all, we all have powers of one kind or another, in our own way. (Spider-Man AU) 

Chapter Summary:  No one ever said doing the right thing was easy.

Rating: T

Fic Warnings: Grief/Mourning/Survivor’s Guilt, Violence, Referenced Character Death (minor character) | Chapter Exclusive Warnings:  Street Harassment, Mass Panic, Gun Violence (lasers), Destruction of Property (building collapse),Violence (hand-to-hand combat), Mentions of Explosives, Premature Acceptance of Death, Car Accident, Self Endangerment

Read from the Beginning on AO3 | FFN

When she finally tore her eyes off the skyline, she found that Spider-Man was staring over at her again. She ducked her head to hide her blush behind the curtain of her hair. “What?” she mumbled. 

“Nothing,” he replied, shrugging slowly. “It’s only...what’s your name?”

Her name. Spider-Man wanted to know her name? “Lily,” she said, turning back to face the hero directly and sitting cross-legged with her back resting against the stone railing. Lily tilted her head up to see him, a shy sort of smile on her lips. “My name is Lily Evans.”

“Lily Evans,” Spider-Man repeated, and she had to admit she quite liked how it sounded coming from him. Lily heard him suck in a breath. “You know, Lily, what you did today...it wasn’t smart.”

Clutching her house keys in her hand, the metal bits poking out from in between her fingers, Lily kept her head down as she made her way into the dimly lit London streets. As young as five years old, Lily had been taught never to walk the streets alone, especially at night. Now, with all the attacks on the city, Lily couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing. 

If something happened, her father would have no idea where she was. To be completely truthful with herself, Lily wasn’t exactly sure where she was headed either.

The road and sidewalks glistened with the fresh coating of rain from the afternoon, but in the night, the air felt biting and cold. A scuffle behind Lily made her jump, but it was merely her neighbor taking out the trash. 

Granted, it wasn’t like Snape was the most savory figure either. They had been something close to friends as kids, having grown up next door to each other. When they hit secondary school, something had changed him. Whether it was his mother’s death or something else, he had gotten into some really shady stuff. One day, she remembered him walking into chemistry and laughing about all the various dark uses the chemicals had if mixed a certain way. 

Ever since then, Lily had made a point to stay very far away from the man. 

Feeling his sullen eyes on her, she swallowed back the lump in her throat and nodded in his direction, wanting to make it perfectly clear that she saw him.

Of course, he seemed to take that as an invitation to come talk to her. Lily was really not in the mood. Seeing him almost sent her straight back into the house, but there were more important things she needed to do tonight than sit at home because of Snape. 

The sooner she returned home and saved her father from the worry he was undoubtedly experiencing, the better. 

Picking up her pace would surely send him away, right? 

Wrong. The greasy man had quickly caught up to her, reaching out his hand to grab her elbow. As his fingers brushed against Lily’s jacket, she ripped her arm forward and swung around, fist balled in the air. “Don’t ever do that.”

Whatever Snape was expecting, that was not it. He stood there, his mouth opening and closing as if he were a fish out of water. As Lily turned to run off, he cried out, “W-wait, Lily! You looked...lost!” 

“Not lost,” she hissed, clutching her keys tighter, backing up away from him, but not daring to turn her back yet. “Don’t touch me. Don’t follow me.” 

“It’s just,” he continued as if Lily hadn’t already made it extremely clear she wanted to be left alone, “It’s dangerous at night. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” 

Narrowing her eyes, Lily pulled up her polaroid, snapping a photo. The flash lit up the whole block. It was only the two of them out right now. “Okay, well, you lay another finger on me, this will be your wanted photo. Leave me alone.” 

Snape said something, but Lily didn’t catch it as she darted in the opposite direction. She didn’t think about where she was going; she just needed to get away. 

Maybe she shouldn’t have come out here tonight. 

Lily sucked in a shuddery breath as she reached a crosswalk a far enough distance away. Puffs of condensation filled the air as she took a moment to breathe while the cars drove through the intersection. 

As much as she wanted to help Spider-Man, she had to admit her plan was a long shot. She wasn’t even sure if the hero would trust her enough to talk with all that was going on.

Lily pushed those thoughts from her mind, turning to the present. 

She was already several blocks away from home, and even if she wanted to turn around, the idea of running into Snape again turned her blood cold. No. She had to see this through. 

Taking stock of her surroundings, Lily realized she was no longer in the more residential districts. Passing a few shops that had closed up for the night, Lily wondered if maybe she was being reckless. She had no idea where she was going. While this part of town was familiar, Spider-Man had been spotted all over London. 

Who was to say that she would actually find him? London was a massive city, and it was just as likely that Lily would end up somewhere unknown and in danger without anyone by her side, let alone a masked hero.

Where was she going? 

She was torn from her thoughts by a loud bang, and Lily whipped around, nearly slipping off the thin piece of sidewalk she was on in between the two sides of the street, to see a gaggle of 30-somethings stumble out of the pub door that had been flung open. Starting to stagger down the street, the group roared with laughter. She placed her hand over her heart to soothe its hammering. 

It took a moment for Lily’s breathing to calm down before she turned to continue walking. Her nerves were already frayed from that encounter with Snape. 

Feeling herself become more grounded within her body, Lily reminded herself that she was on a mission. No backing down. Where would Spider-Man be? 

She had to think about this logically. Spider-Man usually showed up around heavily crowded areas. The Bridge, Gringotts, the attack last month by the zoo... they were all bustling areas. That made sense, he wanted to protect the most people possible. Perhaps it would be a quiet night, and Spider-Man would only have to watch over the city. If they were lucky, he could stick to the skies without having to fight a second time today. 

She’d heard people talk about that in classes. Some claimed that there were sightings of him on the rooftops even when the city was calm. She’d even heard some of them insisting that Spider-Man lived on the rooftops of London.

Glancing over to make sure the intersection was clear, she hurried the rest of the way across. Halfway through the crosswalk, she was hit with the realization that she was already taking her usual route to school without a second thought. Why hadn’t it occurred to her to go this way before? 

Lily supposed when she first left the house, she was too worked up about the whole Spider-Man thing to do much thinking at all. For the first time since April, she'd fought with her father. And how had she handled it? She stormed out on him. 

He barely let her go out for a drink at the pub with some friends after dark anymore, let alone go off wandering by herself. Not since her mother and sister...

Still, it wasn’t like she was going to any unknown parts of the city. Lily was only headed to school. 

It was nighttime, though. While students did stay late to work on classwork, there wasn't usually much danger there. The worst thing that happened was students getting too drunk at the pub or arguing in the dorms.

Perhaps going to school wasn’t the best idea, but staying at least on the walking part of her commute provided her with the familiarity she needed to keep her from turning back and heading home. Once underground, she’d decide her final destination. 

A familiar bright blue and red light signaled her tube station, and Lily continued on her daily commute. She descended to the Underground, scanned her Oyster card, walked down to the platform, and stood with her camera held close to her chest to await her train. 

Time passed slowly and all too fast at the same time. What she was about to do was senseless, and once she boarded, it would be much harder to turn back. Lily recognized this but was still worthwhile to her. 

Boarding the first car that arrived, she took a seat across from a sleeping man with facial hair. It was only Lily and the dosing passenger in their section. Normally, with so few people on the train, she’d take a seat somewhere farther away, but it was oddly comforting to be near someone else right now. 

She felt bad for him.  He looked exhausted, like he had come straight off a long shift. Based on his uniform, he was a subway operator. Squinting, she thought she could make out the name ‘Stan’ on his nametag. 

Above the entrance, the little timer ticked down until the doors closed. What stop was he waiting for? Lily held onto the upper railing in case the train started moving, stepping forward towards the tired subway worker. She shifted her hands to brace against the seat beside Stan and leaned down to shake the worker gently. “What’s your stop?” she asked. 

Stan barely responded, peeking one eye open lazily and muttering, “Piccadilly Circus”. 

Of course. One of the most populated places this late would be the middle of the West End. It was always lined with tourists and locals alike. 

She nodded her head, looking up at the map to see where she wanted to get off on the line. “That’s where I’m going too,” she decided aloud. “I’ll wake you when we’re there, yeah?” 

Stan let out a little ‘hmmph’ in response, shifting his body so his face was squished against the subway seats with his back turned to Lily. The pleasant robotic voice announced the doors were closing, and Lily made it back to her seat right in time. The train lurched forward again mere moments later. 

Studying the map above the man’s head, Lily saw she only had two stops until her own. Soon enough, the announcements declared that they had arrived, the doors gliding open. Lily stood, stepping closer to Stan and giving his shoulder another gentle shake. 

In return, he grumbled something she couldn’t quite make out then turned in his chair again. It looked like there was no rousing him. Although she wanted to help, the overhead voice called for doors closing. She didn’t want to miss her stop, so she ran off the train quickly. The doors slid shut behind her with an audible click. 

Once out of the car, Lily was immediately struck by how empty and quiet the place was. Usually, on a Friday night in London, people crammed onto the platforms, fighting for a place on the next train. Tonight, it was eerily quiet. The only person she saw was a janitor humming to himself as he swept. 

She climbed the first set of stairs quickly. If anything, the theatres should be getting out soon, and the Circus would be filled with people going home via the Tube. 

When Lily had left home, she had been sure she’d heard the weatherman call for clear skies the rest of the night. As usual, he must have been wrong, because the thunder from above the station was almost deafening the closer to the ground floor she got.

Lily climbed another set of stairs, the roar almost deafening at this point. Reaching the top of another flight of stairs, she thought she saw shadows growing larger and larger on the tiled wall towards the exit. Lily had to blink a few times to make sure she was seeing correctly. The pit of her stomach dropped with the realization that she was right. 

And it wasn’t thunder.

She had been hearing a stampede of footsteps, and they were coming her way.

Turning a corner into a long hallway, all Lily saw was a horde of people flooding in, barreling towards her as if they didn’t even see her coming. The crowd ran straight into her. 

Lily gasped as people shoved her aside, trampling on her feet and knocking her against the tile. Her camera crunched loudly with the impact. She braced herself for the rest of the onslaught, making herself as small as possible against the wall. 

Screams of terror echoed along the tunnels. Well, at least she’d been right about where to find Spider-Man. 

Hopefully, she was.  

Filled with purpose again, Lily pushed against the crowd, trying to wedge her way through. She had to find Spider-Man. She had to. This was what she’d come out here for, after all. Camera or not, she had to warn him about the police and the press. 

A pair of hands wrapped around one of her wrists in a vice-like grip. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the woman demanded as Lily tried to shake her off. The woman yanked back in return, Lily’s feet sliding along the floor towards her. “Lily!”

Hearing her name, Lily’s head snapped up. A familiar face stood in front of her, trying to tug her back towards the Tube. “Hestia, no, I can’t!” 

“What’re you on about?” Hestia’s dark eyebrows furrowed together for a split second before she shook her head. It was as if she already decided that trying to sort out whatever Lily wanted to stick around for was not important. “Lily,” she pleaded desperately. “You have to come with me! Now! You can’t go up there!”

Lily had never seen her friend this way, so frantic and terrified. Hestia Jones was not the sort of person to scare easily‒or at all‒in the time Lily had known her. Whatever waited up there must have been dangerous. 

If she turned back now, it would save her father and her friends the heartache and the fear of not knowing if she was all right. Looking into Hestia’s eyes, she almost did turn back. 

But she couldn’t. Not with everything at stake. If they took down Spider-Man, who would be here to save all these people? Even if it meant sacrificing her own life, Lily would do everything in her power to help Spider-Man protect the city.

It was the right thing to do. 

Everything happened so fast. One moment she was resisting Hestia’s pull, the next the two of them were running along with the chaos. Hestia had loosened her grip on Lily’s wrist, so Lily took the opportunity to slide her hand into Hestia’s instead, giving her friend’s hand a tight squeeze. 

The gesture seemed to have alleviated Hestia’s worries as her friend breathed out in relief. It made what Lily had to do next so much worse.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, quickly dropping her hand and disappearing into the crowd. 

When Lily turned back, her friend was being pulled along by the undertow of the crowd, her arm outstretched for Lily to grasp like a life preserver. Hestia looked distraught, and Lily was certain if she were any closer she’d see tears on her face. 

This had better work. 

-

James webbed from building to building, quickly weaving his way towards the scream. It wasn’t long before he found its inspiration: two masked terrorizers perched on the base of the statue in the middle of Piccadilly Circus. 

He felt a sense of familiarity as he stared at the two. It was a man and a woman, but they looked so similar. They were both childlike in stature, but their shoulders sloped inwards, making them appear hunched over. Their faces were partially covered by masks, but the features that showed through were familiar. 

He’d seen them before. He just didn’t remember where exactly. 

The man had a lopsided sort of leer, and through the holes on the skull mask he was wearing, James spotted beady little eyes. The woman had less distinctive features, but like her counterpart, her skin was pallid, and she bore the same wicked expression as her counterpart.

A building on the other side of the road exploded James he landed atop the flashing billboards in the junction. The rubble scattered across the road, joining the rest of the debris the two had created. Screams echoed through the streets, people in the traffic circle abandoning the cars and buses in favor of an escape through the Tube as the two culprits cackled, taking great pleasure in the mayhem they were causing. 

The woman’s wheezy giggle was what made James realize who they were, the noise bringing him back to all the times he’d heard it previously. They called themselves the Carrows: a brother and sister team. They didn’t look dangerous at first glance. 

They had been there, though. At the Millenium Bridge collapse. They had been the ones who took down the rest of the bridge with the same weapons they were using now. 

Both brother and sister were equipped with some kind of laser, allowing them to bring any structure to the ground with a simple push of a button. The sister, Alecto, shot a theatre close to the Circus, the building wobbling more and more until it crumbled to the ground.

It appeared as if they were searching for something as they decimated each structure, but what, James wasn’t exactly sure. The buildings all around the junction had evacuated; he’d watched them flee via the Tube with the rest of the civilians from the traffic circle, so he didn’t have to worry about saving people from the collapsing buildings. 

All James knew was that he needed to stop the Carrows before they moved on, before they found a building full of people to destroy somewhere else.

But, how? 

He did wonder if they had any real power without their laser guns. The easiest way to test it would be to simply grab one. It seemed too easy, but sometimes, the easiest strategy was the one overlooked. 

So, he did it. 

Turning his wrist, James aimed his web-shooter at one of the Carrow’s laser guns. Silky webbing shot out, traveling at lightning speed from James and attaching to the side of one of the guns. He grinned widely under the mask, grabbing hold of the web with his other hand. 

He reached to grab the webbing with his other hand and pull, but a sharp tug from the other end of the web made him stumble on the precarious ledge. Another tug sent him flying to the ground. 

James grimaced, shooting his webbing towards the building he had been standing on only moments ago. Suddenly, the building began to crumble around him, chunks of concrete and shards of glass raining onto him as he webbed onto a double-decker bus abandoned in the road. 

So sometimes the easiest option didn’t work out. 

“Good to see you two again,” he said conversationally as he jumped off the top of the bus. Their guns pointed straight at him. “Haven’t seen you two out much lately. I was afraid maybe you got busted.”

