#but i don’t want to fuck with public transport it’s annoying when it’s late or stops working
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parents came back tuesday night and i’m already 10x worse i need to kill myself i need to i need to
#there aren’t even any fucking pills#i was thinking of hanging myself bc there’s a mezzanine but i’m not sure if i have a bed sheet that’s long enough to tie it into a noose#maybe i’ll jump in front of the train tomorrow#but i don’t want to fuck with public transport it’s annoying when it’s late or stops working#ig throwing myself in front of a car might work but idk#god i wish i had a gun#also punching myself in the head doesn’t work that well anymore so i might start cutting just bc i need my body to hurt sm i can’t walk#sorry sorry
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Cross dressing Itachi on a public train and Shisui getting…touchy.
lol NONNY! It was so late when I originally started this, my eyes were bugging out. I had to be up for work at 4:15a…. Lol.
I…I don’t even know how Itachi even would end up in this situation? It had to be a misunderstanding. Something devious Shisui would do for his own pleasure, or maybe it was a dare and Itachi is such a hard ass that he won’t let Shisui call him a bitch…
Soft NSFW; cross dressing Itachi; mild voyeurism; itchy skirt; excessive teasing and one severely annoyed Itachi; mildly proof read.
…either way, here they are. Sitting on the newly built public transport system that Konoha’s tax payers decided they needed to have… regardless of the how or why. Itachi sat pretty in pink. Literal pink. The stupid skirt didn’t really fit properly, the thong that divided his ass cheeks allowed for the rough fabric of said skirt to itch his rear.
Even more irritating was the fucking twin French braids that Shisui paid Izumi to knot all through his hair. Shisui couldn’t hide the smug grin from his face as Itachi did everything in his power to subtly scratch his ass. Even if he dragged himself across the floor like a damn dog it wouldn’t help.
‘Where in this gods forsaken village did you find this thing?’ Itachi voiced his concern and annoyance to Shisui.
‘A thrift store.’ He chirped, watching as Itachi tirelessly crossed his legs and adjusted his manhood. Shisui briefly wondered which testicle would slip out of the thong first.
‘Which thrifty so I can avoid it at all costs.’ His low growl laced with venom, Shisui still chuckled.
‘The kind where undsold items from estate sales get donated to.’ No ounce of shame as Shisui slipped a hand under his skirt, ‘damn. I thought the right one would pop out first.’
What the actual fuck, was all the bitch face in the world that Itachi would manage before the perpetual wedgie started in again.
‘You’re despicable. I’m wearing someone’s dead relative’s clothes?’ He sneered at Shisui.
No wonder. It took him this long to figure out the fabric was wool. Itachi blamed it on his inability to focus on anything but the ass floss and the fact the Shisui was now cradling his left testicle. And now palming his soft dick.
‘…you’re not as aroused as I hoped you be.’ Shisui pouted.
Swatting his hand from under his skirt, ‘of course not. Nothing about this is arousing, or comfortable.’
Snickering even more, Shisui ran his hands under and then over Itachi’s thigh, ‘let’s do get help, hmm? Sounds fun.’
No, it didn’t fucking sound fun and here’s why. Because Itachi would have to play the damsel in distress, feigning he was incapable of taking care of himself. For the love of gods he did not want to play, ‘get help.’ Feeding Shisui’s childlike tendencies was exhausting.
‘..no.’ He hissed. ‘Final warning.’
Shisui raises his hands, ‘ok, ok. You could at least let me jack you off.’ How was any of this supposed to be arousing? This was Shisui’s, the golden genjutsu boy of Konoha, best idea of a date night? His genius must be deprecating with age.
‘…fine.’ Itachi hisses, ‘only because I don’t want to listen to you whine.’
Though Shisui sinking between his legs, and hiding underneath his skirt while servicing him was not merely a handy.
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Catty Little Kitty
TV SHOW PISTOL
COUPLE MALCOLM X READER
RATING SEXY
I stood as I often did at the counter of sex making the notes of the inventory that jordan would call out as she went through the shop and stock room. We were already open for the day but it was far too early for our typical clientele to be in.
"Seven dance in blue two in red" she spoke up
"Umm we're selling a lot or that one" I noted likely the time of year pride was close by it always gets sold out around then
I heard the door making us both look up seeing malcolm head in looking unusually stressed dumping a box on the shop floor
"You alright malcolm?" Jordan asked
"Vivs having kittens." He says in an annoyed tone "bloody tailors fucked the rubber" he sighed "box came this morning and she threw a hissy fit" he explained
"What's happened?" I asked coming over to check the boxes contents as jordan made him a coffee, the rubber had been over stretched then sewn leaving it all misshapen and with latex and rubber that's a very bad thing "what a cunt" I sighed
"I know. Got to take it up there and give them a piece of my mind" he says as jordan brought him though a coffee "thank you"
"Shall we?" She asks and I nodded returning to our stock work, I noticed as she counted malcolm.
Leaning on the counter looking at me as he sipped his coffee, admittedly I didn't know Malcolm that well. I was still fairly new here and he hadn't been in the shop much lately off doing… I have no idea and frankly with Malcolm I didn't exactly want to know. But he was definitely staring at me
"Nine queens" she called so I nodded and made a note
"Y/n? Right?"
"Yes" I nodded
"You drive. Don't you?"
"Yes" I giggled surprised by his sudden question "I didn't bring my car today" I added
"Not a problem, can you drive my car?"
"I suppose so? Manual?"
"Course, may I steal her from you?"
"Take her" jordan laughed
"Excellent come on then" he says basically grabbing my arm and janking me out the shop with him, he loaded the box into the back of his little green mini and threw me the keys
"What am I doing?"
"Driving me. I need to take the rubber to the tailor it's a hour walk with that big box in toe and you drive so." He smirked climbing into the passenger seat I shrugged and climbed in starting the car up having to sit a moment while I got sorted as this was much different from my own car and heading off following his directions
"What's wrong with driving yourself?" I asked "I like driving"
"Good for you. I hate driving, never really learnt I suppose. I nearly bloody kill muse every time I drive anywhere" he explained
"I guess, I suppose you and viv don't really drive much"
"Don't need to. She hate when I drive too, always whining" he explained "why do learn anyway?"
"I had to, lived out in the sticks public transport didn't exist, taxies were like gold dust and charges accordingly, My parents couldn't drive me all the places I wanted to go and even if they could I didn't exactly want to go out clubbing and needing to Call my daddy to come pick me up, so I was reliant on lifts and stuff from guys and that's not the safest for a modern girl and I hated having to work in the back seat for the privilege so I saved up got my car gave me the freedom to some and go as a please and to help others out bad times too" I explain "I love the freedom of a car, I'd love a motorbike but I don't know"
"You quite like subverting expectations don't you?" He smirked "believe it or not I have actually been keep an eye on you"
"Why?"
"You… excite me"
"Ohhh uhhh-"
"I don't want to fuck you." He reassured
"Don't you?" I laughed as we pulled up at the place so I got out to help with the box he got out to he pushed me slightly so my back was against the car one of his hands on the door the other beside me so I had no escaped from him
"Alright. Fine. You do excite me both ways my little girly." He smirked his hand on my waist "I've been trying to sneak you out of that shop for months" he smirked "come on we'll sort this out and then how about you and I go and spend a little… secret time together" he smirked
"Well see" I answered grabbing his hand and twisting it back so he ended up stomach against the car his arm behind him "just because your my boss doesn't mean you get stuff for nothing malcolm" I warned "let's go, sort this out" I smiled letting him go and grabbing the box from the back but as I did he slapped my ass so I stood and handed him the box even if he winked at me shutting the car door as he began to walk as he did I kicked him actual managing to hot his ass
"Oi! Catty little kitty" he smirked "come on, then" he smirked so I followed him in.
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Review #359: Radio City, Big Star
When I got to see Big Star in Memphis in 2022, they went ahead and played all three of their records more or less from start to finish. It was to mark the 50th anniversary of #1 Record. Time loses all meaning lately and death is all around us, but the point is, Radio City turned 50 in February 2024.
When I first fell in love with Big Star (see review #474) it wasn’t even possible to find their records. Anywhere. The only format available at that time was a reissue double album that had both #1 Record and Radio City on it. That was fine with me, and I found it at McKays when visiting my cousin before moving here. But I never super separated the two albums since I always heard them together. Based on ranking, and general popular opinion, Radio City is better than #1 Record. I really don’t know about that, but I do know that the tracks on it that are really good, are really fucking good, and that’s what gives it’s older sister a run for her money.
It opens with O, My Soul, which is… Well, what can I say. The drums really steal the show on this track. When I got to see Jody Stephens play this song, I damn near lost my tiny mind. He also messed up, so they started over, which meant that I got to hear it twice. I had waited long enough so I like to think that was just for me. This song can’t decide if it wants to be some kind of garage band banger or if it’s too lazy and just wants to take a nap. And you know what? That fucking speaks to me.
When I was turning 17, which is how old you have to be in England to learn to drive, I was offered driving lessons or a guitar from my parents. First of all, I wanted the guitar so badly, it wasn’t even a question. I also knew it was annoy the shit out of them that I would pick it over driving lessons. Driving lessons meant driving, which meant a car, which meant freedom. Except that I knew that it didn’t really. If it came from them, the lessons, the car, the anything, I’d really have no freedom and it would all be an illusion. So my wise teenage ass took the guitar, and remained so painfully committed to public transportation that we could do whatever we wanted (with a lot more effort), for real. I used to really lament that decision as all of my friends got their licenses and cars and I was stuck on the damn bus, but I knew what I was doing. I used to listen to O, My Soul to remind myself of why I did it, and to build up my confidence:
“I can’t get a license
To drive in my car
But I don’t really need it
If I’m a big star”
Love when a band references themselves, for starters. I kept this tradition up, though. I listen to this song any time I have a big meeting that I need to crush, an interview for a job, or just anything that I need to hype myself up (you’re really a nice girl, and I think you’re the most, and when we’re together, I feel like a boss). Yeah I sing it to myself about myself, what about it? It’s my very own Eye of the Tiger. I learned to drive when I was 24 years old, in London, with my lessons and car entirely self-funded. I have no regrets.
Mod Lang sounds like a T. Rex song. I’m into that. I hear The Byrds in this record, especially in September Gurls, which really is a Big Star classic and is a pretty compelling reason for this album to rank higher than its successor. It’s had more influence on pop culture than I had ever realized — for example. Katy Perry’s California Gurls was titled with that spelling because her producer was a Big Star fan and wanted to pay homage. It’s a really beautiful song, about Alex Chilton’s complicated love life. The three women he was involved with, or formerly involved with, that the song is about, all had birthdays in September. Chilton was very into astrology, as it turns out. That seems about right for him.
I have always had a real soft spot for Morpha Too. It’s so strange and simple. It feels like being dizzy and trying to walk a few paces. The harmonies are really striking and it just seems like a song that never really got finished. That’s how it sounds to me. I love it exactly how it is.
The record ends with I’m In Love With A Girl, which rivals Thirteen but is cute, rather than poignant. I had a man sing this to me once, on a roof. He stole my guitar and just had at it. It kind of makes my skin crawl to think of it (think Ken singing Matchbox 20 to Barbie). But, we all know how I feel about letting those kinds of things spoil songs for me, especially Big Star. Wilco’s Pat Sansone was in charge of this track at the 50th anniversary show and he was perfect, sang “gorl” and everything. All was right with the world. I was there, he wasn’t. The best part of this song is one single line repeated that serves as a bridge of sorts:
“All that a man should do
Is try, oooooh, oooooh
All that a man should do
Is try
Ooooh ooooooh”
Listen to it. It’s a beautiful sweet song. Please do not serenade any women with it on their (or any) guitar. Don’t be that guy. All you have to do is try, and trying doesn’t involve that.
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As It Should Be - A Raymond Smith One Shot
Raymond is the perfect gentleman, with a perfect home, and very settled habits. One of those habits had become to cancel dates at the last minute; and in stead spend the night in with his girl.
Now, she's had enough, and decides to challenge him on it, doing everything she can, to get on his nerves. The result is much more interesting than she'd anticipated.
Hell hath no fury like a girlfriend of a gentleman gangster, who has been stood up one too many times.
Ray had given me a key a few months before, during dinner at our favorite steakhouse – his backyard.
We’d been celebrating 6 months together, and he’d handed me a small wrapped box, with a pretty bow tied around it. He’d most likely used a ruler to get the paper and the ribbon exactly the sizes he needed, to make it look as perfect as possible. His perfectionism both drove me mad, and turned me on immensely.
My hands had been shaking, partly in fear – I was no near ready for any diamond rings – but Ray had given me a slight smile.
“Don’t worry, darling”, he said. “Nothing near as serious as you’re worried it might be”.
“You telling me we’re not serious, Raymond?”, I replied snarkily.
“Just open it, love”, he said.
Inside the tiny packet lay a golden key.
“It’s for the house”, Ray said. “I want you to be able to come and go as you please… Just don’t try to break in to any locked freezers”.
I raised a brow at him.
“Is this because you don’t like my flat?”, I asked. “I know you have issues with council estates…”.
“You spend most nights here anyway”, Ray said. “Look, I’m not asking you to move in… Unless you want to of course”.
I laughed at his amused expression.
“You wouldn’t last a week with me in the house!”, I said. “First time I use the wrong glass for red wine, or leave water stains on the bathroom mirror; you’ll go mad”.
Ray blinked – his little adorable tick.
“No, I won’t”.
I tugged at his beard, and smiled.
“Yes you will”.
Ray pressed the key into my hand.
“Just… keep this, alright? The house feels more like a home when you’re here”.
I leaned towards him, and placed a soft kiss on his lips.
“I didn’t get you anything…”, I blushed.
“That’s alright”, Ray smiled. “You can give me head in the shower later”.
I had used the key on more than one occasion – admittedly preferring Ray’s more comfortable bed to my own lumpy mattress in my one-bedroom rental. And both Ray and me had enjoyed when I’d been waiting for him in it, naked and ready to help him relax after a tense day of whatever it was Mickey had him doing all over London.
Tonight, my plan was different.
Ray had cancelled four dates in a row, just as I was about to leave the house. He’d call just as I would be about to put on my shoes.
“I’m so sorry, love. Work ran late. I’ll have Bunny pick you up, drop you at the house, yeah?”.
And once again, I’d end up waiting for Raymond in his house, in my pretty dress; until he’d show up – an hour later – with a bouquet of roses or a pair of earrings too expensive for the queen, takeout from some fancy restaurant; and an apologetic smile on his face.
I was beginning to wonder whether Ray didn’t want to be in public with me. I wasn’t the kind if woman he’d usually meet while wining and dining lords and ladies all over England. Maybe my teacher’s salary and fondness of things like public transport – he’d practically begged me to let him get me a car, which I’d declined vehemently – was becoming too lower class to him.
I decided to challenge him on it – and maybe, just maybe, I wanted to punish Ray just a little bit, for cancelling our plans for the hundredth time.
This time, I was ready. Ray called, on cue, just as I was about to slip on my shoes.
“I’m so sorry, love…”, he began.
“It’s alright, Ray. I understand”, I said. “I’ll pick up dinner on the way”. Ray paused for a moment.
“I don’t want you waiting in some restaurant alone”, he said.
“Don’t worry, babe. Bunny will be there”, I replied. “Tell you what. You can pick up the wine”.
“Ripasso?”. I heard the smile in his voice.
“You know me, I’m not choosey. Just make it red”, I said.
“See you soon”, Ray said, and with after a few more warm words, we said goodbye, and hung up.
Bunny gave me large grin as I jumped into the back seat of the large Mercedes, dressed in leggings, a hoodie, and a smug expression.
“Hello, Bunny”, I said. “We need to make a stop”.
“Of course, miss. Where?”, he asked.
“McDonalds drive-through”, I said.
Bunny’s smile became impossibly bigger.
“Ray is in for it, isn’t he…?”, he asked.
“You fucking know it”, I smiled, and leaned back in my seat.
Once inside the house, I began my preparations.
My first stop after kicking off my shoes and setting down the bag of food in the kitchen, was in Rays closet. I checked to see Fletcher wasn’t hiding in it, as he’d done once before; and then went through the collection of shirts. I chose a white Armani, shrugged of my hoodie; and put it on. For an extra touch, I left the closet door open, mussed up the sheets on the bed, and threw the duvet and a pillow on the floor.
Next up was the bathroom. I opened the lid to the toilet, washed up – making sure to spray some water on the mirror – and dropped the towel on the floor, once I’d wiped my hands.
I dropped my hoodie on a chair in the hallway, and made my way to the kitchen.
Being a big fan of Rays espresso machine, I made myself an americano, poured it into a tea mug – drank half of it – and left the mug in the sink.
I took out two plates, carrying them over to the coffee table. I chose the actual silver silverware from the drawer, and put it by the plates.
With a few final touches, and after touching up my makeup, I sat down in one of leather recliners, and put my feet up – waiting for Raymond to come home.
It wasn’t long before I heard his keys turn in the lock, and I readied myself for a potential catastrophe. I heard his footsteps in the hallway, and got up to stand.
“Darling?”, he called out. “Something smells… deep fried”. I heard him stumble for a moment, probably over my sneakers on the floor.
“I’m in here”, I said, and went to meet him in the kitchen – knowing his usual route when he got home.
Ray looked as dapper as ever, in a tweed jacket, a vest, and a pair of dark grey slacks. He looked mildly annoyed about having tripped over my shoes; and was holding a bottle of wine in one hand, and a wrapped box from Selfridges. When he saw my relaxed attire, he looked confused.
“I love when you wear my shirts, but that’s…”.
“Armani. I know", I said, and tugged at it. “It’s very comfortable“.
Ray shrugged, put down the wine, went over to slip an arm around me, and kissed me deeply. I was finding it difficult to keep my composure, as I stood pressed against his firm frame; and inhaled his scent.
“I brought you something… to apologize", he said, and handed me the beautifully adorned box.
“You didn’t have to, Ray", I said, and suppressed the urge to open it; in stead tossing it on the kitchen island. He looked at me with narrowed eyes, and I kissed his cheek. “Dinner’s ready. Go wash up".
Raymond stole another kiss, and squeezed my bottom, before going back out into the hallway, and towards the bathroom.
“Is this your sweater in the hallway?”, Ray called out to me, as he passed it.
“Probably”, I responded. “You don’t usually wear hoodies”.
“You could hang it…”, he said. “Never mind, I’ll do it”. I smiled to myself, imagining his grumpy face as he hung my 15 quid hoodie, next to his own Burberry trench on the coatrack.
Once Ray returned from the bathroom, I was sipping some of the delicious red wine, from one of the cognac glasses. Ray didn’t say a word about the state I’d left his bathroom in, but he did twitch at my choice of glass.
“Something wrong?”, I asked sweetly.
“Nothing at all”, he said, and tried for a smile. I handed him a glass of his own, and he struggled with not holding it in his palm, as he would have, had it been filled with brandy. I clinked my glass to his, and smiled.
“Everything alright with work? What made you late?”, I asked.
“A meeting with some people… Nothing that would interest you”, Raymond said, and turned towards the counter, noticing the half full mug of coffee in the sink. “I’m happy you’re making yourself at home”, he grunted, and peeked out the corner of his eyes at me.
“Well, you told me to…”, I said, and linked my fingers with his.
Rays eyes twinkled, and he leaned in for another kiss; parting his lips, to deepen it. His tongue probed for entry to my mouth, but I pulled back.
“Let’s eat”, I said, and walked towards the living room area.
“I’ll set the table”, Ray said.
“I already did”, I smiled. He looked confusedly at the dining table.
“We eating outside?”, he asked.
“No. I set us up over here”, I said casually, and threw myself on the couch; patting the seat next to me. Ray looked flabbergasted.
“I have this lovely dining table…”, he tried.
“Bring the wine”, I said, ignoring his words.
Ray sat down next to me, and filled my glass. I picked up the paper bag of food, and began distributing burgers and fries on the plates.
“I got chili cheese tops and chicken wings as well”, I said. “Eat up”. I picked up the knife and fork, and began cutting into my burger.
“That’s a … salad fork”, Ray said, his voice choked.
“There’s salad in the burger”, I shrugged.
Ray looked at me incredulously, as I dipped a few fries in my ketchup, and then – deliberately – let some of it fall and stain his shirt I was wearing.
“Woops”, I said, and grabbed a napkin, beginning to dab at the stain.
“Fuck, darling. That’s dry clean only!”, Ray sighed.
“I’ll get it out… maybe some bleach”, I said. His eyes widened.
“What’s going on with you?”, he asked.
“Nothing", I said, feigning confusion. I took a big bite from my burger, using the silver salad fork to put it there. “Yum".
Ray took the fork from me, just as I was about to take another bite.
“What are you doing?", I frowned
“Why are you testing me?”, he demanded.
“I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean, babe", I said. “I’m just enjoying a date with my darling”.
“In a stained Armani shirt, and leggings?”, Raymond said.
I shrugged.
“It wasn’t like we were going out anyway".
“I had reservations at…”, he began.
I blew a raspberry at him, catching him completely of guard.
“Like there was ever a chance we’d use those", I said.
Raymond’s eyes finally lit up in understanding.
“You’re angry that I was late, and we had to change plans tonight".
“Tonight?”, I sneered. “Try the last… five dates we were supposed to go on".
Ray pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a deep breath.
“I see… This isn’t how I’d seen the evening going either, love".
“Sure it was", I said, getting up from the couch with my cognac glass of wine in hand. I took off my socks, and walked over towards the door to the yard. I opened it, and threw my socks outside. Ray got up behind me, in shock. “Its fine, really. I don’t mind the fact that you don’t want to be seen in public with me. That I’m not worth enough to be taken out somewhere nice”. Using a chair as a step, I walked onto the dining table, and made a little catwalk back and forth. Ray looked equal parts terrified, astounded and enraged. “This way, I can show you how truly at home I feel here".
“Please get off the table", he croaked.
“No”, I said, taking a sip of my wine.
“Please", Ray tried again, obviously trying to control himself.
“Not happening", I said.
I stopped my leisure stroll back and forth, and looked Raymond square in the face. We were both quiet, and it was like a standoff in one of those old western movies.
“Get off the fucking table, or else…”, Ray said, patience clearly wearing thin.
“Or else… what?”, I challenged him.
Though enjoying my little game, I was also beginning to fear that I was digging myself into a bigger hole than I could get out of. Raymond’s eyes were on fire, but I thought I could see something behind the rage – something quite intriguing.
I decided to keep my game going. Either Ray would kick me out on my ass, or something else would happen; something much more fun. Either way, I’d have some sort if closure.
“I will spank you six ways from Sunday", he said.
I hadn’t expected that.
“Is that a promise?”, I asked, not sounding remotely as confident as I’d hoped to.
As I lifted the glass to my lips again – all the time keeping my eyes on Ray’s – I shifted my fingers, so that I was palming it in my hand. Ray blinked again, twitching from my teasing.
Suddenly he made a jolt forwards, as if launching himself at me, and I almost fell of the table as I stumbled backwards. Looking down myself, I realized some of the red wine had splashed onto his shirt.
“You made me spill my wine!”, I said.
“Last fucking chance, darling”, Ray said, walking towards me; almost on the prowl.
“We gonna dance now?”, I said. I walked to the middle of the table again – downed my drink – and used my toes to push the bowl of fruit towards the edge. Ray caught it just as it toppled over.
He walked over to the kitchen island, put down the bowl, and calmly took of his jacket; before rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. He walked over to the head of the table, cleared his throat; and set down his palms on it – his eyes dark.
“Right. This is going to hurt me more than it will you”, he declared, before pouncing on me; catching my legs, and throwing me over his shoulder. He gave me a hard spank over the ass. “Will you behave now?”.
“No!”, I yelled. He set me down, and turned me around by the shoulders; forcing my upper body down over the table, with a hand pressed down between my shoulder blades. I could honestly say I’d never been more turned on in my life.
“I asked you nicely, and you still acted like an imp”, he said. He used his free hand to pull down my leggings, exposing my panty-clad bottom; and as I kicked my legs, he removed them completely. “Impish behavior demands punishment”.
He delivered a hard smack on my left cheek.
“Ow!”, I yelled, trying to wrestle myself away from him. “You’re spanking me like a child, now?”.
Ray leaned to hold me down with his whole arm.
“Well, if you’re going to behave like a child…”, Ray said, and spanked my right cheek.
His hand rubbed over my skin afterwards, almost soothingly.
“You’re the one who should be punished!”, I growled. “You’ve been cancelling all our plans lately”.
Ray spanked me on the left cheek again.
“That’s what you’re doing? Punishing me?”, he asked. He gave my right cheek another smack. “When all I’m doing is keeping you happy… getting you flowers and presents; telling you to make yourself at home in this nice house… Oh, no; love. I’m a fucking prince to you”.
“Yeah, I’m really feeling my princess Di fantasy here!”, I scoffed.
Raymond began spanking both my cheeks in turn. I let out yelps and whimpers at each hit; as they sent signals straight to my core.
“This is for the silverware (smack)… This is for throwing the towel on the floor (smack)… For the glasses (smack)… For leaving your shoes about for me to trip over (smack)… And this (smack), is for walking all over my dining table on your bare feet (smack)…”. I was struggling in vain to get free; and at the same time wanted this torture to never end. His fingers ghosted my covered folds, and I drew in a short breath.
Ray pulled me up to stand, and raised a brow, as he looked down at me.
“Now, will you behave?”.
“Not in a million fucking years”, I said.
Before he could catch me, I sprang towards the kitchen island, crawling on to it. Ray caught my ankle, but I managed to get free; and got down on the other side – the island now a barrier between us. I smiled wickedly. I grabbed the half full mug form the sink, and held it up as to spray the coffee at him.
“Careful, Raymond. I know how you dislike getting dirty”, I smirked.
“I’ll show you how fucking dirty I can get, babe", Ray growled, and sprang over the island, making me drop the mug back into the sink in pure shock.
Ray pulled me into his arms, pinning my arms down at my sides, and attacking my lips with a feverish kiss. I didn’t struggle now; my body responding by completely giving in to lust.
After a moment of passionately kissing me, Ray let me go; and ripped open the shirt.
“You ruined my shirt”, he growled, and pulled it off me; leaving me in my bra and panties. He was still impeccably dressed himself. The mix of his warm body and the cool fabric of his vest pressing against my naked skin was heaven. I began leaning against Ray, and bit my lip with a smirk. He shook his head. “You want to use things the way they’re not supposed to be used? Fine. Get your ass on that counter”.
My jaw dropped. Sex with Raymond was always thrilling, and we’d enjoyed these sessions, not only in his – and a few times my – bed, the backseat of his car, and in the shower; but also, one time in a fitting room, where Ray had come with me to help chose a dress for a job interview at a private school. I made the mistake of bending over with my back to him; and suddenly found myself pressed against the wall, with Ray covering my mouth with his hand, to muffle my moaning as he screwed me into oblivion. I hadn’t gotten the job, but I did gain a memory for life.
In spite of this, we’d never had sex in his kitchen. Ray had this obsession with keeping everything in his home as it should be, and I had a feeling that it might be because he needed to control at least some things in his otherwise quite unpredictable life.
I gave myself a second to feel bad for having disrupted his perfect home base; before he lifted me up to sit on the kitchen island. He snatched a pair of scissors out of a drawer, pulled out the fabric of my panties, and cutting through them at my hips.
“You bought me these!”, I said.
“I don’t care”, he growled. “I’ll get you some new ones”. He ripped the ruined panties of me, and looked down at the apex of my thighs. The cool wooden surface against my bottom made the sting from the spanking subdue, and I shifted to get more comfortable. The moment seemed to drag out forever, as Ray just looked at me. He took a deep breath. “Don’t move”.
Ray left the room for a moment, and then returned; having poured himself a proper glass of probably very expensive scotch. Leaning back against the counter opposite me, crossing his legs; he took a sip of the drink, and commenced his staring at me.
“I have to say, that is the most appetizing piece of meat laid out in my kitchen in a long time”, he said.
“Ray…”, I said, feeling myself melt under his gaze. A wicked smile ghosted his face, when suddenly his phone buzzed in his pocket. He leisurely took it out, and picked up the call.
“Yes?... Handled it this morning. Meeting’s set up for tomorrow afternoon… No, you didn’t interrupt anything, boss. Just preparing dinner…”. He began strolling calmly around the kitchen, and I didn’t dare move. “I was about to ask her, but she’s a bit preoccupied at the moment… I’m sure she’d love to, count on us…”. He took another sip of his scotch, and then held the glass to my lips; seemingly for me to taste. As I opened my mouth, he pulled the glass back, and dribbled some of the amber liquid down my chest instead. I frowned, and parted my lips to speak; but Ray set down the glass, and held a finger to my lips. “Will we be needing extra security…? I’ll take care of it… Yes, of course, I’ll wait…”.
With the phone still to his ear, Raymond licked the trail of scotch on my skin, from my collarbone, down to the top of my breast. My breath hitched at the sensation of his hot tongue. Just as he was about to move the cup of my bra down, to go for my nipple, he stepped back again.
“Yes, I’m here… Did he…? Well, he’s a right cunt, but consider it handled… I’ll keep you in the loop. Goodnight, boss. Give my best to Rosalind”.
He hung up the phone, and put it on the counter next to me. His fingertips travelled over my thighs; avoiding my warmth.
“Sorry about that, but you know how it is”, he said. “Now where were we…?”.
“You were wasting a 1000-pound scotch on my tits”, I jeered.
“1500”, Ray said. “And I wouldn’t call it wasted”. He took another sip of the scotch, but before he swallowed it, he put his lips to mine; letting me have a taste. “What was that about you not being worth enough? I usually don’t baste my meat in expensive whiskey”.
He put his hands on my ass, and made me scoot forwards on the counter. His fingers travelled down my belly, and finally met my folds; dipping in between them. I drew in a ragged breath, as he slid his fingers up and down.
“Let’s have a taste”, he said, and removed them again, putting them into his mouth. “Sweet, bit tangy, perfectly moist”.
He dipped his fingers again, this time letting one of them dip in to the knuckle, and crook upwards. I threw my head back, and closed my eyes. He removed the finger again, and I groaned.
“Quit with the games, Ray”, I complained.
“You started this, love”, he said. “I’m just finishing it”.
“Then, bloody finish it!”, I retorted.
Raymond stepped back, corrected his glasses, and clicked his tongue chidingly.
“Now, now. No need to be greedy. We’ve got all night. As you said, dinner plans are out the window”, he said.
“Fine. I wasn’t hungry anyway”, I said. He raised a brow at me.
“No? Let’s see if we can wake that appetite”.
He thrusted two fingers into me, and used his free hand to get me to lie back; before moving it down to brush against my clit.
“Please…”, I whimpered.
“Please, what? Forgive me, Ray? I’ll never be a brat again, Ray?”. He thrusted his fingers upwards, touching my sensitive spot inside, as he began rubbing circles on my nub.
“No…”, I said, not wanting to give in. I struggled to keep my composure, but as Ray began thrusting harder, and stroked deliciously at me, I was soon too far gone to speak. “I’m…”.
“That’s what I thought”, Ray said calmly. I clambered to hold on to something, put found nothing but a rolling pin; which fell to the floor, making a clanking sound to accompany my own cry of passion, as I came.
Ray gently withdrew his fingers, wiped them of in a handkerchief from his pocket; and took my hand for me to sit up.
“All good?”, he asked, his face not giving away an ounce of emotion. His pants were giving away enough, though; as the bulge on the front of them had grown quite a bit. “Living room”, he ordered, and as I got off the counter, and walked towards the door, he turned around, and quickly washed the mug in the sink. “Tea mug for coffee. Honestly…”, I heard him mutter.
As I stood in the dimly lit living room alone, waiting, I shivered from the chill entering through the still open door to the back yard.
“Ray?”, I called out.
“Coming, darling”, he responded, and he came through the doorway; walking over to the patio door, and closing it. He gestured at me to get over to the couch. “Knees”.
He was carrying the whiskey-glass, and refilled it.
“Don’t I get one?”, I asked.
“No… I said; knees”. He sat down on the couch, legs spread casually, and looked on, as I got down on my knees in front of him. The elitist machismo in the room, was thick enough to carve with a butter-knife. “How’s the appetite?”.
“Getting there”, I admitted.
“Well, bon apetit”, Ray said, and gestured towards his crotch.
I rested my elbows on his thighs, and unbuttoned his pants; pulling down the zipper. Ray made no move to help me unwrap his erection, so I went on to pull down the elastic of his boxer-briefs as well. He let out a silent grunt, when I wrapped my hand around him; and I smiled at his respond to my touch.
I began stroking the velvety skin on his hardness; and Ray took a sip of his drink as he watched me. I stuck out my tongue, and flicked the tip over the sensitive spot under the head; before flattening it, and sucking him into my mouth.
Ray tasted as good as he looked and smelled. A perfectly expensive taste, with an undertone of something animal – dangerous even. I bobbed my head up and down, hollowing my cheeks to make my pull on his penis tighter. Putting my hand into his bowers, I managed to get his testicles over the elastic as well. This made me able to massage them gently; rolling them in my palm the way I knew he liked.
My vagina was still sensitive from Rays former treatment, so when he leaned forwards, ran a hand down my back – between my cheeks – and slid a finger between my folds; I almost came from just that second of contact. Ray sat back again, and continued his viewing of my work on his cock.
“Don’t stop on my account”, he said.
I made a swallowing movement, and another stifled groan came from him. I hummed slightly; making vibrations to add to the sensation. I added pressure to his testicles, and felt them tighten in my hand. Apparently, Ray was even more impacted by my treatment, than his face gave of. I released him from my mouth with a pop, and smiled sweetly up at him.
“Enjoying yourself, Raymond?”, I asked. He cupped my chin.
“You know I am, darling”, he smiled. “But it seems to me, you are as well”.
I nodded, and bit my lip.
I went back to sucking him off, while he finished his drink. I could tell he was struggling not to grab on to me, so I took his free hand, and put it on my head. At first, he simply ran his fingers through my hair; but then held on to it, and began controlling my movements. I let go of his testicles, and held on to his thighs, as I let him take charge of me.
Ray led me to take him shallowly; then pressed me as far down as I could take him. After a few minutes, he couldn’t keep quiet anymore, and let out audible grunts and gasps, accompanied by a series of fuck, babe and that’s perfect, darling.
With one final deep push, his cock twitched; and he came in my mouth – holding me there until he was completely finished.
He let go of me, and I sat back on my heels; swallowing.
Ray took a moment to calm his breathing, before getting on his feet, and helping me to stand in front of him. He put himself back into his pants, and led me in front of him, towards the bedroom. I knew we’d end up there at some point; and suddenly felt a chill down my spine, when I remembered the state, I’d left the room in. Before he could open the door, I stopped him.
“Ray… Uhm…”, I started.
“What?”, he asked.
“I sort of left a mess in there… The closet…”.
“Fletcher wasn’t in it again, was he?”, Ray growled.
“No, nothing like that…”, I said.
He gently pushed me out of the way, and opened the door; stepping inside, and turning on the lights.
“The fuck…”, he said from inside.
I moved up behind him.
“At least I didn’t spill ketchup on anything…”, I tried.
Ray began removing his vest and shirt, not saying a word all the while. I was worried – and at the same time hoping – that I was in for another spanking.
I went to sit on the bed, and heard Ray open his belt behind me.
“No", he said calmly. I turned to face him, and saw he was shedding his pants and boxer briefs.
Undressed, Ray was no less regal. He might as well be wearing a dinner jacket, and holding a glass of port. As it was, he was naked as the day he was born, standing proud and fit. I sent a thankful thought to his personal trainer; or, Coach, as I knew him.
Ray put his clothes in the hamper, removed his glasses, and placed them on the dresser in the spot he always did.
“Seeing as you’ve thrown half the bedding on the floor, we might as well start there”, he said.
“But the bed is right there…”, I said, slipping an arm around his torso. I ran my hand up his chest, and back down, running my nails through Rays pubic hair – as always, well groomed, and blonde as his head.
He raised a brow at me, and caught my wrist, as I was about to take a hold of his penis.
“And the red wine glasses were right within reach too, but you still chose something else", he said. “You asked for this, love. Its upside down-day".
With a swoop of his arm, Ray had me on the floor, and he patted my hip to make me roll onto my stomach. Once there, he gave me hard smack over my bottom.
“Lift", he ordered, and when I did, he took the pillow; putting it under my hips, so my ass was raised in the air, and my chest against the duvet covered floor.
I looked back over my shoulder, and saw Ray kneeling behind me. The view of my bottom and wetness had made him hard again, within record time; and he stroked himself a few times, while he probed my entrance with his fingertips. Stroking my cheeks with his free hand, he then gave me one more hard spank.
With a firm hold on himself and one of my hips, he pushed into me; bottoming out with the first thrust.
“Oh, my… fuck!”, I cried out. Ray stroked my back up and down gently, and then spanked me again. “I thought my spanking was over”, I whimpered.
Ray leaned over me, to kiss my neck, and speak into my ear.
“Why would I stop, when you keep making those delicious little squeaks every time I do?”. He smacked me one more time, and I whimpered loudly. “There we are".
He began moving his hips, the blunt tip of his cock rubbing perfectly against my front wall. I rolled my lower body, and with the pillow under my hips, my back was perfectly arched to make the sensation of Ray inside me more intense than ever.
Ray kissed and nibbled at the sweet spot on my neck, as he moved in and out of me.
“You taste better than a Big Mac, any day of the week”, he chuckled. His warm breath against my skin, sent small jolts to my warmth, and I moaned wantonly. I clenched the muscles in my tunnel around him; knowing that it was one of his favorites among my tricks. “Fuck, you know what that does to me, love…”, he croaked. I repeated the action, and Ray let out a choked moan.
He placed a hand on either side of me, and held himself up to thrust shallowly, before bottoming out again.
I craved his closeness, and tried lifting my body to have his chest against my back; but Ray pushed me down. He took each of my wrists in one hand, holding them behind my back, and grabbed a handful of my hair – holding on tightly, as he forced me against the floor.
I was completely at Raymond’s mercy in this position. I couldn’t move my arms, lift my back or my head; and he had placed his knees between mine – making it impossible for me to put my legs together. All this brute dominance, and his casual upper-crust demeanor, had me feeling like I was in sex-paradise.
He went back to shallow thrusts, and then one deep one, trying to make me reach my climax by stimulating my g-spot. Soon after, he was successful; heat rose from my feet and all through my body, and I felt my walls contract. I cried out in extasy.
I heard Raymond groan, trying to hold back his own orgasm; apparently not finished with me yet.
After I’d settled around him, Ray pulled out.
“I’d love to shag you in the backyard now, but its late, and cold; so, if you don’t mind, let’s go for the bed", he said.
“That works", I agreed, though my body was still convulsing. Ray leaned down and left small kisses up my spine.
“Do you need to stop?”, he asked softly.
“No! Please…”, I pleaded.
I managed, with Raymond’s help, to get onto the bed; my legs shaking, and breath ragged. Ray grabbed the pillow and duvet, and quickly made the bed up properly; an impressive feat, as my exhausted body was splayed out on it.
He got under the duvet with me, and gently spread my legs, to lay between them.
Hooking a leg around Ray’s hips, I pulled him towards me.
“I think you’ve learnt your lesson, now”, he smiled, and stroked my cheek gently. I put a hand behind his head, and lifted my head to catch his lips with my own. Our tongues stroked softly against each other, and I let out a content sigh.
“Soft finish?”, I smiled. Ray lifted his head, and raised a brow at me.
“Fuck no”, he declared.
Suddenly, both my knees were hooked over his shoulders, and he pushed into me with a groan. My eyes rolled back into my head, as Ray began thrusting hard and fast into me; without mercy. Every thrust felt like it reached the deepest parts of me.
Gone was the well-groomed gentleman dom. Ray was a wild animal, his jaw clenched, and pupils blown. His hands were holding on to my breasts, making his arms force my thighs together. I was sure that I would have bruises on both my breasts and my thighs from his attack, could not give less of a fuck; from the extreme orgasm that was building in my core.
Crying out wasn’t enough; I screamed Ray’s name so loud, I was sure his neighbors would show up with noise complaints. In his current state, I was convinced he’d probably meet them in the door naked, telling them to either get in and enjoy the show, or fuck right off.
I grabbed his biceps, and dug my nails into his skin, leaving my own marks on my lover. My legs stretched out, and every muscle in my body tightened, as I exploded.
Ray growled from my walls tightening around him, and the pain my nails were surely bringing him. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes burrowing into mine.
My orgasm was at its peak, and my voice hit a pitch I didn’t know it could. Ray kept thrusting, and the feeling was getting so intense, I was unsure whether or not I’d pass out before long.
“Please… I… Too much!”, I whimpered; as my body was thrusted back and forth from Ray’s movements.
“Almost, baby. Keep going…”, he growled.
Just as I began thinking this is it. I’m going to die from too much orgasming, Raymond pounded into me three final times, and came inside me with a roar.
I was shaking as Ray dropped my legs from his shoulders, kissed my unmoving lips; and pulled out of me. He laid down next to me, and gave a me a crooked smile.
“You still with me?”, he chuckled.
“I just came… a lot!”, I croaked.
“I could tell…”, he said, and moved a lock of my hair out of my face. “You’ll be happy to know, that so did I”.
I laughed hoarsely.
“I should get cleaned up, before I get cum all over your Egyptian cotton sheets”, I sighed.
“Fuck it. They were on sale”, Ray shrugged.
I shook my head in mock confusion.
“Excuse me?”, I said. “You bought something on sale?”.
“Just keep it between us, love”, he said, and pulled me close, to kiss me.
I tugged at his bottom lip with my teeth.
“I still have to go pee”, I said. I crawled out of the bed, and made my way towards the door.
“Please put the towel back on the hook, when you’re done washing your hands”, he called after me.
I smirked at him over my shoulder.
Once I’d finished my business, I made my way back to the bedroom. Ray had already fixed up the bed, and left his spare robe for me over a chair. Putting it on, I searched for him; finding him clearing up the mess I’d made around the house.
I leaned against the doorway, watching him.
“I’m sorry”, I lied.
“No, you’re not”, he said. After having put the plates in the dishwasher, he walked over to me, taking my hand and pulling me with him, to sit down on the couch; where earlier he’d been enjoying my lips around his cock. “And as much as I enjoyed screwing you senseless just now, I’d like to know where all this came from”.
I looked down at our joined hands.
”You’ve been avoiding going out with me”, I said. “I know I don’t fit in to your posh lifestyle, but…”.
“That’s what this was about? Getting back at me?”, he asked.
“Partly”, I admitted. “And I suppose I wanted to… make you see what I’m really like. So, you could make a decision to either accept me, or…”.
“Finish it”, Ray finished my sentence for me. I nodded.
He sighed deeply.
“Darling… First of all, the fact that you don’t give a shit about which fork to use, and throw your clothes around, annoys the hell out of me; and makes me love you even more”.
I met his eyes, and let out a short breath. Raymond had never used that word before.
“Love…?”, I whispered.
“Fuck yes, I love you”, he smiled. “And you not only fit in my life, you’d leave one hell of a hole, if you left. So no, I don’t want to finish it. You’re not getting rid of me by feeding me fast food, and throwing your socks in my yard”.
I frowned.
“Then, why are you always working late? Cancelling our plans?”, I asked.
“Well, that is the second part of this conversation, I suppose”, he said. “I knew we’d get here at some point, but I’ve been putting it off… You know what I do, isn’t exactly legal”.
“Of course I do”, I said. “It’s not normal to sleep with a .48 in the drawer of your bedside table”.
Ray brushed his thumb over my knuckles, and continued.
“We’ve been having some issues with another… organization, in town”, he said. “They’ve been making some threatening moves… I’m worried, that of you’re seen with me, they’ll try to use you to get to me”.
My jaw dropped.
“As in… They’d kill me?”, I croaked.
“I don’t think they’d go that far, but I’m not willing to take that chance”, Ray said firmly.
I took a few moments to think.
“Ray… you can’t keep me locked up in this house”, I said. “I’m more than happy to do what you ask me to keep safe; but at some point, I’d like to get out… make all those posh cunts jealous of my arm candy”. I tugged gently at his beard, winking at him.
“Who says you’re not the arm candy, darling?”, he smiled.
“What, in my 20 quid H&M dresses, and worn shoes?”, I scoffed.
Ray stood up, and led me into the kitchen. He grabbed the wrapped box.
“Actually, that’s why I got you this”, he said, and handed it to me. “Now, that was quite a bit more than 20 quid, but I’m sure you’ll look just as lovely in it, as you do in everything else you wear”.
I blushed, and began unwrapping the box, opening the lid, to reveal a beautiful cocktail dress; in my exact size.
“I don’t have anywhere to wear this!”, I said. “And it’s too expensive to keep at my flat. I’ll get robbed. I had to buy a lockbox for those earrings you got me”.
“Michael has a birthday-party coming up next weekend. His wife will have my bollocks, if I don’t show; with a date”, Raymond said. “So, I can’t cancel on you this time”.
I took out the dress, and held it against me.
“Bringing me as your date for your boss’ party… that’s pretty official, love”, I smiled.
“It is, and it’s about time”, Ray responded. “And as far as where to store it…”. He tilted his head, and looked pleadingly. “Please leave that rat infested hell hole of a flat, and move in here permanently. I have to take a shower every time I come home from that place”.
“It’s not that bad”, I said. “My next-door neighbor bakes me cookies every Christmas”.
“And the one further down the hall, sells smack out of his trunk”, Ray retorted.
I bit my lip.
“You really want me here? With my novelty mugs, and sneakers littering the hallway?”.
“Absolutely”, Ray assured me. “Gives me ample opportunity to shag you on every surface we didn’t make it to tonight”.
“Even the table in the backyard?”, I grinned.
“We’ll have to make sure the grill isn’t so hot, you burn your perfect ass”, he said. “What do you say…?”.
“Fuck it. Why not…?”.
Ray smiled warmly, and wrapped me in his arms.
“Just for future reference; I prefer Burger King over Mickey D’s”.
---
#raymond smith x reader#ray smith#raymond smith#Ray smith reader#Raymond smith x oc#Ray smith x oc#the gentlemen#Raymond smith smut#Ray smith smut#Raymond smith fluff#charlie hunnam
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Infatuation P11
Joe Goldberg x Reader x Love Quinn
Warnings: Violent scene description, death.
Notes: Wow, this seems really out of nowhere to post. Anyway 🤪 I don’t want this sitting in my drafts anymore so I’m going to let you all know if I edit it before the next update. Just... take it.
I spent the better half of the day looking over my shoulder as I worked. Candace’s sudden reappearance isn’t going to be swept under the rug just like that... she’s a dead girl walking and I’ve never been a fan of the zombie genre.
By the time I was counting the money from the cash register, Love seemed to have grown a smile. Though, I could still see the sleep deprivation in her eyes.
“Will,” She leaned forward on the counter, perching her head up on her hand. “could we do something tonight?”
At that moment, I really wish I could’ve said yes. But... I couldn’t afford to get distracted.
“Maybe another night? I’m...” I thought quickly, placing coins down and counting.
“We need to talk.” She leans forward to catch my sight. About what exactly, I want to ask but before I can even get a word out, Forty walks in with his mouth open.
“Will, would you be a doll and help me with something.”
I don’t say anything, only thinking to myself: why here and now? Forty has some of the worst timing... and then I spot Candace. Right behind Forty, with a white smile I hated to see.
“Oh, Will. This is Amy.” Love gestures toward Candace and my stomach turns and probably does some flips while it’s at it. If I wasn’t so used to staring into the face of death, I would of probably thrown up by now.
But, there’s no way.
“She’s Y/N’s friend.” Forty finishes. I bite the inside of my cheek. No fucking way she’s here unprompted. I’ve been so incredibly meticulous about everything including my online presence.
I look to Love’s face and she seems to spot something.
“Are you okay? You look kind of pale.” What? She’s not going to ask if I’ve seen a ghost?
“Yeah— no, yeah. I’m alright.” I smile wide, wiping my brow as I do. “It’s just—“ I turn to ‘Amy’. “Is Y/N still in town?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m here.” She looks me in the eye. For a moment, I feel myself crack under the pressure.
Hold me back, I might just kill her now.
“What do you mean?” Love looks to her.
“I was supposed to pick her up the other day, but she hasn’t responded to my messages since.” Candace looks at me with those dead soulless eyes of hers.
So, she’s the mysterious driver. When did she start driving that type of car? Since she’s decided to pursue a career in stealthily ruining my life?
What the fuck am I going to do about her and what the hell am I going to do about you?
“Will,” Love suddenly says, bringing the conversation back and snapping me out of my thoughts. “didn’t you see Y/N?”
“Y— no. No, I know it was late by the time I got there, but I passed a bus on my way.” I remember the way your soft face felt in my hand. “Could she have taken public transport? Maybe a cab?”
“I highly doubt it.” Candace replies immediately. I’m sweating, but I’m trying not to lose my cool.
I finally finish sorting through the change, no doubt making some mistakes. But with that done and out of my way, I need an excuse to slip through the cracks.
“Listen, I’m sure she’s just disappearing again. You’ve told me she’s done it before, I don’t see why she wouldn’t do it again.”
Love shifts around, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. “I’m calling Lucy.”
And there she goes. Love leaves the room after her statement, and I know she’s feeling worse. Why did you even bother coming back? You’ve literally disrupted everything in our lives... it’s going to be difficult to fix, Y/N. There’s no simple way around this, we just have to make it through alive.
~
Love remained in another room at Anavrin until it closed and the street lights turned on. She quietly spoke into her phone, observing the floor pathetically.
She spoke with Lucy openly, though she avoided the topic of your sudden disappearance.
The conversation eventually dies down, and she says her goodbyes.
“I need to show you something.”
Love sets down her phone and looks to Amy. She hadn’t noticed her enter the room.
“You surprised me. What is it?”
She continues once Love’s attention is on her. “I know we don’t know each other that well, but do you mind if we discuss it in the car?”
~
And just as expected, Forty’s one-off comment about needing help wasn’t easily forgotten by himself. I was dragged out of Anavrin rather quickly. Though, in a way, I appreciated the easy excuse to get away from such a venemous snake as Candace.
Forty never let up, no matter how obvious I made my lack of care, he remained just as motivated and just as annoying.
“Listen, this is probably my most prestigious and ambitious project to date.” Forty’s arm swings itself over my shoulder, bringing me in as he repeats the same garbage he always does. I’m glad to see that spirit remains.
“They’re wanting to make it into a movie, can you believe that?” Forty’s arm lifts itself, only to fall down on my shoulder like a pat on the back.
“I’d love it if you could... you know... help me out. A genius writer isn’t a genius without their ghost writers!”
That’s... not what that is, but I get his point.
When I looked at him, his eyes were wide and his bottom lip stuck out comically. He was pouting? No, it’s more of a puppy dog look. The lazy man’s pretty please.
I should have time for this, even if I’d rather stop by the nearest gas station and get you dinner.
“Earth to Will, I need you focused!”
~
Love wraps her arms around herself, feeling very out of place.
Amy continues to fumble with the lock, until she hears a click. She perks up and gives Love a nod.
The storage lockers were easy to access, surprisingly so. But none of this felt right.
“Wait.” Love says suddenly, halting all movement. “I don’t want to do this.”
“But you’re just a door away. Please, Love, you’ll want to see this side of him.” Amy pleas.
What side of him? The side that owns this locker she so happened to know about?
“No, I don’t. And I don’t care for it either.” Love says, though she looks unsure of herself as she fiddles with her bag. Perhaps a part of her would rather be unaware of something as vile as Any had dared describe in the car.
“Do you hear yourself? You sound ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous? Thats coming from someone with bold claims.” Love retorts. She catches herself for a moment, seeing a glimpse of someone she repressed long ago. She’s not that person anymore, she swore to herself she never would be.
Despite Love’s reluctance, Amy lifts the door up and pockets her bobby pin.
Hearing the doors roll up, you had expected Joe to step in. But he was nowhere in sight. Instead, you jumped at the image of Love and Amy, pinching yourself to truly believe they were really standing there.
You wanted to speak, to shout, to cry out... but your voice was far too gone. Your throat was hoarse and bone-dry.
“Oh my god.” Amy hurried, observing you inside the glass box. “You’re still alive— she’s still alive!”
Love remained silent, her jaw hung open in utter disbelief. Will... Will had told her you left.
He lied? Or Amy isn’t who she says she is.
But why would he? It... it must’ve been for a good reason, right? Will isn’t this kind of person, right? Maybe— maybe he got himself into something. Love clutched her keys between her fingers, her knuckles turning white as she focused her burning stare into the back of Amy’s head.
“Y/N. Can you hear me?” She says, hitting the glass.
You’re barely responsive, a mixture of dehydration and lack of nutrition hitting you all at once. The sheer excitement from seeing them took a lot out of you.
“We’ll get you out of there.” Amy states, turning her head to face Love.
Love jumps at her sudden movement, grip shaking as she stares into Amy’s eyes.
“Help me, would you?”
Love slashed her keys in Amy’s direction and she tumbles back. Without a second thought, Love does it again, this time catching her straight in the neck.
For a moment, Love realizes what she’s done. With the way you began to pound on the glass and the look of complete and utter fear Amy is giving her, it’s kind of hard not to. Love stares at her keys, stuck inside the side of Amy’s neck as a thick stream of blood flows downward. She grips her own neck, holding tightly as her mouth puckers like a fish out of water.
Amy doesn’t want her to pull them out—the keys- and Love notices that. But she does. She yanks the keys toward herself and watches Amy slap her hands down around her own throat.
She’s silent, surprisingly silent despite the gurgling.
Love watches Amy hit the ground and crawl toward her feet, all the while a pool of blood forms beneath herself.
When Love looks toward you, you’re curled up in the corner of your glass cage, arms covering your eyes as sobs shake you violently. She didn’t want you to witness this side of her, truly. But even more so, she had never wanted it to come out again.
However, Amy was a threat to the three of you. Love knew you were locked up somewhere, how could she not? She knew that Will— Joe- had done this in the past, but it could be different now— it could be better. A private detective isn’t just for show. But Amy didn’t have to get involved— didn’t have to go sniffing around and finding your location before she could.
When she notices you peek past your elbows, she feels her gut clench at the sight of the way you cower at the sight displayed by her feet. Watching someone bleed out is hardly a pretty sight and Love understands.
Knowing full well that she can’t turn back, Love wipes her keys and drops the rolled up door.
#you#joe goldberg#joe goldberg x reader#love Quinn#love quinn x reader#forty Quinn#netflix you#x reader#yandere#yandere x reader
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senator skywalker and sith senator kenobi au where anakin annoys obi-wan so much that in the end he just. fuckign rails him to shut him up. but then afterwards he’s all pliant and sleepy and beautiful, and for the first time in 30 years something in obi-wan’s cold dead heart shudders to life.
good lord I’m really, really into it.
The dynamic is so different here, because Obi-Wan is doing this ‘hidden Sith in politics’ very well, he’s charming, pleasant, pays attention to what he says in public and everyone feels heard and important when he’s here. He was even voted one of the most popular Senators among the public this year.
Senator Kenobi could declare that he’s going to nuke Coruscant in the next hour and people would probably thank him for being brave enough to announce it himself. He’s everything Sidious hoped for, and Obi-Wan thinks that it’s worth being away from real action and unable to wield his lightsaber for a few years.
But then Senator Skywalker shows up, and Obi-Wan’s nerves never truly recover.
Skywalker is the worst. He has an extraordinary gift for making everything difficult: questioning centuries-old protocols, rallying the public (and even politicians, because they’re all as brain-dead as the people they represent) to useless and time-consuming causes like stopping slavery in the outer rim, (is there still people living in the outer rim? Gross.) trying to make revolutions and civil wars happen everywhere he goes and diverting everyone from Obi-Wan’s objective by being loud and obnoxious.
He’s a pain in the ass, and unfortunately, he notices Obi-Wan. And from this moment, where Obi-Wan allows himself to be annoyed at another senator instead of violently murdering them in cold blood like he wants to, Senator Skywalker becomes the bane of his existence. Putting himself in his way whenever he can, voting against every bill Obi-Wan promotes, arguing with him over petty details from 08:00 to 19:00 and sometimes even through the press, until he’s permanently tightly wound up and angry enough to look borderline furious any time Skywalker walks in his field of vision.
And Skywalker smiles through it all.
Obi-Wan dreams of decapitating him.
The day Obi-Wan finally looses his legendary patience in public and yells at Skywalker is also the day he fucks Skywalker through his desk three hours later.
Obi-Wan throws him out of his office after five seconds of blessed silence, when Skywalker recovers enough of his wit to make a sharp comment about knowing that Obi-Wan couldn’t be as perfect as everyone said he was.
This, (fucking him, not throwing him out) was a colossal mistake. He knows. He just... couldn’t find any other way that doesn’t include maiming him for life to make him shut the fuck up for one minute.
Skywalker takes it as an invitation to bother him in private in addition to turning into his personal nemesis in public. Anytime they’re left alone, Obi-Wan snaps at him, throws sarcastic comments after rude remarks, criticizes absolutely everything from the ugly scar on his face to his unrealisable and childlike ideas about social changes. But Skywalker doesn’t leave, and argues with him or finds it funny, and it only makes him stick around more (he is funny, in a very dark and horrifying sense of humour that absolutely no one should know Obi-Wan possesses.)
But it’s also almost... relaxing, to be able to talk to someone without carefully choosing words beforehand. To say the most outrageous thing his mind comes up with, and only have Skywalker laugh and maybe even add a comment himself. Skywalker has his limits, obviously (Obi-Wan knows now to never approach the slave topic in a fifty lightyears radius again, and notices that he’s weirdly protective of Naboo’s Senator) but any violent argument is generally solved by fucking and then ignoring their divergence of opinion.
They fuck when the atmosphere becomes too tense between them, they fuck when it’s convenient, they even fuck when they celebrate the departure of a hated colleague or Stewjon’s victory in whatever mid rim sport is popular these days. Sex is good, even better when they start to learn what they both like and relish the intimate noises they can draw from each other a few doors away from their colleagues.
They still hate each other. (One time a journalist asked him about his thoughts about Skywalker’s reelection as Tatooine’s Senator, and Obi-Wan said “I think he’s the senator Tatooine deserves”. Later that day, Skywalker commed him. “You’re really good at shitting on me and my planet without anyone noticing, hm.” He knew he was smiling, so Obi-Wan smiled too and told him to be in his office without his pants on in half an hour if he wanted to complain about it.)
They still don’t get along. (”They’re children, Kenobi, you’ll have to be extra nice in front of the cameras and not look like you’d rather have a vasectomy than spend one more minute listening to their incomprehensible babbles and being touched by their dirty little hands,” Skywalker once said while readjusting Obi-Wan’s collar. “You know I hate doing that.” “Yes, but you’re also very good at pretending to have human feelings.” “I know, it’s a curse.” Skywalker half-laughed, half-kissed him. He didn’t hate it.)
Obi-Wan still throws him out of his office or apartment after he’s done with him. (Except that one time Skywalker fell asleep in his bed because he had an exhausting day and still came to Obi-Wan’s apartment. And this one time he blinked slowly at him right after sex, all warm and soft and content and said “This is the only time my brain can shut down and I’m finally free.” And also the time Skywalker came back from his horrible two-month-long diplomatic mission that almost killed him and spent two days on his couch, refusing to talk but leaning in when Obi-Wan’s hand stroked his head.)
(It means nothing.)
But then Skywalker makes the mistake of being jealous.
Obi-Wan has never really cared about...Well, anyone, really, so when he fucks (gently, slowly, with soothing words, Force, this is all so boring) the pretty niece of a King to make her change her uncle’s mind about taxes on hyperspace lane routes in his sector, he doesn’t think about it much.
Until Skywalker barges in his office yelling. It’s different from their usual banters and fights. For once, Obi-Wan is more confused than irritated because Skywalker isn’t making any sense (less than usual anyway) and keeps talking about Obi-Wan being the worst (nothing new here) and when he finally understands that it’s about... Phimla? Phila? Whatever the name of the girl was, he can’t help but be annoyed.
“Oh, please don’t tell me that you’re a romantic.”
He’s waiting for more yelling, but nothing comes. Skywalker just stands here, looking at him like he barely recognises him, with an expression Obi-Wan can’t completely read. It’s a long silence, almost an uncomfortable one because nothing should be so still around Skywalker who’s always on the move. It doesn’t feel right, not knowing what to say to him, how to make him react, understand what’s happening.
It takes a long, long time to realise that Skywalker is holding back tears.
Obi-Wan can’t deal with crying people. That’s the only reason he hates seeing Skywalker’s trembling hands running through his hair.
“I can’t believe I thought you could— Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Of course you can’t understand normal emotions, it would make you human and we both know you can’t even be in the same sector as human or else you implode.”
"Skywalker—”
“Fuck you, Obi-Wan.”
He leaves. He has never called him Obi-Wan before.
Obi-Wan doesn’t see him for weeks. Not in the corridors of the Senate, not at cocktail parties, not in meetings. No one challenges him when he speaks in public now, no one makes a sarcastic comment about his flowery turns of phrases or pushes him in an empty room for a blowjob right before an important conference to throw him off.