That earned him a green beam shot right at him. He probably deserved that after such a terrible joke, honestly. Still, James ducked, sliding out of the way with ease. 

“Is that the best you’ve got?” he asked. He needed to find another way to take their guns from them, but at least the Circus was empty. It gave him time. Usually, he’d have to finish things as quickly as possible so that no one died. The lack of innocent civilians to worry about afforded James more time to be thorough. Tonight, the Carrows would be caught. 

Still, it was two against one, and he had to keep moving to dodge the onslaught of laser beams coming his way. Usually, his best course of action was to web onto a building, but that wouldn’t be such a good idea when they had the ability to destroy whatever structure he was webbed onto. 

As he passed by the Tube station, another beam shot right past him, hitting one of the walls. Too busy trying to come up with a plan, James didn’t even notice the civilian who ran out of the station’s entrance as it crumbled. Instead, he just looked at the Carrows, a smug smirk on his face as he said, “You guys really can’t hit anything that’s not stationary, can you?”

They had their guns pointed right at him, and James knew it was the perfect time to web onto the guns. They were too distracted by the idea of taking him down, both wearing wide grins under their masks. 

This was it. This was his chance. All he needed to do was web both the guns and get out of the way without any of the lasers hitting him. 

“Say goodbye!” Alecto cackled, but before she could shoot, a small chunk of concrete landed by James’ feet. 

“No!” James heard someone cry, another piece of concrete hurled into the middle of the Circus. “Don’t hurt him!”

James glanced around to see who was senseless enough to be out here at a time like this. Why hadn’t they run screaming like everyone else? 

And then, he saw her.

Lily. 

As his heart leapt into his throat, body freezing mid-fight, his only thought was: Not her. Anyone but her. 

He stood, frozen, as Lily ran closer, the obviously broken camera around her neck swinging wildly with her movement. Luckily, it seemed as if she’d also distracted the Carrows with the disruption. 

At least, James had thought so until he realized that one of the laser guns was pointed at him and the other at Lily.

“Now!” He heard Alecto cry, and the lasers came shooting towards them. 

Knowing he didn’t have much time, James webbed onto Lily and tugged to bring her to his side. He heard her frightened gasp but didn’t have time to reassure her. All he could do was hold onto her and dive out of the way as the building that had been behind them crumbled down. 

James grimaced as the two of them roughly slid to the ground. He scrambled up, yanking Lily up with him. In any normal circumstance, James would never manhandle anyone, let alone Lily, the way he was right now. But this wasn’t a normal circumstance. 

 He needed to find her a way out of here. It wasn’t as if he could leave the Carrows and take Lily to safety. As much as he'd like to, there were other things he had to worry about. 

Namely, the fact that the Carrows were shooting at them again. 

Without thinking, he tugged Lily across the circle with him, ducking between two piles of rubble. They didn’t get very far before having to dodge the laser beams shooting at them. There was no way they’d be able to cross the junction without stopping to duck for cover every few paces, but their options were slim at the moment.

When he heard the sounds of the guns stop for the moment, he pulled her along, running again to find cover under another pile of debris. While it was safe for the moment, they had to get moving again soon. If they stuck around, the two masked villains would find them again. 

He refused to let them be caught and cornered, not with Lily beside him.

She couldn’t be here. Keeping her by his side put a target on her back. As risky as it was to send her out there with all these toppling buildings, James wasn’t sure he had a choice. Yet, looking at the devastation around them, he knew he had to think of something to give her a fighting chance. 

Anything. 

Despite the fact that he knew he shouldn’t leave the Carrows alone in the Circus - after all, what if another unsuspecting citizen happened upon the scene in his absence? - Lily’s safety was taking precedence at the moment. 

“How’d you get here?” he asked suddenly as they dodged the lasers. If it was safe, he’d send her back the way she came. 

“I was in the Tube,” she said, panting as she tried to catch her breath while they ran through the junction. Well, that was unfortunate since the station’s entrance had been decimated into a pile of rubble. He’d have to think of some other way to get her out of here. For starters, they needed to get away from the Carrows.

“T-there was a stampede,” James heard her say, and it seemed like she was just rambling to keep from panicking. He only hoped she wasn’t too focused on her words to prevent herself from stumbling. “Everyone was running towards the train, but I-you needed help. You’re fighting for the city on your own. It looked like you were in danger, and I-” She was talking so quickly James wasn’t sure she’d have any air left in her lungs, and he’d never seen those green eyes as wide as they were in that moment. “I had to do something!”

James froze, staring at her momentarily. Had she really gone towards the danger when everyone else fled? It was dangerous to dwell on her blatant lack of respect for her own life right now. “I need to get you out of here somehow,” he muttered more to himself than to her as he looked around the junction.

She had to get out of here. The Carrows were going to destroy every building in range, and Lily couldn’t be there when they did. The Tube couldn’t be her escape route. There had to be another way out. 

That was when he noticed dim light coming from behind them, casting their shadows on the pavement in front of them. There was a car - an abandoned but still running car - behind them. 

A blast from a few feet away reminded him that the Carrows were still shooting at them, and Lily was looking rather worn from being dragged around Piccadilly Circus. Having her drive off in the car would be the easiest getaway, but with all the lasers shooting off at random, James thought better of it. If the Carrows hit that car with Lily in it, she’d be done for. 

He needed to find a way to make it safer for her. 

“Stay,” James commanded, leaving her behind a tall pile of crumbled concrete. She was huddled underneath the rubble, peeking out from behind as if keeping watch, but he saw her mutely nod her head. At the very least, he was certain that she wasn’t going to move from that spot, so he swung up onto a building, trailing along his webbing. 

“Aww, no more puns? What? Not as confrontational when your little girlfriend’s around?” Alecto cooed. 

Gritting his teeth, James tried to work faster, jumping around from building to ground to building and back, sticking his web to every surface he reached. Each time he landed, he glanced towards the wreckage where Lily was hiding. Thankfully, the two didn’t seem too interested in her. At least, not when they realized what James was up to. 

“A spider web,” Amycus said, looking at his sister with a raised eyebrow. “How quaint.” 

James heard Alecto’s wheezy giggle again before she cried, “Let’s see how well these webs work to protect your beloved from our lasers.”

Seeing their distraction as his opportunity to get Lily to safety, James dropped back down to the ground, racing back to Lily. They didn’t have much time. 

He grabbed her hand tightly, tugging her backwards to the awaiting car, her escape. “Get in. Drive away. Just...just stay in the car until you’re safe, okay?” He had to know she was going to be okay, that she’d be safe one way or another. Sure, this wasn’t how he wanted this to go, but this was the best option he had. 

He watched as she got into the driver’s seat, her hands shaking as she clutched the wheel. “But what about you? You can’t get hurt. We need you. London needs you.” The panic in her voice made James almost want to stay with her. He could climb into the car with her or, better yet, take her back home by webbing building to building. It would be so easy to leave with her and not deal with any of this right now. 

But as she said, London needed him. 

He just nodded his head to her. “I know. I’ll be all right. All in a day’s work of being Spider-Man, yeah?” He knew she was trying to hide it, but he saw the corners of her lips twitch up at that. “You need to go.”

When she gave him a shaky nod in return, James gave himself one final moment to look at her before turning on his heel and webbing back into the fight. 

“Miss me?” he called as he swung back. 

Upon seeing Amycus wound tightly in his barricade, much like a bug trapped in a real spider’s web, James broke out into a stupid grin. Maybe this wouldn’t be so difficult after all. 

Alecto’s eyes narrowed and she lined up her laser not at James, who was still behind the indestructible webbing, but at a building holding it up. It wobbled precariously, like the others had done earlier, and then crashed to the ground, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. With it, fell a section of webbing. While it wasn’t enough to tear down the whole web, it was enough to surpass his barrier he’d set up. 

“Are you mad?!” Amycus cried from inside his web cocoon. “You’re going to crush-” Without concern for the rest of his sentence, or apparently the well-being of her brother, Alecto shot at the other building. As the building toppled, tearing the remainder of the web down with it, James knew it was time to move. 

He wanted this over with. The Carrows might’ve gotten away on the bridge, but he wouldn’t make that mistake again. 

One down. Amycus’s laser gun was laying on the ground, but it looked damaged. There was a flashing red light on the side, and a blue and green glow peeked through the cracks along the barrel of the gun. James didn’t want to risk picking it up only for it to backfire on him. Besides, James only played offense in football. He'd stick to the defensive; he preferred his webs anyway.

One more to go. 

Alecto Carrow seemed to be more competent than her counterpart given that she hadn’t gotten trapped in the web, and her actions were always a bit more calculated. Despite her intelligence, without her brother, the fight was now one-on-one, and James had the upper hand.

He landed in front of Alecto as she scurried back to her safety atop the base of the statue. It was a good vantage point for her since she’d be shooting down at him.  He still wasn’t quite sure how to take down Alecto, but if the web had taught him anything, they were easily distracted. 

Lily was tucked away in that cab and on her way to somewhere safe. Amycus was a bit preoccupied at the moment. A lazy smirk slid across his features, looking at the Carrow while stretching his arms behind his back languidly as if he were bored. 

“What did you call my web again?” he asked somewhat tauntingly. Until he figured out how to take her down physically, this was his best course of action. “Quaint, was it? Seems like a good place for your brother to hang out. Bit of a sticky situation, really. Care to join him?”

Alecto swiftly pointed her laser at James, firing without a moment’s hesitation. As he’d assumed, Alecto thought he wasn’t paying close enough attention. 

Except he was. 

James shot back, his webbing threading around the barrel of a gun. He grabbed onto the silky web with his other hand, tearing the gun out of Alecto’s hands. He heard her rabid shriek as she hurled herself at him, landing on his back with a violent thud. 

James tried to throw her off, but she clung to him desperately, kicking and screaming for her weapon. Right when he thought he’d lost her, she started digging her long, sharp nails into his shoulders as she clawed for her gun back.

He knew he had to get her off—the pain made sure of that much—but he needed to figure out what to do with this gun too. It wasn’t as if throwing it far enough away would actually help, even it was far enough to keep out of the Carrows’ clutches. Not if it gave anyone the power to decimate the entire city. The webbing blocked anything firing from it for now, but he knew the web weakened as its chemical composition deteriorated from the elements. Far faster than James liked to admit, it became no more than glorified silly string. 

He needed to act fast. 

With a fierce elbow to her gut, Alecto’s grip on James’s back weakened slightly. As he began to deliver the final blow, the circle was illuminated in a green-blue light, and a feverish laugh filled the streets. James’s blood turned cold.

Amycus had escaped. In his hands was the damaged laser gun, sparking and shooting in random directions. 

Alecto hopped off James’s back and ran towards her brother. Apparently, she had bigger fish to fry than fighting for her gun. With that weapon in both of their hands, ready to explode at any moment, they would be nearly unstoppable. 

Not on his watch. James whipped a web around Alecto’s ankle, gripping the web and yanking her into the air. With his other hand, he webbed her to a nearby billboard. There. Even if she did get free...good luck coming down from there. 

With Alecto taken care of, Amycus grew even more violent. He began firing his gun in every direction. Sometimes it went off and other times, nothing happened. The sparking was getting worse with every misfire. 

Luckily, it was compromised enough that none of the shots directed at James actually hit him. The shaking of the gun from the sparks made Amycus’s aim haphazard at best. Simply blocking the lasers from coming too close was working for now. 

That gun was going to be a problem. James wasn’t sure he was even equipped to deal with the aftermath if it did explode. 

Amycus’s aim was getting worse, barely able to hold onto the weapon anymore. Maybe this was James’s chance. The second Amycus let go of that weapon, he could get close enough to finally put an end to all this. 

Just as James thought this all would be over, Amycus had climbed back onto the statue, attempting to maneuver the gun to point in James’ direction, using the statue as a base to keep his grip on the device as it jerked about. His target line was so much better with the statue stabilizing the gun. 

 The Carrow was done playing bulldozer on the city. His target was set on Spider-Man.

James knew this wouldn’t be good. His options were: get shot, grab the gun and have it blow up, or, possibly, both. None of it sounded very promising. Sure, he’d been in scary situations in the past, but he’d never dealt with an unstable weapon with this kind of power in the hands of someone like Amycus. 

There was a real possibility that he’d die here. That fact hit him so hard that it was almost as if one of those buildings had crushed him. 

He could die right now. 

There were so many things he hadn’t done, things he hadn’t said. 

He had regrets, sure. He wished he’d stayed as close to Remus Lupin as they had been before he became Spider-Man, but he’d decided months ago to keep Remus out of this for his own protection. 

Now, he regretted not telling Sirius how much he appreciated all his help with this Spider-Man stuff, even if he hadn’t wanted Sirius to know at first either. James wished he’d told him how he was the best friend he could’ve ever asked for, the brother he’d always wanted. 

More than that, he wished he hadn’t fought with Lily at the Prophet. She didn’t know he’d seen her again tonight. Unless she found out he was Spider-Man, her last memory of him would be of their fight. He wished he’d told her how he felt. 

James swallowed thickly as his mind wandered to Aunt Minnie. More than anything, he wished he could give her a proper goodbye. He knew how devastated she’d been when James’ mum had died without saying goodbye. Minnie would be crushed again, and she’d be downright furious with him for being Spider-Man. 

But he couldn’t think about any of that right now. Not when Amycus Carrow was prepared to end this at any moment, his finger on the trigger.

Like Lily had said, London needed him. He needed to be there to save the people of the city. He needed to save London because that was where Remus Lupin lived. Where Sirius lived. Lily. Aunt Minnie. 

He had to save them. Even if saving them meant losing himself. 

Resigning himself to the fact that things were probably about to get very, very messy, he raised his hand, shaking slightly as he moved, to shoot at the gun before Amycus shot at him. 

Amycus’s eyes lit up with a devilish delight in what he was about to do. 

A screech from the distance caused both parties to pause for a moment. When James looked to where the noise was coming from, two bright lights from some sort of car blinded him. As he blinked away the lights, he’d seen enough to know what had happened. 

The taxi careened past him, slamming into the statue in the middle of the junction. The heavy bronze figure swayed for a moment before toppling to the ground with a deafening clash, its motion bringing Amycus down with it. 

The gun soared through the air, alight like a meteor. He hoped this worked. 

James used both web-shooters to catch the gun, twirling it with one web, and wrapping it like a bandage with the other. Fully covered now, James webbed it to hang from a pile of rubble well lit by the street lamps, somewhere the authorities would easily find it. 

He heard their sirens now, coming from a distance. Figured that as soon as things finished up, the cops arrived. 

Amycus was out. The statue must have knocked him unconscious. He might’ve checked to see if the Carrow was still breathing if it weren’t for his unexpected hero. As James approached the black taxi, his heart pounded in his chest. 

Lily. It had to be Lily. No one else disregarded their own safety enough to do something so stupidly brave except her. 

The car was crushed in at the front, the wheels bent at a strange angle and steam billowing out of the grill. He couldn’t see her through the windows since the whole cab was filled with the deployed airbags. 

Please be okay. 

When he looked inside, ripping off the door of the crushed cab, Lily was heaving, and tears were rolling down her cheeks. She had a bruise purpling along the side of her cheek but otherwise appeared okay. As he opened his mouth to ask if she was, Lily cut him off. 