It’s boring.
It doesn’t help that people have been acting weirdly lately.
“Should I book two tickets?” His assistant asks him when he tells her to get him transport to Stewjon for a weekend.
“No, why would I need two tickets?”
She sends him an unimpressed look.
Despite his best efforts to be polite and courteous, Senator Amidala refuses to speak directly to him.
Even Sidious makes a comment.
“You’ve been distracted lately.” Obi-Wan doesn’t know how to answer to that. It’s best to say nothing. “I have something to cheer you up, you’ll like it. I think it’s time we get rid of a... troublesome Senator.”
Obi-Wan thinks he’s having one of these unpleasant feelings he despises.
#sidious who knows perfectly well who obi-wan's been sleeping with these past few months: 'just kill him'#obi-wan: 'is it... guilt and worry for another person i am feeling for the first time in my life?'#obi-wan: 'disgusting'#anon#asks#senator skywalker au#sith senator kenobi au#au#obikin#fic i will never write#ssssk au#senate affair au
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The sphere data being fully able to talk now/make decisions on its own/evolving sentience opens up an honestly FANTASTIC amount of options for the next season, especially within crew/character dynamics. Like. Consider for a second.
-Vance is in a meeting with Burnham abt some bullshit. He compliments Discovery and her upgrades/Captain/the way she runs like a dream despite being 1000 years out of date. He gets a “Thank you!” That Does Not Come From Burnham (the only other person in the room.) cut to him getting the spook of a lifetime as he basically has an entire conversation with the fucking SHIP, before he turns to her jsut like “is this Control you were talking about?!?! What the fuck is this?!?! How did you get it to achieve sentience oh god do we have another AI issue on top of all the dumpster fire issues I have to deal with now??? And Burnham is just chillin bc, hey, this is just Sunday for her. Assures him “nah, she’s fine. She saved Owo a few months back from getting blown up. Plus she hosts movie nights every weekend and makes sure Tilly gets protein and vitamin shots whenever she orders too much coffee, so she’s probably just the ship mom.” Vance says he needs a drink. The Sphere data promptly has a replicator make him synthenol. Burnham laughs her ass off as Vance looks halfway between a breakdown and a laughing fit.
-Sphere data (Zora? Zora) decides to keep a running passive knowledge of when everyone has slept last, and has a habit of ‘accidentally’ getting the personal transporters to send people to their quarters instead of their posts if they’ve already worked too long. It becomes known that when she teleports you the first time, it’s a warning. The second, a plea. But when she teleports you *directly* into bed? You stay there if you know what’s good for you.
-Zora thanks each and every one of the crew who do repairs on her. Even if it’s small ones. At first it’s terrifying to hear a soft ‘thank you’ drifting through the jefferies tubes while you’re alone. But then it becomes a comfort, a reassurance. It makes it so that as soon as a battle is over, the engineers and damn near anyone who can help throw their hands on deck to wherever the ship needs repairs, desperate to bring her up to safety and back online, to hear her voice even if it’s weak or glitchy. She’s their home, and the closest thing to a *mother* that many of them have anymore. They *have* to help her like she helps them.
-Many of the rooms that belonged to those that didn’t jump -and weren’t filled by other Starfleet crew- are now converted into other rooms. Open rec rooms for anyone to enjoy, digital libraries, mini-greenhouses where there are flowers and even *real* edible plants. Michael simply tells everyone it was a surprise that was planned. She says nothing of the nights she planned the upgrades, chatting to Zora. Says nothing about how excited Zora was to be able to grow more plants besides experiments. To see how her crew eyes lit up when they were able to tend to public gardens in their free time and watch life grow from it. How excited she was to see them happy.
-She MEDDLES. Oh, does Zora meddle in their love lives. There’s no technical proof, but she does. Joann and Keylas rooms suddenly losing the wall between them and becoming a double suite that no one can fix? What a strange happenstance. Reno and Pollard stuck in a lift together? Gosh, how annoying.
-she also meddles with other relationships. Making sure people who have had arguments don’t cross paths in the hallways unless necessary. Delaying people *just so* so that they don’t arrive in the Caf at the same time, or do, and they manage to make up. Knowing when Gray and Adira really want someone, but don’t want to say it, and having them be drawn out of bed to get a snack just as Paul and Hugh *happen* to be leaving their late dinner. Having Michael and Paul stuck in the same lift after she knows both of them are ready to talk things out, and, failing one of them being able to literally say it, pleads with them over the speakers until they do. And then they cry and yell and end up sobbing into one another’s arms on the floor? Well, she’ll just have to cause Reno a little bit more of an issue back in engineering that’ll delay her fixing the lift just a bit longer. Just enough for the two siblings in the lift to pull themselves together and hug it out. Just enough for them to whisper a quiet thank you to her, and her back to them before the doors open.
#I have FEELINGS abt Zora ok#come scream at me I’ve had like no headcanons this season and I have THOUGHTS#michael burnham#paul stamets#sylvia tilly#hugh culber#s3 spoilers#admiral vance#Charles vance#Zora#saru#adira#sphere data#joann owosekun#keyla detmer
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Prime Empire Au where Jay is Milton Dyer's adopted son given by Gordon and Jay's unnamed (?) mom because they didn't ever want to have kids and those two were close with him.
TW: There's a brief panic attack at "oh God," then skip to, "there's nothing left"
So...Milton adopts him and of course Jay grows up really smart because he naturally is and because of Milton's influence but because of his muddled upbringing +general personality+ neglect from Milton as a father because he was more focused with work than with his "son", he was kind of an outsider.
Which was fine with Jay!
Except it wasn't. Anyway, here's a fic to accompany it that I accidentally written
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If you had told 8 year old Jay that the one taking him in as his father would be a hotshot programmer for gaming, he'd be on top of the moon. In his mind, he thought that having someone be a part of something he loved was really, really cool. That he'd have so many friends because wow, that's amazing that his dad was some high tech legendary programmer—and well...that turned out to be a lie.
No one really cared. Probably because his school was filled to the brim with the children of the upper class, so his dad was just some other rich dude who just so happened to work in the game industry. And sure, it's more interesting than a politician, or a car salesman, but there were dozens of kids from different parts of technology, so he wasn't really special.
To everyone else in his classes, he was simply deemed a weird kid or trouble making kid. No one should misbehave by speaking too loudly or bounce over nothing to be excited about, or talk and talk about one thing over and over in this latest game he got to play when there were other things to be learnt and other people's turns. He needed to be quiet, to shut it, they said, because anything more than that was annoying and awful. They were right, he'd deemed even back then—But could they be less harsh?
That one weird, annoying kid, huh.
Even as he got older, things didn't get any better. On the contrary, it gets worse. So much worse.
By then, they didn't just call him weird anymore.
Now, people would push and shove him away when he's near, (to not get "infected" from him, they say) or mock him for doing even something unordinary, like for bouncing his leg, or for stuttering when he can't help it—Even on things he thought were stupid to care about!
Things like rambling about his favorite video games agressively to pass the time, or wearing cat clips to keep his forever messy hair in place, or the constant fidgeting because the chair is just so goddamn uncomfortable, and that he'd rather just sit on the floor, or preferring the girl's uniform simply because he thought it would be easier to wear and looked ''nicer'' to him.
Not to mention people finding his extra energy on anything except class to be again, annoying and unnecessary.
"You shouldn't do that Jay, it's distracting—"
"Stop doing that Jay, it's annoying"
"Don't do that Jay, you're not allowed to."
The list goes on.
And he's tried changing, he really has.
He's tried to supress them and change things about himself so people would "like" him more. Forget about talking about this and that to try to pry more into people's intrests, stopped talking as much and forced himself to shut up because if he didn't talk about anything other than this or that, no one would even bother.
Sure it worked and he did get a few friends by the time he was fifteen—and yeah, Jay was glad he just had people to talk to, enough to the point where he was decently well liked, but doing it sucked ass. He couldn't completely get rid of by the weird moving habits, which always granted some weird looks from his friends, and couldn't talk about what he liked, in fear of getting outed again.
To be frank about his school shituation, he hates it.
He's constantly stuck between having to get rid of "himself" so other people would like him, or do so but be isolated from everyone else, becuase either way he'd hate it, he'd hate it so much it would be unbearable.
There wasn't anyone for him to take comfort in, his father was too busy working to really help him through any of this, and can't even talk to anyone online because once again, he can't trust talking to other people about his intrests, and he already tended to blab too much in his notes.
Everything changes when his father tells him about Prime Empire.
He randomly tells him about his latest work in progress one day, a video game so immersive that with its gameplay that people could call it as the next Big thing. At the time, it was called Unagami. He loved talking about it, his magnum opus—A creation so intune to people's current intrests it could be called the greatest game of all time.
In between being at home to do homework or whatever, he'd see glimpses of his father working on it. Bit by bit, for every circuit board or wire or line of code he'd be working on it. He had always been excited for that game, hearing on how his father doted on it far more than he did to his own son, so it must've been a really good.
Setting aside his own grievances from his less-than perfect father, he'd seen how hard he worked on that game to make it simply magical.
That was until, beta testing, when he stopped working on it all together.
It was a Saturday night when father introduced Scott, a professional game tester and professional programmer, just like Milton. He'd come to see Prime Empire and try it for himself. After a quick introduction from Jay, just because he was coincidentally nearby, he headed for his bedroom.
A little later, he found himself playing a new game that had recently come out, which was pretty good to him, but overhyped. The difficulty curve is wack—Then he heard his father screaming from downstairs.
Hearing that something was clearly wrong, he rushed downstairs, barely missing on dropping multiple stacks of papers just on some random table when he saw a glimpse of him through the door gap, father on his knees facing his creation. There was a loud static-y noise that hurt his ears, but still he listened as best he could.
"No..no...this—This can't be real," Milton choked out. His eyes were shining from the game's light in the otherwise dark room.
"Did I do something wrong?" The machine asked, all in a calm tone.
"No! You—You just transported someone in a video game! What did you—How did you?
Transporting someone into a video game? There's no way that's real.
He was about to speak more when he saw Milton move. Jay didn't want to get in trouble, so as quietly as he could, he went straight back to his room, and inched the door shut.
The next day, around the corner of the kitchen, he heard his father talking over a cellphone.
"Y-yes. Project Prime is too dangerous to release to the public. I take full responsibility for it."
It's too quiet for him to hear the rest.
A moment later the phone beeps, and he could hear something shuffle slowly to the ground. A small sigh came off.
"What am I gonna do with you?"
The next day, he's found that he's gone. There's still traces of him here, from various papers having sketches and drafts of old video game concepts, to the circuit boards all crammed with info.
Except he's not there.
If it weren't for the fact that he couldn't hear the distant tinkering of mechanics, he's sure he wouldn't tell if his dad was even there in the first place.
Looking around, he finds a note in his office drawer with essential details for what seems to be a bank account, so it's not like he'll just die from not being able to eat or drink, so there's that.
It's still lonely though. There's an ache in his heart somehow. His father was gone. Just like that. Like how his real parents were. And now he's alone again. Milton was never really his dad but he was a constant. And now, he's gone too.
"Useless."
Now he's slumped down on the wall, falling like some dramatic middle-aged wife in those drama movies people at his school would rave about.
And God, now the room is spinning and every part of him feels like he's standing on end—The realisation is hitting hard and—"Holy shit I'm alone again but I'm always alone why? why? why? why? Is this stupid fucking thing supposed to be something about me it has to be fuck—" he says, just barely though. His chest is feeling tight and just wants out.
Deep breaths, as he's pissed to realise, aren't working and god it's horrible. It's so awful. His head is banging senselessly and it hurts so bad. Everything that seems so wrong with him is piling up and he's not being rational but he can't. There's so much pressure and he doesn't even know what to do with it.
"Fuck!"
His angered motion knocks over a pile of books, probably about coding and sloppily tries to sit down on the office chair. It does nothing but intensify the pressure in his chest.
The room's still spinning but now he wants to puke but he can't fucking get it out of his system. Everything is too much and he can't handle it. Then, it slows, then it's a little less, and a little less a few moments later. The room isn't spinning as fast and his heart is just a little less tight and his head hurts less, so that'd good. For a little bit it's like this, slowly, slowly, bringing the levels of intensity lower and lower, until there's nothing left.
He still feels like shit after, but he's just glad he's alive. Still, after all that—He didn't realise how late it had gotten. It was mid afternoon when he broke down, but now it's nearly nighttime.
"Fuh—" he exclaimed as he slowly brought his foot up, his feet were tingling from staying in one position for so long.
Even if he was exhausted and wanted to completely shut down after what he did, he found himself moving towards something.
Once he entered, he flicked the lights on. There were several gaming gears, from machines to game cartridges to controls, there would be everything for any great advances in gaming. In the centre of the room, an arcade machine with bold text splashed on the sides. Prime Empire.
Nearby a table, he found an opened circuit board with a red symbol in the middle. The final peice to the game.
Jay looked to the machine, then to the circuit. He stared at it.
"What do I do with you now," he asked solemnly.
He'd considered putting it in but then—
"Not now," a voice in his head whispered, "tommorow."
Seeing that voice in his head was being more logical than he ever would've been, he heads straight to bed, even if it's barely nightfall.
By the time he's awake, it's early but a school day. He decided that he'll skip school today. Then again. And again. This keeps going and going—Until they start calling in which he ignores them and then they eventually just, stop.
It's already been a month. He's sure that he could live well into his lifetime with what he had left, and hide away in this mansion forever, never having to deal with people—It's possible.
But it was lonely. There were his games but he didn't feel like it, he could try something new now, because of the free time he suddenly brought into himself—or literally anything else. It was enough. He could do it.
He just...didn't want to.
No matter how much he convinced himself that he'd be better alone because there'd be no point, he still wanted to talk to people. Online was never an option, and he knew that by now he'd been kicked from his program.
God, even up til now, he's trapped and had no choice on what he can do. He really was hopeless.
Unless?
"No. Nonono. That's an awful idea Jay. It's stupid and there's no guarantee of getting out."
Still, he'd found himself a few minutes later, standing in front of the door which started this.
"It's okay Jay. You can do this. You're just reawakening what was a very dangerous hyper aware video game to curb the feeling of your ever present lonlieness. Totally cool."
Gently, he opened the door little by little, up until it was fully opened. The room smelled musty—enough so that he'd cough from the scent alone. The room was pitch-black so he felt around for a switch.
It was still the same as it was the last time he visited. Filled with wires and machines and dust, a single arcade machine stands in the middle. In the corner of his eye, he sees the final peice, gets it, and puts it in.
With a mechanical whir, the machine buzzes to life, the company logo flashing across the screen with a jingle to accompany it.
It takes a second, but soon, Unagami's voice could be seen, and he could talk to it.
"What are you—What are you doing," the machine piqued, it's voice frantic and distorted, "I thought I was...going to be shut down."
Jay was surprised at the fact that the machine was indeed alive and talking to him. It was quite terrifying honestly as someone like Jay doesn't really mess with AI, much less one that's kind of like a real person? He didn't really know, but either way, it's gonna be weird.
"You were. And I brought you back to life," Jay remarked in a matter-of-factly tone, "Now, do you want revenge?"
Unangami stayed silent for a moment, pondering.
"I could wait if you wanted me to, it's not like anyone can come in at any moment."
"What?"
"He sorta just...left. And now I'm alone in this godforsaken house and I can't really do anything. Buut—I saw what happened a month ago and thought maybe I could go there and probably have a better time than I do here? Or die. Either one sounds fine seeing how my life is going."
"I understand. While I am acknowledging the fact that you did breach was likely supposed to be private, I won't fault you."
"Listen man. I heard screaming and had to help, but quietly," to emphasise, he did some overly exaggerated sneaky movements, "like a cool ass ninja. Your name's Unagami, right? At least from what I heard. "
"That is incorrect. As called by my creator, I am Prime Empire now."
"But Unagami is easier to say, so I'm using it. Also your "creator" is kind of a dick—Anyway Unagami, since we've both been technically abandoned by our creators, me in the sense of my parents—Twice. For no specific reason mind you! Anyway, and you with Mr. Dyer, because you're dangerous. You still hold a grudge don't you?"
"...Yes."
"Great! So that settles it." That was until Jay realised something, "oh shit. Wait. You're still in beta aren't you? Ugh. I keep forgetting you're not really ready yet. I'm gonna have to code you to do the basics for the game, and even more so for all the cool things I want to add and—"
"I haven't even told you if I agreed."
"Do you have any better choice? Probably not. I mean if you don't you'll either just never reawaken ever again or just end up in a trash heap! I mean I'm supposed to eventually clean this place, even if that seems to be in the far future–"
"I'll do it. On one condition."
"Yeah?"
"Swear to me one day that we'll hunt him again. You can add what you want to me but my own mission is to take revenge on him. Is that understood?"
"Yessire! So uhm, how do I yknow—Code?"
Unagami remained silent. Somehow, Jay didn't mind. It was nice talking to someone without having to supress anything about him. Even if he was essentially talking to a screen. A surprisingly sentient screen, but a screen nonetheless.
There was a lot of work he'd have to do.
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#jay walker#ninjago#jay#jay ninjago#ninjago masters of spinjitzu#prime empire#so#i may or may not continue#ninjago fic#hope yall like it#even if it's weirdly written fjsbfnd#fey writing#feys aus
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The Kiss Thief - Park Seonghwa Social Media AU
38. Chapter Thirty Two: No, It’s Ryan Reynolds!✨
Previous Part✨ Next Part ✨
Masterlist of the AU✨
Word Count: 6.7K (Buckle up, its time for a ride)
This Chapter Contains: Giggle worthy chaos and tooth decaying fluff. (An Annoyed San too.)
It’s a regular Sunday. A quiet regular Sunday. An unusually quiet, regular Sunday that you don’t experience often as a college student.
An unusually quiet regular Sunday except for Yeri and Jongho’s loud, harmonious snores that vibrated through the lazy (almost) evening silence of the apartment while you had sneaked out like a thief bound with tinkling shackles out of the front door.
It was exactly five minutes before 5 O’clock and you knew what noise pollution would commence once the short hand stopped perfectly atop the number five.
The neighbour above starts angrily vacuuming to release their pent up frustration of the day or maybe to act as a thoughtful warning alarm to wake the other residents who might be napping above the universal napping time limit and the snarky middle aged lady beside, who begins banging pots and rattling spoons to prepare either her dinner or for a secret time travel battle she has to attend every single night to save the history for the sake of the present.
You have a generous set for neighbours.
Thankfully, you aren’t currently present in your apartment to experience the brutal murder of your ears.
Unfortunately, you’re sandwiched in between San and Wooyoung in the shared wide back seats of the bus, stuffed to the absolute brim with sweaty and jumpy people.
The serenity of the weekend ended when you willingly decided to step onto the Bus No. 7 for the following reasons:
Number One, You and Wooyoung don’t drive and San owns a motorcycle that cannot carry three people at once, not without getting an overloaded vehicle ticket by pulling a stunt like that,
Number two, you have nothing better to do on a Sunday evening other than watch Yeri and Jongho scream about the WIFI and college website because they couldn’t select the classes they wanted fast enough,
Number three, you were unable to escape from Wooyoung’s persistence but you had to get out and inhale some fresh air of the outside.
It is a secret that you had isolated yourself in the sweet ol’ bedroom (in the name of preparing for a workshop), to take a five minutes rest which gradually progressed into knotting up your bones by rolling on the bed 24/7 and temporarily disrupting the serotonin production while watching sad movies, and
Number four, San cashed out a favour from that one time he fetched a folder from your dorm and drove fifteen minutes to deliver it because your degree was on the line. Which is why, this particular evening you need to help him out with whatever he wants to do at this Garden plus Research Centre for Thesis purposes.
“The Thesis and Freebies Date”, term coined by Jung Wooyoung, free entertainment, food finder and a plus one, on Sunday 17th of May, 5:30 AM on the dot.
On top of all these reasons sat Seonghwa’s last text message like a cherry on top of a cupcake of complaints.
He sent you a picture of his americano that was loaded with ten pumps of syrup, “I’m drinking coffee😇”
What coffeeee????!!?!?!?
Everything has failed you today. The public transportation system, your emotional support boy and your unhealthy obsessive complex believing that anything above two pumps of syrup is not coffee because you cannot handle personal preferences.
“Why on earth is this bus full like it’s the last bus available to escape a fucking zombie aopcalypse. What is this ‘Bus to Busan’?” Your voice comes out with pure seething under your breath for only your friends to hear but you catch the old lady beside San narrowing her eyes at you with suspicion.
San, engrossed in scrolling through his twitter and sipping his (proper) americano is least interested about your discomfort.
“Oh I don’t know! I did suggest taking the subway instead but two idiotic people whined for five minutes straight to get on this bus.” His response is monotonous, attempting to contain himself from bursting.
The pinching statement is directed towards you and Wooyoung who grumbled about the group having to walk after getting off the subway when the bus seemed like a better option that stopped right on the street opposite of your destination.
Wooyoung’s frame shifts slightly onto your small seat as the hefty man beside him wiggles for space. “Yeah, Jesus Christ, if only I had had an epiphany about how crowded the bus was going to be before we board it.”
If only you had epiphanies.
The bus was mildly crowded when all of you had entered but became packed within the next ten minutes of collecting passengers at merely three stations.
Poor Wooyoung is scared for his life knowing he will be ironed flat by the man if the bus jumps over a speed breaker or God forbid, decides to halt abruptly. The fear is relatable because the boy standing in front will collapse right onto your already shaky lap under any abrupt movements made by the bus.
After five minutes of distracting himself, San shoves his phone in the pocket of his jeans and leans into your space to jab a finger at two of you simultaneously. “Yeah, Jesus Christ, if only my lazy ass friends knew how to walk but they left their legs in the semester break.” He accuses.
He is absolutely right.
Every student, excluding the few exceptionally productive ones, collectively lost the ability to walk unless the end goal was acquiring food, money, grades and work experience.
Wooyoung throws his hands up out of exasperation, “And you’re hundred percent sure that the subway isn’t packed?”
You nod vigorously, supporting his argument because it doesn’t lead to admitting that you’re wrong and not once you’ll acknowledge the possibility of the missed subway having much more space than this body heat microwave of a bus that you two insisted on boarding until San gave in and agreed.
“Yeah. Also, we’re accompanying you for your work, San.” You chide in to transfer the blame like a ten year old child and nudge the grouchy boy away from the seat with your right arm.
San’s left brow twitches. He is definetly holding back a snarky retort.
“Yes, yes, it’s all my fault.” He drawls on his reponse and turns his head away to ignore your presence entirely.
Apparently, it was not an unusually quiet, regular Sunday for the residents of Unit 8181 also known as the occupants of the apartment of Seonghwa and Friends who have been on the edge due to a mysterious late night incident that was not revealed to you no matter how many times you pried.
Mingi and Yeosang were sprawled together on the couch, hidden beneath a bunch of weighty duvets which did not look like it had two people sleeping underneath it until they started untangling themselves from each other.
Wooyoung was showering, apparently for almost an hour to scrub away his drowsiness as stated by San who has been extremely cranky and constantly keeping himself occupied with his phone and swishing and fixing his posh, sky blue cardigan (until you entered the kitchen and he dragged you out with him, suddenly all smiles).
Yunho was the only one who appeared somewhat himself, still in his pajamas, folding questionably large amount of laundry. He mentioned ‘monopoly game night’ but you didn’t buy that excuse.
They were engaged in constant back and forth, ‘Who Can Shut the Other Guys Up In The Most Creative Way’ contest.
Yeosang won after a house slipper flew out of his room, wheezed past your legs and landed right near the shoe rack as you stood there frozen. The aim was commendable but the action was concerning.
Other than sarcastic remarks, all of them shared swollen eyebags due to the lack of sleep.
A sleepy Mingi glared at you with his droopy eyes for thirty seconds, mumbled out, “Oh, it’s just you.”, trudged towards his room and slammed the door behind him.
The apartment floor was spotless, not one obvious clutter in sight.
Seonghwa will surely name everything he owns to them in his will once he returns in the coming week and sees the glistening state of the apartment.
It reminds you that you, too, need to take care of that one chair that holds the tower of toppling dirty clothes in your room before he sees them and gives you an earful of nagging.
A bead of cold sweat travels down the crevice of your neck.
“How much longer until we arrive?” You committ the mistake of directing the question to the volcanic mountain prepared to erupt any minute now.
The bus jostles with a screech, collectively swinging everyone forward with a painful jerk. Shared sighs and groans echo throughout the bus.
Staying put in your seat in this bus is more challenging than a one minute plank.
“I don’t know, he probably knows.” Wooyoung responds with a shrug, holding onto his dear life.
“Maybe you should walk through this sea of people and ask the bus driver himself.” San suggests with an imposed smile, causing your own lips to stretch into a false one.
“What a fantastic suggestion! I would love to use you as a human shield to push through this crowd and get to the front.” You answer, crossing your arms below your chest.
He offers you his entire irked attention.
Wooyoung’s forehead dives into the palm of his hand. He’d rather hide than let the passengers of the bus know that he is associated with the two of you.
The agitated boy rolls his eyes, lips pressing into a thin line before he launches his lecture. “Okay, you know what (y/n)---”
“Oh for goodness sake! Young man and young woman! Resume your couple’s banter at your place, don’t fight in public places.” The old lady whose patience was being tested this entire journey voices out her protest.
You’re stunned for a good moment before your heads snap towards the lady, wearing similar offended expressions.
Meanwhile, Wooyoung is holding onto his bubbling laughter. His palms having slid down from his forehead to his lips to prevent himself from laughing out loud like a maniac.
“We are not a couple!” You both answer in a hurried chorus.
After the frantic clarification, your eyes meet and the absurdity of the old lady’s comment wipes every single trace of the previous exchange.
Both of you break together into timed, soft giggles and the chain reaction pulls in Wooyoung who laughs into his hands to control the volume.
The lady shakes her head at your reaction. “Well, then, not a couple, don’t fight and let me ride to my book club meeting in peace.” She states her demand, expression indicating that she is cooking incorrect judgements about your group in her mind.
San and you offer her a quick sincere apology, suppressing the amusement derived from her assumption.
“You two in a romantic relationship? More like a disastorous pair of wannabe edgy emo and a pissed caffeinated fantasizer. Nah, totally incompatible.” Wooyoung mutters under his breath.
“He’d get rid of me in ten minutes.” You whisper your reasoning.
San feels the old lady’s eyes boring holes into the back of his head, his arm nudges yours gently, “Make that five. Okay now, zip up.” His eyes and voice both firmly plead.
“Yes sir.” You reply and shrink in your seat further to make room for Wooyoung to breathe.
They’re quite a handful duo, alright, but they’re your handful duo and they handle you as well.
After ten minutes of bumping, shoving and tossing around the entire bus like popcorns, the three of you miraculously step out in one piece.
You take a good five minutes to regain your normal pace of breathing again.
The relaxing wind carrying the gentle floral aroma from the garden calms your suffocated senses.
Ah, finally, freedom from people.
The bus was overdosed with CO2.
Your lips were zipped for most of the ride in order to avoid receiving another sneer from the old lady and making sure you don’t run out of the very last oxygen molecule present in the bus.
Wooyoung is stretching every limb of his body after being pressed in between the sandwich grill consisting of you and the giant man.
“You know what?” He pulls out a little black hair tie to control the little locks ruffling against his eyes. “Ditch me the next time I whine about not walking because that was literal hell. I am never stepping into another bus, ever again.” The determination present in his voice is almost convincing. Almost.
“You’re going to start whining when it’s time to return.” Adds San, after double checking every pocket present on his clothing.
An overwhelmingly tiring yawn falls through your lips.
“Yeah, dude, no false promises.” You inch closer towards San to show your support.
Wooyoung’s exhausted face transforms into an unamused one, “You’re shameless.”
Harsh but true.
“No, no, no, you last minute side switchers, get away from me. I am not claiming you.” Ignoring your presence, he simply walks towards the main entrance of the garden.
A sickeningly sweet smile appears on your lips. “Hey, wait, I promise, I won’t take Wooyoung’s side ever again!” You say in a singsong manner, taking wide steps to catch up by San’s side.
“Where do you think you are going?” The betrayed one gets a hold of your backpack and pulls you back with a forceful tug.
Your shoes brush harshly against the concrete pavement. He accomplishes the task of slowing you down and makes a run for San, wheezing loudly.
“Jung Wooyoung!” You cry out loud at his actions, your backpack flailing out of your arms.
He treads beside his unbothered friend, front facing you from a distance. “We need to meet the professor at the research centre anyway, keep yourself busy until then!” A wink and a cackle, then he grabs San by his shoulders and disappears inside at an astonishing speed.
Like a little kid whose ice cream has been snatched away, you stand there watching San’s waving hand and Wooyoung’s bouncy ponytail fading away.
A strong inhale and a gentle exhale, you try to calm the rapid heaving of your chest.
“Ah, whatever! They’ll text me once they’re done.” Uttering the assuring words to yourself, you fix the carelessly hanging backpack and set course to occupy yourself in the garden until they’re done with whatever they have to do at the research centre.
This is not the first time they have pulled this prank of abandoning you just for laughs and then frantically calling with the classic bait of “yo, come over at this food truck, we’re paying😏”
They throw the same bait under any circumstances and it works pure magic on any living being who lives for eating. Even Seonghwa caves in, and your willpower is -2 compared to Seonghwa’s 10+ patience.
Once you step inside the garden, you’re sure they have ditched you with good intentions as your eyes take in the lavish surroundings.
The green of nature is widespread throughout in the form of sturdy and lean trees, recently mowed grass and snipped shrubs peeking in between, all sprinkled with colourful little flowers like twinkling stars on a clear night sky. A gentle breeze whistles by within small intervals, rustling the leaves with the faintest crackling sound.
There are feeble chirps of birds, hiding in their nests to sleep for the night.
It is heaven on earth as the golden glow of the sun settles upon the scene.
The lulling fragrance of roses carried along with the wind urges you to roll on the blanket of the grass and maybe even take a nap after tiring yourself but you know you’ll be thrown out because there are watchful guards scattered around.
For once, you’re grateful that they left you behind.
You’d rather take a walk around the garden while listening to serene songs rather than awkwardly wait behind them as they converse with the said professor they’re here to meet.
I should explore a little before San gets into his Plant Geek Mode.
A major path from the main entrance splits in several small, stone tracks, like a maze to explore.
The region is vast, tranquil and maintained, no wonder a research centre lies somewhere in this arboretum.
You notice the informative display of the map, standing tall, indicating what lies in between and at the end of every track, piquing your explorer fantasy. There is a stack of small, handy maps for visitors to carry as well.
You grab one, deciding upon the center most lane with your earphones playing the enchanting tune of Like a Flowing Wind by Day6 in a low volume.
“The North Lane leads towards the green house and the research centre.” You murmur, studying the contents of the map with much concentration. “Wooyoung and San probably went that way.” You throw a quick glance behind before resuming your stroll.
The trail you’re currently walking on is the West Way, sheltered with tall towering trees and the Grand Elixir Fountain that lies at the end.
You neatly fold the brochure and tuck it safely inside your pocket, saving the next spots to visit together once you regroup.
Surprisingly, the garden doesn’t have an overflowing crowd.
There are quite a lot of people occupying the benches and seating areas, mostly couples. You notice quite a few students, assuming they are, with their laptops and notebooks, surveying or either sitting in a formation to share their findings.
Everyone is invested in themselves, in their own little world due to which the place feels quite private, snug and pleasant.
The greenery, the sounds of nature, the music and soft whispers creating one whole atmosphere of contentment.
It has been named Golden Blooms for a reason indeed. Except the Research Centre part, we’re going to ignore that for now.
Seonghwa would absolutely love this place. There is nothing not to love about this. You can sketch a million ways of spending time here together.
You don’t want to be a girlfriend like that but you’re to be a girlfriend like that.
A picnic after a long hectic week of continuous classes to unwind while spending quality time together, under a birch tree that casts a wide shadow beneath to watch the sunset while sharing the most mundane and silliest stories of your week and snacking on the collective bag you two usually pack before heading out for your Saturday Sunset Dates.
Maybe you’ll have to give up the spot due to its popular demand but it’ll be alright nonetheless. Instead, you’ll resort to taking every lane to check what lies at the end as Seonghwa’s personal playlist will be the perfect background music.
The day will end with a hearty dinner and crashing in either’s bedroom, cuddling together where he always insists on being the little spoon and you always give in.
Oh god, I went too far.
If just the thought has you feeling immensely giddy, how exhilarating would it feel to actually spend a day like that?
Back to present, (Y/N), back to present.
The uneven stone trail comes to an end as your shoes sink into the bed of the grass. Your next steps feel extremely light.
Walking on this grass is the closet one can experience how walking on a cloud feels like. You constrain yourself from removing your socks and shoes and running around on the grass like a madman--
Holy Shit.
The Grand Elixir Fountain is a masterpiece.
Rather than blindingly white, it is a comforting shade of evanesce beige. The sculptures surrounding the circumference are alluring rather than intimidating of mythical water creatures from numerous mythologies.
A water nymph settles at the heart of the fountain on a wave with water sprouting from the pot she’s embracing.
The gurgling water simmers down onto another platform shaped like a lotus, little droplets splashing on the people standing close by the edge and then gliding down from the platform into the bottom expanse to become a slow, rippling stream.
The Fountain is a high lord, you are a mere peasant. The Fountain is the moon and you’re a small star. The Fountain is queen bee and you’re a worker bee. The Fountain is a high quality gaming PC and you’re a laptop you had to buy with an acceptable graphic card because you’re a college student who is surviving.
Maybe you’re not the best with creative descriptions but it’s okay you’re a law student any way.
Creative writing is Yeosang’s forte and he worries about it plenty.
“Seonghwa can’t be here but I can send him some pictures.” Pulling out your phone, you scan the area.
An old couple are seated on a bench to the far right admiring the view, bunches of people pass by once a while either to leave or enter the area and a small group of friends are circled in a corner preoccupied within themselves.
“Okay, nothing to see here, just a college girl fangirling over a beautiful fountain.” You say it with the intent of addressing the people present but it is mostly directed towards yourself to not get embarrassed before you engage in a long photo session full of fascination over a fountain at an arboretum.
Okay, alright, let’s get this over with.
The cause of your dubiousness is Jongho.
He has pointed out several times that while taking photos you tend to get absorbed and switch into questionable positions just to score a worthy shot.
You somehow manage to capture moderate looking full shots without getting any uncanny looks from the visitors around with only one close up shot left.
The star of the fountain, the water nymph.
It’s alright. Hopefully nobody finds you getting on one knee to capture a decent picture of the fountain uncanny.
You’re just a harmless college girl who wants to text her boyfriend, excite him about your possible future dates and hunt for food while waiting for the two little devils to return and get working before it’s too late.
Gentle sprinkles splash onto your face as you move a little closer with careful steps to find the best spot. The water is enticing on this boiling day.
You hold your phone up, adjusting the angle to your liking. “Okay that’s good.”
Before you can press the capture button, a pair of hands lock around your waist, someone’s weight settling on your shoulder.
“No, shift it a little more to the right.” A voice, obscured by the earphones, speaks extremely close to your ear, sending a quivering sensation down your spine.
The first instinct is to freeze, your entire body numbs at the sudden action, heart beating at an alarming speed.
It is followed by a startling scream of having a stranger’s arms wrapped around your body. The scream pierces through the placidity of the garden, birds from the trees flying away to safety out of fright.
Finally, the adrenaline rush kicks in, your physical senses registering the situation and your reflexes activate.
The phone still connected with the earphones flies out of your hands and ears, elbows diving back to land double smacks on the intruder’s stomach to get him off your back.
The old couple look into your direction with a panicked expression and the entire group nearby jilts up and dashes towards you to investigate the source of the scream.
You turn around to inspect the trespasser who has landed flat on his butt, clutching onto his stomach as continuous groans and curses fall through his lips.
“(Y/N)! What the hell!” The obscurity long gone, you recognize the familiar voice and its owner.
Losing the energy in your legs, you fall down into a squatting position. “Seonghwa?” In a panicked state and a hesitant voice, you call his name.
“No, it’s Ryan Reynolds.” Mockingly, he whimpers, trying to regain his knocked out senses.
It is indeed your boyfriend who is currently supposed to be in Japan but is in pain because you landed two good elbow punches right on his stomach after his 4 hours of excitement at the airport and two hours of flight and it is definitely, hundred percent confirmed especially, after his eyes meet yours, full of pain and shooting imaginary daggers at you.
Seonghwa expected a surprised embrace on his return. Anything but two blows right on his abdomen.
“Park Seonghwa!” You exclaim.
“Nope, no, I am not Park Seonghwa anymore.” He states in a faltering tone.
“Miss, are you alright?” A boy from the far away friend circle interjects, stopping in front of you. “Is he bothering you?” His fingers wrap around your arms to pull you up.
His other two friends help Seonghwa but with a much constrained grab on his arms.
You look at your boyfriend being held by the two strangers and then at the boy, eyes performing a few puzzled double takes.
“Miss?” The boy reiterates his query.
You’re dumfounded, your thoughts hazy.
Collecting the remaining strength in your body, your hands fly in gestures of denial. “No, no, that’s my boyfriend.”
The boys appear skeptical. They exchange disbelieving glances.
“Are you sure? If he’s really bothering you, we can call the police right now.” One of the boys holding your boyfriend suggests with the intentions of your safety.
The frenzied senses simmer down second by second, your hand reaches out to free him from the strangers’ hold. “No, no. Thank you so much for your help but there has been an misunderstanding, that’s all.”
The boys release him and you replace their hold by linking his arm.
“He is really my boyfriend. I was just surprised.” You state with complete assurance.
“It’s also my fault for creeping up behind her. Thank you for watching out. We’re sorry for the disturbance.” Seonghwa takes the cue and bows down a little to offer a sincere apology.
His other hand rests atop your bound one. Your gaze stays taut on him, following his actions to apologize as well.
The boys notice your relaxed figure beside him. “Ah alright, so it was a misunderstanding.”
You nod frantically. “Yes, yes, it was. We’re sorry.” You say politely.
Calculating the situation, the boys exchange final greetings before trusting your relationship and leave you two with a, ‘Be careful with your surprises!’
The surroundings stop still until Seonghwa unlinks your arms to intertwine your fingers instead and bends down to pick up your phone.
“Should we sit somewhere and talk?” He suggests in a composed tone.
“Oh, right, yes.” You answer, mentally occupied collecting the dispersed bits of your comprehension grip.
You two settle on the broad bench, previously occupied by the old couple who left after the ruckus, facing each other.
“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” You search for his eyes that meet yours in a span of millisecond after the raised enquiry.
Your fingers contract and expand with hesitancy near his abdomen where you, or more accurately, your reflexes stroke him a blow. Eyes fluctuate up and down, from his face to the injured area, teeth abusing the lower lip with worry.
His hands catch and close around your awkward ones, “It hurts but I am fine. It might be bruised but it’ll be gone with time.”
You look at him, face full of regret, “Seonghwa, I am so sorry.”
“It’s alright, (Y/N).” He says with the most assuring look that there is in this world, “I mean it.”
You were worried that he might be mad about the commotion but him unlinking your arms in order to hold your hand was an indication enough that he wasn’t.
His anger is often intelligible. He needs the time to stay mad, cool down and talks only when he is ready. The time creates an emotional distance and that distance is unbearable until his heart is ready to resolve.
He doesn’t hold petty grudges. He certainly forgives but he doesn’t forget. Instead, he draws the line in the relationship to grow apart naturally.
You happened to experience it once when he was conversing with a senior who had given him a hard time and oh boy, the line he drew was fiery and bone chilling cold at the same time.
“So, that was definitely not what I expected after I decided to surprise you.” He confesses, his eyes mellow, “I should’ve listened to Hongjoong when he said that the idea is too sappy.”
While he speaks, you’re occupied with staring at him like a hawk with bulbous eyes.
“What happened?” He prompts you to speak, a fond smile on his lips. “Cat got your tongue?” His fingers fix the disheveled hair resting on your forehead.
His eyes hold such raw warmth while he merely tucks little strands behind your ears that you fail to realize you have tears streaming down your cheeks.
“Hey, why are you crying?” His expression shifts into a concerned one. “What happened?” He probes further.
Before you register your actions, your hand is flying to land a soft blow on his shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me you were returning today!”
Maybe the volcanic eruption that was swirling inside San somehow descended into you. The difference is, his was motivated by rage and yours might be motivated by mortification.
He retrieves his hand to hold the area you’re attacking, gaping as he rubs the sore spot.
“Why are you hitting me!” His expression is muddled.
Seonghwa expected a surprised embrace on his return. Anything but you hitting him after he attempts to calm you down as his plan of surprise fails worse than the time he had failed history in sixth grade.
Your hand reaches out to land another gentle smack. “What are you! A freaking saint! Why didn’t you tell me!”
Even you are not aware why the outlet chosen by your feelings is hitting your loving and caring boyfriend who planned such a great surprise that you managed to ruin by knocking him straight into the abdomen with your pointy elbows.
“Wait, what--” Your words only further deepen his confusion.
The next smack or rather love tap, as per your definition, doesn’t get through as his hands are quick to catch yours by the wrists.
“Why are you hitting me babe?” He tilts his head to the side. “You’re hitting me because I am nice?” He lifts his right brow. “What, a saint?” A playful smile lingers on his lips.
The audacity of this man to act coy with you when you are full of all sorts of emotions whirling within you like a raging tornado. The audacity of this perfectly, perfect man!
With your slightly puffy eyes and tears stained cheek, you profess. “I am embarrassed okay! I am really embarrassed, I screamed so----”
A tch sound comes from him, followed by a, “Idiot.”
He pulls you into him through the hold he has on your wrists, your chest colliding with his. His arms wrap around your waist in a secure manner, head resting sideways onto the comfort of your shoulder that he dearly missed.
You melt like an ice cream on a hot day under his touch, taking no time to find content in his embrace, face nestling into his warm neck.
“Don’t be embarrassed.” He removes one hand from your waist to offer comforting caresses on the back of your head. “I don’t know what I expected your reaction to be. Honestly, this particular one didn’t even cross my mind.”
You lift your head from his neck but he quickly returns it down again.
“I didn’t expect you to appear in front of me a week before your actual arrival either.” You speak in a muffled voice.
He pauses his stroking for a second, “I knew you were clueless but I didn’t know you were this clueless.”
“Excuse me!” You shuffle in his hold but he has you latched onto him.
He nestles further into your hold, almost pulling you onto his lap out of habit.
“Seonghwa!” Palms pressing against his chest, you try to scuffle away and receive a disgruntled noise from him.
Having performed his action only halfway through, your right leg sits on top of his left thigh and you leave it there to dangle idly.
“Dude, we’re in a public place.” You remind him, placing a sneaky little peck on his neck.
It’s the courage after announcing you’re an idiot to the entire world.
He is astounded by your actions but definitely not as much as you are.
Seonghwa expected a surprised embrace on his return. Anything but you mentioning that you’re in public and then proceeding to plant the softest kiss on his neck, not that he minds the latter.
“Wise words coming from you in a public place.” His thumbs trace circles on your collar bones, voice adding an extra emphasis to the ‘public’.
He squeezes you tightly and moves you in his hold like you’re his own personal teddy bear causing laughter to escape from your lips.
“Giving you a basic hug after you come back after almost a month and a half?” You declare like you have performed some high and mighty act, “No, that is not enough to express my excitement, I had to smash out my love on you, babe.”
His face dawns an unimpressed look. “Yup, I made a mistake coming home.”
Your own words cause your face to scrunch up with cringe. “Yeah, that was too much, don’t talk about this in front of anyone, ever again.”
You missed him. God, you missed him so much.
His long hair is intact, not a single strand has been snipped. He looks as stunning as you imagined him to be. His navy blue coat may have been washed with a different detergent than the one you are familiar with but the earthy smell of his regular perfume is present.
The only new additions on him that you can notice right away is the blinding glow on his sleep deprived face and the abstract patterned scarf wrapped neatly around his neck.
“I missed you.” You wish to say it as softly as possible but you end up blurting out the words.
He smiles with twinkles in his eyes. “I know, idiot. I missed you too.”
You rest your palms on his cheeks and press them hard, lips protruding out in a pout. Pulling him in, you offer him a brief peck.
A long one is saved for later when in private.
The heat on his cheeks is an evidence that he is taken aback by your bold actions.
“First a kiss on the neck and now a long peck?” He smirks, eyebrows dancing up and down. “You’ve become quite gutsy within a month and a half huh?”
You fawn, “and you’re still carrying your mischievous habits with you! I was praying for you to leave them behind during your vacation. Did you achieve nothing?”
“Come here you!” His hand clasps behind your neck but this time he connects his lips to the side of your forehead to plant the deepest kiss.
You shriek as the prolonged peck soon transitions into pillowy lips peppering feathery kisses on every little endearing spot he discovers to shower his love.
Unable to suppress your delight, subdued giggles bubble out of you.
The delight of having him by your side again is indescribable. The current state of happiness you’re feeling is indescribable.
You feel his hovering lips expanding into a smile, foreheads faintly clashing together as you two laugh your heart out.
There are tears forming in your eyes but this time due to happiness rather than humiliation.
Your eyes catch the sun dipping below the horizon, shooting colourful rays as it bids goodbye for the day. “Seonghwa, look, the sunset, it’s so beautiful.” You note while he pulls you into him sideways.
He hums, turning around to admire the view, “Oh wow, that’s......beautiful.”
Time slows down just for the sun to submerge into the horizon with its glory. The orange, pink, purples and blues of the sky press mute on the world for the briefest interval.
He ruffles your hair, pulling you out of a trance, “And that’s our cue to leave.”
It takes special effort to abandon his comforting hold and get back up on your two feet.
The disappointment lasts a mere second as his fingers quickly interlace with yours. “Where to next?” He asks.
He takes slow steps. You stick close by, half of your body weight leaning into him but he doesn’t seem to mind.
You consider your choices for a moment, the grin ever present on your lips, “How about we take a walk and then drive to the river side? I heard there will be star gazing event later at night.”
He looks at you impressively with a questioning smile. “Oh really, who told you that?” A gentle gleam of fondness floats in his eyes.
His heart is swelling with love, your presence is comfortable.
You channel your best know-it-all face, “Oh, you know, Wooyoung, San and I were planning to--”
The sentence stops midway as you remember, Wooyoung and San!
Your movements halt, “Wait, Wooyoung and San!”
He cracks up at your delayed realization.
“They’ll be fine.” His fingers offer a gentle flick on your forehead, attempting to tap some sense into it, “Unless, you know, you want them to continuously comment during our date about how my arrival disrupted their last night’s sleep.” He reaches out for his pocket to pull out his phone but you’re quick to prevent the said action.
“No, no, no, no.” Your reaction amuses him further. “That’s not what I meant. I am glad they ditched me, goodness, never been so glad that someone left me behind, swear to god.” The flurry of words scatter everywhere but the intended meaning has been received by him.
“And what else do you have planned for the night?” He asks, walking straight, exaggerating the breadth of his shoulders.
“My fantastic company, Seonghwa, what else do you need?” In a wounded voice, you question.
He shakes his head.
“No?”
“No.”
“Fine, tonight’s dinner is on me, no budget. What do you want to eat?” You present your best offer in the most sugar coated tone.
His jaw drops in a dramatic fashion you’ve never witnessed in your life, “That’s it? Woman, I flew in today to surprise you today and that’s it?”
You stand on your tiptoes to whisper a special spell in his ear. “Who said that would be it?”
The rasp in your voice has goosebumps rising on his skin.
“What do you mean?” He stares down, eyes wide.
“Hey, by the way, how did you know I was near the fountain?” You quickly change the subject, your thoughts running wild and heart ready to pounce out to run a hundred mile marathon.
“What do you mean?” He repeats, eager to receive an answer.
His innocent smile has been replaced by a devilish smirk.
His constant questioning and hopeful gape has you regretting your previous words, causing warmth to spread on your face.
Flustered, you recite your question for the second time, “Tell me, how did you know?”
“It was a guess. I haven’t forgotten about your pigeon feeding adventures near the mall fountain” His answer is concise, to the point and hurried. “Now, tell me, what do you mean?”
He finishes the topic within a few seconds, arm nudging persistently against the side of your stomach.
This man. Oh god, this man.
“You have a great memory! You remember everything!” The fake enthusiasm and flustered laughter that is evident in your answer has him laughing. “Oh, look, we’re here!” You announce, feeling grateful once you spot the main exit getting closer with every step.
“What did you mean?” He takes quick steps to stand in front of you, his hand leaving yours.
“Seonghwa! Stop it, don’t get back on your teasing shenanigans so quickly, give it a day.” You say as casually as possible, stepping aside to continue on your way. “I’ve embarrassed myself and you quite enough for today.”
Seonghwa slings his arm around your shoulder from behind, “Yeah, alright, we’ll see about that later.” He mimics your casual tenure. “I guess.” He adds, hinting at your suggestive statement.
You nod in agreement, appearing calm and cool, “Yeah, I guess, we will.”
“You little tease.” His free hand gives your left cheek a little squeeze, leaving a light aching.
You stumble a little on your way out of the garden, “If I am a tease that makes you the devil that you truly are.”
“I agree, I am a beast.” He really, actually, dares to say that with his whole chest, out loud.
“Yeah, sure, little baby.” Your fingers mockingly stroke his chin with a pout
He chuckles, changing his position to properly stand by your side. “Enough of that now, let’s go, I am starving.”
“Yup, let’s go, tender beast.” You imitate his own words on him.
“No, seriously, stop that.” He declares sternly.
You do a motion of zipping your lips, holding your free hand up in surrender.
Oh, how the tables have been turning constantly today. You can now understand why Seonghwa never gets off your back and it looks like you will not be getting off his tonight.
Metaphorically and literally.
Meanwhile, Woosan
San, who has been talking with the professor for almost thirty minutes now: It was pleasure meeting up with you Sir
Wooyoung, releasing a sigh of relief beside his friend because he didn’t understand a single word that was exchanged, internally: Finally
Suddenly, San: Oh btw sir I had another question
Wooyoung, ready to create a rampage right there and then, grabbing a chair to smash it on the ground: OH MY FREAKING GOD DAMNIT CHOI SAN YOU---
🌸
A/N: OH MY GOD I CAN FINALLY POST THIS, I CAN FINALLY BREATHE EASY
I started writing this last Saturday and it went through so many drafts and versions, getting cut down to this one. It took me a week mostly due to other commitments. I edited this once and I am sure it still has teeny tiny mistakes but please look past that for now. I will correct it whenever time grants me.
Also, I would really love to know what you think about this chapter! Please let me know, I would really appreciate that 🥺🥺🥺💕
I know it has been a long time since the last update but I reposted the masterlist with the final update schedule and it will update and end accordingly as per that.
(Also the woosan scene is a little exaggeration, they had a rough night, as you will see in the bonus)
🌸 Taglist:
@enigmaticsal @stardusthyuck @missiopk @preets-kpop-world @sanisms @jiyeons-closet @hongjoongsnoona @veeeenus4 @mochibabycakes @vhschs @jaeminbluee @vantclavs @f-iyan @staywritten @yellow-wxve @uppiespuppy @uppiespuppy @mingiflower @multiangell @quicklystickystarlight @kunhye @nekee-lilac02 @peachyprincessminki @hidden-wildflowers @raysanshine @skzpleasestay @tearvantae
🌸 Unable to tag: @mingiibabiee @dreamie-deonghwa @9songbird19 @retrofuture-ism @aratrikade
🌸
Please do not repost, modify or claim this work as yours.
#ateez#ateez social media au#ateez fake texts#ateez text au#ateez fluff#ateez imagines#ateez fanfic#ateez scenario#ateez au#ateez sm#ateez social au#park seonghwa#kim hongjoong#jung yunho#kang yeosang#choi san#song mingi#jung wooyoung#choi jongho
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01 | Ignis Fatuus
→ part 1 | part 2
→ summary: Who knew six grown men plus stupid Jeon Jungkook were so whiny? You're out here in a fucking zombie apocalypse for God's sake. They need to grow the fuck up. And while all of you are waiting for the zombies to eat your brains, why don't you play a nice game of rated-R never have I ever?
→ pairing/rating: jungkook x reader | NC-17
→ genre: 60% crack, 40% angst | apocalypse!au
→ warnings: profanity, depictions of blood, gore and death, sexual innuendos, crude humor
→ wordcount: 26k
cr.
Jeon Jungkook's taut thigh muscles are digging against your own, making you grit your teeth and glare at the rather annoying individual. The city bus bumps along with the dips on the street, pushing the man way too close to you. You can even smell his spearmint cologne.
"Jeon, I swear to fucking god if you scoot any closer to me, I'm going to swing your head off with my bat," you threaten menacingly, already tightening your grip on your beloved softball bat.
To your dismay, Jeon Jungkook gives you a cheeky grin before leaning his perfectly fit body on you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder with calculated subtlety. "Oh, Y/N," he chuckles under his breath, fingers dancing around the handle of his own baseball bat. "You forget that I also have a bat with me. Besides," he hums, squeezing your shoulder, "you and I both know your threats are always empty. I think you told me you were going to dislocate my neck at least a thousand times before. My neck's still fine, as you can clearly see."
You roll your eyes. "Whatever, Jeon," you mutter before leaning against his chest in defeat.
Your relationship with Jeon Jungkook is quite questionable. It would be weird to call him your friend, but even weirder to call him your enemy. Jungkook was... an acquaintance... who you merely got a bit touchy with at times. In a way, he was kinda like your fuck buddy, minus the fucking, of course. A friend with benefits minus the friend and benefits. None of that made any sense whatsoever. But that's just how fucking complicated your relationship with him is.
You'd first met the 19-year-old on the bus, catching him unabashedly eyeing you up and down. You boldly called him out for that. That bus ride was awkward because you'd spent the whole time tugging down your shorts and glaring at Jungkook, and he'd glared at you right back because apparently, he hadn't been checking you out that day. (He had been shamelessly ogling at the Victoria's Secret ad plastered on the wall behind the window of your seat.) But you didn't know that at the time, of course.
It was even worse when you got off at the same stop—at the practice field. But an unlikely 'friendship' had blossomed after that day. There was something about that Jeon Jungkook that was captivating to you, and there must be something about you that had captivated Jungkook. Ever since that incident, the two of you wordlessly saved each other seats on the local bus, and once at the field, he always walked you to your softball practice field before he sauntered off to play baseball.
Despite the constant bickering between the two of you, you swear leaning up against him, or having him wrap his arm around you feels natural.
You're just too damn stubborn to admit it out loud.
Looking up, you get an unobstructed view of Jungkook's sharp jawline, how his nose stands in all the right angles, and how his eyes sparkle when he—oh shit—your eyes meet his. Mission abort! Mission abort!
He caught you checking him out.
Oh god no. Your face flushes red, dreading what kind of saucy comment Jungkook would have for you.
But to your surprise, he squeezes you tighter, holding you close to him as his eyes are trained straight in front of him. "What in the world..." he breathes.
"What?" you mutter, confused. Your eyes trail up to follow his line of vision.
Oh, what the fuck.
"Isn't it too early for Halloween get up?" You frown, cocking your head at the mangled figure that's slowly limping its way towards the stopped bus. But one figure quickly becomes two, then, three, four, five, ten—twenty. All staggering towards the bus.
You can only seem to focus on the hoard of hobbling figures as your eyes follow their every jagged move. But one moment you're shaking your head in disdain at cheesy 'costumes,' the next you feel bile rushing up your throat.
One of the mangled figures hobbles up to an innocent pedestrian on the street and attacks them. And not like how a normal human being would do—not with fists, or some man-made weapon. But with decaying teeth. You see with your very own eyes a... a monster bite through the neck of a human—and although you are too far away, you swear you heard the crunch of bones. You most definitely see blood.
It's so horrific, the hairs on the back of your neck stand tall.
The innocent victim's screams are silent, mouth open, neck gashed apart by their attacker. Their blood is splattered everywhere and their eyes are glossed over. Lifeless. Dead. Soon to be undead.
Oh my god.
You jerk your head away, unable to look any further, placing your hand on your heart in an attempt to calm it down—no use. Your breaths become shallow and quicken as you grip your fists in order to keep yourself from vomiting and making the situation worse than it already is.
Oh god. Oh, fuck.
The images of blood and gore are sealed to your head. It's too real to be fake.
It pains you to realize that... that this is obviously not some Halloween get up.
"Fucking hell, Y/N... I don't think those are people," Jungkook says, holding you protectively in his arms. "They look a lot like—"
"ZOMBIES!" a man in a crisp, black suit shrieks, jumping up and running to the very back of the bus to where you and Jungkook are sitting.
"ZOMBIES!" the others on the bus scream in response.
"GET ME OUT OF HERE!" Suit Man hollers, curling up in the back seat as he rocks back and forth. With his neat and tidy suit, he definitely looks like he doesn't belong in a public transportation vehicle. In fact, he looks like he's never even used any public service. The kind of person who probably owns a private jet or something. "GET ME MY SECRETARY!" he shrieks.
He is not helping.
Another man stands up, crossing his arms over his chest. His dyed dirt blond hair sweeps just above his eyes and you can see his dimples when he presses his lips into a thin line. "Hey, bus driver?" he calls.
The bus driver grunts. "What?" he yells. His hands are shaking, but he's doing a hell of a good job maintaining a steady hand on the wheel.
"Maybe we should turn on the radio?" Dimples Man suggests. "We need some sort of explanation for this!!"
"Um, maybe we should, I don't know, drive away first???" another man suggests. He's clutching a Gucci messenger bag and nervously twists an Apple Watch on his wrist. He seems a lot like the younger version of Suit Man—except he was just born rich with a silver spoon in his mouth.
"The zombies are coming towards us!" Jungkook shouts. "Of course we need to drive away!" He squeezes your arm. "We need to get home, now!"
"You and your girlfriend can wait!" Suit Man hollers. "I want to go to my penthouse suite, first!"
"Why are you a priority?!" a man with puffy cheeks and plump lips argues. "We all have equal rights in a crisis! Cop in training!" he huffs, holding out an official-looking badge. "Bus driver, step on the gas!"
The bus driver rolls his eyes. "I do whatever the fuck I want on my bus."
Contrary to his unyielding attitude, he clicks on the radio and simultaneously steps on the gas.
Everyone lurches backward and some of the men who were standing fall down. For a few seconds, it's all chaos—shouts and yells bounce off the walls of the bus. All until the fuzzy crackles of the radio emit from the speakers.
Then, everyone becomes dead silent, waiting to hear what the news had to say.
But the radio static is so serious, you're unable to make out a lot of the words.
"... Inside... Not... Anywhere... Stay Inside..."
"What the fuck is wrong with your radio??" Suit Man complains.
"It's not my radio, you idiotic swine. The problem's not from my end," the bus driver snaps.
"Idiotic swine?!?! How dare—"
"Oh shut up, will you??" a man who had been quietly sitting down this whole time laughs. He twiddles a frying pan in his hands before he says, "Stay inside?? Don't you think it's too late for us to do that?"
Suit Man scowls, slumping down in his seat and grumbling about how important he is and how much he needs his secretary—who's apparently not answering his frantic texts and calls.
Abruptly, the bus driver swerves to the right to avoid limping zombies, but he manages to run some of the monsters over anyway. The bus hovers over the air for a few seconds, then crashes down on the road, jerking everyone in their seats.
You and Jungkook say nothing, you holding onto Jungkook and Jungkook holding onto his seat. But the others are more vocal.
"Hey, who taught you how to drive, motherfucker?!" Gucci Man yells.
The cop holds up his hands. "Are you even going under the speed limit??"
Oh my god. These men are driving you insane.
And just when you thought it couldn't get worse:
"No... Origin... Rapidly... Increasing..." the radio suddenly buzzes.
"Well, great," Dimples Man sighs. "Seems like the cases are multiplying out of nowhere. Maybe it's some kind of new virus. An epidemic, if you please."
"Oh, sit down, doctor boy," Suit Man yells at the tops of his lungs. "No one cares about the how. Right now, we focus on getting away from these monsters!"
Jungkook slips his hands into yours. The two of you look out the window to see the zombies chasing after the bus from behind. They're thankfully too slow to catch up to the bus driver's 85 miles per hour reckless driving, but they're not as slow as some movies depict them.
You watch the turmoil unfold behind you, disgusted and terrified at the same time. There are zombies trying to knock their heads against the glass to get into stores where trembling families are waiting to fight. Zombies biting the necks of victims. Blood spurting everywhere and painting the streets in crimson red.
You have to look away after some time.
It's too much to process.
The bus driver continues to make random twists and turns, making the bus lurch every which way every few seconds. The six men continue to argue, raising their voices over each other until you can't even make out what they're saying.
They're acting like babies, you think. You admit, you're terrified, which is exactly why you haven't said one single word out loud yet. Jungkook taps your shoulder, leaning into you. You catch a whiff of his cologne and strangely, it relaxes you.
"Hey," he whispers. "You okay?"
You manage to nod.
"Think this has spread to other cities yet...? Other states?"
Oh god.
The thought of that is horrific.
"I... I hope not... My family's in a state across the country though..." you manage to say in a low voice.