“I-I stayed in the car,” she gasped, looking at him, her green eyes wide. 

James swallowed his initial response as she stumbled out of the destroyed taxi, and he reached out, grabbing her hands to steady her. “Be careful,” he murmured, worried her injuries might be worse than what was visibly apparent. He’d gotten too used to the luxury that was self-healing. Lily, on the other hand…

She looked relatively okay though. She wasn’t too pale - well, not any paler than she normally was - and she appeared to know what was going on at the very least. Still… “I think you should let me take you to the hospital.”

“Take me home,” she said, rubbing at the bruise on her cheek. It was swollen a bit, and she had this look of exhaustion on her face that made James’s stomach flip. Maybe she was more hurt than he thought. 

James shook his head slowly. If something happened to her, it’d be his fault.  “Err...No. I think you need to go, really,” he insisted. “You need to get checked out at the hospital.”

Lily scowled at the suggestion this time, and it was a welcome sight. That was the Lily he knew, the one that crashed cars into famous landmarks. “Look, Spider-Man. If you won’t take me home, I’ve already committed grand theft once today. I can do it again and get home by myself, but I’m bruised and tired and I really don’t care to deal with the traffic this fight has no doubt caused. So, I’ll ask you again. Take me home.”

“That wasn’t a question - more of an order, really. You sure you didn’t hit your head too hard?” She was fine; that, he was sure of now. She was talking normally, didn’t seem too confused about where she was or what she was doing, and though her walk hadn’t been all that steady when getting out of the car, he knew she’d been shaken up. She seemed stable now. 

Besides, she’d told him off, so that was an encouraging sign. 

James watched with a bemused smirk as Lily narrowed her eyes and then swished around, apparently giving up on travel by web. Her walk was definitely more steady again, which, James supposed, was good. Still, he couldn’t let her drive home. Not when she’d already been through so much that night. Not with that big bruise forming on her cheek. Not with her complete disrespect for her own safety.

Lily had already spotted another taxi and was marching towards it purposefully. James, not wanting her to go off by herself and get in more trouble tonight, ran to catch up with her, leaning on her cab of choice when they got close enough. “So, tell me,” he said conversationally, “do you commit grand theft often? Should I be worried about you?”

That broke through her wall she was building up. He wished he could say the way her eyes lit up, her nose wrinkling slightly at his words, didn’t make him feel anything, but he’d felt this way since he first met her. It didn’t seem like the sort of thing that’d change anytime soon.

“Oh, be very worried,” she teased, leaning against the taxi as well. “Planning to be an accessory to my crimes, Spider-Man?” 

“Sorry,” he sighed, crossing his arms as he smirked underneath his mask. He knew they needed to get out of there soon since the sirens from earlier sounded far too close for comfort, but he was having too much fun teasing Lily. “No can do. That sort of thing is bad for my image.”

“Ah, yes. Your image, which as we all know is already so good.” Lily let out a soft little laugh, more of a breath than anything, and looked down at the ground. Her smile faded rather quickly, and he knew she was thinking about the paper. As she pushed off the car and examined the wreckage they’d left behind—piles of rubble in and around the streets, the statue toppled, a destroyed cab—her eyebrows knitted together in worry. 

It probably wasn’t the best thing to mention his image to her. She’d want to go and fix it, and he’d seen how reckless she could be. Reckless enough to save his life. 

And she didn’t even know she knew him. He was glad that in all the chaos, he’d remembered to lower his voice a bit so it wasn’t as easily recognizable for Lily.. If she had known, James knew she’d want to help more. He could only save her from herself so many times.

Thinking back on the events of the day and watching her with that worried look on her face, he wanted to reach out and tell her it’d be okay. They were just buildings. Sure, his reputation might suffer, but he didn’t care about that. No one had died today, and that was the biggest relief, especially with Lily being involved. He didn’t even want to think about something happening to her on his watch. Of all people, hadn’t she suffered enough from his failures as Spider-Man?

He’d wanted to tell her he was sorry for all that had happened tonight. He wanted to apologize for what had happened at work too, despite the mask. He wanted to plead for her to put herself first for once, to stop being so reckless, but the authorities were rounding the corner now, red and blue lights flashing against the facades of the remaining buildings.

James took a deep breath instead. They had to get out of here. “Let’s go,” he said suddenly, offering her a hand. 

Lily looked down at it as if it were a foreign concept to her. “What?” 

“I’ll take you home,” he said, trying not to sound too impatient, but he needed to dodge the cops. She knew that. He took her moment of hesitation to shoot a web at an intact building, getting ready to leave whenever she was ready. “You’re far too reckless to get home safely by yourself.”

“Right.” She looked nervously over her shoulder before taking his hand. “What if I slow you down, though?” 

As she said this, the tires of the police cars and ambulances squealed as they screeched to a stop. Behind them, a few dozen media vans, including Daily Prophet 24/7 coverage. Their time for questions was over. 

Reporters scrambled out of their vehicles. They had to leave, now, while James still had a clear view of his escape route. He wrapped his arms around Lily, tucking her in close to his side. “Hold onto me,” he murmured, kicking off the ground and swinging onto the top of the building his web was on. 

As they flew through the air, the flashes of reporters’ cameras filled his vision. Looked like the Prophet got their picture after all. 

-

The city was absolutely breathtaking at nighttime. From within the dark, the soft glow of the streetlamps and the lights inside the different apartments was a warm and welcome sight. At a distance, they almost looked like fireflies. 

High above the ground, the people and the cars all looked so small. It was as if all the problems of the world were the same size. Up there, it felt like you were untouchable, undefeatable.

Of course, Lily didn’t know this because her face was smushed against Spider-Man’s chest as they fled the scene. She felt the wind whipping around them, stray pieces of hair tickling her cheeks, but she was not going to look around. Her arms wrapped around his torso tightly, and her fingers clung around the fabric of his suit as if it was the only thing able to save her if she fell. 

Most certainly not the webs the superhero was soaring through the sky with. 

From above her, she thought she heard Spider-Man chuckle. Lily furrowed her brows but figured she must be hearing things. What was so funny at a time like this? 

Then she felt his laugh, his chest shaking with every little chortle. Terrified to look down, Lily moved her head up the slightest bit to peek at the man above her. 

Problem was, it was really hard to read his facial expression with the mask situation. From the way his head was angled, it looked like he was laughing at her, watching her. “What’s so funny?” she asked, burrowing her face back into his side. 

“Oh, nothing,” he murmured back to her, the two of them dipping down as he webbed onto another building. “I just think it’s funny that you were so...so reckless and brave earlier with everything you did, but you’re frightened of heights. You can run into a stampede. You can crash a car into a statue-a national landmark, mind you. But heights, that’s what does you in.” There was a beat as he thought this over before Lily heard his laugh again. “Honestly, this is probably the safest thing you’ve done tonight.”

But it didn’t feel like the safest thing, not to Lily. She felt like she was moving through the city at a very fast pace, very high off the ground while being held up by a couple of little strings. That felt like a very unsafe thing to do. She was sure her father would agree, but he wouldn’t have approved of anything she’d done tonight. 

Besides, he’d done this tons of times. At this point, it must’ve been as natural as breathing for him. “I’d bet you were scared the first time you did this,” she replied somewhat bitterly. 

“Sure,” Spider-Man said in return. “I couldn’t close my eyes though. Something tells me that wouldn’t have worked out for me too well.”

A smile tugged at Lily’s lips, but she didn’t dare look up. “Perks of being a civilian, yeah?” 

“I suppose,” he sighed, and Lily felt him hold her a little closer. She tried to ignore the blush creeping up her neck when, suddenly, he jerked to a stop. She opened her eyes to see what had happened only to find they were hanging on the side of Big Ben. Lily gasped, tightening her grip on his suit for dear life. 

“Spider-Man,” she cried, her eyes trailing down the clock tower to the streets below of their own volition. The buses and cars directly below them looked so minuscule. She felt like she was going to be sick, her skin turning clammy and her stomach churning at the sight. Her heart was beating so hard against her chest she was positive Spider-Man felt it. 

“Relax,” he insisted, shifting to place her feet on a close-by ledge. “Li-Let’s breathe, okay?” He tugged her closer, shuffling so she was closer against the tower and more securely on the ledge. “You’re okay. You’re safe.” 

Lily did as he said, breathing in, but it came in as a shudder. Spider-Man nodded encouragingly and she thought she heard him say something like, “good, keep going,” but she wasn’t really paying attention to his words. He was holding onto her with one arm wrapped around her in something of a hug, and Lily was very aware of his hand on her back. His other hand was gripping onto his suspended web, only his toes touching the ledge she stood upon. 

She tightened her hold on him, not able to think clearly when she was terrified that now he would fall. It didn’t seem to phase him in the slightest, his head tilted upwards into the open air, looking at something high above them. 

Her breath must have evened out with her distraction because Spider-Man looked to her suddenly and nodded his head in approval. “Good. See, you’re alright.” Lily only nodded slowly. “Hey, I don’t want you to be scared, but I think you’d think the city is really pretty right now. Can I take you up a little higher-” 

“Are you joking?” Lily snapped, looking at Spider-Man with disdain. “I’m terrified, and you want to go up higher?”

 He seemed amused by her outburst. “Are you done?” Lily opened her mouth to speak again, but he cut her off. “As I was saying, can I take you up a little higher where there’s a railing and a real floor? You can calm down before I take you home. Does that sound okay?” 

That didn’t sound too bad, Lily had to admit. When she nodded her agreement, Spider-Man scooped her up and began scaling the side of the building. From over his shoulder, she saw tourists pointing them out amongst themselves from the London Eye. 

As far up as they were when he first took her to the tower, Lily didn’t realize how much farther up there was to go until she was carried up to the top. The white light from the clock cast their shadows on the city below. 

Soon, they reached a railing, and Spider-Man pulled them over it. Finally on solid ground, Lily let out a deep breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. 

“Better now?” he asked, and she nodded quickly. She’d never been so happy to have her feet on the floor, even if the floor was much higher up than she preferred. As she glanced out over the city, she had to admit that it was rather pretty. The river Thames looked like glass from so far up, its surface calm and dark other than reflections from the surrounding lights and the moon in the distance. Across from them, the London Eye ticked along at a slow, leisurely pace. 

“Yeah,” she breathed, unable to take her eyes off the city. It seemed so strange that the city felt so calm and quiet in one place, and yet, in another, it was filled with destruction. 

When she finally tore her eyes off the skyline, she found that Spider-Man was staring over at her again. She ducked her head to hide her blush behind the curtain of her hair. “What?” she mumbled. 

“Nothing,” he replied, shrugging slowly. “It’s only...what’s your name?”

Her name. Spider-Man wanted to know her name? “Lily,” she said, turning back to face the hero directly and sitting cross-legged with her back resting against the stone railing. Lily tilted her head up to see him, a shy sort of smile on her lips. “My name is Lily Evans.”

“Lily Evans,” Spider-Man repeated, and she had to admit she quite liked how it sounded coming from him. Lily heard him suck in a breath. “You know, Lily, what you did today...it wasn’t smart.”

Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. Did Spider-Man call her dumb? Even though she had just sat down, she scrambled back to her feet so she was on his level, looking into his eyes-well, eye markings. “What I did today was I saved your life.”

“And you could’ve lost yours,” he shot back, crossing his arms against his chest. 

“So could you!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms out. “You know what you do for a living right? You’re at least a little self-aware? Spider-Man, your job is putting your life at risk. I don’t think you’re in a place to lecture me about safety.” 

She crossed her arms too, looking him over. He was tall, but his voice sounded young. While it was hard to tell if he was younger or older than her, he seemed like he was at least around her age range. What was a university-age kid doing sacrificing his life for the city? Lily’d had enough lectures this evening for the both of them. If he wanted to lecture her, fine. Two could play that game.

Spider-Man began shaking his head. “You don’t get it. I didn’t choose this. This was put on me, and like you said, London needs me. But you...you need to stay safe. Surely you have people that worry about you. If you don’t do it for yourself, do it for them.”

Guilt washed over her like a tidal wave. Her father would be so furious when she got home. Surely by now, the news had aired. She knew the reporters had gotten a photo of her. She didn’t know if her face was visible, but with her luck, everyone would know she had met Spider-Man by tomorrow morning. 

But Spider-Man was wrong. No matter what her father said, Spider-Man saved people. And no matter how angry her dad was, Lily knew she did the right thing. She set out to help Spider-Man and she did. 

He was alive because of her. He’d go home to the people who cared about him tonight because of her. 

For all she knew, the whole city was alive because of her. What would have happened if the two masked villains had gotten away? What if that sparking laser gun had exploded like it looked like it was going to? 

Because Lily risked her life, so many more were safe. She refused to apologize for that, no matter what anyone else said. Even if that person was Spider-Man. 

Besides, she was fine. 

He did raise a good point, though. Her father was probably worried sick waiting for her to come home. 

Lily felt Spider-Man’s gaze through his mask, and she was vaguely reminded of an ant under a microscope. He must have been waiting for her to respond, but she was so caught up in her thoughts she hadn’t noticed. 

What did she even say to that? Did Spider-Man not want to be Spider-Man? If she could, Lily would trade places with him, take the weight off his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” Lily murmured, taking advantage of the fact that Spider-Man probably thought she was talking about risking her life. She wasn’t, but at least her words placated him. She wasn’t sorry for what she did. 

She was sorry that he had to carry this burden for the city, sorry he had to be responsible for keeping people who didn’t appreciate him safe. 

“It’s fine,” he mumbled in return, and Lily watched as he paced for a moment before he stared back at her. “Look, it’s not… I’m grateful that you saved my life and all.”

“Then-” Lily started, but Spider-Man cut her off, looking down at her in a way that she practically felt the intensity through the air. 

“But I don’t want you to go risking yours for something like that again.”

Lily nodded slowly in return, even if she didn’t mean it. Something like that. They weren’t talking about saving a couple of buildings or a famous landmark. She’d saved his life. It was worth the risk. If she had to do it again, she would. But Spider-Man needn’t know that. 

“Anyway,” she heard him sigh as he stepped closer to the ledge again. “I’d better get you home. Where might that be, Lily?”

She knew she needed to get home before her father went out and started looking for her himself. She’d be surprised if he hadn’t already. Lily murmured her address, joining him at the edge and grabbing his outstretched hand. 

This time, she didn’t close her eyes. Whether she had grown used to the sensation or if she’d grown numb, Lily wasn’t sure. Granted, she was keeping her eyes on what was in front of her, deliberately ignoring the ground below them. 

Instead, she watched as Spider-Man webbed from building to building. Every time a bit of web was released, he pressed this mechanism built into his suit. As she first noticed it, she had to blink a few times to be sure of what she was seeing. 

All this time, Lily had thought Spider-Man had special supernatural abilities, and the webs were only one of them. Although she didn’t understand how Spider-Man would be able to shoot webs from his skin, she’d just assumed he was some type of mutant. 

But those web-shooters were man-made. He must have engineered them somehow. Or maybe he’d commissioned someone to or something. Either way, they looked complicated. 