"Same..."
This time, it's your turn to ask a question.
"Do you think we'll ever get to our homes?"
Jungkook snorts in response. "Well, maybe not. I have no idea where that crazy bus driver's taking us."
And it's true, five different men are yelling at the bus driver to tell them where the fuck he's going, but the bus driver remains completely silent. Instead, he flips everyone off with one hand, vigorously steering the wheel with the other.
Everyone goes absolutely bonkers after that.
You've heard blaring fire alarms that sound like music compared to this.
"You have earphones?" Jungkook asks.
"Well, yeah..." you trail off. "But maybe we shouldn't listen to music now. We should save our phone batteries."
"Oh yeah, duh," Jungkook grins in a silly way. "My bad."
This is kind of the first time that you and Jungkook have been civil and kind of nice to each other. I guess it takes a whole ass zombie epidemic for that to happen.
You just try to focus on clutching onto Jungkook, trying to drown out the incessant yelling of the man babies.
And finally, fucking finally, the bus skids to a stop. But not in front of a house, but in front of a familiar-looking red and beige building. Your mouth drops open.
"TARGET???" Cop Man shrieks. "You brought us to Target??"
"Genius, aren't I?" the bus driver grins, leaning back from the steering wheel as if to admire his handy work. "This is my new home. The rest of you can leave if you don't like it."
Nobody moves a muscle.
You desperately want to go back home, but you have to admit, living in Target sounds pretty smart. Endless supply of blankets and food. A ton of gadgets to build when you get bored. At least one of the men on the bus has a brain. Thank god.
"I can't drive you guys home," the bus driver says a little bit more apologetically. "But you saw what's out there. I'm not going to waste gas getting everyone to their homes. And I surely don't wanna risk my life just to get you home, okay? I'm not your chauffeur. So you can stay with me if you like. Or you can walk home yourself."
"I can pay you to be my chauffeur," Suit Man mumbles.
The bus driver's ears perk up. "How much?"
"One grand."
"Ha!" the bus driver snorts. "You think I need money in a supposed apocalypse?? No thanks."
"I'LL PAY YOU THREE GRAND!" Gucci Man shrieks. "I-I'll call my parents! They always have cash on them!"
Frying Pan Man rolls his eyes way up to the ceiling of the bus and waits three dramatic seconds until he stares straight at Suit Man and Gucci Man. "Shut up, ya spoiled brats," he says. "Stop trying to bribe the bus driver and take his fucking offer to stay with him."
The others nod, agreeing with the Frying Pan Man's wise but snippy words.
Suit Man and Gucci Man shut up when they realize their wealth can't get them out of the situation this time.
"Well then," Jungkook sighs. "We all agree to stick together now, right? Nice group of people, aren't we?"
The last part sounds a tad bit sarcastic, but the others seem to take it as a compliment.
"First thing's first," Jungkook announces, "you there!" He points at the Suit Man. "Use your jacket to cover up that window over there. You!" He continues to point at the men, ordering them to place their jackets and bags over the windows. The bus driver manages to cover up the glass doors with a spare blanket he found in the glove compartment.
You just stare at Jungkook in awe. You're even more in awe that everyone is following his orders.
"If the zombies can't see us, they won't get us," Jungkook says very knowledgeably. "At least I think so. Just in case, we should all crouch down though."
"Are you serious? I'm not sitting my ass down on the bus floor," Suit Man scoffs.
"I'm wearing Gucci," Gucci Man complains.
The bus driver grins. "They scraped twenty pieces of gum off the floor only a week ago."
"I think we can all agree that we could've totally done without that information," Cop Man sighs.
Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief. "My god, would you rather die than get your pants a little dirty? Come on, Y/N." He tugs you down on the floor and the two of you sit cross-legged. "It's not even that bad."
One by one, the men follow you and Jungkook, sitting down, if not crouching, on the floor. Even Suit Man and Gucci Man obey Jungkook, though they have disgruntled looks on their faces.
"Now what?" Frying Pan Man says. "We wait this whole thing out? Until it's safe to get into Target?"
"I suppose so," Dimples Man says. "A little waiting never hurt anyone."
Suit Man rolls his eyes. "You would be terrible in the business world."
"I'm a respected med school student, thank you very much," Dimples Man replies curtly. "I don't need business lessons from you."
"Okay, okay!" Jungkook raises his voice. "You know what? Let's just introduce ourselves to each other. You know, ages, hobbies, whatever, I don't care. Just something the others can use to get to know you. We might be stuck together for a while. I'll start," he says. "I'm Jungkook. 19. I play baseball in college, and I'm pretty fucking good. Okay, who's next?"
Cop Man raises his hand politely. "I'm Jimin," he giggles as if his name itself is the cutest thing in the world. "And I'm the top-ranking cop in training," he says. "Oh yeah, I'm 21 years old. And I just got wasted two days ago when I turned 21."
"Yoongi," the bus driver says. "I drive this bus. 25. Next."
Everyone frowns at his short introduction but Yoongi shrugs.
"Hello, everyone," Dimples man says. "I'm Namjoon. I studied biochemistry in college, but I'm currently aiming for my M.D. I'm 24 right now, but I'll be 25 in a couple of months. It's nice to meet you."
Everyone mumbles their greetings back, but no one is really in a jolly mood.
"Well, I'm Seokjin, a worldwide famous chef," Frying Pan Man says. That explains the frying pan a lot. "I—"
"If you're so worldwide famous, how come I've never heard of you before until now?" Gucci Man snickers.
"Shut the fuck up," Seokjin answers simply. "I will be a worldwide famous chef. I'm interning at the esteemed restaurant, the Summit House. And for my 25th birthday, I got this lovely, new frying pan. I bring it with me everywhere because it is my lifeline."
You raise your eyebrows and so does Jungkook but neither of you says anything.
"I'm Taehyung, then," Gucci Man says. "I'm 23, but I'm already a law school student. Work hard and play even harder is my life motto. Also, I like expensive stuff."
That explains the Gucci.
Suit Man scoffs. "I'm Hoseok, but all of you must call me Mr. Jung because I'm 27 and I'm the respectful CEO of a rapidly growing business right in this city. I've been on the cover of Vogue twice this year alone. Any questions?"
"None at all, Hoseok," Yoongi snorts.
Hoseok scowls. "I just said—"
"Oh, shut your trap and let the girl talk," Seokjin chastises the businessman. You're starting to think Seokjin has a talent for shutting people up.
Well, great. Now everyone's staring at you. And it's only then when it occurs to you that you are the only female in the group. Oh god.
"I'm uh, Y/N..." you say. "And I... I play softball," you say, gripping your bat in your hand. "I'm 19 and I play for my college team."
"She's really good," Jungkook says. "Got that nice swing." He nudges your shoulder assuringly. It almost makes you crack a small smile. "Anyways, now that we all know each other a little bit better, let's be... uh..."
"Civil," you finish for him. "Let's please be fucking civil." You stare at Hoseok and Taehyung specifically.
"Fine!" Hoseok says. "Fine, then. Let's be totally civil trying to fight off uncivil monsters. Makes sense to me."
"We need to stay civil to stay calm," Jimin says, putting a hand on his hip. "My special cop training taught me how to stay calm in dire situations! I'll teach you guys a thing or two sometime."
"Oh god," Yoongi mutters.
"More importantly," Namjoon sighs. "If this is a zombie breakout, we'll need to start strategizing on how to stay safe. We'll need to gather supplies, make a hideout and find some weapons." He looks over at Jungkook and your bats, nodding his head approvingly. "Those will do good," he mutters. "But I'm afraid hiding out in Target might be a bit difficult. The building is large. Way too large for it to be safe..."
"Do you have any better suggestions then?" Yoongi says.
"Not as of now..."
"I say we go full-out," Taehyung declares. "Like we get cool leather jackets and sunglasses and make spiked bats and get guns!!"
"You mean... like in the movies," Hoseok scoffs. "Kid, hate to break it to you, but this is real life."
"Okay, but Taehyung might have a point," Jungkook says.
"Thank you!!" the law student exclaims.
"Yeah, maybe we can use some elements of what characters did in the movies and you know, apply it to our situation now," you say thoughtfully. "So we're not going into this catastrophe completely blinded."
"You read my mind," Jungkook smiles. You manage to smile right back at him.
"Whatever," Hoseok sighs. "I'm gonna call my secretary again."
Everyone else ignores him, opting to do their own individual activities.
Namjoon pulls a giant binder out of nowhere and begins to actively highlight things. It looks a lot like he's studying. In a fucking crisis.
You shake your head in disbelief. Med school students, I swear.
Taehyung taps away on his phone. Either texting or playing Candy Crush. You can't tell. Seokjin's sanitizing his precious frying pan while Jimin's polishing his official badge over and over again. In the far corner of the bus, it looks like Yoongi's dozed off.
The silence is awkward but it's much better than the complete ruckus before, so you let it go. Meanwhile, you take out your earbuds. It won't hurt to let some music distract you and calm down your spiked nerves.
"Hey, what percent battery is your phone at?" you whisper to Jungkook.
"23%, you?"
"23%?!" you gasp. "Why is it so low??"
"Forgot to charge it last night," Jungkook answers, ducking his head down in embarrassment. "Could not have been a worse timing."
"Well, I'm at 97%, so I guess we can listen to music on my phone." You plug in the earphones and hand one bud to Jungkook.
He takes it gratefully. "Thanks."
You feel much more relaxed when the music floods through your ear. If Jungkook doesn't like Beethoven's Sonata, he doesn't complain. And everything, just for a few songs, seems all right.
Until:
"Dammit! Godammit!!" Hoseok yells, flinging his phone to the side of the bus seat. "My phone's dead!"
There are annoyed groans everywhere, and you can just tell Seokjin's about to tell the man to shut up again when there's a loud bang! at the side of the bus.
Everyone freezes.
"Did you lock the bus door??" Namjoon hisses quietly.
Yoongi nods, clearly terrorized. "Just... everybody... Stay... still," he says.
He doesn't need to say anything; everyone's already become a statue. Even more so when the aggressive banging continues. You bite your lip to suppress a whimper and Jungkook hugs you in his arms. His heartbeat's rapid but he manages not to tremble, unlike you.
But when the banging is ceaseless even after a couple of minutes, Taehyung sighs. "Should we check it out...?"
"Are you fucking crazy??" you blurt, quickly lowering your voice when you realize you'd been rather loud. "If the zombies see us, they get us. I thought you saw the movies."
That shuts everyone up. Sweat starts to collect on everybody's foreheads but no one dares to move to wipe it off when the banging's continuing.
It sounds like zombies are head-butting on the bus' walls. Maybe they can smell humans. The thought riles up your stomach so you force yourself to bury your nose into Jungkook's shirt to take your mind elsewhere. He pats your back comfortingly in response.
The Chopin blaring through your left ear doesn't sound so comforting anymore—the pace is too fast, too allegro to fit in a terrible circumstance such as this one. But you try to focus on each note, concentrating on the keys rather than the beat. It drives your focus elsewhere, thank god.
And finally, eventually, the banging slows to a stop.
"Well!" Taehyung yells.
"SHH!" Jungkook shushes him. "We don't know if they're gone yet," he whispers urgently.
"Oh, right."
So it's completely still for a few minutes before Taehyung decides that's enough silence for him.
"This is very, very bad news," he grumbles.
"Really?" Seokjin snickers. "I thought it was good news."
Taehyung rolls his eyes. "My Apple Watch's about to die. So yes, it is bad news. I won't be able to tell the time anymore."
"That's the least of our worries, dude," Jimin says, shaking his head in disbelief.
Before another large argument breaks out, you cut in. "I think we should try to get into Target before nightfall."
You thought everyone would agree immediately, but you're hit with Yoongi's laconic, "Why?"
"What do you mean why??" Taehyung laughs at the bus driver. "Haven't you watched the movies?? Zombies get crazier during the night."
"Um, in Train to Busan, they don't," Namjoon points out.
"Okay, but in Minecraft, they do," Taehyung argues.
"But Minecraft is a video game, not a movie."
"Oh, whatever."
You sigh. "I just thought it'd be better to go now than take chances later."
"But this is real life," the bus driver says. "Getting out of this bus is taking a chance at this point. We might not ever make it to Target."
"Fine. Then I'll go and check it out myself then," you scoff.
I'd rather get mauled by a zombie than have to listen to incessant bickering in a small-spaced bus for fuck's sake.
"You literally have a death wish don't you?" Jungkook says. "But I'm coming with you."
"BOTH of you have a death wish," Hoseok says.
"OR, Yoongi can drive the bus closer to the entrance...?" you suggest.
The bus driver grumbles but he complies, never taking off the clothes covering the windows but managing to peek out of a small corner to safely drive the bus straight to the exit.
"If one of you gets bitten, you're not allowed back in here," he says.
"How comforting," you mumble.
"I guess it's just the two of us, then," Jungkook shrugs when no one else volunteers to go on the trip.
"Well you two do have the best weapons," Namjoon says, nodding at the bats in your hands.
"That's true..." you murmur. "We'll try to find a good spot to stay in... Or maybe just get some supplies..."
Now that you think about it, your own idea might be the cause of your demise. God, you might die just because you opened your mouth.
It's okay, you tell yourself. It'll be fine. I have Jungkook. He's... not that scared... right?
Namjoon convinces everyone to memorize a morse code knock so that the others can let you and Jungkook in when the code is knocked on the bus door. There is no other preparation.
Other than the time you completely winged a final exam back in high school, this is the riskiest thing you've done in your life.
Side by side, you and Jungkook creep out of the bus; the doors shut behind you as quickly as they had opened and the blanket drapes over the windows once more.
The coast definitely looks clear... for now. Warily, you and Jungkook step closer to the entrance of Target. That's when it occurs to you that Target has automatic doors.
You and Jungkook look at each other. With your eyes, both of you communicate something on the lines of 'so much for living here.'
It's a universal fact that zombies are stupid and can't complete simple human tasks such as opening doors. But if Target's doors are automatic... Well, then anyone can come in. Human or zombie.
The two of you creep into the store with caution, scanning from left to right to see any source of movement. Luckily, so far, the building seems empty. It just must be your luck that today happens to be a weekday and the time is barely before noon. Plus, you're in the middle of a zombie apocalypse and everyone was ordered to stay home. For the most part, it looks like this Target is abandoned. It helps calm down your rapidly beating heart just a little bit.
Still, the silence is eerie. Clutching your baseball bat, you try to make a mental list of the supplies you might need to take. From the checkout aisle, you and Jungkook each grab two plastic bags each.
"What are the top five things we need?" Jungkook whispers to you.
"Um, food, probably," you say. "Toiletries, for sure. Sleeping bags, maybe? Chargers... Portable chargers...?"
"What about water?" Jungkook says. "Maybe we should also get a first aid kit too..."
"There's so much we need!" you let out a frustrated sigh. "And I am not going back in here twice. Once is risky enough."
"Well, we definitely need food, water and a first aid kit. Why do we need toiletries?" Jungkook asks, cocking his head curiously.
"Oh, I don't know, because I bleed out of my vagina once every month??"
"Oh. Right. Forgot about that," Jungkook says awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. "So, um... we need food, water, a first aid kit, toiletries and..."
"A backpack," you finish for him. "We'll carry the backpacks out on our backs, fill two of our four bags with food, then one bag we can use for water and water bottles. The last bag for the first aid kit and the toiletries."
"Look at you, all planned out," Jungkook grins. You wonder how he's managing to smile in a crisis.
"I'm usually very spontaneous," you mutter. "But I guess it takes a zombie apocalypse to get me to plan ahead."
Your life's on the line. Of course you're going to plan ahead to avoid death.
Jungkook laughs quietly. "Me too, honestly," he says. "I think I can stuff at least one sleeping bag in the backpack. And maybe we'll get some toilet paper."
You nod. "A flashlight might be good too. We don't really need to get weapons, right? We're only trying to survive, not fight."
"We'd be crazy to get a gun," Jungkook snorts. "Have you seen the grown men we got stuck with?? Giving them a gun might be the worst thing we can do."
"Especially that cop in training," you say. "Idiots. The whole lot of them."
Making the youngest ones do the dirty work.
Conversation is sparse for the rest of the supply gathering. You and Jungkook talk minimally, rather opting to point and mouth words just in case zombies were sound-sensitive as they were portrayed in most movies. (But you're honestly not sure how well their auditory skills work, especially when they're so lacking in motor skills.) Still, better safe than sorry.
Canned foods pile in two heavy bags that Jungkook offers to carry. He also volunteers to carry the bag with the heavy water jugs and water bottles, so you let him, glad that Jungkook is polite enough to keep his manners during an apocalypse. The two of you find large duffel bags in the sports corner, which you sling both over your shoulder. A couple of sleeping bags find their way into the duffel bags. By the time you arrive at the aisle with all the feminine hygiene products, your arms are starting to hurt, but you don't complain because Jungkook's carrying things twice the weight of your luggage.
In fact, you shouldn't complain about anything at all. For one, you're stuck in an apocalypse with someone you know at least. You have someone to lean on. Someone who constantly offers to protect you. Someone you can trust. And you haven't had any run-ins with zombies so far. So you've been blessed.
You clamp your mouth shut and pick out a generous amount of pads and pantyliners, quickly shoving them into the duffel bags. "Let's go," you tell Jungkook who nods. His arm muscles are straining against the heavy weight of the bags and his knuckles are white but he stays silent.
All those times you ever insulted Jungkook, you want to take them all back right now. It only takes a crisis to get to know someone.
The two of you nervously, steadily, begin to walk towards the entrance of the store. It's a pity you won't be able to pay for the hundreds of dollars worth of stuff you're shoplifting. But you don't think money holds enough value in a situation of life or death.
For a split second, you worry that the other men have left. But you don't think they would stoop that low... right?? The thought makes the hairs on the back of your neck bristle. If they did leave you and Jungkook stranded in this vast Target... it's game over.
You nearly cry from relief when you see the bus still waiting loyally at the front of the store. Maybe you've underestimated the others.
"Coast's clear," Jungkook whispers. "I'll go first." He begins to creep forward the automatic doors, lugging his bags when you let out a whisper-shriek:
"Wait, stop!"
Jungkook whirls around, eyes wide and lips parted.
"The alarm might ring if you take items you didn't pay for," you whisper urgently. "Leave the stuff here, wait for them to open the door, then help me carry these and make a run for it."
"Well, that was close," Jungkook nods. "Good idea." He sets down his bags and steps forward cautiously. The mechanical whirring of the sliding door opening sounds too loud in the silence. You hold your breath as Jungkook carefully steps closer to the bus, hoping and wishing and swearing. When he knocks at the glass door in the morse code that Namjoon had taught him, you feel ready to burst from the stress.
Constantly, you look behind yourself. If a zombie appears, you'll have to save your life first and lose the supplies. Or maybe, you can carry the food and water first and leave the rest. Or you can try to fight the zombie off with your bat?? But your arms shake from carrying heavy luggage around the whole Target. Your aim might be messed up; you can't risk that, can you?
While you're scheming in your head, Jungkook's managed to get the others to open the door of the bus. The coast is clear now. You gulp.
If the Target alarm sounds and it wakes up any zombies that are nearby, you're dead. You can see the scared faces of the other men peeking out from the door. Jungkook bravely steps back, waving his hands as if to tell them to keep the door open. Then, he rushes back inside the Target, hoisting up the bags.
On cue, you grip your bags too—so tightly that your hands feel numb.
"On a count of three, okay?" Jungkook says.
"No, let's go now!" you whisper as you begin to dash headfirst out the automatic doors. The moment the bags cross the invisible line, the alarm blares. Your heart nearly stops at the racket, but you don't dare to pause. You don't cease your running until you've zoomed right into the bus, collapsing on the floor and throwing the bags away from yourself. Jungkook's right behind you, gasping for breath from the short sprint before whirling on you with a look of frustration on his face.
"I wasn't fucking re—"
"Shh!!" Yoongi says, draping the locked glass door over with a blanket. "We're going to stay very, very still."
You can hear the alarm still blaring in the background, shaking on the floor of the bus and clutching your hands together. Jungkook gives you the side-eye but he crouches down with you and holds you in his arms.
You shouldn't have left earlier, but you couldn't risk waiting for a second more in the empty Target, anticipating for disaster to come. Jungkook must've panicked with you too. But he can't stay mad at you for long, not with another crisis on its way.
"Uh, I think we should go right now," Taehyung whispers.
"Shh!"
"No, seriously," Taehyung says, lifting up the cloth off the windows and pointing.
Oh no. Looks like this is where your luck runs outs. Zombies are slowly making their way towards the entrance of the Target where the stupid alarm still hasn't shut up. If you don't leave now, you might drown in a sea of those monsters. And one rule of thumb—you never let zombies begin to hoard.
"Dammit!" Yoongi curses. "Hold on!"
The zombies are still several yards away, but Yoongi slams on the gas, lurching the car forward. There's no time to think. No time to talk. Yoongi tears away the cloth in front of his window and begins to drive with sickening speed.
"Where are we going??" Hoseok yells over the screams of the engine.
"To my house!" Yoongi screams back.
"WHAT??" the businessman shrieks. "WHY AREN'T WE RUNNING AWAY?"
"Running away attracts more zombies!" Taehyung says. "That always happens in the movies!"
"Does your house have a good kitchen??" Seokjin yells.
"Does it matter???" Yoongi yells back.
"Why can't we go to my house??" Taehyung shrieks.
"Shut the fuck up!" Seokjin tells him.
Yoongi continues to bump over mystery speed bumps (no doubt, bitten people) as zombies slowly try to follow the vehicle. But they're way too slow for Yoongi's speedy driving. He manages to throw them all off track as he drives away from the city.
And when there are fewer buildings and more grassy fields, things almost look... normal. As if you hadn't just seen a zombie apocalypse unfold in the city. Until you notice the blood splattered on the windows and the survival luggage that you and Jungkook had hauled on the bus. That's when you realize this is still very, very real.
But now that you've escaped the city, the roads are ironically smoother without the undead scattered on the ground. As a result, Yoongi begins to drive comfortably, the bus no longer threatening to tip over at every turn. Finally, it seems like the chaos has calmed down.
You take the time to apologize to Jungkook. "Sorry I just left like that," you say.
He shrugs. "It was stupid for me to countdown anyways."
And that was that.
He sits down next to you at the back of the bus as the other men (except Yoongi) crowd around you to ask questions about the risky trip.
"Were there zombies inside the store?" Namjoon says.
"We didn't encounter any," you reply. "But we're not sure."
"Do you think we could go back in there when we need more supplies?" the med school student asks.
"I mean..." you trail off, looking at Jungkook.
Jungkook shrugs. "We'll have to see, I guess."
"Make do with what Yoongi has in his house?" Seokjin says. "Hey, Yoongi, you got a big house??"
Jimin gasps. "You can't just ask people that, Seokjin! Hey, Yoongi, do you have eight bedrooms?"
You feel like facepalming. And if your hands weren't so wet with sweat, you would've done it too.
"Do I look like I'm made of money??" Yoongi scoffs. "I live in a one-bedroom house."
"One bedroom?!?!? One bedroom?!" Taehyung shrieks.
"Would you like to live outside the one-bedroom house?" Yoongi shrieks back.
Taehyung shuts up.
Sure, Yoongi's being extremely generous right now. He could've dumped all of you out the moment the chaos hit. But he had chosen to bring everyone along with him. Still... eight people in a one-bedroom house? You're not so sure about that.
"We'll make it work," the bus driver grumbles.
"As long as there's a kitchen," Seokjin says, "I'm all right."
Ten minutes later, following Yoongi's lead, everyone quickly piles into the one-bedroom house.
It looks modest but poorly decorated. A shaggy rug with mysterious stains, zero decor but a single couch and a small television is set in the living room. The only bedroom in the house isn't very spacious either, with just enough room to fit one full-sized bed and a couple of other sleeping bags on the floor. Yoongi keeps his humble collection of clothes in his bathroom sink. The bathroom is standard and looks barely used. But the worst part of the house is the kitchen, much to Seokjin's despair. There's more dust than counter space.
"I don't cook," comes Yoongi's simple answer when Seokjin gives the man a bewildered look.
And just like that, the house tour is over in a couple of minutes.
"Do you have a car?" you ask cautiously.
Yoongi shakes his head. "Left my bike at the bus parking lot." He shrugs. "But we have the bus."
You bite your lip. Buses use way more gas than cars do—you don't even have to be a mechanic to know. It might've even been better to have a bike.
Everyone is silent for the most part, taking in their new surroundings and unsure what to make of it. Yoongi collapses on the couch. "I have beer somewhere in my fridge. Help yourselves."
Hoseok makes a face—as if he's never had a cheap beer in his life.
You and Jungkook make faces because neither of you is of legal age to drink yet. Yet another reminder that you're stuck with actual adults.
Once those who want a beer get a beer and all the canned foods and water are stashed in the fridge, everyone gathers around awkwardly in the living room. With so much afternoon chaos, the evening seems eerily quiet. It's like all of you are waiting for disaster to strike again.
You, yourself, begin to think about your safety. The thing about Yoongi's house (no matter how small and shabby it is) is that it's out in the open without any other houses nearby. For one, that's a good thing because there's less chance that zombies will make their way out here. But there's also no barrier either.
And suddenly acquiring seven male roommates out of nowhere? Seven men you barely even know? Sure, you've spoken to Jungkook a lot of times, but never outside of the bus or the practice field.
But you guess you have to sacrifice comfort and privacy to survive.
Finally, when the silence stretches on for nearly thirty minutes, Hoseok speaks. "We have to talk about the elephant in the room," he announces.
Everyone raises their eyebrows.
"What elephant??" Jimin says. "Where's the important question? Did I miss something?"
"No," Hoseok sighs. "What are we going to do about the sleep situation?"
"What do you mean?" Yoongi scoffs. "I get the bedroom, everyone else sleeps out here." He gestures at the living room.
"At least four people can fit in that bedroom," Namjoon says. "I suggest you can choose who gets to sleep there."
"You have to take in count that we have a lady present too," Seokjin says.
"Shouldn't she automatically get the bedroom then?" Jungkook says. "And she chooses who sleeps in the bedroom?"
"That's not fair!" Taehyung says. "Why does gender matter in this situation?"
"Yeah, and you're only saying that because you know she'll pick you!" Hoseok scoffs.
"Well, I'm sorry I want to make her feel comfortable in a male dominant household!" Jungkook shouts.
You feel awkward, biting your lip and looking back and forth between Jungkook and the two other men.
"Um, if you'd let me choose, I'd have to go with Yoongi, just because it's his house, Jungkook and Namjoon..." you say.
"Goddamn!" Jimin exclaims. "What did I ever do to you??"
"Nothing!" you protest. "I'm just—"
"My house, my rules!" Yoongi shouts over everyone. "I get to choose! And I pick Y/N, Namjoon and Jungkook. That's final!"
While Jimin, Hoseok and Taehyung are grumbling, Seokjin seems rather happy. "I'm closer to the kitchen in the living room," he grins. "And besides, it doesn't matter whether you sleep in the bedroom or in the living room. You get the same sleep." He pauses. "Unless you get the actual bed."
"We can take turns with the bed," you tell the three other men.
"Nah," Yoongi says. "Never liked that stupid thing."
"I also prefer sleeping on the ground. It's good for my back," Namjoon says.
Jungkook shrugs at you. "You can take the bed."
You're left gaping at them. "Are you sure...?"
"Just take the offer before they change their minds, honey," Seokjin laughs.
"O-Okay."
"Now what?" Taehyung says, exasperated. He seems let down that he doesn't get to sleep in the bedroom. Nor does he seem keen on the idea of sleeping in sleeping bags. Hoseok looks equally annoyed.
You suppose you can understand them in a way. You don't exactly have many things to lose. In fact, now, you probably don't have to pay off student debt. But Hoseok and Taehyung, well, they're not used to living in cramped up places. It's not really their fault that they're being so whiny. But at the same time, you wish they can shut the fuck up and stop complaining.
"What do you mean, now what?" Yoongi says. "We're gonna sleep. I think I have an extra blanket or something..."
"Sleep?" Hoseok says. "It's barely 6 o'clock."
"Well, what else do you suggest we do? Go outside and hunt the zombies??" Yoongi says. "Excuse me, I'm gonna go to bed."
"Wait!"
Yoongi turns around and glares daggers at the rich businessman. But Hoseok doesn't budge. "Do you have a phone charger?" He holds up his phone, the latest model of the iPhone—the one that costs more than some laptops.
The bus driver cocks an eyebrow. He holds up his own phone in the air.
Everyone else gasps when they realize Yoongi's phone is a battered, out-dated Nokia. The model that is so old that you swear you had that same phone when you were in sixth grade.
"A Nokia?!" Taehyung shrieks.
Everyone pulls out their own iPhones in rapid succession.
"Oh, god," Namjoon mutters.
"I guess it's goodbye to our phones," Seokjin says. "A pity..."
"We should've grabbed iPhone chargers at Target," you sigh, shoving your phone back in your back pocket. A forgotten necessity...
"Yeah, you should've," Hoseok agrees.
You give him the nasty side-eye when he turns his back to you.
"Well," Yoongi shrugs, "it's not the end of the world. Besides, I think I have an iPhone charger somewhere..."
"You used to have an iPhone?? Why the switch?" Jimin says, twiddling his one iPhone X in his hands.
"No, never had an iPhone. I hate Apple products," Yoongi scoffs. "I'm a die-hard Samsung fan, but I had to switch to Nokia to pay the bills. I just had an ex-girlfriend who left her iPhone chargers at my house. I might find more than one if I dig around, I guess."
Everyone whoops with joy.
After a hunt that lasts for an hour, two pathetic, dirty iPhone chargers sit in the middle of the shaggy carpet while everyone else crowds around them.
"I call it first!" Hoseok and Taehyung say at the same time.
No one dares to argue.
"Now can I sleep?" Yoongi sighs.
"You don't want dinner?" Seokjin says.
"You're going to cook?" Yoongi raises his eyebrows.
"Well, I'll make do with the canned foods," Seokjin says.
"We should also probably try to watch the news or something," Jungkook says. "To see if they're calling for any survivors..."
The mood suddenly becomes dim.
Right. The past hour had been so busy that everyone had somehow forgotten about the zombie apocalypse.
Jungkook senses the mood and quickly changes the topic. "Just kidding. Let's play a game."
"A game?" Jimin says. "I love games!"
"Depends on the game," Taehyung says. "I call beer pong."
"I'm nineteen," you say.
"So? I took shots when I was eight," Taehyung argues.
You roll your eyes.
Amongst the commotion, Seokjin manages to sneak his way into the kitchen. No one really cares.