Spider-Man must have been really intelligent to figure something like that out, but engineered web-shooters meant he was really just a regular guy. 

She did wonder who was truly behind the mask. Not because of any desire to expose his identity to the world, and certainly not to turn him over to the cops. No, Lily was simply fascinated by the mystery. 

Plus, it didn’t hurt that this man had sort of saved her life tonight too. 

She had so many questions for him, but she was afraid that if she asked, he wouldn’t tell her. Or worse, he’d get upset and think she was trying to discover who he was. So instead, Lily kept quiet the entire way home, watching Spider-Man use his web-shooters. 

How did they work? What substance inside that tiny mechanism created those near-indestructible webs? They were strong enough to resist lasers. They pulled both his and her body weight through the sky. Forget their weight, that day at the bridge, Lily watched on the telly as Spider-Man stopped a bus from falling into the river. 

And it all started with those little web-shooters.

Far too interested in the web-shooters, she hadn’t realized that Spider-Man had gotten her back home until her feet were placed firmly on the ground. She glanced around, realizing that most of the lights in the building were dark now as people had gone to sleep for the night. Her own home was still lit brightly, and she was sure her father was waiting for her. 

Lily turned around to thank Spider-Man for bringing her home, but by the time she did so, he’d already disappeared into the darkness. 

She sucked in a deep breath, reaching out for the front door’s handle and turning it until she heard the click. “Dad?” she called, stepping inside. “I’m home…”

[mr-nauseam]

I think a lot of things because of that Au mine that I don't know how to do but the point is this I think that the decision to be a consulting detective is something that did a lot of good for Holmes in many aspects of his life but I think one of the most relevant was in improve the relationship with his brother.

Personally I don't think they have a love / hate relationship or a strained relationship for siblings who get on badly in the canon are the Watsons.

For me it is more than anything a matter of characters: Mycroft does not is someone who shows his affection in an explicit way and although Holmes has very sweet moments and gestures from him, he also does not have the habit of being like that expressive.

So the Holmes brothers get along; In their childhood it is not crazy to think that who first develops his observation / deductive skills is Mycroft, in fact it makes sense and with things like the Diogenes club it is not so crazy to say that he is a lonely and lives in his own way but then there is the little Sherlock.

According to the case Gloria Scott Holmes considered his observation and deduction skills at that time a simple hobby. And he was seen as an aimless young man but why would someone develop such a strange hobby? I think the answer is that little Sherlock did it to get closer to his brother mainly and if he continued with that it was out of his own natural curiosity.

The point is that Mycroft is the first to be different if we deviate to a somewhat queer perspective. If Mycroft is the first who knows that he is different, maybe many of his attitudes are to protect himself; observing the people around, being able to do this from a seat, his search and acceptance of a position of power and imposing - politics isn't easy or light! -.

So his own little eccentricities are why his younger brother manages to form a bond with him, they bond over and maybe even one day he will be honest with Sherlock when SH realizes his own distinctions but his attitude is different, Mycroft points out that Holmes has the energy of the family and the desire to do fieldwork.

I think this again is a reflection of how they handle things, Mycroft does not want fights, he does not want direct confrontations, he wants to deduce everything from a chair, hidden, protected in his own sanctuary and with the assurance that if someone were to try to harm him. .. It would be complicated but Sherlock is different, he is there saying his name out loud when a dangerous criminal abruptly enters his home, he makes jokes after almost dying, he is the type who is not afraid of confrontations in reality. (Maybe in other areas yes, but in apologizing for being who he is? He is not afraid of being who he is) There is even something careless and reckless in his youth.

But returning to the subject, in addition to their own personalities, these different paths that each one takes are the only point that could have separated them; because these are two very different perspectives, it is not hatred or contempt just to grow up and belong to different worlds.

They would still have their little deduction games and a few visits but there would be an outside line until Sherlock Holmes decides to be a detective. What I'm going to is that in his youth he had many doubts about what to do with his life; we know he could be just a chemist, or an actor in the theater or a violinist or an underground boxer! but S. Holmes, thanks to Trevor's father, argues that what he likes to do, what was his first approach to his brother could be useful to live and help others.

If Sherlock had dedicated himself to something else I feel that Mycroft would have supported him but there would be some inevitable distance that is broken a bit when their jobs / life missions intersect as much as when Sherlock is a detective, we saw it in the Greek interpreter, from time to time Mycroft helps him solve cases or guides him in the matter! In stressful and difficult matters that Mycroft faces in his work, he can directly request Sherlock's support and even see how he solves that complication in his life!

I think there is something... there at the bottom of how both have improved their relationship by ending up in two parallel paths; each one is different but from time to time they cross paths and meet and it's cute.

[wackybuddiemewbs]

Random Buddie Fic Snippets - no title, just (bad) vibes

Here’s to another snippet of things that ghost through my Word files. This one’s particularly headache-inducing for me personally. For one, trigger warnings galore. And then I have *checks file* 41k (!!!) words worth of non-fic noted down, but it’s really just unassembled bits and pieces of mostly dialog. Grrrrrrr. 😖

Since such a fic would take a lot more planning... which is basically the antithesis of me for all intents and purposes... I pester you with snippets like they are pestering me. Said it before and can only reiterate: I make you suffer with me. *cackles*

Basically, the story plays on the idea that Eddie and Buck grew up together due to plot convenient purposes and meet again at the fire station after years apart. Anyway, here’s to more madness mingled with angst! Cheers!

Buck slings his duffel bag over his shoulder when his phone vibrates. Sighing, he shifts his weight to take it out of his pocket and take the call. A smile creeps up his lips when he sees the picture flare up on his screen.

“Hey, what’s up, Mads?”

“Hey, I just wanted to let you know that you were right about that little bakery downtown. It’s so worth the twenty minute trip,” she nearly groans. And Buck can relate. When he found that authentic Mexican bakery on a long run through the city, he may or may not have shed a few tears of happiness. And he may or may not have bought pastry worth a hundred bucks.

Totally worth it to run all those extra miles for the carbs, though.

“How many conchas did you have?” Buck asks, chuckling softly.

“I’m pleading the fifth.”

“Did you drive back to get more?” he questions, though Buck is fairly sure what the answer is already, which comes promptly, “Which is why I might be late for work.”

Buck laughs, leaning back against his car. “They are in the top 5 of conchas I ever had, which is saying something. So yeah, I get the feeling.”

And he should really know, he’s had the best in the world and no. 2 and 3 also. Though those are not up for sale.

“So, I need a bit of distraction to keep myself from digging through the remains of the bag before I make it to the car,” she tells him.

“Sure, what do you want to hear?”

“Howie told me that you’re getting someone new on the team today. Are you excited?”

“… Oh, ugh, sure.” Buck can feel his jaw cramping at that.

“You know you just sounded more excited about me being on a sugar high thanks to Mexican pastry than you are about your new teammate arriving.”

He’d hoped to avoid that conversation before he got over with it. Because that’s how he normally rolls with it. He gets over with it.

Works with band-aids and most situations that give you discomfort.

But Maddie has maybe not the sixth but seventh sense apparently big sisters seem to inherit by birth, so it appears that not even the most amazing conchas up for sale in all of Los Angeles will spare him having that conversation now. Which is the equivalent of tearing duct tape off, but slowly.

“I’m a huge concha fan, what can I say? And sure, it’s cool. It’d be nice to have a partner on the team, like, permanently, like Chim and Hen, more like.”

Buck rolls his eyes back as far as they will into his skull. It’s a small wonder that Maddie doesn’t buy his bullshit. He was fine just dodging the topic until now, it’s what normally works best for him. But yeah, Maddie just knows how to coax it out of him, and he loves and hates her for it.

“Talk to me, Buck.”

Buck looks up to the sky. “… I guess I’m just a bit nervous.”

“You are nervous? Don’t you think it’s up to the new teammate to be a bundle of nerves?”

“That’s kind of my thing, though,” Buck argues.

He has been ever since Bobby announced that they’d get a newbie, not a probie, but someone to be on the team with them. Dutifully, Buck laughed at the comments about how Bobby seemingly hired him a babysitter to make sure he doesn’t do reckless stuff all the time.

The nervous energy settled in when he got home that day and his leg wouldn’t stop bobbing well into lying in bed, trying to sleep. He only fell asleep halfway through reading the Wikipedia list of minor planets named after people.

“Then why do you feel nervous?”

“It’s nothing.”

“You know you can tell me,” she says softly.

Buck closes his eyes. He understood by now that yes, he can. But that doesn’t mean he wants to. Most of the time, Buck wished he didn’t have to tell anyone anything ever again and simply exist in the here and now. Because the here and now is sunny and tastes of pretty damn awesome conchas.

“I know it’s stupid, but…” His voice trails off.

And maybe she can read his mind, Buck wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out to be the case, because Maddie goes on to say, “You know he’s not taking your place, right?”

“What? Yeah, I mean…” Buck chews on his bottom lip. Whenever Maddie starts to talk like that, he feels like he’s sitting with a therapist. And suddenly, what he wants to believe are just his antics sounds like food for the shrinks.

“This is supposed to be your partner. Someone to have your back, not stab you in the back,” Maddie points out.

“Rationally, I know all that. It’s just…” He stretches out his legs.

“It’s just what?” she asks in a gentle tone of voice.

“What if he’s better than me?”

What if they realize that he’s expendable after all? What if someone comes along who can do things better than Buck without the attitude? What if he can’t prove his worth anymore because that guy can do it just as well, maybe even better?

“Then I will be glad because that means someone capable is watching out for my baby brother,” Maddie answers, pulling Buck back to the current conversation, not the fictional ones inside his head.

“What if we end up hating each other’s guts?” Buck continues. He had to restrain himself from actually typing a list of all those questions on his phone when his mind went spiraling upon receiving the news. Because that’s what’s been going on ever since Bobby announced. And Buck knows how stupid it is, but his brain didn’t get the memo. There are so many what ifs that it’s making him dizzy thinking about them.

“Then you talk about it like actual adults. And anyway, no one can hate you to your guts. You’re amazing.”

Buck has to fight hard not to blush. “Thanks, but you’re biased because you’re my sister.”

His heart still beats a little faster every time he says those words out loud. Something that comes so light and casual these days, though it isn’t. It is closer to what it should be. Because it should be casual, natural, given.

But apparently, the world didn’t get that memo yet. Seemingly a pattern.

“And as your sister, I’m also always right.”

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

He laughs. She chuckles back.

“Listen,” Maddie continues. “Just be yourself. You’re going to figure it out. This is exciting, Buck. More people to add to your family, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks,” he croaks.

“I’ll call you during lunch time, unless you’re out on a call. And then I want all the details on the newbie.”

“Alright. Pro tip: Put the bag of pastries in the trunk of your car. Only way to keep your paws off of them while driving.”

“I may actually crawl back, but yeah, it’d require a lot more effort.”

He smiles. “Drive save.”

“Will do.”

“Alright, I’m heading in,” Buck says, pushing away from his car. “Or else I will be running late, too.”

“Love you, little brother.”

“Love you, too. Talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Buck hangs up and stuffs his phone back into his pocket.

Maddie is right. There is nothing to be nervous about. He has a team now. No one is leaving. New people are arriving. That’s how it works. That’s normal. And he gets to pester the newbie. So he should really be excited, as Maddie said. Buck knows he should focus on that. On how great this could turn out to be. On having a partner. Someone to have his back. All the time.

He sucks in a deep breath as he comes to stand in front of the door leading inside the fire station.

“The door is not closed,” he mutters with closed eyes, grabbing the handle. Buck pushes inside. He is greeted by the familiar hum of the fire station coming to life. People are talking over coffee, some are still fastening the buttons on their shirts as they make up the stairs.

And there’s no place he’d rather be. Buck knew that the moment he first walked into the station for the first time, and that assessment hasn’t changed since.

Buck makes for the locker rooms to change, not wanting to run late like Maddie. Once changed into his uniform, Buck finds himself a little more at ease. Athena once pointed out that they wear those uniforms as a way of protecting themselves. You take them off after work and leave all the bad behind that you’ve witnessed on a call. For Buck, the other way is just as true, though.

When he puts on that uniform on, he can leave his anxious, knee-bobbing self behind and do something meaningful. Because that’s what he found here, beside the team that means so much to him. He found a purpose. A way of answering a calling that lies far back in a past he can’t and won’t remember. To save lives.

Buck looks at his reflection in the mirror, straightens out the collar, makes sure his hair sits perfectly. His glance lingers on the name tag a moment longer, brushes his fingers over the metal plate, the one thing he can’t fix or straighten out.

But that won’t make me flinch. Ever.

“Buckaroo! Time for coffee and talk! I need new material on that show Denny and you are watching and that you need to update me on, so I don’t have to watch it!”

Buck smiles as he closes the locker to see Hen standing there with two cups of coffee.

“Coming.”

But that fixes a whole lot already.

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

Hen sips her coffee in silence as Bobby goes on about who is doing what for the day. She is glad that she isn’t assigned truck cleaning duty. That’s one of the best things about newbies and probies coming in. They get to do the dirty work for a bit. She had to jump those hoops, too, like everyone did, so it only seems fair.

Chim nudges her in the side, pulling her out of her musings. “Have you seen the newbie yet?”

She nudges him back a bit harder to tell him wordlessly that he is supposed to stop doing that. “If I had, don’t you think I would’ve told you by now?”

“Just saying, being late on the first day is not a good sign.”

“Can I help you with something, Han, Wilson?” Bobby calls out. “Care to share with the rest of the team?”

Buck laughs beside them, earning himself a nudge from Hen. That kid is going places sometimes, but Hen learned to love him fiercely after he stopped being a punk.

Fine, he’s still a punk sometimes, but we got to see there’s a heart of gold underneath all the punk and muscle and hair gel.

He grew on her the way he managed to grow on anyone, even the Captain who doesn’t like to admit that more than anyone around the station. He fired the boy first week in, and it was well-deserved, but he proved capable and kind.

Hen knew she was done for this humanoid golden retriever when she fussed over not having a babysitter for Denny and Buck jumped in after he’d just done a double-shift. She and Karen were still working things out and he just made the room, even though the boy deserved bed more than anyone else. Still, he took Denny to the park, finished homework with him, and got him to go to bed even though the kid is not so much a negotiator as he is a small dictator when it comes to bedtime. Karen and she found Buck passed out, snoring like a lawnmower, a book still in his lap while sitting next to Denny’s bed.

“Nothing, Cap,” Chimney answers. “Just sharing excitement about the newbie.”

“You’ll meet him shortly. He had to pick up his gear first and talk to the higher-ups another time. Once he arrives, you can pester him with questions as I know you will.”

“On it, Cap.”

Bobby rolls his eyes, but then his mind goes back to the clipboard and the rest of the chores yet to be divided among the firefighters on shift. The rest of the morning routine goes without further incident, so the three are soon walking down the stairs to their designated task of checking their stocks on medical equipment.

“Okay. That is a beautiful man,” Chimney says, suddenly stopping in his tracks.

Hen trains her eyes on the dark-haired Latino, putting on a shirt. That should be the newbie, then.

“Where’s the lie? And I like girls.”

“Eddie…,” Buck breathes beside her.

Hen whips her head around at the sound.

“Wait, you know this guy?” Chim asks, but Buck doesn’t say anything. Instead, he starts to walk towards the new guy, or almost staggers, she should rather say. The newbie only takes notice of him when his head pops out from the shirt.

“Buck?”

To Hen, it feels like the two just go in slow motion while the rest of the fire station is crazy and busy as always. As though the whole world disappeared around them.

She can’t make out whatever words may be exchanged between them before the new guy covers the last few steps between them and pulls Buck against him in a tight hug. Shock is written all over his face, but also huge relief. Though Hen honestly wished they stood the other way around, because she would like to know just what expression is flitting across her little golden retriever’s face.

“What on earth is going on here?” Chimney mutters.

“I ain’t got no clue.”

The newbie pulls away, smiling over both ears, both hands deftly resting on Buck’s arms. Even though Hen still can’t see Buck’s face, it seems that the guy is doing all the talking for a change. Then he is hugging him all over again.

“I repeat, what on earth is going on here?”

“Only one way to find out.”

Before they can overcome their paralysis, Buck starts to move, gesturing behind himself. The new guy nods with the brightest of smiles, not once letting go of Buck’s arm as they start to walk towards them.

Her confusion is multiplied by the way Buck carries himself, eyes downcast, looking nothing but nervous.

Did someone exchange the 118’s golden retriever this morning, or what’s going on here?

“... can’t believe we meet again in this place of all places,” she can hear the new guy say as they approach.

“S, same.”

Buck is stuttering. To repeat the repeat: What on earth is going on here?

“We have so much catching up to do.”

“Yeah.”

“Buckaroo?” Hen calls out, or maybe demands. She no longer cares for the details here. She needs to get down to the bottom of this. Fast.

“Oh, sorry, I just… this is Eddie.”

“Hi.”

“Hi Eddie, it is a pleasure meeting you. We will greet you good and proper in only just a moment. Hold the line,” Hen says, before turning her attention back to Buck. “Now to you, Buckaroo. Spill the beans.”

“Yeah,” Chim agrees.

But Buck is not forthcoming. Boy looks like a fish out of the water, his mouth opening and closing without any sounds coming out. This makes the sirens ring inside Hen’s head, not the ones at the station. Because their Buckaroo never stops talking, even when he should sometimes, and even when he wants to stop talking, he will keep talking. So him not finding anything to say may or may not force Mother Hen to have to look after her punk chick here.

“We grew up together,” Eddie says after a pause, still all soft smiles and maybe even softer curls, by the looks of it. Hen will worry about that later, too. “I honestly had no clue he was working at this station, let alone that he was in L.A. Color me surprised. Abuela will not believe this.”

“Abuela?”

“My grandmother. She’s the one who fostered him before…,” Eddie continues, but then stops himself when he notices the look of sheer panic on Buck’s face. “They do not know this.”

Buck shakes his head.

“Dios.”

“Wait, you were in foster care?” Chimney almost cries out.

“In Texas?” Hen adds, her mind still short-circuiting thanks to that input.

“Yeah. I was adopted by the Moores after that.”

Chimney gapes at him. “You were adopted?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait, they don’t know about that either?” Eddie asks, now almost as frantic as they are.

Welcome to the club, hon.

“Now they do,” Buck mutters.

“But Maddie isn’t adopted. I should know.” Chimney lifts his index finger.

“Right,” Hen agrees.

Eddie makes a face. “Who’s Maddie?”

“My girlfriend, Buck’s sister.”

“You have a sister?” Eddie slaps his hand against Buck’s arm, shock taking the place of confusion.

“Wait, you grew up with him and don’t know his sister?”

“It’s a long story,” Buck sighs.

“Like how you’re Texan?” Hen scoffs.

Buck holds up his hands. “Okay, guys, can we stop spiraling for a second?”

Hen opens her mouth to give him a piece of mind, but she’s abruptly cut off by their captain standing at the top of the stairs. “Buck! I could use a hand up here!”

“On my way, Cap!” Buck yells back, the amount of relief to opt out of the conversation more than imminent. “Sorry, duty calls!”

“Hey no,” Chim hisses, but Buck isn’t having it. He pats Eddie on the shoulder. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Okay.”

With that, he starts to jog, or rather run, up the stairs. All watch him go, before their eyes fall back on the people standing right in front of them.

Well, if that’s not awkward.

“So, ugh. Hi again,” the new guy says, smiling sheepishly. “Eddie Diaz, your newbie.”

“Hi. Hen Wilson.”

“Howard Han, but you can call me Chimney or Chim. And why I’m called that is between me and God.”

“Okay. That may be only the second most confusing thing to happen on my first day.”

“We don’t normally act like this,” Hen tries to reassure him.

Chim makes a face. “We don’t?”

Hen nudges him in the side hard enough to make Chim gasp.

“Wilson, Han, you’re supposed to get on with the stocks!” someone calls out.

“You’re not our boss!” Chim shouts back at what turns out to be that jackass Lambert from B-roll no one likes because his attitude stinks about as much as his aftershave.

“But Cap is and he told me to tell you to move it!”

“I hate that guy,” Chim grumbles.

“I think I’ll like it here,” Eddie chuckles.

“They are so young and innocent when they join,” Chim snorts.

“Welcome to the 118,” Hen says, giving the younger man’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I suppose you should go up there as well and talk to the captain.”

“Alright, I’ll see you around.”

“Most certainly.”

“That was only mildly threatening,” Chim laughs, rolling his eyes well before Hen jabs him another time.

“Good to have you here,” he adds.

“Indeed.”

“Good to be here. See you later.”

“Later,” both say in unison.

Eddie smiles at them before climbing up the stairs.

“You try to get a hold of your boo, I’ll see what info I can squeeze out of Cap or Buck, whoever I get my hands on first.”

“Aren’t we supposed to get on with…”

Hen glowers at him.

“I said nothing.”

“Less talking to me, more talking to your girlfriend.”

Chimney makes a mock salute, before walking away while fiddling with his phone. Hen let’s her gaze wander up to the gallery with a grimace. Something is not right, but she is going to figure it out. Because Hen Wilson keeps all her little chicks on track, even more so now that they got a new one to take care of.

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

Eddie tosses the sponge into the water bucket. Getting some of the crappier chores for the day is something he fully expected to happen. What he didn't expect, not in a million years, was running into Buck. Eddie’s head is still reeling because of it. And for what it seems, the same is true for Buck.

Buck.

To say that he seemed shocked is an understatement. Eddie knows the way Buck expresses panic. He’s grown up making sure the kid breathed instead of keeling over when it hit him, so Eddie knows that this was not just surprise, this was fight-or-flight level panic. Eddie knows by now he was so panicked because his colleagues didn’t know about the fostering or adoption – and he could still kick himself for bringing it up unawares.

He jumped to the conclusion because Buck used to talk about it freely to anyone who asked, especially after he was adopted by the Moores. Because it was his way of signifying to the rest of the world that he’d made it from being abandoned to finding friends and family. So Eddie assumed that Buck wouldn’t act any different around his colleagues.

Far from it!

“Eddie, my friend.”

Eddie nearly jumps when Hen and Chimney materialize next to him.

Speaking of…

“Hi,” he greets them.

“How’re you liking it thus far?”

“The detergents smell not as bad as some others do,” Eddie snorts. “But I’m pretty sure that’s not what you came here to ask me about.”

“Just so that you know, you can tell us anything,” Hen says in that mild tone of voice, though Eddie is pretty sure she only says it this way not to scare him away.

“You are looking for bribing material on Buck, I take?”

“We always appreciate it, but we are more like… trying to get up to speed. Until you came to the station, we didn’t even know he’d been fostered,” Hen answers.

“Or adopted,” Chimney adds.

“In Texas.”

Eddie chews on the inside of his cheek. “Yeah, about that. So he actually found his sister?”

If seeing Buck nearly floored him, hearing about his sister was definitely not adding to Eddie’s calm.

“Yes, she’s my girlfriend. You’ll get to know her soon enough.”

There is a part in Eddie that’s very much relieved to hear that Buck found at least part of his family, but another part of him hurts at the news just as much. Because that means Buck likely learned some very uncomfortable truths about his past that won’t have added to the man’s confidence.

“Back in Texas, we knew nothing about where he came from, including whether he had siblings or not. There was an assumption, but no one could be sure.”

“How old were you by the time your grandmother fostered him?”

“I was eight years old.”

“Eight years old… Buck made it sound like he and Maddie were out of touch like, only by the time she got to know Doug.”

Eddie frowns. “Who’s Doug?”

“No one you want to know.” Chimney shakes his head.

Eddie shakes his head. All of this starts to make less and less sense. Why didn’t Buck tell them about any of this? Why didn’t he when he apparently found his sister? Why are they about as clueless as he is, even though they’ve been working side-by-side with him for how long now?

“We lost sight of each other when the Moores moved away from Texas. So they aren’t around anymore?”

Hen shrugs at that. “Let’s say we’ve never met them, never talked about them, or seen any pictures.”

“Kid arrived here with a travel bag and the will to become a firefighter,” Chimney adds.

Eddie can’t help but smile at that. “That sounds like him.”

“You sound pretty clueless actually, and not gonna lie, that is strangely reassuring,” Chimney snorts.

“I prepared for meeting many new people today. Not my best friend back from childhood.”

“Aw.” Hen clutches her hands in front of her chest.

“I just hope he’s not mad at me.” Eddie grimaces. There is something tugging at his heart, just thinking about it. A memory that goes way back in time. When he thought he’d messed it up with Buck forever and always, but he forgave quicker than Eddie could forgive himself.

“I don’t remember our Buckaroo being capable of keeping grudges for long.”

“Then that hasn’t changed at least,” Eddie sighs.

“I think you two should definitely get something to drink after work, reminiscence about the good old times. Catch up. Report back to us in the morning,” she says, her voice trailing off.

“You are aware that they are childhood friends.”

“But I can be far more intimidating.”

“I think getting something to drink and catch up is actually a good idea,” Eddie ponders. “So thanks.”

“You, I like.”

Eddie grins.

“You still missed a spot, though.”

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head. Buck made some good friends here, for what it seems. And he is more than glad for it. They can surely figure this all out.

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

Waking up this morning, Buck thought his biggest worry would be to sort himself out with regards to the newbie and his standing on the team as a result. While that remains true, he just didn't imagine for one hot second it may be Eddie of all people in the entire universe.

Eddie.

When Buck saw him at the station, he didn’t know how to breathe. Even though he hadn’t seen him in years, he knew instantly, only to know that he suddenly knew nothing anymore. Buck used to think he made his peace never seeing Eddie again after they moved away, but then Eddie was hugging him and all those things Buck made sure to bury deep in the ground started to crawl up through the dirt, scratching at a way too thin surface.

And now he is sitting at a bar, nursing his alcohol free beer – because he doesn’t drink when driving, he has to get people out of cars thanks to that behavior way too often, thank you very much. He is at a bar. With Eddie. His Eddie. Because Eddie invited him to get a beer after the shift, and Buck didn’t know how to say no.

Story of my life, isn’t it?

“… I don’t even know where to begin,” Buck admits after a while of awkward silence spreading between them, wherein both men just started peeling the label off of their bottles of beer.

“Same. I mean, you got a sister.”

“Yeah, ugh, I would have told you that, but Chim is still over the moon with her, so of course he mentioned her before I could. They are cute together, but at the disgusting kind of stage,” Buck ponders.

“I’m just so happy for you that you found your family, Buck.”

He manages a feeble smile. Because Buck knows that Eddie means it, understands it perhaps better than most. Because he had to deal with it growing up, had to deal with Buck dealing it growing up.

“I didn’t really find Maddie. We just… happened to meet again. Like us two did today.”

Eddie blinks at him. “Really?”

Buck nods his head. The universe always had the strangest kind of humor when it came to him.

“She’s a dispatcher now. We talked over dispatch for a while, not knowing who we are to each other. We decided to hang out. As friends. She didn’t know people in the city after she moved there only recently, so we also went to a pub and… we started to talk.”

Déjà-vu much, huh?

“Over time, I told her some stuff about my past and, well, Maddie realized that the timing seemed oddly familiar to the brother she thought had died,” Buck continues. “DNA test confirmed it.”

“I was wondering about that,” Eddie sighs, still trying to process that input for what it seems. “I mean, I really put my foot in it, just blurting out with this.”

Buck holds up his hands. “Eddie, no. You had any reason to believe I had told them. I suppose I’ve been blowing this up out of proportions anyway, so this is really just on me.”

“It’s your choice what you want to share with people about yourself, Buck.”

Buck blinks. Sometimes, he forgets how wise Eddie used to be already at a young age. He was also a dumbass a lot of times, but when it came to talking about Buck’s feelings instead of his own, the guy always knew how to make sense of the chaos and make Buck feel like his feelings weren’t just a tedious affair best ripped off like band-aids.

Eddie always understood Buck, even when he couldn’t understand himself. And Buck wants to think that the same was true the other way around, for as long as it lasted.

“Thanks.”

Eddie smiles at him, sipping from his beer.

“Speaking of, thanks to Maddie I now know my official name,” Buck continues, doing his best to sound jovial. “Evan Buckley.”

“Buck-ley. Well, that explains how you got the name,” Eddie ponders, before tilting his head to the side with a cocked eyebrow. “So do I call you Evan from now on?”

“If you want me to call you Edmundo?”

Eddie narrows his eyes at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Buck sniggers. “You should know better than to tempt me.”

“Evan.”

“Edmundo.”

“This sounds all kinds of wrong,” Eddie laughs, shaking his head. “For me, you can only ever be Buck.”

“Which is convenient, because I can only be Buck.”

There was a brief moment in time when Buck considered changing his name, taking on that identity, the one intended. In the end, he dropped the idea for what he hopes to be for good. He doesn’t know who this Evan Buckley was or what he’d be now. He knows what Buck was like growing up. He knows what the guy is up to these days. And while they have their qualms, he’s mostly at peace with Buck.

Even a name tag doesn't change a thing about it.

Because he’s Buck. And thankfully, Eddie sees it the same way. So maybe he’s not entirely crazy for holding on to that, however schizophrenic it may be in the end.

“Anyway, part of the reason why I managed not to let anyone in on this is that Maddie agreed to run with not mentioning it. We just stuck to the part where we lost sight of each other and found one another again when anyone asked. And until now, no one really questioned the timeline.”

“And no one ever made the connection between Buckley and Buck?” Eddie asks.

Buck shakes his head. “Maddie’s married name is Kendall. She considered changing it back to Buckley after she broke up with her scumbag husband. But when she found out what kind of scumbags our parents are, it was out the window. So no one had reason to question the difference in names and just assumed that Maddie’s birth name was Moore, too.”

“I take that there is no good explanation as to how you ended up in Texas, then,” Eddie sighs. Buck can tell that he’s trying to sound casual, soft, but the white-knuckled grip on the beer bottle is an entirely different story.

“No, not really. As far as we understand it, our parents moved across state borders under the pretense to get treatment for me. Then they just dropped me at a fire station and drove back. They told Maddie I died.”