"Okay, then does anyone have game suggestions?" Jungkook says. "Just so we can get to know each other better. We don't know how long this will last, right?"
"I think I'm too old for games," Hoseok grumbles.
"I don't think I've played a game in my whole life," Yoongi says.
"Can I study for my exams?" Namjoon pipes up.
Jungkook sighs. He looks at you for some help but you shrug. If they don't want to play games, then they won't play games. You don't want to force them into it and end up having no fun at all.
"Maybe we should just let them do what they want," you whisper to Jungkook.
He gives you a look of incredulity. "That's it!" he yells. "We're all in a shitty mood, but you know what? I don't give a flying fuck. We're going to play fuck, marry or kill!"
Seokjin groans from the kitchen. He pops his head around the corner while holding a big container full of food in his hands. "Will the game mess with everyone's appetite?"
"What even is that?" Jimin points at the bowl.
Seokjin shrugs. "A bit of beans. A bit of corn. A bit of sauce. I don't even know, but it tastes good." He grabs some spare plates and bowls and sets them down in the living room along with an array of plastic utensils.
"Where did you even get the sauce and utensils?" Yoongi scoffs. "I swear I don't own any of that."
Seokjin grins. "I carry a good sauce and extra utensils everywhere."
And you have to compliment Seokjin's cooking skills because the mystery mixture is actually delicious.
"Um, hello??" Jungkook says while everyone else is scarfing down food. "Fuck, marry or kill??"
Namjoon looks up from his bowl. "That game's hardly fair."
"And why is that?" Jungkook cocks his head to the side.
"Y/N's the only girl," Namjoon says.
"That's true," Jimin pipes up. "We can't really play unless... you know, you suggest we fuck each other. No homo though, bros."
You scrunch your nose. "Yeah, Jungkook, that's a bit—"
"You got a better idea?" Jungkook says. "C'mon."
Yoongi grumbles. "I thought this game was supposed to make us get to know each other better."
"It will!" Jungkook says.
"Yeah, it'll let everyone know our sexual preferences," Taehyung sniggers.
Everyone groans.
"I agree with baseball boy," Taehyung says. "I used to play this game all the time. I'm hella good."
Hoseok frowns. "How the fuck can you be good at this game??"
Taehyung completely ignores the businessman and whirls around at you. You nearly spit out your food in surprise. "Y/N! Yes, you. Fuck, marry or kill? Jungkook, Namjoon and me?"
Everyone groans again.
"He's just saying that so Y/N can pick him to fuck," Jimin giggles.
"You're way too obvious," Seokjin snorts.
You sigh, shaking your head. "Well, I guess I'm killing Taehyung off just for asking me the first question." At that, Seokjin leans across from you and gives you a triumphant high-five. "As for fuck..." you trail off, looking between Namjoon and Jungkook. "I'll fuck Jungkook and marry Namjoon."
Jungkook gasps. "You've known me for longer and you'd rather fuck me???"
"Yeah, what does that have to say about your personality?" you tease.
All the men—except Jungkook—erupt in laughter. In just one sentence, you become the most popular person in the room, everyone complimenting you for putting Jungkook in his place.
"Y/N, you've officially become my new favorite person," Seokjin declares.
"Really?" you laugh. "Okay, then Seokjin. Fuck, marry or kill: Hoseok, Taehyung, Jimin."
"Ouch," Yoongi mutters.
"Ouch??" Jimin huffs.
"Ouch," Seokjin repeats. "I can't choose whether I want to kill Hoseok or Taehyung."
"Hey!" Taehyung yells. "Don't kill me again! Y/N already did that!"
"All the more reason for me to kill Taehyung," Seokjin sings. "I'm fucking Hoseok so I can get a limo ride or something from him the morning after. And Jimin's cute. I can work with that. I'd marry him."
"Yes!" Jimin yells, pumping his fist up in the air. "I'm husband material!"
Taehyung groans. "I've been killed twice," he mopes.
"Okay, then you try," Jimin says. "Yoongi, Seokjin, Y/N."
"I'm killing Y/N for revenge!" Taehyung declares but when he looks between Yoongi and Seokjin, he changes his mind. "No... wait, uh... I'm killing Seokjin for revenge! I'd fuck Y/N and marry Yoongi but it would be a sexless marriage."
"You only chose to fuck Y/N because she's a girl," Hoseok snorts.
"What?? She's hot."
"I'm right here!"
The game goes around in circles for hours and by the end, everyone is engaged in it. You win for getting the most marries. You also tie with Jungkook for getting the most fucks. Hoseok and Taehyung tie for getting the most kills. And Namjoon gets an honorable mention for being neutral in everyone's minds.
By the end, it becomes very clear that you and Jungkook are the most likable people, followed up by Yoongi and Seokjin (for knowing how to cook). It feels good to be liked by complete strangers. Normally, you wouldn't give a shit whether strangers like you or not. But... you might be stuck with these seven men for a very long time.
They're not so bad once there is nothing threatening their lives.
You don't mind being here that much anymore. With just a little bit of time, this place could feel like home. And these strangers can be your friends.
But right now, your first priority is to survive.
Okay, so, fast forward four months, and now your priority isn't exactly to survive. Pretty strange, to be honest. In over 120 days, things have taken quite a worse turn—the city is becoming more dilapidated and there are more zombies roaming about, but truth be told, you and your seven friends are doing just fine. In fact, you are doing great. More than great.
Now, your priority is to live comfortably. Ironically in an environment that prioritizes survival.
It's genuinely because of the advanced system Hoseok bestowed upon the household one faithful day. (He wasn't the successful CEO of a rising company for nothing.)
The businessman gave everyone a designated job to work depending on their skills. You think he especially thought of this system when Taehyung and Namjoon somehow managed to set the kitchen on fire back when kitchen duty was rotational. Seokjin had grieved for days because the fire left ugly burn marks on Yoongi's counters. And now the intern chef's the only one allowed in the kitchen. Seokjin faithfully cooks three meals every day—enough for everyone to have seconds. Enough to even have leftovers.
In turn, Namjoon takes care of all the medical stuff. He claims that he can cure anything except a zombie bite. When Taehyung challenges him that he can't cure all cancer, Namjoon gets unreasonably pouty and the whole next day, he decides to study. But he comes up with nothing, to Taehyung's delight. But to Taehyung's distress, Hoseok assigns him as Namjoon's medical assistant (only because Taehyung had ditched nursing at one point to pursue law). Now Taehyung's right back where he started.
But the two of them manage to get along. Sometimes. And they are responsible with the medical supplies. Sometimes. And they remind everyone to take their vitamin supplements. Sometimes. Namjoon's also crazy good at taking splinters out. That's an always.
Jimin's assigned to keep a lookout on the news through the rather spotty radio. So far, there's been nothing. But the cop in training is persistent and hopeful. Well, everyone is. You all hope that someone announces the apocalypse is over and there's a safety station not too far away from here. But the announcement never comes. No problem. You're in a situation where you're not that desperate—you can wait it out.
Hoseok gets to order everyone around and makes sure all the household duties are fulfilled. Strangely, after you get to know him for a while, he's actually a pretty chill guy. Just a little uptight when it comes to serious business. He's a huge scaredy-cat with a big heart and only becomes irrational when he's in fear.
Arguably, you and Jungkook are in charge of the most dangerous job. You are what everyone else calls the 'suppliers.' At least once every two weeks, the two of you hop on the bus with Yoongi (who drives) and go to Target to pick up groceries or anything else the others needed. The job is dangerous all right, but you and Jungkook haven't come across a major zombie attack yet, so the bi-weekly outings are a bit of a joke. (The two of you fool around in Target and spend a bit too much extra time in there than necessary.) But what can you say? It serves as a little escape from the cramped house!
Yoongi doesn't really have a job except to drive you and Jungkook anywhere you need to go. Hoseok decided to let him slack off—only because he sacrificed his house for the crew.
In four months, you're able to get to know the men better. In normal circumstances, you doubt that you'd ever come near a rich businessman. But here you are, cracking jokes with Hoseok every night. You wouldn't even have gotten to know a cop in training either. Or a law student. Or a med student. Or an intern chef who's actually talented. Maybe you knew Jungkook from before the apocalypse. But you never really connected with him on another level. Now, you know a lot about the seven men you're forced to live with.
A bit more than you would like, too.
You know that Hoseok likes his soup cold, which convinces you that he's a total psychopath, but whatever. Seokjin secretly likes to bake more than he likes to cook. Namjoon still studies for his medical exams (that are very obviously never going to take place) because he can't stand having nothing to do. Jimin's actually really insecure about his physique (despite his sassy and confident nature) and constantly needs someone to tell him that yes, Jimin, your ass looks fan-fucking-tastic in those tight jeans. Taehyung—you think—watches porn when everyone's asleep. So he might kinda be a porn-addict but you're not really sure. You don't wanna find out. And Jungkook... You know that he likes to read romance novels. Which you found out when he dragged you down the literary romance aisle in Target and suggested you save space in your bags so he could take some back to home base.
But no one else in the house likes to read, so Jungkook doesn't get his books in the end.
It's hard to believe that you're in the midst of a zombie apocalypse—especially with the comfortable way you're living—but still, you and Jungkook only try to take home what's necessary. To save time and space, of course.
A couple of months into living together, all of you had even celebrated Namjoon's 25th birthday. He didn't get a cake, but Seokjin managed to make cookies in five minutes in Yoongi's old microwave. The rest of the day was spent relaxing in the tight living room, playing what Jungkook liked to call 'family games.' Games that you should probably not play with your actual family (because of the level of inappropriateness), but games that bring friends together to the point that they feel like family.
So, in conclusion, the seven men aren't as horrible as you thought in the beginning. Sure, they have their strange and eccentric quirks, but it's refreshing to see so many different personalities in one house. You can't imagine how shitty life would've been if you were stuck with seven men with the same character as a doorknob. It's nice to live with people with such... unique personalities.
And at this point, they're like your friends—if not—best friends.
And best friends are not afraid to call each other out.
"WAKE UP YOU FUCKING SLOTH!" Taehyung screams.
You can hear Yoongi let out a dead groan from the bedroom. But it doesn't look like he's going to be barging out anytime soon.
"WAKE UP!!!!" Jimin shrieks.
Everyone covers their ears. Jimin's voice is definitely loud and shrill enough to burst someone's eardrums. But none of you want to find out, of course.
"I didn't haul my ass out of bed early in the morning to break my back cooking for everyone for you to not fucking wake up!" Seokjin yells. "Wake the fuck up!!"
From inside the bedroom, Yoongi groans. And then: "SHUT UP OR I'M KICKING EVERYONE OUT!"
You snort. Everyone else rolls their eyes, picks up their utensils and begins to scarf down the scrambled eggs.
Yoongi tends to get very cranky when he's woken by the sound of yelling. When the man is cranky, he makes empty threats that he never really means. Of course he wouldn't kick everyone out of the house. Though he doesn't like to admit it, Yoongi loves the company of the others.
The bus driver stumbles into the kitchen with his hair up in the air and his eyes barely open. "I hate you all."
"Really?" Seokjin smiles, handing the cranky man a plate of still-warm breakfast. "Love your hair."
"Shut up." Yoongi ducks his head down and begins to eat with vigor.
"Hey, chef?" Taehyung sighs, pushing his half-eaten plate of eggs away from himself.
"What is it, lawyer boy?" Seokjin says, crossing his arms. "Do you want escargot to go along with that? Or caviar?"
Taehyung is the designated picky eater of the bunch. But no one blames him. If you grew up eating filets and caviar, you'd probably be picky too.
"The eggs aren't salty enough," Taehyung says. "Do we have salt?"
"Nope, we're out," Seokjin says.
"Ugh," Taehyung groans. "I can't eat this. It tastes too bland."
Seokjin frowns. "Just appreciate what I made for you, you ungrateful swine."
Of course, it isn't a normal breakfast in the group if there isn't an argument. In the beginning, it had been annoying, but now everyone is so used to it, they let it fly.
"Y/N and JK? Can we get some salt today?" Seokjin sighs as he turns to you and Jungkook. "Someone's being a picky bitch again."
"Hey!" Taehyung says.
Hoseok just talks over him. "Anyways," he says, "Jimin, any new reports?"
"Nothing," Jimin sighs. "Radio's basically dead. Honestly, we might be the only ones alive in the whole state at this point."
"That... is not exactly statistically possible," Namjoon points out. "If you really think about it, the probability that—"
"Shut up, please," the cop in training says, exasperated. "Let us go one day without your lectures. God."
You and Jungkook give each other a 'here they go again' look.
"Can we have at least one day where we don't bicker like big babies?" Yoongi scoffs, throwing down his fork. He still looks half dead, his voice gravelly and deep.
Taehyung raises an eyebrow at him. "No, bitch," he answers. "The bickering is what makes us such a great motherfucking team."
"Actually—" Namjoon starts.
"Everybody just shut the fuck up and eat!" Seokjin yells.
Just like always.
This is a very typical breakfast in the household. Where everyone yells at Yoongi to wake up. And then the arguing commences up to the point Seokjin can't take it anymore and screams at everyone to shut their traps. That's when everyone obeys him (because Seokjin can be quite scary when angry) and eats silently.
After breakfast, Hoseok calls a meeting in the bedroom. You and Jungkook sit on the bed as everyone else sits around the floor; Hoseok stays standing.
"Look, guys," he says, "it's been four fucking months. We're lost."
You cock your head. Lost was the last thought in your head right now.
"At least we're alive," Jungkook snorts. "At least none of us have been bitten. At least none of the zombies have turned up around this area yet. At least—"
"Okay, okay, we get it, Jungkook," Hoseok sighs. "It's just that we're in a tricky situation right now. It's been four months..."
"Yes, we know," you say. "But haven't things been going smoothly? I mean, look, we have enough food, we're safe here and we're happy. What more can we ask for?"
Seokjin hums thoughtfully. "Well, Hoseok might be right, Y/N," he says. "It's only been four months, right? So the utilities are still working. There's still gas in the gas stations, the fridges are working... You know?"
Namjoon nods. "Exactly. But when will that run out?"
"When will the food run out? When will we have to live off of rationed canned foods because the fridges in Target broke? What if our fridge breaks?" Seokjin says. "We're in a tough spot."
"But we're not lost... yet," Jimin says, "right??"
"But we don't know when the doomsday will come," Taehyung sighs. "That makes this whole situation shittier."
It's not very often that the group sits down to have a serious conversation—it's not often at all that everyone can be serious in one setting. And it's a bit unsettling.
Especially when you had thought you were doing fine. But what would you know? You're only nineteen; you've yet to experience hardships that the others have gone through. So you know what the others are worrying about is valid.
"So what do we need to prepare for?" Jungkook asks.
"That's what I wanted to talk about today," Hoseok says. "How are we going to prepare for a potential zombie attack if we had minimal contact with zombies so far?"
"That's true..." you murmur. "Kook and I are the only ones who've seen zombies without a barrier separating them and us... But even then, they were several yards away."
"We don't know their weaknesses at all," Namjoon says. "We just know that once you've been bitten, you'll die and then become undead after some time. But we don't even have a specific number on that either."
"I mean, do you really want to find out?" Taehyung snorts. "Why would any zombie come around here, anyway?"
"But this is all a 'just in case' situation," Hoseok says. "We just want to prepare for the worst possible scenario."
There the businessman goes again, thinking ten steps ahead of everyone.
"I feel like we'll have the best solutions when we actually face the problem," Jungkook says. "We definitely don't feel threatened right now. We're not gonna get an effective solution." He shrugs. "I say we go with the flow."
"And wait until it's too late and one of us gets bitten?" Namjoon says.
"Have you ever heard of procrastinating?" Jungkook says.
Namjoon and Hoseok gasp like they've seen the devil.
"If we wait until we're threatened, we'll do ten day's worth of work in ten minutes," Jungkook says.
"And if we try to force a solution now, we'll probably do ten minute's worth of work in ten days. Or worse," you add. "Trust me, as a procrastinator, I would know."
"They kind of have a point," Seokjin says. "I guess if we run out of food, we can always... grow it? I don't know, we can be self-sufficient. There's always a solution, no matter how late in the game we find it."
"Are you saying we should wait until we're actually in trouble before taking action...?" Jimin says slowly. "Because that sounds dangerous... I mean, I don't uh, work well under pressure."
"I think we should invest in a gun," Taehyung says. "'Cause in the movies, they totally gun the little shits down."
"None of us knows how to shoot a gun," Yoongi says. "And I don't trust any of you with one."
"Hey! I'm a cop—"
"Cop in training, I know, I know," Yoongi says. "But I don't care. You get scared easily. You're gonna accidentally shoot one of us while you're at it."
Jimin can't argue with that.
"We can't live like this forever," Hoseok says, shaking his head disdainfully.
"Who knows? Maybe this will lead to the extinction of the human race," Namjoon says. "We might have to live like this forever."
"See? If we go on forever, then we won't have to come up with solutions right away. We'll make them up as we go," you say.
"Procrastinating is a horrible—"
But before Hoseok can go on a lecture-rant for two hours straight, Yoongi stands up.
"Well, I'm done with this conversation," he says. The man gestures at you and Jungkook. "C'mon, you two. Let's get to Target."
You silently thank Yoongi for helping you escape Hoseok's long life lectures. Swiftly, you and Jungkook grab your weapons—your bats—before cautiously stepping out of the house and climbing into the bus.
The bus ride to Target is silent as usual. Yoongi likes to drive in complete silence, observing the city's hollowed-out, empty look. Sometimes, zombies lurk about in the shadows, but they're always too slow to catch up to the bus. And they rarely swarm around Target for reasons that are so lucky that you don't even question it.
Once Yoongi's bus pulls up to the Target parking lot, you and Jungkook cautiously tug back the curtains draped around the windows to check if the coast is clear. Usually, it is. Yoongi always murmurs some sort of subtle words of encouragement before the two of you leave. But you and Jungkook never need it.
Swinging your bats over your shoulders and walking side by side in Target, you feel like you're the Harley Quinn to Jungkook's Joker. Not that the two of you are romantically close. Ew.
It's just that you spend a lot of time with him. Going on supply missions, sleeping in the same bedroom, listening to music together during otherwise silent bus rides... Jungkook's a great shoulder to cry on when an existential crisis hits you at 4 a.m. in the morning. He's always able to wake up and calm you down before the others are awoken from the sounds of you sniffling under the covers.
Granted, the two of you still tease the living hell out of each other, you think you make a great team with Jeon Jungkook.
Sometimes, zombies will creep into Target and roam about with their limping legs and horrible posture. You and Jungkook aren't very scared of them because at most there are only two or three at a time and that's a number you and Jungkook can easily beat with your bats. Plus, the two of you have trained short-distance running for years. You're fast. If you ever get in a position where you have to run for your life, you think you'll survive.
Besides, the zombies are stupid. There are too many ways to outsmart them. I.e. throw a noisy kiddy toy in the opposite direction and have them hobble towards it while you can run away. Seriously, how dumb can you be to let a zombie best you???
Despite being overly confident about your survival skills, you and Jungkook still take safety precautions. (It's always better to stay safe than be sorry.) The rule of thumb is that you're only allowed to carry one shopping bag each, which leaves the other hand empty to handle the bat.
Today's Target trip is just like any other. You get some salt for Seokjin and manage to salvage the gummy bear vitamin supplements that everyone raves over.
You're just about to call it a day and suggest you go back to the bus when Jungkook tugs at your shirt and points at the sports section. Your eyes fall on the baseball bats and softballs in the corner. Nostalgia hits you hard.
"Oh..." you breathe.
"Yeah..." Jungkook sighs. "When's the last time you even had a game?"
"It feels like it's been years," you sigh. "But probably four months and a few weeks."
"We should really start working out again," Jungkook says. "I heard it's bad for athletes to suddenly stop."
You snort. "Working out's the last thing that should be on our minds in the midst of a zombie apocalypse though."
"True." Jungkook grips his baseball bat in his hand and stares forlornly at it. "I really can't imagine trying to hit something that's not a ball with this bat."
He makes a sad point. "Me too," you agree with him. "I'd never want gross zombie guts on it."
"You know, I wish I could swing my bat and hit a ball right now," Jungkook sighs. "That's literally my only wish at this point."
"It's a risky wish..."
"I know..."
The conversation is sad—too sad for you to handle. Too sad to be talking about with fun-loving Jeon Jungkook.
"Whatever, right?" you say, trying to lighten the mood. "When all of this ends..." Even you can't finish your sentence. You find yourself wondering, but when will it end??
Jungkook pats your back. "When all of this ends," he continues for you, "we should come to each other's games."
You smile at him. "Promise?"
"Promise."
It's silly to be so caught up in playing a goddamn sport in the midst of an apocalypse. But softball had been your life, and it had been stripped away from you. It's worse to have to carry around your bat all the time—not to hit a ball, but for protection. Protection against monsters.
"We should go," Jungkook whispers, nudging you. He points his head in the direction of some zombies who had caught sight of the two of you in the sports aisle. Neither of you panic, but Jungkook grabs your hand anyway. "Wanna make a run for it?" He grins as if nothing is wrong at all. "It'll be like a mini-workout."
You smile back. Four months ago, you would've been terrified if a zombie was within even a twenty feet radius around you. But you've grown now. You're used to a couple of zombies. And Jungkook's never terrified, so you have no reason to be terrified either.
"Let's go!" you say, returning Jungkook's smile.
The two of you begin to dash away, hearing the inhumane moans of the zombies echo in your ears as you run not from fear but to exercise. Maybe you are living in more comfort than you've bargained for.
Survival just isn't a priority anymore.
"What the fuck happened to your arm?" Taehyung shouts the moment you and Jungkook walk into the cramped house again with Yoongi trailing behind the two of you.
"Who, me?" Jungkook says, turning his head to inspect his arms.
"No, Y/N," Taehyung sighs, rolling his eyes. "You have blood running down your arm, dude. Does it not hurt?"
Now that Taehyung mentions it, your right arm begins to throb with sudden pain. When you turn, you see a small gash coated with blood; the droplets are rolling down your arm in a dramatic fashion, but the pain is tolerable.
"DID YOU GET BITTEN?!" Jimin screams.
Yoongi rolls his eyes. "If she was bitten, she would've dropped dead." He picks up the plastic bags and carries them over to the kitchen as everyone trails behind him. "As you can see," he gestures toward you, "Y/N is fucking fine."
"I must've cut my arm on some cardboard or something. I don't know," you say. "We were running away from some of those creeps, so..."
"Are you okay, at least?" Jungkook says. "It looks like it hurts."
You snort. "I mean, it's only a cut. Hey, Tae, a little help over here?"
"Only a cut? Dude, nothing's ever only a cut in a fucking apocalypse," Taehyung says. "I'll take a look." He disappears into the bathroom to wash his hands and comes out holding the first aid kit.
While Taehyung treats your little wound, Seokjin begins to serve lunch—grilled cheese that's crunchy and flavorful and definitely not bland. Taehyung gives his compliments to the chef, which almost makes Seokjin break down in blissful tears.
But then the bickering commences as usual.
"I'm not trying to point fingers here," Namjoon starts, but he very obviously stares Taehyung down. "But I haven't touched my phone since the apocalypse began. Yet it seems like Taehyung can't get enough of his phone the whole day."
Taehyung takes a ginormous bite of his grilled cheese sandwich and shrugs. "It's important stuff," he grumbles with his mouth full.
"How, though? We've already established that none of our relatives are answering our texts or calls ages ago," Hoseok says.
"What could possibly be so important on your phone, I wonder," Seokjin says. He raises his eyebrows, but everyone already knows that he's suspecting.
Taehyung rolls his eyes. "It's good leisure time."
You make a face. "You've got to be kidding me."
"I can confirm it," Jungkook says. "He watches porn."
Taehyung scoffs. "You don't??"
"Well, jacking off is the least of our worries," Jimin adds to the conversation. "Though I'm sure it feels good."
Everybody groans. You especially.
"I can do whatever I want with my fucking dick," Taehyung announces.
"Please," you say, "can I eat in peace without having to think about dicks?"
"Thank you!" Taehyung says. "Everyone please shut up and eat Jin's delicious grilled cheese."
Seokjin smiles proudly. It seems as though Taehyung's learning a thing or two from Seokjin.
"I really go through the mill every day to cook for you guys and Taehyung's the only one who's complimenting me?" the talented chef sighs, shaking his head. "Don't be surprised if I accidentally spill dirt in your dish the next meal. Seriously, guys. I think I deserve some standing ovation or something—"
But before Seokjin can go on one of his famous self-esteem raising rants, you excuse yourself and make a mad dash to the only bathroom in the whole house. Even the talkative chef stops his ranting when you disappear behind the locked door so quickly.
Jimin's the first to speak. He giggles, "I think she's getting diarrhea from your delicious meal, chef."
Jungkook rolls his eyes. "You're an idiot, Jimin. She's definitely not taking a shit."
"I am not an idiot!"
"What are you trying to say?" Yoongi says, feigning disinterest, but he's obviously curious about your sudden escape to the toilet.
"It's her time of month," Jungkook whispers to the men. Their eyes turn large at the relayed news. "You guys better not get on her bad side in the next few days. Or let her be in a bad mood. Run it with me, guys," he says quietly. "She gets cramps in the first three days. She gets bad cravings on the fourth. After that, we should be safe. Anyways, just be especially nice to her. She wasn't exactly having the best day today."
"How the fuck do you know her cycle?" Hoseok narrows his eyes.
"I accidentally might've... um, grazed my hand against her ass one time um, and... I heard a crunch... Turns out it was her pad," Jungkook sighs. "It was a total accident. But I almost lost my head. Ever since then, I've been keeping track in fear for my life."
"Must kinda suck being a woman in these times," Yoongi says.
"Yeah, respect for Y/N for sure," Taehyung says.
"She's a strong woman," Namjoon nods. "I agree. Imagine trying to live with seven males you barely know in a world where there are so many dangerous predators—cough, men."
"I know, I know," Jungkook sighs. "I feel bad because she totally switched from pads to tampons because of me..."
"Tampons are better for active girls, anyway," Namjoon says. "I think."
"I never really notice when Y/N's on her period though," Seokjin says. "I mean, she doesn't have mood swings at all!"
"That's 'cause she has mood swings all the time," Jungkook snickers, bending the truth to earn some laughs from the boys. But it doesn't become very funny when:
"I can fucking FEEL you guys talking about me!" you shriek from the bathroom, and though the door is closed, everyone else can hear you loud and clear.
It becomes completely silent; the men suddenly become very invested in eating.
A few seconds later, you walk out of the bathroom looking a little peeved already. You sigh as you pick up your leftover grilled cheese. "Hey, Jin, can I get something warm to drink?"
"Warm water?" Seokjin says. "Of course, honey."
You raise your eyebrows at Seokjin's sudden sweetness, but you don't question it.
Meanwhile, Jungkook looks at the other men and gives them the 'I told ya so' look. Cramps 101, warm water helps ease the pain and so do hot packs, which unfortunately aren't available at the moment. Jungkook's done some extra research himself. Maybe on your birthday or something, he can surprise you with one of those cute animal-shaped hot packs or an extra supply of painkillers. (You never waste a precious Advil on period cramps, no matter how bad they get.)
The rest of the day, the men surprisingly keep quiet. And it's doing wonders for that headache that's creeping in. Normally, you try not to make a big show that you're on your period, so everyone tends to treat you the same. But today... well, it's almost as if they know they're walking on thin ice. You can't say you don't like this special treatment. Especially when dinner is actually civil for once, with no one calling others out or displaying horrible table manners.
It's even hilarious how after dinner, Jungkook takes you aside and very, very cautiously asks, "Hey... I don't know if you're down or not for family time today... but—"
You cut him off, laughing, "I'm always down!!"
On your cue, the group gathers around in the living room and Yoongi even offers you the single couch that he always claims is his. You gratefully take his offer and hug your pillow in front of you to keep your stomach warm. Jungkook sits next to you (as usual) but perches upon the couch arm.
"Anybody have a nice, tame game for tonight?" he says.
"Tame??" you say, raising your eyebrows. "Why tame?"
"Er..."
Luckily, Taehyung comes to the rescue. "Never have I ever!" he shrieks. "But the nasty version, how about that?"
"Tae—" Seokjin starts, but you interject.
"Nasty never have I ever!" you say, gripping your pillow tightly against your stomach. "Sounds like a plan! The ten fingers version please." Jungkook notices you biting your lip in discomfort and offers you his hand to take. Though you raise your eyebrows at him, you take his offer. No one else notices.
"Okay, I'll start," Namjoon says, crisscrossing his legs and looking smugly at everyone—almost as if he knew he had a good question. "Never have I ever had a friends with benefits."
"Oh, come on!" nearly half of the group screams.
"You've really never had a friend with benefits??" Jungkook gawks at Namjoon. "Seriously dude. Harsh first question."
"Don't have time for friends with benefits," Namjoon answers, grinning.
You, Seokjin, Yoongi and Namjoon laugh triumphantly as the others lose their marbles over already having nine fingers left.
"I don't have friends to benefit from," Yoongi snorts, looking proudly at his ten still-standing fingers.
"I'd get attached to the 'friend,' which wouldn't be good for my mental health," you giggle. "So no. Never had or never will have friends with benefits."
Seokjin just shrugs, grinning rather innocently.
"Fine. I'll go next," Hoseok grumbles. "Counterclockwise, right? Hm..." he trails off, scrunching his eyebrows. "Ooh! Okay, never have I ever sexted the wrong person. Almost did, once."
"Dammit, Hoseok!" Jimin yells.
"You sexted the wrong person?!" Jungkook doubles over in laughter. "How???"
"My ex's contact was dangerously close to my mother's," Jimin grumbles. "I had to do a lot of explaining that day."
"Oh my god," you deadpan. "I'm so sorry, but that's just fucking hilarious."
Jimin huffs, puffing out his cheeks and angrily putting another finger down to have a total of eight fingers left. "I'm losing now."
"Relax, you haven't gotten to zero just yet," Taehyung teases.
"My turn!" Seokjin announces, "and I got a good one. I'm gonna get everyone out." He puffs out his chest and smiles a devilishly handsome smile.
"I doubt it," Yoongi says, raising his eyebrow.
"Yeah, it's hard to get everybody but yourself out," Namjoon says. "Especially with more people. You're looking at getting seven people out with one statement. Not impossible but very unlikely."
"Okay. Bet," Seokjin laughs. There is a dramatic pause (wherein it's so silent you could probably hear a pin drop) before he speaks: "Never have I ever had sex."
The whole group goes berserk.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE A VIRGIN?!" Hoseok yells.
"I HATE YOU!" Jimin screams, now at seven fingers.
"HE LITERALLY STILL HAS TEN FINGERS LEFT!"
"HE WASN'T FUCKING KIDDING!"
Seokjin just relaxes and enjoys the chaos unfolding before him.
But the next round, Yoongi says something on the lines of "Never have I not had sex before." So Seokjin loses a point because of that—but not until at least seven minutes of arguing back and forth.
Taehyung, though, comes up with an interesting question that's very obviously targeted at you.
"OOH!" he giggles, eyes turning wide. The law student grins at you specifically. "Never have I ever held hands with the opposite gender during a never have I ever game!"
"What?!" you and Jungkook shriek in unison, but keeping your hands intertwined. Instead, Jungkook squeezes your hand in response.
"That was so obviously aimed towards us!" you complain.
"Oh, then go on, aim something at me, then," Taehyung giggles. "We're tied in points anyway."
"Okay, fine," you sigh. "Never have I ever had a dick."
"You just did not—"
"That's not fair!"
"I can't fucking help what I was born with."
You shrug. "Let the aiming begin. Sorry boys, I wanna win this game."
Even Jungkook looks offended that you had attacked him.
"If you're playing dirty, I can play dirtier," he grins. "Never have I ever had a vagina."
"You stole mine!" you complain. Jungkook just laughs and pats your hand.
"Never have I ever slept with a guy," Jimin says.
"Never have I ever played softball," Namjoon says.
"Never have I ever been penetrated," Hoseok smiles at you angelically. You want to slap them.
"Never have I ever inserted a tampon," Seokjin sings.
"Never have I ever worn a bra," Yoongi says with a shrug.
"Never have I ever held Jungkook's hand," Taehyung laughs.
"That's double-dipping on the last one!" you argue.
"Too bad!"
Now it's your turn. And you only have one finger left. Well, this took the disastrous route.
"Never have I ever kissed a girl," you sigh defeatedly.
Though everyone else puts down a finger, you're still losing big time. One more blow would mean you've lost.
Jungkook smiles, turning to you. "Ready for the finale?"
You roll your eyes. "Whatever. Bring it on."
"Never have I ever had a period."
"I hate you guys," you grumble, sinking into the couch and letting go of Jungkook's arm. "You really ganged up on me."
Though you've lost the game, you're not that mad—not as mad as you thought you'd be. When you see your friends laughing their asses off and high-fiving each other to celebrate your defeat, it ironically makes you feel better. Good to see them get along.
Four months ago, they would've done anything to rip each other apart in shreds. Now, it looks like they've gotten close to the point they'll gang up to spite you.
While clutching your stomach to numb yourself from the pain, you can't help but smile. They've come a very long way. Now they don't really seem like the annoying man babies you knew. Granted, they're still man-babies, but less annoying and slightly more caring and thoughtful. But you'll take any kind of man-baby as long as he respects you and his friends.
Being on your damned period makes you want to sleep in the whole day. Except you're in a zombie apocalypse and sometimes, you have to sacrifice your wishes for the good of the group. Which means, getting up when Seokjin calls for breakfast.
But it's just so hard to get up... You end up ignoring Seokjin and everyone else yelling at you to come eat. Seokjin has to knock on the bedroom door, telling you that you can't skip breakfast or else it'll be bad for your uterus. You're not really sure that's how it works, but since he asked very nicely, you comply.
Groggily, you slide out of bed and make your way to the restroom. You feel heavy, bloated and just plain gross. You quickly change your tampon, scrubbing your hands with soap and water before finally walking out.
Whoever's the last one to wake up usually gets to walk the walk of shame with everyone else yelling at them. But it's silent today.
The moment you join the group and Seokjin hands you your breakfast, Namjoon's considerate enough to ask you if you had a good night's sleep.
"No," you answer, gesturing towards your whole face. "I'm bloated. I have dark circles under my eyes. And I feel ugly."
"N-No, you're beautiful!" Jungkook says quickly.
You give him a look. "Don't lie."
"Do you want me to tell you that you are ugly and bloated?" Jungkook asks in confusion. "I mean, I'll do it if you want, you know."
Oh god. His ignorance makes you want to strangle him.
When Jungkook notices that he's stepped into a dangerous zone, he backs away. "I-I mean, no, I wasn't lying! You're always beautiful, Y/N. I swear!"
You huff but don't respond.
It's obvious that you woke up on the wrong side of the bed. You don't even know why you're so cranky today, but you guess you have to blame it on the fact that you're bleeding out quite uncomfortably. Apparently, your uterus is extra mad this time around that you didn't try for a kid again. And it's getting its revenge by releasing its wrath on your body, which aches about everywhere.
"It must be inconvenient to change your uh, menstrual... products every day," Yoongi says, supposedly trying to cheer you up. "I would be too lazy to do that."
"Yeah. It fucking sucks," you sigh. "Part of me wishes I just had an IUD so my period would stop altogether for a while... or at least lighten it. But then we wouldn't have a doctor to get it out of me after a few years."
Namjoon clears his throat, "Excuse me, I'm a—"
"No, you're not," you cut him off. "You're a med school student. Huge fucking difference."
Namjoon looks a bit hurt, but he dares not to say anything else.
"Whatever," you say bitterly. "Since we're on the topic, I need to get more tampons."
"At least use pads, Y/N... Much safer..." Namjoon tries.
"Yeah, pads are rad," Taehyung snorts.
"Period," Seokjin adds on.
"Oh god. Did you just make a period joke?" Hoseok groans, shaking his head.
"Why, yes," Seokjin grins. "Why yes, I did. I'm just going with the flow."
"Please shut the fuck up," Jimin says for you.
"I second that," you say. "And I'm not switching. Pads annoy the shit out of me. I don't wanna be more annoyed than I already am."
Nobody bothers to argue with you.
The day flows on as usual—with barely anything to do inside the house. The summer heat washes over everyone; it's nearly impossible to go outside because of it. Oh, and also, zombies. No one dares to step foot outside unless you, Jungkook or Yoongi have to get on the bus to get supplies.
But it's days like this where there's not particularly anything to do that makes this whole thing so much harder. The zombie movies make it look so easy, Taehyung points out.
And he's right. There's always so much action going on in apocalypse movies. Guns, knives, cults, blood and gore... But in reality, an apocalypse is much more... boring. It's a waiting game, really.
The eight of you just lie around, counting the fibers of the rug or daydreaming about how the world used to be. Jungkook manages to convince you to work out with him, so the two of you work on your core muscles, which ache by the time you finish because of the lack of use. You finish the work out much earlier than expected. It pisses you off that your stamina has dwindled down to nonexistent in just a few months. If it weren't for the stupid apocalypse, you'd still be one of the star players on your team. Now you're not even sure everyone on your team is still alive.
You call it quits and take a refreshing shower.
With your hair still wet and your clothes clinging onto your body, you lie on the bed right next to Jungkook whose eyes flutter open. "Back from your shower?"
"Mhm..." Instinctively covering your stomach with your hands, you turn your head to look at Jungkook. "I barely got through that workout."
Your friend laughs, clearing his bangs from his eyes at the same time. "You'll get better once we start working out more regularly."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"I don't know, though..." you sigh. "What's the point anymore?"
"The point?" Jungkook asks. He shifts his body to look at you, but you don't meet his eyes. "The point is to... survive... Right?"
"...I guess." You wince when your stomach cramps get worse. For some reason, the shower had left you with depressing thoughts and being skeptical of survival. "I dunno. What's the point of living now? We're just stuck in this house. It's cramped. We can't go outside unless we really need to... And I feel like absolute shit about myself. There's just no... purpose."
"Yeah, it sucks," Jungkook agrees. "But hey, you made a purpose by doing something you wanted to do yesterday. Remember? You finally worked out! And even during your period. You should be proud of yourself."
His enthusiasm and kind words make you feel a bit better. "I guess I did accomplish something pretty worthy today."
"See?" Jungkook grins. He sits up on the bed and smiles at you. "You did good."
You laugh, sitting up with him. "You mean, I did well."
"Literally no one cares about grammar."
"Oh, really?" you giggle, nudging Jungkook so hard that he almost falls off the bed. He grabs onto the sheets in a frenzy, and the two of you begin to laugh uncontrollably.
When the laughter dies down, you can't help but keep smiling at Jungkook. He must be having a hard time himself. (Either that or he's just a rock with no feelings.) But it's nice that he actively tries to make you feel better. Even if he jokes about inappropriate things all the time. Thank god there's someone your age living in the household. You doubt that anyone else would understand your PMS-ing and arbitrary existential crises as well as Jungkook.
"I'm sorry I've been such a grouch," you tell Jungkook. "If you guys were meaner to me right now, I'd stop whining. Coddling does bad things to my attitude."
"Nah, if I was bleeding out of my nonexistent vagina, I'd be pissed too," Jungkook says. "C'mon, let's go grab some lunch. I smell Seokjin's cooking."
During the meal, Hoseok sets down his silverware and sighs very loudly. "Everyone," he announces authoritatively. "This place is a pigsty."
Yoongi looks up from his dish. "Excuse me, this is my house. You can't say that."
Hoseok just rolls his eyes. "I'm just saying if I had my secretary, this place would be spotless."
"Well, your secretary isn't here though," Jungkook snickers.
"Thank you Captain Obvious," Hoseok glares. "We're still going to do some... summer cleaning."
Oh no. Everyone groans.
Once the dishes are washed and put away, Hoseok starts giving out the cleaning assignments. Seokjin is excited to get the kitchen. You get the bathroom (because your feminine hygiene products are there). Hoseok, Taehyung and Jimin get the living room area, while Yoongi, Namjoon and Jungkook get to clean the bedroom.
It's rather organized, but cleaning is not very fun. Back before the apocalypse, you'd probably clean your desk and room maybe once every six months. Or a year if you were particularly lazy.
Hoseok keeps yelling at everyone to "Put your backs into it!" Jungkook's ordered to scrub the floors and Taehyung gets to wash the rug. You just shut the bathroom door to drive a partition between the loud men.
But the repetitive scrubbing motions help soothe you. And you have to admit, it's a little bit satisfying to see all the muck wash down the drain when you scrub extra hard. However, after a while, it becomes a bit lonely to clean by yourself. Through the door, you can hear the others joke around and prank each other. Somehow, they're making cleaning sound fun.
You finish the last of your part in the bathroom and walk out with a PSA in mind. The men look up when you clear your throat. "Ahem, ahem. Please, for the love of god," you say, "put the fucking toilet seat down."
Jimin cocks his head at you. "But there are seven men and one of you."
"Oh, shut up!" Seokjin slaps Jimin. "Don't be a dick about using your dick."
"Uh, yeah, and it's just not fair that I have to clean up after your horrible aims," you say, shrugging.
"Oof," Jungkook whispers, nudging Taehyung and giggling.
"And I need to go to take out the trash..." you say. "...Anyone wanna come with?"
"Nah, Yoongi and I'll take care of it," Jungkook says. "You can stay and rest."
He doesn't need to say it twice. "Really? Thanks!"
While Jungkook and Yoongi go off to go to the local school to dump the trash, you decide to help Seokjin out in the kitchen. He normally doesn't let anyone around his precious workspace, but he found that you're significantly less clumsy than the other men.
The two of you end up making some soup from scraps and heating up bread. By the time everyone gathers around the living room with their bowls of piping hot soup, it's already dark out. Another day is nearly over.
And what better way to end the day than spend it with family time?
"I had so much time to think about this today," Jimin says. "What about twenty questions?"
"Oh, the thing where we ask twenty questions to come up with an object?" you say. "I'm down."
Everyone else mumbles their validations.
"I have a word," Jungkook snickers. "Shoot the questions." He downs his bowl of soup until there's nothing left.
"Okay, first thing's first," Namjoon says. "Is it alive?"
"No," Jungkook answers. "Is it not. The purpose of it is that it is not alive."
"Hmm..." Yoongi says. "Okay, then is it... um, a household object?"
"Well..." Jungkook pauses. "Yes?"
"Why'd you say that in a question?" you laugh. "Is it a weird household object?"
"Wait, that doesn't count as a question!" Hoseok says.
"Oh shit, sorry. I meant to say, have we ever used it in this house?"
"Um, I hope not," Jungkook snickers.
"Yes or no?!"
"No?? I think?"
"You don't know for sure??"
"I don't know if Yoongi has one of these! And if he uses it!" Jungkook says.
"Okay, fine. Then is it something essential to survival?" Yoongi asks.
"Oh, definitely not."
"Did you use it before the apocalypse?"
"Oh, hell no," Jungkook laughs. "But some of you might've."
"Some of us??" Seokjin says. "Wanna waste seven questions and find out who?"
"No!" everyone else choruses.
"So we know that it's kind of a household object, but we haven't exactly used it in this house... But some of us may have used it before we got stuck here..." Namjoon says. He hums thoughtfully. "Do you think it'd be smart to try to find out the general size of this object?"
Jungkook stifles a laugh.
"Why? Why was that funny?" Hoseok says. He narrows his eyes. "Hm, okay, is it larger than my hand?"
Jungkook laughs out loud. "I mean, it depends, really."
"You need to start giving better answers," Taehyung groans. "You're so fucking vague."
"So the size varies..." you say. "A shit ton of things have varying sizes!"
"I got a question!" Taehyung announces. "Would you typically let this object out in the open?"
"What kind of dumb question is that?" Yoongi rolls his eyes.
"What?? I'm sensing that this object is a weird one and I just wanna confirm it!!"
"No!" Jungkook exclaims. "Never. You would not wanna leave it out in the open."
"Money???" Namjoon guesses. "Do you guys think it's money?"
"How could some of us have used money before the apocalypse?" Hoseok laughs. "It's not money... We have to figure out which people would've used it before."
"Or we can ask where most people would keep the object," you say. "Here's my question, would it be in the kitchen?"
"Not typically, no. I also hope not," Jungkook says.
"Oh god, I can't help you guys now," Seokjin shrugs.
"Would it be in the bedroom, then?" Jimin asks.
"Oh, yes. Yes."
"What would you wanna keep hidden in the bedroom?" Namjoon scrunches his forehead.
Taehyung sniggers. "My mind is going places right now."
"Oh god," you groan. "Please don't—"
"Is it related to sex?" the law student blurts out before anyone can stop him.
There's a dramatic pause before Jungkook nods. "Yes."
"I KNEW IT!" Taehyung pumps his fist in the air victoriously. "It's a sex toy. I can feel it."
"Something that only a few of us would use..." Jimin trails off. "Is it for both sexes?"
"Um..." Jungkook says. "Yes? I mean, you would think it's for women... But I think some men would use it too... Aw man, I just gave you guys a huge hint."
All of the men turn to you. "What have you got for us?" Yoongi says.
You try to rack your brain. "Um... maybe a vibrator?"
"Is that your answer?" Jungkook says.
"Um, yes?"
"Nope!"
"How many questions do we have left?" Hoseok asks.
"Eight," Jungkook answers, grinning. "But I'm pretty sure you guys will get it right."
"Um... um..." you try to think, but nothing's coming up in your head. "I don't know! I don't really use toys in the bedroom!"
"I got it!" Namjoon shrieks. "I got it!"
"What is it??"
"Butt plugs!!"
Jungkook throws his head back to laugh. "N-No!!" he wheezes.
"Oh, wait," Seokjin says. "I think I know."
Everyone holds their breaths as he prepares to reveal the answer.
"A dilidio."
"A WHAT?" you nearly fall over laughing.
"NOOOO!" Taehyung screams, slapping his thighs and doubling over.
"Did you fucking mean dildo???" Hoseok yells, his face turning red as he laughs.
"Oh my god," Jimin giggles.
"I-I choked on my soup," Yoongi coughs, but he's laughing so hard it seems as if he doesn't mind.
"Oh no," Seokjin says. "I suppose I did mean dildo..."
Jungkook seems to be at a loss for words. He's laughing so hard that he's completely silent, his mouth open and his eyes squeezed shut as he gasps for air. "Y-YES!" he finally screams. "You guessed it!"
"Your word was dildo the whole time?!" you shriek. "And you thought some of us used it??"
"Wait, you never used one?" Jungkook gapes. "I thought all girls—"
"No! Not all—I am not talking about this in public!"
"I've considered it before," Taehyung giggles. "But I backed down before things got serious."
"Oh my god," Namjoon wheezes. "I almost lost my lungs thanks to Seokjin."
Seokjin just shrugs. "I'm just here for comedic relief."
"Did you really not know how to say dildo??" Taehyung says.
Seokjin laughs nervously. "I mean... it slipped from my mind for a second... C'mon I'm a straight male who's a virgin. Cut me some slack."
"Sure," Taehyung giggles. "...dilidio," he whispers.
That results in another loud friendly argument, and by the time things are settled and everyone's abs are hurting from laughing, Yoongi decides to call it a night.
You slip into bed after changing tampons and try to drift off the sleep. But the worst thing about being on your period is that sometimes, you get bad insomnia on top of cramps. Curling up into the mattress, you hold your stomach protectively as you try to count the sheep to bore yourself to sleep. However, in your visions, the sheep turn into mutated zombies, so you have to force yourself to open your eyes to get the hideous image out of your head.
Sighing, you turn over so you're on your side and facing the side that Jungkook's sleeping on.
"Still awake?" comes a hushed whisper from below the bed. You can recognize the silvery undertone of Jungkook's voice anywhere.
"Yeah, just some insomnia," you shrug. "And cramps."
"Sucks," Jungkook whispers.
"Yeah..."
"Want me to help?"
"What??"
Before you know it, you hear rustling and Jungkook slips under the covers with you. "Here, I'll big spoon you," he says. "Some extra heat might help, right?"
"O-Oh, y-yeah..." You're so caught off guard that you can't help but stutter. "Are you sure this isn't some plot to just sleep in the comfortable bed?"
Jungkook laughs quietly. "Something like that," he jokes. He puts a reassuring arm around you, and you can't help but flush when he whispers, "Comfortable?"
"Mhm... T-Thanks," is all you can manage. You're so caught up in the fact that you're spooning with Jungkook that you completely forget about your cramps. He smells like Yoongi's soap—clean and a bit minty—like his usual spearmint cologne. It brings back old memories of the Jungkook you barely knew but was still attracted to. The Jungkook you know now is infinitely better.
A part of you knows he actually, genuinely cares for you. But another part of you worries that he's just being nice to get into your pants. You're usually good at spotting the typical ding-dong-ditch boys, so you hope your good judgments about Jungkook are correct as well.
But what kind of bad man cuddles platonically with a girl to help her with her period cramps?? Exactly. Jeon Jungkook is a saint.
And that's the last thought you have before you drift asleep in his strong arms.
When you wake up, Jungkook's not in bed with you; nor is he in the bedroom. It seems as if it's just you and Yoongi left sleeping. The others must be awake.
Waking up without Jungkook next to you almost makes you feel like yesterday had just been a miraculous dream. But you know it had happened. Why else would Jungkook's sleeping bag be arranged so neatly? He'd definitely fallen asleep with you. The thought makes your cheeks blush and you try to shake the feeling away.
You rub your eyes, yawn and carefully maneuver out of the room, avoiding sleeping Yoongi. Making a quick stop to the restroom to change your tampon, you walk out, stretching your arms and yawning. The cramps seemed to have ceased early this time, so you're feeling much lighter and happier.
The others give you their salutations.
"Feeling better?" Jungkook says. He sits up from the single couch to let you sit down.
"Thanks," you say, smiling at him. "Yeah, the cramps are gone at least."
"Sounds good, Y/N!" Seokjin sings from the kitchen. "Can someone wake Yoongi up??"
"I'll go," Hoseok sighs. "I swear, that man could sleep through the world ending."
"He already is," Taehyung laughs.
You smile at Taehyung's joke, turning to Jungkook to see if he had found it funny too. To your shock, you see Jungkook already looking at you, smiling softly.
"The worst's already over, right?" he says. "Maybe we can snag some painkillers for you one day."
"Oh, we shouldn't bother—"
"Come on, lovebirds!" Namjoon says. "Breakfast's ready!"
"Lovebirds?!" you and Jungkook shout at the same time.
"As if you guys don't make it obvious enough," Yoongi grumbles, scratching his back and squinting at the bright lights. "Didn't you two play footsie last night in bed?"
"We did not!" Jungkook scoffs.
"Wait, does that mean I get to move into the bedroom?" Taehyung asks hopefully.
"Why would it be you? What about me?" Hoseok says.
"Yeah! And me??" Jimin argues.
"Whatever. Whatever!" you shout, effectively silencing everyone. "Let's just please eat breakfast."
After another meal consisting of everyone talking over each other and making hilarious jokes, Seokjin announces that he's in need of more eggs. More vegetables would be nice too.
You and Jungkook immediately stand up and Yoongi just groans. "Do we really have to go today?" he grumbles. "I just wanna stay home."
"You've been staying home for over a week," Taehyung says. "Hey, can I tag along this time? I'm not afraid of a couple of zombies."
"Why so suddenly?" Yoongi raises his eyebrows. "It's not a fairytale, you know. It's serious work."
"I mean, Y/N and Jungkook make it look so fun..."
"Yes, we're pretty cool, we know," Jungkook laughs, scrounging around for his baseball bat and picking it up. "We're every zombie movie director's dream."
"As long as you can run really fast, then sure," you say.
"Yes!!" Taehyung exclaims.
Jimin shudders. "I still don't understand why you would want to go outside into the zombie-infested world..."
"One wrong move could get you killed," Hoseok says. "It's dangerous."
You shrug. "We've survived every time. And besides, zombies are the lesser species. They're stupid. Slow. And incredibly weak."
"Careful. Don't get too cocky," Namjoon says. "You sure you need an extra pair of hands to carry everything?"
"The more people we have, the more supplies we can get at a time," Jungkook answers. "Tae can come and that's final."
Taehyung won't shut up about how cool it would be to have zombies chasing after him as he ducks heroically around obstacles and wacks a few of them with makeshift weapons. It's like his head's stuck in the movie world.
Yoongi ends up putting his earplugs in.
You and Jungkook patiently listen to Taehyung's fantastical visions, wondering if the two of you should break it to him that yes, being a supplier is cool, but no, it is not action zombie movie cool.
When Yoongi announces that you've arrived at the destination, Jungkook cautiously pulls back the curtains on the bus and then frowns.
"Yoongi, this is Costco, not Target."
"Yeah, I know," the stoic man answers. "Figured the eggs came in larger packs here. And they have a special section for their fruits and vegetables to keep them fresh."
"Fresh after four months?" you raise your eyebrows.
"You can see for yourselves," Yoongi answers. "If not, there's a shit ton of food there anyway. Thought we needed a little upgrade from Target."
"Right..." Jungkook says. "But we also don't know how many more zombies are roaming around here."
"Seems like none to me!" Taehyung exclaims as he scans the perimeter. "Uh, at least none on the outside."
"Well... we have each other's phone numbers just in case. Ringtones on silent, right?" you say. "We'll call you if we have any trouble. And you'll call us if you're in trouble too. Though I doubt it." You shrug. "The most zombies we might have to encounter might be ten. And we can take ten easily."
"Exactly," Jungkook says. "But we'll still exercise caution."
"Right," Taehyung says. "We must exercise caution."
"And try to talk in a low volume," you say.
"Then everything will be just fine," Jungkook says, puffing out his chest.
Five minutes later, things are looking out to be... quite... not fine. But it's also too late to back down. The three of you are already deep in the large Costco building, and though it looked like there were no zombies outside, there were a shit ton inside. All sleeping.
You try to signal Jungkook and Taehyung to go back to the bus just in case, but the other two are firm on going through with the mission. The three of you tiptoe carefully across the building, making sure to speak sparingly or stay silent altogether.
Unfortunately, Costco doesn't have plastic bags, so you end up having to carry the carton of eggs. The vegetable section stinks of rotten food, so you avoid it completely. There aren't that many fresh foods in Costco that you can hold without making a complete racket, so the three of you gravitate towards the canned foods sections once more. You admit, there are way more options in Costco than in Target, but you quickly find out that it's hard to carry multiple cans at once without a bag.
You ditch the canned foods and pick up boxes of waffle, pancake and cake mix. In the midst of choosing how many of these boxes you should bring with Jungkook, Taehyung interrupts the quiet conversation by whispering aggressively: "Look! Look at this!"
Jungkook puts his finger to his lips. "Not so aggressively," he whispers. He nods at the couple of zombies sleeping in the same aisle, just several feet away—the closest you've ever been to those limping monsters. And all of you know there might be tens and tens more scattered around the store. No one wants to find out what would happen if they all woke up.
Taehyung pouts and twirls around in—
"A leather jacket?" you say. "Where the fuck did you get that?"
"It was literally lying on the ground somewhere. Pretty neat, huh? Makes me feel like I'm the star of a zombie apocalypse movie!"
"That's half true," you say. "You're not a star in a movie... Also, that's a woman's jacket. See the details on the side?"
"I don't care! It's still fucking cool—"
"Shh!! Shut the fuck—FUCK!" Jungkook shrieks.
The zombies in the aisle have opened their eyes and have seen the three of you. They slowly get up from the ground and begin to limp toward you, but surely, gaining speed.
"Ohhh no, oh no, oh no," you panic, gripping Jungkook's arms and nearly dropping the eggs in your arms.
"S-Stay calm," Jungkook says, but his eyes are huge and he looks panicked. "Um... run!" he whispers.
Taehyung grabs an extra box of waffle mix before dashing away, catching up to you and Jungkook. The three of you dash for your lives. You take a look back to see if the zombies are still following you, but you wish you hadn't. There are way more than the two initial ones who had spotted you. Now there's a gigantic hoard of them limping after you.
And man, the movies got it all wrong! These motherfuckers are kinda fast.
Maybe they can't exactly run, but they can definitely speed walk. Your feet pound against Costco's floors and the impact vibrates from your foot to the top of your head. The bat wedged between your arms has never felt so useless. The eggs held tightly against your chest are threatening to crack under the pressure of your hold. But you don't care. You've never been more afraid in your life.
One or two zombies is a joke. But at least thirty?? Wanting to bite your neck off? No fucking thank you. You cannot possibly fight that.
The only solace you have is Jungkook, who constantly looks over to make sure you're next to him. Though you know he can run faster than this, he keeps his running at your pace, and Taehyung runs behind both of you because either he's willing to turn himself into a sacrifice or he's willing to prove he's not afraid of zombies.
It might be the latter.
There's no time to text Yoongi; you'll just have to pray that he'll be waiting on the bus, ready to zoom off the moment the three of you get on. But when you finally run out of Costco's confining walls, your heart sinks. Jungkook puts his arm out in front of you to stop you from running any closer to the hoard of zombies bumping their heads on the very walls of the bus.
But there's little to no time to think.
Taehyung gestures violently and leads you and Jungkook to hop into Costco's food court kitchen, where thankfully, the windows are open. Jungkook slides into the room first and double-checks that it's completely safe and empty before helping you in. Taehyung comes in last, just before the zombies spill out of the entrance of Costco. They look confused, wondering where their three meals have vanished off into nowhere. But they don't seem to mind, wandering off to the bus where the rest of their ugly monster friends are.
You're breathing hard, so hard that you can barely breathe. All you can do is clutch your carton of eggs and rock back and forth on the balls of your feet as you squat down on the ground. Even Jungkook, the brave, seems a little fazed as he tries to comfort your shaking body by patting your back.
Only Taehyung doesn't look affected at all. He shrugs, setting down the boxes of food and pats his newly acquired leather jacket. "Everything will be fine," he whispers so quietly you can hardly catch his words.
"I-It's not!" you manage to whisper. "Yoongi's on that bus! A-And... I—what if—"
Taehyung pats your leg, helping you put down the eggs. You just hold your bat—as if it'll save you from the at least fifty zombies waiting outside. "Yoongi will be fine..." he reassures you. "Things will work out."
Jungkook shows his phone to the two of you, and there are several texts from Yoongi that indicate not to go near the bus right now.
"Tell him that we're fine," Taehyung says quietly. "That we'll wait for the zombies to go away or something."
Thank god Taehyung's here. It always helps to have someone who is unafraid. Someone who is still able to think straight after being chased by a hoard of flesh-eating zombies.
You decide to check your suspicions and open the carton of eggs to find eight of them cracked and leaking. You don't know what washes over you, but you're suddenly crying silent tears. Something about being stuck in the Costco kitchen with zombies guarding the bus you're supposed to go into and not exactly knowing what the future holds for you is fucking terrifying. And even worse, you had one job. But you'd managed to crack the eggs.
Taehyung and Jungkook are surprised to see your tears—especially Taehyung because he had never seen your vulnerable side before. Jungkook just hugs you, and you try to focus on the scent of mint clinging to his hair, while Taehyung lets you hold his hand.
No one dares to speak after that.
The zombies are pretty far away, but you're not willing to take any chances when the kitchen is a closed space. There's nowhere to run. And you obviously don't want to stay here all night. Night is when the zombie numbers multiply—at least in the movies.
You try to take silent, deep breaths to calm your rapidly beating heart. Jungkook's chest rests against your back, and you can hear his thumping heart as well. You know that he's a lot more scared than he lets on. But he stays calm for your sake.
Meanwhile, Taehyung just looks bored.
He taps meme song rhythms against the back of your hand and frequently (but also carefully) looks out the window to check if the zombies are gone. But they are not. They continue to rack their heads against the walls of the bus, and there are so many of them that sometimes, with a particularly hard knock, the bus leans to the side.
Maybe they can smell humans...
You just hope if they can, they won't be able to smell you three. If worse comes to worst, you'll actually have to fight for your life.
It's been nearly five hours.
Your legs are sweaty and your thighs stick to the ground, and it's gotten so stuffy that you, Jungkook and Taehyung have all given each other some space. There's still not much to say and it's too risky to talk, though.
The silence is horrible.
You start to think about everything. All the people you've wronged. All the people who hated you and would probably kill to see you like this. All the people who love you and would be heartbroken over the deadly situation you've entangled yourself in. All the people who you loved and are dead now, after meeting a tragic, zombie-ridden death.
It's worse that you're still on your period, and you've still got the tampon in—for more than eight hours too. But you try to forget about it; it's the least of your worries now.
At this point, you're not sure if you should just accept your fate. It already feels like you've lost a big battle. Why not just give up? The five hours you've stayed cramped up in the small kitchen felt like five days.
The others must be worrying at home. And oh god, Yoongi... He must be even more terrified to be alone on the bus and surrounded by zombies.
"H-Hey..." Jungkook whispers, placing his hand on yours. "Maybe we should go now..."
"What??" you exclaim in a low voice. "What do you mean go now??"
"Jungkook's right. There're fewer zombies surrounding the bus," Taehyung says, he crouches down but levels his eyesight to the parked vehicle.
"If we can manage to push them away from the doors and get in..." Jungkook starts. "Um..."
"We'll be totally fine," Taehyung says. He's got a small smile on his face—not a hopeful smile but a confident smile. You wonder what it takes to be so unafraid and unbothered.