“Why would they do that? Why would anyone’s parents…?” Eddie shakes his head, disbelief settling in. Buck knows the feeling oh too well. When he found out, it didn’t make sense to him at all. But as more details were added, the clearer the bigger picture became, though it turned none the brighter.

Buck looks around, just to be sure none of the 118 was sent here to spy on them. Once he is sure there is really just them, Buck hunches forward in his seat.

“Well, I was a big, fat disappointment, I guess. They had me to save their oldest son, Daniel. He had juvenile leukemia. I was… I was a savior baby. Just that… ugh, I didn’t save him. My guessing is that they never wanted me, so they gave me away after Daniel died. I was just there for spare parts anyway.”

Buck suddenly feels something cold in his neck, only to realize it’s Eddie’s hand gently squeezing it. Buck tenses for a moment, then eases to the familiarity of the touch, suppressing the urge to lean into it like he used to.

“I’m so sorry. I would’ve hoped for something else to come out of this.”

Buck manages a feeble smile. “It’s fine. I got a sister now I never expected to find. That’s great. Over the moon kinda great. And now I also ran back into you, too. So I’m one lucky bastard after all.”

Eddie’s hand lingers for a while, no words spoken and yet all is said between them. And how much Buck missed that. Not having to say things for them to be understood.

Eventually, Eddie’s hand falls on his shoulder, giving it a light pat before returning to his beer. “So we’re still friends after I spilled to your colleagues?”

“I didn’t stop being your friend after you got so mad for me saying that you couldn’t bake for shit, so you covered a balloon stuck to a cardboard box in frosting and told me you’d baked a cake and I cut the thing only for it to explode in my face.”

“To this day one of my proudest achievements when it comes to pranks,” Eddie snorts, breaking out laughing at the memory.

Buck can’t help but laugh along. Many of those memories got stuffed away alongside the ones he’d buried in the ground. He had no reason to unearth them because he chose not to tell anyone. But with Eddie, those things come back to light and they shimmer like gold, even after all those years of packing on dust.

“Laugh it up all you want, I got back at you eventually.”

“Don’t remind me,” Eddie groans. “I got grounded for a month because you led my parents to believe I’d be stupid enough to have a folder for porn on the family’s computer and made a message pop up every time that the folder was overloaded and created a system error.”

“Yeah. That was a masterpiece,” Buck sniggers. “But anyway. If that didn’t cancel our friendship, I think we’re fairly good with all this here.”

“Then I’m glad. When you fled the scene, I got kind of worried.”

Buck shrugs. “You know me. I’m a whirlwind of emotions, so I thought it’d be best if I took the time to cool down.”

“That was definitely not how you went about it before,” Eddie argues.

And Buck can’t argue with that. Back in the day, Buck just let the storms rage, never minding the consequences. On the job, that’s still how he rolls, but it was also how he talked, how he presented himself. After he got to meet the Diaz family, he stopped hiding a lot of things. He screamed when he felt like screaming and he cried when he was sad. He laughed when he was happy. And sometimes he even cried because he was that happy, but he learned that this was okay. Abuela always told him this and he took it to heart.

At least for as long as I could.

“Which is why I’m working on it. But anyway! Enough of me. Tell me about you. How long have you been in L.A.? What got you here?” Buck asks. Judging by the look on Eddie’s face, his transition of topics is not nearly as smooth as he’d want it to be, but Eddie rolls with it anyway.

“I moved here only shortly, for the job,” he says. “Before that, I was working some odd jobs. Before that, Afghanistan.”

Buck winces. “Shit.”

“Yeah, that’s one way of describing it. After I came back home injured, I couldn’t do this anymore. I had to set priorities differently, and somehow… I ended up in L.A.”

“Fresh start.” Buck nods his head. There is still so much to unravel in just those few sentences. Afghanistan. Injury. Priorities. Eddie tends to hide a lot more in his words, even more so when they are scarce. But for what it seems, he will now get the time to dig deeper. Because that is what Buck knows someone has to do in order to understand someone like Eddie Diaz.

“Yeah, exactly.”

“I get that feeling,” Buck says. “Los Angeles is great for that, worked out for Maddie and me, too.”

“We’ll have to drink a lot of beers to catch up on all those years we didn’t hear from each other to wind up having a fresh start in the same city.”

“Then it’s a date.”

Eddie wants to say something, but then his phone vibrates. “Sorry about that.”

Buck holds up his hands. “It’s fine.”

Eddie takes out his phone and checks his messages. Buck can see the instant shift in the other man’s demeanor. He knows that change like the back of his hand, even with years between where they parted ways and now crossed them again. Eddie’s shutting down.

“Hey, uhm, sorry, I gotta head out. It’s urgent,” he says, grabbing his wallet, clearly embarrassed and beat-up for having to leave so suddenly.

Some things don’t change, do they?

“Hey, it’s fine, man. We, ugh, we are stuck together now anyway, right? We’ll find enough time to catch up. It’s a date, after all,” Buck assures him. “Also, you’re not paying for the beer, unless you wanna pick a fight with me. Just go.”

Eddie smiles at him wryly. “Thanks. I’ll pay next round?”

“Sounds like a plan to me. Now off you go.”

“Sorry another time. I really gotta…”

“See you at work!”

“See ya!”

Buck manages to keep up the smile until the door shuts behind Eddie. His shoulders drop and he sucks in a deep breath. He pays for the beers and nearly flies out the door.

He makes for his car and climbs in. Buck realizes only now how badly his hands are shaking. Struggling for breath, he takes out his wallet again and fishes out that one crumpled piece of the past he carries with him whenever he’s not on the job, so to be sure it doesn’t get further damage.

Buck unfolds the faded photograph with shaky hands and presses it against his mouth, breathing hard against it. The tears keep coming, no matter how hard he tries to stop them. They are happy and sad. Desperate and relieved. Everything and nothing. And all that at the same time.

Eddie is back.

Eddie is back in his life, just like that, after the years it took him to accept he’d never see him again. That he’d moved on as he should have.

How do you rip off the band-aid or duct tape for that?

Or maybe that’s just the universe telling him that some things really can’t be fixed.

Because apparently, the universe is still mocking him.

[sanjisock]

puddles

ao3

i. arlong park

It does not take long for Sanji to learn that Zoro is a man who does not do things in halves.

He watches in fascination as Zoro faces Mihawk without a single moment’s of hesitation — cut in half, bleeding all over the deck, but his sword stays true still. Zoro dreams, not of being a great swordsman, but of being the greatest; either you are, or you are not.

Sanji can understand that. It is not quite different from his own, if you look at it in the right ways — you either believe in the All Blue, or you don’t. It either exists, or it doesn’t. You can’t bargain with faith.

But Sanji isn’t the same kid with the iron mask all those years ago who had nothing to lose; he has Zeff now, and a debt as heavy as a lost limb that he could never even begin to repay. He knows how much a dream can cost. He knows how much love — true love, the kind with complete and utter devotion — can cost.

Cocoyashi Village is in celebration, and Sanji finds himself tucked into a corner of the party together with Zoro, somehow untouched by the cacophony. They’re still sizing each other up, barely knowing one another past a fight and a promise to a captain. But Zoro has trusted him easily in that very fight, and right now there’s a spark in the air between them, something not entirely different from attraction .

Zoro takes a large gulp from his bottle and gestures back at the ship. “You coming?”

This could be something , Sanji thinks. Wants to try, if he’s being honest.

But Zoro is a man who does not do things in halves — he is not a man who tries . If Sanji takes the leap, this is it — they either are, or they aren’t. And if they aren’t — Sanji isn’t sure a crew as small and as tight-knitted as the Straw Hats can handle a break up, especially so early on in their journey.

(Sanji isn’t sure a heart as weak as his can handle a break up). 

“I’ll catch up later,” he shrugs, scrambling for an excuse. He suddenly feels like he’s ten again, terrified and running away. “Been wanting to check out this one recipe from that guy over there.”

“If you say so,” Zoro takes the dismissal in stride, and dumps the empty sake bottle into a barrel as he stands up to leave.

Sanji watches him disappear into the night.

+

ii. enies lobby

The Mosshead has been giving him the nastiest look ever since the ship sailed away from Water Seven, so Sanji isn’t particularly surprised when Zoro stops him on his track on the way to Usopp’s workshop.

Zoro eyes the colorful drink on the tray in Sanji’s hand like it’s challenged him into a duel, before finally grunting, “you need to stop treating Usopp like that.”

Sanji’s eyes unwittingly follow Zoro’s gaze on the drink he made for Usopp — it has five colors, three different fruits, and a whip cream on top. Entirely too flashy for the male crewmembers, usually reserved for important occasions. Sanji feigns obliviousness, still. “Like what?”

“Like he’s going to break anytime soon,” Zoro says.

“You mean nicely ?” Sanji snarls back. “Like a normal human being? Not everyone is like you, Marimo. Some people have emotions. ”

“It’s insulting , is what it is,” Zoro retorts, his whole body leaning into Sanji’s personal space, like a challenge. “There’s never a need for you to coddle him. Usopp made his decisions as a man back then, and he had to learn the consequences for it — ”

“And he has learned , Zoro,” Sanji cuts in, feeling exhausted all of a sudden, the fight leaving his body in a snap. He sighs. “Look — I get that it’s your thing, protecting our pride as a crew and all. I was on your side, remember? But it’s all in the past, and Usopp’s got your message, loud and clear.”

Sanji thinks of a little boy with the iron mask, who were forced to learn all his lessons the hard way; and what comes out next is, “I’m the cook of this ship. Let me feed him.”

Let me take care of him , he doesn’t say, but it means pretty much the same thing.

There must’ve been something in his voice, because Zoro seems taken aback; all the tension bleeds out from his shoulders, and he’s now looking at Sanji with an unreadable expression.

There’s a moment of silence, stretched long enough to the point of awkwardness, before Zoro says, “ — didn’t mean to. I mean — quite a lot of shit went down, just didn’t wanna see you — don’t overexert yourself.”

Sanji blinks. “What are you saying .”

“All this talk about taking care of people,” Zoro says, hand rubbing the back of his neck in a rare display of — what? Embarrassment ? “Why wouldn’t you let me —”

Zoro pauses there, sentence trailing off into nothing; but Sanji has always been good at reading Zoro, and he hears the words anyway.

Why wouldn’t you let me take care of you .

Sanji thinks of the party in Cocoyashi, and then hundreds of moments after that — quiet moments in the galley when Zoro helped him wash up the dishes, playful banters that Zoro could only keep up with. Countless enemies they fight side by side, together, the way he feels his heart beat in sync with Zoro’s from across the battlefield.

“Cook —” Zoro puts his hand on Sanji’s shoulder then, and the touch burns , like an electric shock; it jolts Sanji back from his thoughts, a reminder of the reality between them, the way they would fight as hard as they love, and what would that leave him, in the aftermath?

“Let me go ,” Sanji says before he can stop himself, and practically runs to Usopp’s workshop.

+

iii. thriller bark

“You’re a dumbass ,” Sanji says.

“Hn,” Zoro says, not arguing for once.

“I’ve always known you have moss for brains,” Sanji continues, fully aware he’s rambling but unable to stop himself, “but who would’ve thought you’d be this dumb. What kind of complete and utter idiot would be so fucking reckless against a warlord for the second time in his life.”

Zoro hums noncommittally.

Sanji tightens the bandage across his torso with a little more force than necessary.

Zoro makes a pained grunt, and Sanji winces at the sound; they’ve roughhoused each other countless of times before, but this is the first time Zoro can’t take something Sanji dished. It shouldn’t be surprising though, not after the wounds he has taken from Bartholomew Kuma —

“You need to learn to pick your battles,” Sanji rambles on, because he’s suddenly hit with the realization that if he stops talking he might actually cry . “Or at least employ some strategies. Ever heard of those? That’s what people with brains usually do when they fight instead of simply waving some pointy sticks against the enemy. Raise your hand a bit —” he moves to the wound on Zoro’s arm, taking greater care to make sure he’s as gentle as possible, a silent apology for the earlier mishap. “Right there. Yeah. Anyways, I was saying —”

“Sanji,” Zoro says, and Sanji stops.

It’s so unfamiliar — the way Sanji’s name rolls off Zoro’s tongue, shaped by his deep voice. It sends a shiver down his spine, Sanji’s heart suddenly rattling against his ribcage.

When he looks up, Zoro is staring back at him with half-lidded eyes, something other than pain marring his gaze.

Longing .

Sanji feels his throat dry all of a sudden.

“Sanji,” Zoro says, voice low and rasp, but steady. And then: “stay.”

Sanji drops the bandages in his hands. He can’t do this — not when he’s staring at the very reminder of what it would cost . The idea of losing Zoro, as a nakama , has already torn him from the inside; he can’t imagine what it’s like to see Zoro’s lifeless body on the infirmary bed, as a lover.

He remembers standing in front of her mother’s grave, feeling like he’s coming apart at the seams, and wanting to tear up the stitches; wishing he could just unravel after so much hurt . 

“Zoro,” he says, feeling like he’s on the verge of a panic attack, “I — I can’t —”

But when he dares himself to finally meet Zoro’s eyes, the Swordsman has lost consciousness again.

Sanji flees the infirmary.

+

iv. zou

He flips BIg Mom’s invitation to the tea party over and over again, staring at the words etched on the paper.

Groom: Third Son of the Vinsmokes, Sanji.

The words settle unpleasantly in his gut, and he swallows, trying to calm himself down. He’s no longer the same weak kid with the iron mask; he’s now a Straw Hat, and he’s going to settle his issues with his pathetic excuse of a family once and for all.

That’s all.

...so why does it feel like this isn’t going to end well with Zoro?

Thoughts of the Shitty Swordsman appear in his mind, unbidden. A scowl, definitely — maybe a few scathing words to accompany the look. Something about Sanji and his self-sacrificial tendencies — as if Zoro has any right to lecture anyone about that — or maybe some diatribe about trusting the crew to take care of one of their own.

Which is not what this is about, at all. Of course Sanji trusts everyone in the crew — trusts Luffy  to be able to take care of himself. But this is his problem, and he’s the only one responsible to fix it. There’s no need to trouble everyone with a little family problems.

(So why does it still feel like he’s running away?)

+ 

v. whole cake island

“First of all, the captain of my own ship came all this way to track me down,” he says, raising a finger for emphasis, “only for me to insult and hurt him to the best of my ability despite no resistance from him whatsoever. That means I cannot go back to your ship right now.”

Run , he remembers being ten, hearing Reiju’s voice through the prison bars. There is no turning back. Your mistakes are final.

“Second of all,” he continues, “the shitty geezer who saved my life and the home where I was raised are being held hostage in case I don’t play along. That means I cannot escape from this wedding.”

Run , he remembers thinking every time he catches sight of Zeff’s leg. This is the cost of your dream. This is the cost of your love.

“Third of all,” he says, voice rising even higher, “the evil family to which I’m related to is walking into Big Mom’s trap, and they’ll all be slaughtered in a matter of hours. They’re scum of the earth to whom I owe nothing but my hatred but I cannot bring myself to abandon them to their fate and run away!”

Run , he tells himself. Your love worths nothing. You are not worth anyone’s love.

“For these three reason,” he says, eyes avoiding Luffy’s. “I cannot return with the rest of you.”

There’s a bright sunburst of pain against his cheek, and the momentum of the punch throws him against a tree bark, shattering under the impact.

“Tell me how you really feel ,” Luffy yells. “What do you want, Sanji?”

For the first time in his life, Sanji stops running.

+

(i. wano)

Sanji didn’t notice at first, with all the flurry and chaos of the fight against Kaido; but once things have settled down, it occurs to him that Wano is a spring island.

The air is tinged with the kind of heat that barely tips over to unpleasant, uncomfortable without the unbearable fever of summer. Even the nights are wearily humid, which is why he decided to stray away from the celebration feast into the forest, and finds Zoro training alone, swinging his new sword against the wind.

They have not had a moment to themselves ever since — ever since . All of their conversations have mostly been in the heat of the battle, and Sanji isn’t quite sure if they simply did not have the time, or if Zoro has been avoiding him.

It doesn’t matter — here they are, gravitating towards each other still. As if fate herself has weaved a path for them, time and again.

He thinks he can still hear Luffy asking, in the rain: what do you want, Sanji?

“Zoro,” he says, and faces him, head on. “I am in love with you.”

He thinks Zoro would’ve been surprised, once upon a time; maybe if Sanji dared to say it under the Alabasta moonlight, or bathed by the campfire light in the Sky Islands; but now, it feels superfluous, almost redundant. It is no longer the truth that matters between them.

Zoro finally turns to meet his eyes, and sheathes his sword into its scabbard. “What do you want, Cook?”

The same question, again. He’s been running away for so long, he’s forgotten what truly matters, before the risks and the tragedies and the costs . What he truly wants .

The answer to that has always been simple.

“I want us, Zoro. Together. In whichever way you’ll have me.”

Zoro walks up and stops, right in front of Sanji. “You have me ,” he says. “You’ve always had me. It’s you who’s always —” Zoro pauses, gritting his teeth, frustration written all over his face.

“I know,” Sanji says, heartbeat rising up his throat, his ears, his mouth. “Zoro, I —”

“I need to know ,” Zoro says, hand a hair’s breadth away from Sanji’s own, but not quite touching. “I need to know if you will keep running away from me or not.”

Sanji takes the offered hand and closes the distance between them.

It is a short kiss at first, only a cling of lips — and then he feels Zoro’s free hand drifting up to cradle his face as Zoro leans in for another kiss, and another, little dips of kisses, as if Zoro needed the constant reassurance that Sanji is here, with him. And Sanji can give him that, owe him that much — he breathes into the kiss, chases Zoro’s lips and mouths at the curve of his smile.

“This is it, right?” Zoro says when they part, forehead still pressed against one another’s. “Because this is it for me, Cook.”

Sanji thinks of Zoro, who doesn’t do things in halves. Either they are, or they aren’t. And for once he realizes — not the fear or the risk, but how much of an honor it is, to be loved by this man. Entirely and all-consuming.

“This is it,” he tells Zoro, and squeezes Zoro’s hand. “No more running away.”

[dimigex]

New Altered Reality Chapter!

A03 / FF 

I think it’s been like . . two years since I updated this story XD oops. The story is linked at the top if you want the full chapter and/or story. This is only a portion of the new chapter because it’s over 6k words 

"Why don't you go train for a little while? It might take your mind off things." Rin made the suggestion as gentle as possible, ignoring the frustration that seethed just beneath the surface of her calm. She wanted the apartment to herself for a few hours and desperately needed Kakashi to stop fussing over her. Then, she'd be able to relax the way that she was supposed to. The man's constant attention put her on edge.

Since the doctor's appointment four days ago, Kakashi had been acting like a brooding hen. When Rin stood up to get her book from the bedroom, he'd jumped to his feet and offered to go instead. He didn't want her standing long enough to cook or clean, so he'd taken over those duties as well. While Kakashi was decent in the kitchen, he'd kept everything bland and refused to add any salt to the dishes. If the man mentioned her blood pressure one more time, Rin was fairly certain that hers would rise to dangerous levels when she yelled at him.

At Rin's words, Kakashi glanced up from the book in his lap. The man's brow furrowed as he marked his place with a finger. "What if you need something while I'm gone?"

"Then, I'll get it myself," Rin answered. She moderated her tone to placating rather than annoyed. It was more difficult than she expected. "I'm hardly an invalid, you know?"

"The doctor said you needed rest." Kakashi argued for the umpteenth time, as if Rin had forgotten it, as if he would give her a chance to forget it.

Rin held up her hand to stop Kakashi's next arguments before they could form. Slowly, she counted to five under her breath. The idea of laying in bed or on the couch for even one minute longer made her physically ill. She had done everything that she was supposed to: drinking glass after glass of water to keep herself hydrated, keeping the lights dim and the room quiet, resting on her left side whenever possible. There had been a dozen tiny things that might make a difference, or might not.

While that scenario would sound like a dream for some women, to Rin, it was a nightmare. She missed the days when training and missions kept her mind and body racing. When she was in the village, Rin kept herself busy wherever the hospital needed an extra set of hands. She hadn't chosen her specialization yet, but she was leaning toward pediatrics. Most medical nin worked in triage and emergencies, but there were plenty of quiet days as well. Rin liked the idea of helping children feel better rather than focusing on battle injuries.

Rin realized that her mind had drifted from the topic at hand and brought her eyes back to Kakashi. She couldn't help but appreciate the changes in her husband in the past few days, even when they annoyed her. In some ways, he was more like himself and others, he was totally different. Rin could manage the symptoms of her pregnancy; she'd done that when morning sickness left her more or less living on the bathroom floor for two months. But, she couldn't handle the hovering worry that radiated off of Kakashi.

"Why don't you go see if Minato has an update on your team?" Rin suggested, pushing into a sitting position.

Apprehension entered Kakashi's eyes. The man still hadn't been able to explain his nervousness over the chunin exams, no matter how much he tried. Rin almost felt bad for bringing up the memory, almost. Team Seven was the only distraction that could get Kakashi out of her hair for an hour or two. Sensing the man's wavering resolve, Rin pushed. "I'm just going to take a bath anyway. A cool one," Rin amended when Kakashi opened his mouth. He had been reading one of her many books about the dos and don't of pregnancy; Rin wished that she'd thrown them out once she finished.

"I'm sure he would have sent someone if there was news," Kakashi countered. His voice lacked its usual certainty, however. He wanted to know what was happening with his students as much as Rin wanted some time to breathe.

Rin nodded, running a hand through her hair. "Probably, but it would be good for you to get your mind off this mess." She gestured around the apartment. "Besides, if I need you, I can create a clone to find you. I still know how to do some things."

Over the past few months, Rin had been developing her chakra control. Once her pregnancy had been confirmed, she'd been removed from active duty. With missions off the table, she spent more time at the hospital. Even so, Rin was only permitted to assist with certain cases, so she spent her free time working through exercises that improved her control. Hopefully, that would allow her the freedom to study more medical ninjutsu after the baby was born. If she'd learned anything from being on a team with hotheaded Obito and reckless Kakashi, it was that a medic was always necessary.

"You promise you'll come find me if you need anything?" Kakashi's voice held a note of uncertainty that surprised Rin. When she nodded, he tucked a strip of cloth into the book on his lap and placed it on the table. "I won't be gone long, but maybe you're right. I'm sure there are rumors about teams finishing the second exam by now."

"Take your time," Rin offered, schooling her face to impassivity. If she looked hopeful at the free time, Kakashi would see the trap. He stood, stretching the stiff muscles in his back, then glanced in her direction. A slight frown appeared on his face.

He's debating whether or not to kiss me, Rin realized with a start. While Kakashi had changed significantly over the past few days, the hesitancy about displaying emotions with her remained. Honestly, it didn't bother Rin as much as his lost memories did. Kakashi had always been private and reserved with his affections. Deciding to meet him halfway, Rin caught his hand with hers and squeezed. Kakashi exhaled in relief.

"Go on," Rin prompted, dropping her fingers away. "I'll be good, I promise."

A smile tugged at the corners of Kakashi's mouth as he stepped closer. To Rin's surprise, he leaned in and pressed a warm kiss to her forehead. An unfamiliar explosion of heat washed through her chest at the gesture. "I'll bring dinner home," Kakashi continued, completely unaware of the effect he had on her. "Don't even think of trying to make it while I'm gone."

"Promise," Rin laughed, hoping that her smile disguised the fact that she had just been considering that very thing.

When the door shut behind Kakashi, Rin glanced at the calendar on the wall. She calculated how much longer she'd have to endure Kakashi's worrying before life could get back to normal. If everything went perfectly, they would meet their son in twelve weeks; Rin could hang on that long. She didn't have a choice.

When a brief knock sounded on the office door, Minato glanced up from the paperwork in his hand. Shikaku slipped through before he had time to answer, and Minato's heart leaped into his throat. "Has there been news?"

The second chunin exam was coming to a close, and there still hadn't been any word of Naruto's team. Minato knew that his son and his teammates were talented shinobi, but the exams were designed to be taxing. He'd seen just as many groups fail because of bad luck as poor skill. With the relative peace in the shinobi nations, fewer genin were advanced to the next rank. Minato agreed with the changes, but he could still remember all too well how quickly the ninja wars had started.

Shikaku shook his head as he shut the door behind him. "None about Team Seven."

Minato understood what the man wasn't saying; there were more important things to worry about than Naruto's advancement. Shikaku's son was also competing in the exams, he had to be wondering about the same things as Minato, but Shikaku remained detached. He stayed focused on the other matters that required his attention to keep the village running. Shikaku had been an excellent pick as Minato's second in command, and Minato didn't know what he would do without him most days.

Dipping his head in understanding, Minato pressed a thumb and forefinger against his eyes to stave off a headache. It had been a stressful week. When he wasn't torn between worries over Kakashi's memory and Naruto's performance, Minato had been dealing with chaos of having multiple villages together. There had been half a dozen fights to break up, tempers that needed soothing, and the exhaustion of hosting delegates. He cringed. "What is it this time? A broken nose over which kage is the strongest? Blood feud over the death of a distant relative? A comment taken the wrong way?"

"None of the above." Shikaku didn't crack a smile at Minato's attempted levity. Whatever he had come to say must be bad. Minato waited in silence. "I wasn't sure what to make of the report, so I brought it to you immediately. Someone made an attempt against the village barrier."

Minato shifted, mind flashing back to Kakashi's warning about Orochimaru. Even so, he forced himself to think logically rather than responding with a knee jerk reaction. "Did the Anbu tasked with that portion of the village find anything out of the ordinary? Which team was it?"

Again, Shikaku shook his head. "Obito's team deemed it a false alarm, something bound to happen with this many foreigners in the village."

Minato nodded without answering. Technically, his advisor shouldn't know the names of the men and women in Anbu, but Obito's presence hadn't been easy to hide, especially from someone who worked closely with Minato. Shikaku had been an effective jonin commander because he knew the strengths and weaknesses of every jonin in the village. There were few who weren't under his purview at some point, but Minato had no doubt that the man knew them as well. He wouldn't be good at his job if he didn't.

"Was there any evidence to suggest otherwise, anything at all?" Minato hated asking the question, but he couldn't afford to be lax with village safety during the chunin exams. There had been too many warnings to write this off as a coincidence. Though, he knew that if Shikaku had more information, he would have supplied it already.

Shikaku's sigh spoke volumes. He'd been under the same pressure as Minato the past couple of weeks. "No, everything appears to be in order."

Minato wondered if Shikaku had been thinking about Kakashi's warning when he brought that message. As much as Minato wanted to, he hadn't been able to keep that solely between himself and Inoichi. He relied on Shikaku too much to withhold such critical information. Even so, he held back as much as he could about Kakashi's memory loss. Until he figured out the cause, the less that everyone else knew, the better.

Tapping long fingers against the polished wood of his desk, Minato considered. He wanted to hear the report from his Anbu, but that would require summoning Obito. Or, perhaps, he could get by with asking Tenzo about it. The remorse that Obito had shown for what he did to Kakashi wasn't enough; the boy needed to realize that his behavior would not be tolerated. Minato decided to summon Tenzo once Shikaku left and get the full report on the disturbance. Though, he suspected it was a false alarm.

Sensing that he'd only skimmed the surface of Shikaku's reports, Minato nodded. "What else?"

A wry grin twisted the jonin's commander's face as he glanced down at the notes in his hand. "Uchiha Fugaku has requested a private meeting with you." Minato's eyebrows rose at that, wondering who Fugaku would want to talk about, one of his sons or Obito. It wasn't like the clan head to meet with Minato for something minor.

Minato dipped his head in understanding, then Shikaku continued his thought. "He requests a private meeting in the Uchiha compound."

The locale didn't surprise Minato. Fugaku must have found out something about the mystery surrounding Kakashi, but it wasn't something he wanted to risk being overhead. Which meant that it probably touched on some clan secret. Having the Hokage come to the compound instead of the other way around would raise the clan's opinion of Fugaku, at least. There were still some people, particularly in the Uchiha clan, who wished that Fugaku had become Hokage instead of Minato. Hopefully the man's information would be worth the hassle.

Minato glanced at the clock. It wasn't quite noon, and he was already longing for home. "When am I supposed to be there?"

Shikaku consulted his notes to be sure he was correct before speaking. "Tonight. Your schedule was too full to allow time during the day, and with the second exam ending in the morning, there wasn't another opportunity."

Fugaku didn't want to wait that long, Minato realized after a moment. He dipped his head in understanding; there were a million loose ends that needed to be tied up before the final exam could begin. Even problems as important as this one had to wait. Minato rubbed at his temples in frustration, then gestured for Shikaku to continue. "What else?"

(Full chapter and story available on A03 and FF, linked at top of the post)

[kitkatopinions]

Blake has nothing going on for her now or in the future except Yang and to a lesser extent her team. These are the consequences of bungling the faunus storyline and replacing it with nothing. They've cleaned their hands of Blake's personality and goals. Like you said ship bait is all that's left.

Blake is honestly the worst treated character amongst Team RWBYJNR + Oscar imo, and tbh, I think even Qrow gets a better rep than her. And that’s saying something, because Qrow has been so badly handled.

The worst thing about this for me is the wasted potential. Blake was really wrapped up in their horribly bungled racism/faunus allegory even more so than Weiss. There are obviously problems with how CRWBY continues to try to use the racism/faunus allegory in some problematic ways rather than dropping it completely, without seeming to put in any effort to actually fix it. Blake’s story being so wholly wrapped up in the faunus racism arc had made her character problematic (for instance, she looks hypocritical for being totally against reactive violence in the case of the White Fang, but is training to be a Huntress and is just fine ripping through White Fang members.) Blake has a lot of good to her character from volumes 1-5 if you can separate her from the bungled allegory however (although I totally understand when people just can’t do that.)

Removing Blake from the faunus/racism arc doesn’t have to leave her with nothing as a blank sheet that must be built from the ground up, her character should’ve stayed the same. Blake’s base character at the start of the show that remains pretty dang consistent for five seasons is cynical, stubborn, defensive, active, passionate, focused, someone who has more life experience and a bit of a darker worldview than her friends, someone who has a hard time making friends anyway, a fairly quiet, independent girl with a tendency to run when things get to be too much and tends to self-destruct and push people away, but is still brave and selfless, with a moral code she believes in (although misused, a character that believes things like ‘stealing is always wrong’ is not an uninteresting one. Blake’s moral code was just used badly.) Blake also has a more subdued way of expressing her affections. A few things about Blake - like her tendency to run, many of her insecurities, pushing people away, and self-destructing - started to get worked through and addressed in an actually meaningful way during volumes 4 and 5 (although her resolution with Yang was wonky, but I could talk more about that in a different post.) However, in good narratives, these traits don’t just go away because they start getting worked through. For instance, just because Zuko in ATLA turns to the good side and starts addressing his trauma and working through his anger issues doesn’t mean he isn’t snippy, hotheaded, and prone to outbursts anymore. And for another instance, just because Yang starts trying to control her temper doesn’t mean she’s no longer prone to anger based reactions, snapping, being defensive, and getting into fights.

While Ruby, Weiss, and Yang read as more consistent even if there characters are going in a bad direction - Ruby’s always been reckless and considered her team the end all, her character now is the incredibly frustrating result of this never getting checked or worked through - but Blake is severely lacking in many of her old traits.

Blake has become an incredibly passive character who can’t stand up for herself and tends to just go along with whatever Ruby wants, and is more than willing to steal and lie and let others steal and lie. She’s lacking in passion, even her supposed stronger moments carrying a more passive tone. She relies on others to save her, both by relying on Yang and Weiss to defend her from mean anti faunus people, and constantly relying on others in fights, not able to land hits and begging Ruby to help her when she’s left without Yang to do her fighting for her. She doesn’t make choices herself, literally in the ‘will we launch Amity or defend Mantle’ conversation, Blake is one of the only people who isn’t shown out and out picking a side. She’s no longer cynical and no longer seems to mind waiting around - telling her younger, naïve teammate who’s spent hours doing nothing that it’s okay that she’s been doing nothing and hasn’t really helped anyone because Blake knows she’ll do something eventually and admires Ruby’s optimism. Blake no longer is independent enough to even be temporarily left by Yang without reacting like she did something she has to be guilty and ashamed of.

Like, what is this? Seriously, what is it? They didn’t even fight and they have her reacting like this.

It’s like the writers decided when they dropped her faunus arc that they could now create a new character from the ground up. A passive, supportive, co-dependent, damsel in distress character who can give the other girls a leg up and fuel their more compelling arcs. You know what? May isn’t Maid Marian, Blake is. She’s Disney’s Maid Marian. She’s the encouraging love interest/friend figure who can be jokey sometimes, occasionally tries her hand at convincing other people to do things, and to prove she’s not totally helpless, gets a hit in every now and again.

Look, maybe I’m being a little over dramatic, but that’s how she feels when you compare her to the other characters. Even Ruby, sitting around drinking tea and crying on staircases until the plot falls into her lap two different times, is a much more active character than Blake.

The closest CRWBY have gotten to making Blake an active character was when they had her react in anger to Neo knocking Yang into the void, but again, it didn’t amount to anything.

The writers could have made Blake the same character she was before while still deviating from her White Fang plot. She could have continued to be an independent, somewhat snarky, brave, passionate girl with more of a cynical worldview and a tendency to overwork herself in her hurry to get real work done that would help make the world a better place, while she tried to push past her more pessimistic tendencies and her struggles to connect with others in order to be there for them, because she believes in them and their purpose and herself. And you know what? I’m just gonna say it... That version of Blake, V 1-5 Blake, is the version that works best with Yang! Like don’t get me wrong, Yang and this new character have some cute moments and it’s... Lacking, but it’s at least something. But Yang and Blake as she was could actually be a compelling ship, they could fit well together. And Blake as she used to be could’ve interacted really well with the Atlas arc and the story in season six. She could’ve related to Ozpin when they find out about their past, she could’ve been on Qrow’s side when it came to stealing the plane in Argus and have to be convinced, she could’ve been trying to talk the Ace Ops into being reasonable, she could’ve been at Robyn’s rally, ready to help out in the fight against Jacques and passing out flyers, only to get angry and upset when she hears how Robyn talks to Marrow, she could’ve been on May’s side when May told them they needed to take action, she could’ve been right there with Yang telling Salem what’s what, or if they had to split the two (which I’m more than fine with,) they could’ve had Blake with the Mantle crew, but stay behind to help civilians, or they could’ve had had leave the manor with May. And if they were going to try and make Blake guilty for a fight, there should’ve been an established conflict where Blake and Yang disagree about Ironwood, and then that leads into a wider conflict about who was wrong and who was right. I don’t know, guys, I’m not a professional.

All I know is that Blake doesn’t feel like herself anymore and the writers won’t give her anything. It’s frustrating. This was kind of a vent post, but... You know what, I can vent about it. It feels like the writers are doing this on purpose at this point.

[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

[fanfalc-616]

The Rights Of A Nindroid

Chapter Fifteen

(Prevoius Chapter Here)

(Discord Here)

Been a while since I’ve posted, sorry about that-

I’m supposed to be in school rn lol

When finally taken back to the lockers, after thirty exhausting hours, Cryptor feels as though he’s on the verge of a forced shutdown.

The damn brat had switched out with someone else, claiming something about an internship. And that had at least meant that the one hurting him no longer had a personal vendetta, but it was still painful.

Cryptor hates how close he had come to actually asking them to hurt Zane instead, but he didn’t. Though judging by the way the other looks when the two of them are put in the locker, they hurt him anyway.

DID THEY GIVE YOU A CHOICE TOO?

Zane doesn’t answer for a moment, likely out of surprise or maybe exhaustion.

I DIDNT GIVE IN

Cryptor snorts. Of course he didn’t. He’s a self-sacrificing dumbass, and it had been that knowledge that had allowed Cryptor to hang on himself.

HOW LONG A BREAK DO YOU THINK WELL GET?

It’s a morbid game, really, but the two of them had taken to guessing how long they would get before dragged out for testing or torture.

AT LEAST SIX HOURS WE WERE THERE FOR OVER A DAY

Mulls over the words, Cryptor considers the idea. Zane’s probably right, but he feels like arguing.

OR THEYLL WANT TO BEAT IT INTO US WITH A SHORTER ONE

There’s a pause, and Cryptor takes a moment to hate himself. Yes, start an argument with his one friend, that’s a wonderful idea.

IS SOMEONE HAVING A BAD DAY?

Cryptor snorts. Good, Zane can tell when he’s only pretending to argue. Probably picked that up from his teammates.

WHAT DO YOU THINK?

The friendly banter continues for a while, but Cryptor can eventually feel himself shutting down from exhaustion.

He taps out a goodbye and a quick explanation before falling asleep, hoping- but not expecting- that they’ll get today off.

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

Jay is starting to lose his grip.

Kai had gotten himself under house arrest by breaking into the government building- which he neglected to tell them the location of before doing so- and since they live on the Bounty, they’re stuck grounded so that the police can make sure that Kai’s not leaving.

Also he’s been sulking the whole time.

It’s already been almost two months, but he still has another four left, and everyone on the ship is going crazy from it.

“I am this close to renting a hotel until his house arrest is over.” Nya holds up her hand so that her pointer finger and thumb are almost touching.

Cole sighs, shaking his head. “I’d join you, but at this point I’m scared of leaving him unsupervised.”

Jay laughs a little. “Honestly, what could he do that’s worse than what he’s already done?”

The two immediately snap over to looking at him.

“Are you trying to jinx it?!” Cole groans. “You know full well how crazy he can get when it comes to protecting us.”

Wincing, Jay accepts the point. “That’s fair. But I doubt he would-“

Lloyd comes running into the room. “Kai left the ship. He tied his house arrest bracelet to the roomba so it would move, and I don’t know where he went.”

Jay blinks. “I stand corrected.”

Then they’re all scrambling to their feet, rushing off to try and find the dumbass hot head that is Kai.

Cole runs outside, probably off to go look at his usual hiding places- he’s run off before, but never under house arrest.

Nya goes to her computer, most likely going to try and track his phone- that’s her usual go-to for when one of them goes off to do something stupid.

He’s not entirely sure where Lloyd’s going, but he probably has some kind of plan.

But before Jay has the chance to come up with his own, his BorgPhone rings with a number that he doesn’t recognize.

A flash of fear takes over him. Oh, Kai better not have gotten captured. What happens if he has? They might hurt him, he might go to prison, he could get into all kinds of trouble!

With shaky hands, Jay hits accept and holds the phone up to his ear.

“Hey, this is Jay Walker. Who is this and how have I ruined your life?” Somehow, he manages to keep his voice from shaking.

“It’s more of your boyfriend who’s doing that.” Sentry grumbles. “I found Kai sneaking into Borg Tower- he was trying to find more hints of ways to rescue Zane. Please come and get him before he gets caught- I shoved him in a back room to keep people from finding him, but he’ll probably find a way out pretty soon.”

Jay curses softly. “Of course he did. Okay, I’m on my way.” He starts to head out even as he speaks, silently complaining about how reckless his boyfriend can be. He loves him, he really does, but sometimes- like now- he really wants to slap him.

It takes him around fifteen minutes to make it to Borg Tower, and when he steps inside, Sentry is standing right next to the door.

“He escapes from the room, so I put him in the timeout corner. He’s handcuffed to the wall, but I’m pretty sure that-“

Jay blinks a few times. “Wh- why do you have a timeout corner? And why does it have handcuffs?”

Sighing, Sentry shakes his head. “The white nindroids were created recently and are pretty immature,” he explains, “so a timeout is a pretty effective way to get them to behave. The handcuffs are for when they still don’t listen- now come on, we should hurry before he finds a way out.”

So Jay lets the nindroid lead him through the tower, trying to stop the way he’s nervously jittering. It- it’ll be fine, it’ll be totally and completely fi-

They come into a back room where Kai is in a chair and in handcuffs that are attached to the wall, forcing his hands above his head.

Jay glances over at Sentry. “Uh-“

“We have two timeout corners. This one is for the nindroids who cause trouble repeatedly. Or in this case, the ninja who does that.” He glares at Kai, but the red ninja looks utterly unapologetic.

“I need to rescue Zane. And you didn’t have to call someone to pick me up, I’m not some child in a school’s principal’s office.” Kai huffs, shifting in his bonds.

Jay starts to try and tell him that he’s totally acting like he’s just got his parents called in an office, but Sentry shakes his head, and speaks up.

“There’s a back door you can take him out so that he doesn’t get caught, but keep a better handle on him next time. We really don’t need him getting an actual prison sentence.”

Glancing at his boyfriend, Jay thinks for a moment, trying to figure out if he’d actually be able to get Kai out of here without being seen.

“I’m going to call Cole,” he decides, “he’ll be able to carry him out of here.”

“I can walk!” Kai protests, looking betrayed. “I don’t need to be carried-“

Sentry nods. “Probably a good idea. He might put up a fight on the way out.”

“I can hear you, you know! I’m right here.” Kai sounds annoyed and frustrated, and Jay sighs, feeling himself cave a little.

“It’s okay, Fire-Hazard. I’ll talk Nya out of murdering you, so long as you promise to actually stay on the ship this time.”

At his words, Kai pales a little. It’s clear he hadn’t thought about how his sister would react to him running off.

“I’ll behave.” He grumbles, clearly unhappy about it. “But I can’t just do nothing.”

With a start, Jay realizes that he’s right. The reason that he keeps doing stupid things is because he needs to be doing something to help- if he doesn’t, he’s going to feel like he’s failing Zane.

So they need to come up with something that he could work on, some way he could get them closer to freeing him.

Maybe if he was working on part of the plan…

Jay looks over at Sentry. “We’re looking for legal loopholes right now, right? Could he help you try and find some? From the computer on the ship, I mean.”

Kai perks up a little, and Sentry looks like he’s considering the idea.

“Will that keep him out of trouble?” He sounds hesitant, but Jay quickly nods.

“He just wants to help, give him a way to do that and he’ll be fine.”

The nindroid looks over at Kai. “Is he seriously going to be able to look through legal documents for longer than thirty seconds?” He sounds unamused, but he pauses again when he sees Kai’s determined expression.

“I looked through a ton of them to break in. I’ll do whatever it takes to get him out.”

After hesitating for only a moment longer, Sentry nods. “Alright,” he agrees, “I’ll send over some I haven’t gotten to yet.”

So Jay ends up only calling Cole so that he can let the others know that Jay found him, and Kai actually walks back without putting up a fuss.

It takes a bit of work to get him on the ship stealthily enough so that any potential cameras couldn’t see, but they manage it.

However, when they step onto the bridge, the three others look annoyed beyond belief.

After a pause, Kai chuckles nervously. “On a scale of one to ten, how much trouble am I in?”

“Eleven.” Nya’s smile expresses anything but happiness, and Cole and Lloyd look only slightly less upset.

Somehow, Jay manages to uphold his promise, talking Nya out of giving Kai some five hour lecture that would probably make him regret existing.

Lloyd grabs Stabby and re-attaches the house arrest bracelet, and it’s not long after that the red ninja is in front of the computer, having about seven files open that he’s comparing and researching.

Later, Cole comes up to him. “The research thing was good thinking; it’ll keep him distracted while still allowing him to help.”

Jay flashes him a smile. “What can I say? I actually have good ideas sometimes.”

Cole smirks. “That’s debatable.”

“You literally just told me that I had a good idea.” Jay reminds with his own grin.

With an overly thoughtful expression, Cole strokes his chin. “Did I? I don’t remember that.”

“Wow, and here I was with the idea that elephants never forget.” Jay snarks back, barely containing his snickers.

Mock gasping, Cole puts a hand over his chest. But as he starts to teasingly reply, his smile fades, and he looks down.

“... Zane loved mock arguments.” He murmurs softly, pain suddenly written on his face.

Jay feels his own cheerfulness drain a little. “It took a while to teach him how, but he got pretty good at them.” He quietly agrees as he remembers the difficulty Zane had used to have with humor.

“He got pretty good at them though.” Cole’s smile is more pained now, but it’s there.

With a soft chuckle, Jay nods. “Absolutely trashed us with them.”

But then the emotions are over taking him, and Jay feels himself shaking at the thought of his titanium boyfriend. Who knows what they’re doing to him, from Kai’s recount they’ve been outright torturing him, he-

Cole puts a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay.” He speaks softly, and his voice is uncertain, as though he’s not really sure of himself, even though it sounds like he’s trying to keep it steady.

Jay nods weakly, feeling tears burn at the back of his eyes. “It’ll be okay.” He repeats softly, desperately trying to believe the words.

In the end, Cole has to coax both him and Kai into bed with gentle reassurances and promises that he sounds slightly unsure of, but at this point, Jay’s too desperate to think about how he might be wrong.

He just wants Zane back… is that really too much to ask for?

Apparently, because it doesn’t seem that they’ll be getting him back anytime soon.

That night, even when cuddled in the arms of his other boyfriends, he cries himself to sleep.

Zane will be okay. He has to be okay.

Jay won’t be able to take it if he’s not.