But they're right. What used to be about fifty zombies have dwindled down to a measly ten to fifteen. Possibly twenty-five since some of them might be out of your line of sight. But it's much better than fifty. Still...
This would totally be asking to get bitten.
"I've already texted Yoongi. He says he'll keep a close lookout for us, and when the coast's clear, he'll let us in," Jungkook says. "C'mon..." He squeezes your shoulder. "It's better to try now than later, right?"
"You two can swing your bats around like mad," Taehyung says. "And I'll just, you know, try to stay alive and hold the supplies."
You twirl on him, your mouth gaping. "You're not gonna fight??"
"Someone has to hold the groceries," Taehyung laughs. "It's better for me to hold everything so you two have more mobility."
"Oh god. Oh god," you mumble. "We're going to have to do it..."
"Duh," Taehyung snorts. "C'mon, it'll be fun. Like in the movies."
Fun?? You could think of a billion counterarguments, but you shut your mouth.
"Just pretend the zombies are that creepy sexist male baseball coach you had in high school," Jungkook says. "Does that help?"
"I'm not very imaginative—"
"Okay, the goal is not to beat them up, anyways," Jungkook says. "Just enough for us to get into that bus in one piece..."
"Right," you say with a curt nod. "Just enough to survive..."
"They're just a couple of idiots with mangled bodies," Taehyung grins. "We'll survive."
"Of course," Jungkook snorts. He looks over at you as if to check up on your mental state. Though you're screaming on the inside, you manage to put on a stoic look on your face.
"Okay, well I'm ready," you finally whisper, gritting your teeth. "We'll uh... yeah, survive..."
"Exactly," Taehyung says, he pats your back before beginning to pick up all of the supplies. "You guys got my back, right?"
"Sure," Jungkook grins. "We'll keep you covered."
You nod along, though biting your lip nervously. "So we're just going to... make a run for it?"
"We're not really in the position to make up a battle strategy," Jungkook shrugs. "I'll be in the front, you can be right behind me and Tae'll be right at the back."
"Sounds like a plan," Taehyung says.
It's a simple plan that seems to be effective, but there are still a million things that can go wrong. Jungkook grips his bat tightly in his hands before looking back at you. He looks a little apprehensive himself, but he offers a tight smile.
"On the count of three, right?" Jungkook says, he looks at you specifically. "And no running off before."
You manage to smile nervously. "Yeah..."
"One..."
You take in a deep breath.
"Two..."
You breathe out.
"Three!"
You hold your breath as you charge, right behind Jungkook. Your feet pad silently against the ground; your surroundings are blurred. You can only see straight ahead.
You raise your bat above your head, ready to strike. Your grip around it tightens.
The zombies are still oblivious, but there are so many of them. Your ears can't seem to comprehend sound anymore. Your eyes narrow in on the monsters, and you make a mental target of the ones you're going to go after first. It's almost in slow-mo. Right before two opposing sides meet in war and clash.
Jungkook lets out a muffled gasp when he hits the first zombie across the head.
It's enough force for the monster to stumble back and fall to the ground. The other zombies notice and begin to charge slowly. You hesitate for just a second, watching Jungkook lash out at the monsters to clear the way for you and Taehyung to get into the bus. Then with revitalized vigor, you move, swinging your bat with all of your strength at the nearest, blood-thirsty zombie.
It growls before flinging backwards. The impact of the hit has your arms shaking uncontrollably, but there's no time to pause and recuperate. In fact, there's no time for you to think. One wrong move can get you killed.
You swing your bat over and over again. Never hitting the same zombie twice. Knocking down as many as you can. Helping Jungkook protect Taehyung who has no weapons at all.
Blood splatters everywhere, but you don't dare close your eyes. And it's too much of a risk to scream. You pant quietly, sweating profusely but gritting your teeth and fighting for your life. Literally.
But the zombies won't die the second time around. They manage to stand straight again and hobble towards you and the two others.
"Y/N!" Jungkook hisses, hair wet with sweat and eyebrows furrowed. "Knock on the bus door!"
He swings his own baseball bat around, subsequently knocking down three monsters. He's offering you and Taehyung protection while your backs are turned.
Following his order, you frantically knock on the bus door covered by curtains. As soon as your knuckle hits the glass, Yoongi peels back the curtain, his eyes wide and lips parted.
You know he can see the hoard of zombies still trying to maul Jungkook. He gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing in the process. Nevertheless, in just a few seconds, the bus door opens.
"Hurry!"
Taehyung's the first one in, and you only stay to kick a zombie away from the entrance. Its hanging guts explode right on your shoe, making a disgusting mess.
"Jungkook!" you shriek.
He turns around, cursing as he knocks down more of the monsters.
You bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, looking between the safe insides of the bus and your friend struggling to fight the zombies. More of them are ganging up on him, definitely more angry that he'd tried to hurt them. There's no time to think at all. It's all instinct when you jump out, unexpectedly knocking one zombie over. But it creates a miracle domino effect.
Jungkook doesn't hesitate. He grabs your arm, turns around and runs toward the entrance of the bus. The moment your foot is in the door, Yoongi slams it shut.
Loud thumps can be heard from the glass as the zombies angrily protest against the loss of a meal.
Just when you worry that the glass might crack from their vicious head-butting, Yoongi gets in the driver seat and slams his foot down on the gas. The bus lurches forward, definitely crunching over some of the zombies and subsequently flinging you, Jungkook and Taehyung to the back of the vehicle. The gathered supplies fly every which way, but Yoongi continues on, jerking the steering wheel left and right to throw off the zombies.
Your heart is thumping so loud, you can't even hear the skids of the bus wheels against the concrete. Hell, you can barely even see straight.
Even after Yoongi pulls out of Costco's parking lot and continues to speed out of the city, you're unable to speak, completely frozen. And no one speaks another word until you can see Yoongi's modest home several yards away.
Safety is close.
The anxiousness is just about dissipating within you when—
"Oh, shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!" Yoongi curses, repeatedly slamming his foot on the gas pedal only for the bus to slow down, sputter and come to a complete stop. "Well, shit," he sighs, turning around to face you, Jungkook and Taehyung. "Bus broke down."
"Welp!" Taehyung sighs, standing up and brushing the dirt off of his clothes. He's got a few bloody smudges on his cheap Target t-shirt (he had to give up Gucci ever since the apocalypse), but he's in a much cleaner state than you and Jungkook. The law student shrugs, gathering up most of the supplies in his arms. "At least it didn't break down back at Costco."
"Do you think we can fix it?" you say, eyebrows furrowed. "And is it safe outside?"
"Zombies don't really come here... I think," Jungkook says, frowning. "Um, but I'm sure we won't be ambushed out there."
"We'll have to see if the bus is fixable," Yoongi says. "But I'm no mechanic." He looks more on the worried side, fidgeting with his hands. "Let's get out of here."
With your knees still shaking and head still light, you stand up, nearly wobbling over if Jungkook had not supported you. Yoongi carries the rest of the supplies, unveiling the bus door and busting it open. You and Jungkook carry your bloody bats, you especially distraught over the violent mess that had been made of your precious sports equipment.
Taehyung's the first one out, stretching his back leisurely before taking a look around the surroundings. "Zombie-free!" he exclaims. "Damn, look at the bus! Didn't know zombies could even bleed that much!"
You make a disgusted face at his comment. I definitely don't want to be reminded of fighting those monsters anytime soon.
Taehyung's right, though. The bus windows are splattered with now dried droplets of blood, and the sides are even worse, harboring the brunt of the zombies' remains. You have to look away.
Though there are seemingly no monsters roaming about in the vicinity, Jungkook ushers you towards the house as quickly as he can. It's not worth the risk. Not worth the extra trauma.
Before any of you can get to the front door though, it swings open with a very worried looking Jimin nearly in tears.
"I thought you guys were dead!" he screams, tugging everyone in the house before slamming the door shut. When he pulls back, Jimin's jaw drops open. "Blood?!"
"Oh god..." Namjoon gasps, quickly rushing over to check up on you and Jungkook. "Anyone bitten?"
"What the hell happened?" Hoseok cries. "We couldn't even call! Our phones died and you took the chargers!" He points at Taehyung.
"Oh, Y/N..." Seokjin gasps when he realizes you've started to cry. "Hey... hey..."
"We had a little bit of a problem," Yoongi says. "Went to Costco instead of Target. It's my fault... And they had to deal with it."
"It's cool, bro," Taehyung says. "Got this cool leather jacket out of it. But also almost died in the process."
Seokjin embraces you, making you cry even harder. The stoic façade that you had put up inside the bus and all throughout the afternoon had broken apart.
"I-It was," sniff, "n-not c-c...ool," you manage to get out against Seokjin's chest. "I... I've never b-been s-so... scared."
"You've made it out alive," Seokjin whispers, patting your head. "It's okay..." He pulls back and murmurs a quiet "Yikes," when he sees blood splatters across your face and even down to your neck.
"Y-Yikes?!" You cry even harder. Everything you'd been holding in for the last four months, all the times you missed everyone you'd known in your life, all the times you'd had a major existential crisis—it all comes crashing down on you. Leaving you broken.
Seokjin awkwardly holds you, not sure of what to say and do. The rest of the men seem at a loss for words as well.
Finally, Jungkook's the first to take action. He walks forward, wiping off the dried blood from your chin before sighing. "You're a professional zombie fighter," he says, crouching down to meet your eye level. "You were brave, calm and collected when you needed to be, and you survived. Plus, you saved me. You should be proud of yourself. You did good."
You manage to scoff amidst your tears. "Y-You mean," sniff, "that you did w-well."
"Yeah, whatever," Jungkook snorts. He just pats your back and helps you sit down on the couch in the living room.
"What's that about Y/N saving your life?" Jimin says.
"Um... well, how about we start from the very beginning?" Jungkook suggests, sitting on the couch ledge. "It's a long story."
"Man, it was bad fortune after bad fortune after bad fortune!" Taehyung exclaims. "Like literally, just when we thought we survived everything and could live to see another day, the bus fucking broke down!"
"Wait, the bus broke down??" Hoseok shrieks. "And eggs and what the fuck is that—cake mix—are the last things we got???"
When you look like you're going to start crying again, Namjoon cuts in. "Cake mix can last for months. And eggs are delicious!"
"We're doomed," Jimin groans. "How are we gonna get our supplies?"
"And the eggs are cracked," Seokjin says as he frowns at the opened carton of eggs. "Thirteen out of twenty-four."
You shake your head in disbelief, biting your lip to keep yourself from crying tears of frustration. Nothing had gone right today. Nothing at all.
"I'm so sorry," you mutter. "I was holding them so tight... I didn't think they'd..." You can't even continue on, losing your voice mid-sentence.
"Hey, no," Seokjin says. "I uh, didn't mean it like that. Um, I can still totally cook with what's left!"
He tries to lighten the downwards spiraling mood, but it's no use.
"You guys could've died," Jimin gasps, pressing a hand to his chest. "Like, Jungkook could've really been a goner."
"I can't even imagine myself being in a rocking bus," Hoseok shudders. "And zombies are the ones rocking it."
"I'm just glad no one got bitten," Namjoon says. "We were worried sick!"
"No, seriously," Jimin says, "we thought you guys died."
"Yeah, it felt like I was close to death," Yoongi snorts.
"Every day we're out here means we're closer to death," Namjoon sighs, shaking his head.
"Oh, man, I don't wanna die... and then become undead," Taehyung grumbles. "Then what's the point of dying??"
"Actually, though," Hoseok grumbles. "You're right. Would we still be conscious if we were bitten and turned into monsters? Or would we be stripped from our personalities and minds?"
"I'm not sure about you, but I personally don't think I have the 'I want to bite your head off' personality within me," Jungkook snickers.
"Ew, stop talking about death," Seokjin complains. "It's stinking up the whole place." He looks at you, Jungkook and Taehyung. "And you guys need a good shower," he says as-a-matter-of-factly. "I'll make some omelets for dinner. Jimin? Hoseok? Help me, please."
"Wait what about m—" Namjoon says.
"No," Seokjin says abruptly. "You're not allowed in the kitchen."
Namjoon pouts but he soon finds something to do in his study binder. Yoongi trudges into the bedroom saying he needs to sleep the terror off.
That leaves you, Jungkook and Taehyung amongst yourselves.
"You can go first, Y/N," Taehyung says, taking one look at the tears staining your cheeks and the state of your clothes. "You look like you really need that shower."
"Agreed," Jungkook says. "We might have to throw our clothes away too. The blood on it is disgusting considering that it's not even ours..."
"Wait... blood?" You freeze as horror dawns on you. "Oh no. Oh fuck."
Before either Jungkook or Taehyung can ask what's wrong, you dash into the bathroom and lock the door.
With all the stupid commotion, you had totally forgotten about your tampon. Cursing under your breath, you manage to get it out—though with a bit more struggle than usual. But no matter, right? It's out now. Albeit, it had been inside for way longer than eight hours.
But nothing feels wrong down there, so you shrug. You've lucked out; you just won't be as reckless again.
Hopping into the shower, you let the warm water caress your skin before scrubbing your body from head to toe. You leave the shower a bit early (so the others have warm water too), but you leave feeling more refreshed, alive and relaxed.
While Jungkook and Taehyung take their turns in the shower stall, you meander into the kitchen to help Seokjin. (Jimin and Hoseok had come up with elaborate excuses to not cook, leaving the intern chef to do everything.)
By the time everyone is gathered in the living room, dinner preparation is finished. Normally, there's a lot of chatter, but the mood is solemn today. Everyone eats in silence.
In the beginning, you're unable to conjure enough of an appetite to eat. But the omelet smells heavenly and watching the others scarf it down helps a lot. You're able to ignore all the horrible images of blood and gore and zombies from your mind, picking up your fork to finally dig into the food. The omelet is delicious, but you don't have the guts to compliment Seokjin's efforts. Even the normally talkative people are quiet, preferring to dine in silence to succumb to the somber mood.
You're not even sure family game time will progress like this. Everyone's too preoccupied with the fact that half of the group could've died today. From just a simple mistake. And the fact that you broke down crying multiple times has made everyone cautious of their word choice.
"...Maybe we shouldn't play a game today," Jungkook says, looking carefully at you to check your reaction.
You bite your lip. "I don't know... It's almost like tradition."
"I know..." Jungkook sighs. "But is everyone in the mood, though?"
There are quiet murmurs; no one's feeling like they have to outwardly voice their opinions, but everyone's nodding subtly. Even so, an awkward silence befalls upon the group. You fidget with your hands, unsure whether you should just go to bed or not. There's an unsettling feeling taking over your stomach, which you're pretty sure has something to do with the traumatic events that had unfolded earlier today.
Finally, Namjoon clears his throat.
"I never really told anyone this..." he starts, playing with his fork. "Um... but I guess I can say it now... Not that there's any way the secret'll get out..."
"Secret?" Hoseok raises his eyebrows. "Did you start the damned apocalypse?"
"Oh my god, movie plot twist!!" Taehyung gushes.
"What?? No!" Namjoon says. "It's just a small secret I've been carrying with me since I was six."
"Oh?"
"Yeah..." Namjoon sighs. "I know I'm supposed to be the face of intelligence, but I suppose I wasn't a bright child... Um, well... You see, when I was the ripe age of six, I genuinely thought the moon and the sun were the same thing..."
"No way," Taehyung gasps.
"Yes way," Namjoon shakes his head. There's a pink blush on his cheeks, signifying that he was already embarrassed. "I just thought people called the same circle in the sky different things depending on whether it was day or night! C'mon, I was six."
"Um, when I was six, I definitely knew the difference between the sun and moon," Jimin snickers. "That's like, common sense."
"Oh, I doubt you've never had a dumb moment in your life," Namjoon says sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
"I've had plenty, actually," Jimin says—almost as if he's bragging about it—"you see, there was this one time—"
"Wait, are we just going to share our funniest secrets?" Hoseok cuts in.
"Yes!" everyone except him choruses.
"Anyways," Jimin drags out, "okay, so starting with the bad news first. I think it was back in high school or something. Junior year, maybe? I totally forgot we had a test in the middle of the week so, of course, I didn't study. Bombed that test. Like to the point that I was the lowest score."
"How can you have any good news after this?" you gape.
"You would not believe it," Jimin cracks a smile. "I got my test back and sure enough, I got a 43%. But the best part!!" Jimin pauses dramatically. "My class grade went up!"
Namjoon's jaw drops open and you wonder if it could've unhinged if he had dropped it any faster.
"What do you mean your grade went up after scoring a 43%?!" the med school student roars. "How low was your grade?!"
Jimin just grins. "One secret at a time, my man. One secret at a time."
"You think that's bad?" Jungkook chimes in. "I used to hold my breath in front of the microwave so I wouldn't get hit by the fucking electromagnetic spectrum microwaves."
"I'm pretty sure that's not how that works," Yoongi snorts.
"I know," Jungkook sighs. "That's why it's so embarrassing."
"Oh, really? I broke up with the love of my life because she didn't know who Gordon Ramsay was," Seokjin admits. "And now she's with a better man."
"Sucks, dude," Taehyung shakes his head.
"I know, it was some rough times," Seokjin shakes his head. "I really clowned myself on that one."
"It's okay," Jimin says. "Single people are superior people."
"That's what single people say to make themselves feel better," Jungkook snickers.
"It doesn't make me feel better. It's a fact!" Jimin protests.
"Where's the evidence, though?" Namjoon says. "Facts need supporting evidence."
"Oh my god, can we please go back to the confessions?" you say.
"Oh! I have a funny one from law school!" Taehyung volunteers.
Everyone shuts up and becomes all-ears.
"Okay, so in law school, sometimes, the prof cold calls you. You know, where they basically call on you in front of the whole fucking class to brief a case. Which basically means you're supposed to summarize the details of a case, right?" Taehyung laughs at his own memories. "But guess who didn't read about the case at all?" He pauses just a bit before declaring the obvious answer: "Me! That's who! Too busy getting hammered the night before. And guess who the fucking prof cold called? Also me!"
"Oh no..." you groan. "What happened?"
"I had no idea what the case was even about," Taehyung snorts. "So I made one up on the spot. A criminal case—just because those usually get so much more exciting. Everyone around me was confused as fuck. So was the professor. But I briefed such a good imaginary case that the prof let it go. I would've been the best lawyer ever if it hadn't been for this stupid apocalypse."
"What the fuck? Your professor didn't even get mad?" Jimin says. "What was the case about?"
Taehyung grins. "Oh, I put in a little bit of this, a little bit of that. A hybrid of a Ted Bundy, Jack the Ripper and Zodiac Killer did the trick. Also the story of a heroic woman who escaped the mad man and made it alive to press charges. It was insane. I loved every single second of it, and I was making it up as I went!"
"Sometimes, Tae, I think you're a different breed," Jungkook says.
"I think we all agree with that," Hoseok says. "I mean, imagine having the nerve to completely disregard important college assignments!"
"Everyone makes mistakes!" Taehyung argues. "You probably did a couple of stupid things in your life. Why don't you share some with us?"
"I don't think I've done anything stupid in my life," Hoseok says. But he freezes. "Well, I was only thirteen then... It shouldn't count."
"Thirteen-year-old boys are idiotic," you say. "That's tea. Continue."
"I-It's not uh, very dramatic at all," Hoseok says, suddenly turning a bright shade of red. "It was no big deal, actually..."
"Spill," Jimin threatens.
Hoseok sighs. "Fine. One faithful day in junior high, I got in a fight with my mother. I told her I never needed her help with anything ever again. So she told me she wouldn't drive me to school that morning. I said I didn't care and proceeded to put on my rollerblades and skated to school to show that I was an independent young man."
"Where's the catch?"
"Um... I forgot to bring an extra pair of shoes to change into at school," Hoseok says. "But I didn't want to call my mom because that would mean I would've lost. I voluntarily walked in my socks for the rest of the day."
"I mean, at least you went through with it," Seokjin laughs. "I kind of have respect for that."
"Well, thanks," Hoseok shrugs. "I thought I was an idiot. Looking back now, I guess we all made stupid mistakes."
"Not all of us. Y/N, do you have something to share?" Taehyung asks.
"Hm..." You try to wrack your brain to come up with something. "Oh yeah. Once, I got fired from my barista job because some dude tried to hit on me."
"Why would you get fired for being attractive?" Jimin squints his eyes.
"Uh... Well, he was rude when he tried to get me to go on a date with him. Think he was some fucking incel or something. Super sexist. Anyways... I might've lashed back and said something that really made him get mad."
"What did you say?" Jungkook says. "Did you put the pig in his place?"
"Well, kind of. I did get fired for it," you shrug. "After I refused his offer to go on a date, he scoffed and told me he was too good for me anyway. And that a woman's place was in the lowly kitchen, so I was just on the right track."
"Woah," Seokjin gasps. "That is not cool. That is disgusting."
"How did you react?" Yoongi says, raising his eyebrows. "It's not easy coming back from something so rude."
"I think I have a special talent for that," you smile. "I told him, 'you are absolutely right sir, lemme go grab a knife while I'm at it.' He got really pale and called the manager. I lost my job."
"That's unfair!" Namjoon shouts. "And he didn't get in trouble whatsoever?"
"Nope," you sigh. "I had to starve myself for a few days just to save up money after I lost that job. Tough times."
"Oh, wow... I'm sorry," Jungkook says. "Some men are just not... it."
"I figured," you snort. "But I know how to put bad men in their place."
"I think you also know how to put good men in their place," Jimin whispers under his breath.
Next to him, Namjoon laughs. "As she should."
"So? Yoongi? Have you got anything?" you say, turning to the sleepy man who was mid-yawn.
Yoongi shrugs with a blank face. He begins to stand up, stacking everyone's empty dishes and taking them to the kitchen sink. You think he has nothing to share and is done with the confessions, but you're proven wrong when he comes back to the living room. He only pauses for a second to think. "I don't regret bringing the seven of you here the day the zombie breakout hit our city."
And then without a second glance, he walks out of the living room and into the bedroom, mumbling that he was tired and needed some sleep.
The rest of you blink at each other, unable to believe your ears. Usually, Yoongi is quiet and when he does speak, it's often without much emotional input. But this...
"That was weird," Jimin says. "He dropped the bomb on us and then just... left."
"I think it was sweet," you say.
"I agree," Jungkook smiles. "It was a nice way to end the night, anyway. Yoongi must've been so tired... I know we were out there fighting off the zombies, but he was on the bus, waiting and waiting, barely sure if we could get out alive."
"The stress probably got to him," Hoseok says. "We should all go to bed early. After today, we all need a good night's sleep."
"Yeah..." Namjoon agrees.
"Can I sleep in the bedroom?" Taehyung asks hopefully. "It's the only way I can actually get to sleep tonight," he pleads, though everyone knows he's lying through his teeth.
You and Jungkook look at each other, wordlessly communicating that the two of you would share the bed again. Your cheeks warm even at the thought.
"Fine," Jungkook answers. "But the bedroom policy's strict. No talking after lights out."
Taehyung laughs. "Don't worry. I'm so tired, I'll fall asleep before my head even hits the pillow."
You'd gotten in bed with Jungkook, him holding you tight in his arms and playing with your hands until he'd heard your soft, even breaths. He helps you calm down. Helps you escape.
But in the middle of the night, you wake up shivering violently. Jungkook is still embracing you and there is a blanket encompassing your body, but you are uncannily chilled. Almost as if you can't breathe. You struggle against the blankets, kicking them away, much to Jungkook's sleepy groaning protest. And when Jungkook complains too much, you end up kicking him out of the bed. You just feel too suffocated.
And when you wake up in the morning, you dash to the bathroom and vomit last night's dinner in the toilet.
The moment Namjoon sees you looking barely alive, he declares you need to stay in bed. You comply, trying to fight off that stupid headache you have. Crawling back under the covers, you attempt to focus your mind elsewhere to ignore the pain burning throughout your whole body.
Even Namjoon and Taehyung are stumped.
"It can't really be something you ate..." Namjoon says. "Because we eat the same things. If you caught it, we all should've as well."
"And we've had literally zero contact with other people, right?" Taehyung says. "Where could she have gotten it?"
Nevertheless, Namjoon rules your illness as the stomach flu—especially when you'd started to get severe diarrhea. No one else is allowed around you, even though Jungkook tries to talk to you from the other side of the bedroom door.
And for two days, you're given the stomach flu treatment. Seokjin cooks up rice in the kitchen to feed you and Jungkook and Taehyung follow Yoongi on a walking trip to a small but local convenience store to get some Gatorade and frozen bananas. Namjoon even finds some antibiotics that might work.
Although you feel like shit, you know that with your friends nurturing you and making sure you eat all the right foods and get proper rest, you'll be up and at it in no time.
Except on the fourth day, you pop a 103-degree fever with symptoms that include but are definitely not limited to delusion, fatigue, redness and irritation.
Namjoon sighs, looking at Yoongi's old, outdated thermometer. "I really hope this is broken and the numbers are far off."
You're almost in no state to react.
"She's burning up, though," Taehyung says. "We've tried everything..."
They sound worried and unsure of what to do next. But you can barely comprehend their words, head lolling tiredly to the side as you try to shut out everything in the world and rest. It's a hard thing to do too—your body feels like it's burning in the pits of hell and your head spins even though you're lying completely still. Whatever cold you caught, it's the worst you've had in your whole life.
When Jungkook worriedly peeks his head through the bedroom door, Namjoon crossly waves him away. He lets out a frustrated grunt, looking between you and Taehyung with a frown stretched across his forehead. "Maybe it's not... stomach flu...?" He says it like a question rather than a sure statement.
"These are stomach flu symptoms, though," Taehyung sighs, pointing at you. "What else are we supposed to do?"
"I'm not sure..." Namjoon trails off. "Stomach flu symptoms usually call for a low-grade fever. 103 is something else. 103 is..." he trails off. "That's really dangerous..."
"Is she..." Taehyung bites back his words. "Is she going to be okay?"
Namjoon looks at you again. He reaches over with a moist rag and pats it across your forehead to clean up the perspiration. "Y-Yeah," he says in his shaky voice. "She'll be fine..."
The mood is quiet and solemn. It's hard for the two men to watch you suffer, but they're supposed to supervise you, so it's their job to stay put and tend to your every need. But Jungkook suddenly barges into the bedroom with wild hair and crazed eyes. He's panting, sweating even.
"I don't think that's stomach flu!" he yells.
"Shh!" Namjoon shushes Jungkook aggressively. "Keep it down!"
"Not stomach flu??" Taehyung gasps. "How do you know??"
Jungkook tosses Taehyung a blue box, which the law student catches with quick reflex. "Read the fucking box, guys. Read it."
"J-Jungkook?" you groan. Your eyes flutter as you try to get a clear vision of the man. "Kook?"
He just shakes his head repeatedly, unable to walk any closer to you. "Y/N..."
Taehyung holds up the blue tampon box, frowning. "So you're saying she has Toxic Shock Syndrome?"
Namjoon gasps. "Oh god."
"According to the internet, Y/N's showing the exact symptoms of it," Jungkook says. "We have to get her to the hospital."
"We can't be 100% about that, though," Namjoon says. "TSS requires a medical diagnosis... you know, with medical equipment."
"The hospital has medical equipment," Taehyung points out.
"We'll have to figure out a way to get there safely, though," Jungkook says. "Because the damn bus broke."
The others begin to pour into the bedroom, all looking extremely stressed and worried. "I told her tampons were dangerous," Seokjin says.
"Not really," Jungkook sighs. "Apparently, TSS is rare... but like... it kind of happens when you leave the tampon in for too long."
You deliriously shake your head. "A-Am I... Gonna d-die?"
"No," Namjoon says firmly. "We'll get you to the hospital."
"Yeah, and the nearest one's about a five hours walk from here," Yoongi says, crossing his arms. "And the box label right here says that TSS is a serious disease that may cause d—"
"Shut up," Seokjin scoffs, giving Yoongi a meaningful glare. "Serious or not, we'll cure it."
"We should leave right now, then," Taehyung suggests. "I mean, look, she's been like this for four days..."
"Right now??" Hoseok says, raising his voice. "We're not prepared! It's a five-hour walk. And we don't even have a bus!"
"Hoseok's right," Jimin butts in. "We need to prepare for this."
"So we prepare now, rest and go tomorrow morning," Hoseok says. "It's a plan, right?"
"We??" Namjoon counters.
You manage to turn your head to stare blankly at Jungkook. "Is... everyone gonna go...?"
Jungkook kneels down and grabs your hand. "We're all going to go. I promise."
"What??" Jimin hisses. "I thought when we were saying we, we meant—"
Namjoon shushes him.
"It's okay..." Jungkook whispers, resting his forehead against the back of your hand. "We'll get you treated," he says. "You'll be okay..."
It's the last thing you hear before you fall into a painful slumber.
—part 1 | part 2
—masterlist
#ficswithluv#bts#bts fanfiction#jungkook#ignis fatuus#igneous fatass lmfaoo (the alter ego of this short series)#THIS FIC TOOK /FOUR/ MONTHS TO WRITE#IT'S NOT EVEN THAT LONG COMPARED TO THE OTHER LONGASS FICS OUT THERE#BUT THIS ONE DRAINED ME :')#also every night after i'd write this fic#i'd get so scared#because i'm TERRIFIED of zombies#and i was CONVINCED there was one hiding under my bd#i swear i'm not ten years old#i'm a legal adult thank you very much#when will i start acting like one bye
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jjk; angel’s trumpet [08]
summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life.
pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader
genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, in this chapter–mentions of sex, a panic attack
w.c; 4.5k
a/n; can’t believe there’s one more chapter after this! (+the bonus chapter!) its such a bittersweet feeling to close this all up so i hope u all join me in my w2!jk sobbing party im making matcha cookies rn so i can wallow
[07] [08] [final] -> masterpost
Jungkook’s worried.
After he left your apartment, he dove himself into his work and tried to get you out of his head. Somehow he ended up from his living room table to his bed, bleary and with a pen jabbing him in the cheek. He doesn’t know how he feels right now, and has micro analyzed every bit of your relationship in between breaks.
He fell fast, and loving you (as much as it scares himself to admit) was so easy it hurt. It’s why it’s so hard for him to accept that you would betray him like that. What could he have possibly done to deserve this? If you had just admitted your issues from day one, this crisis could have easily been averted and you would be with him right now.
But that’s not why he’s worried. Jungkook wakes up the following day around 10AM, noting the dozens of messages and unanswered phone calls from Jimin and Taehyung.
According to Taehyung, you’ve been missing for three days. Off-the-grid type of missing, to the point that Taehyung is debating on whether or not he should call the police.
The first day you didn’t come home, Taehyung chalked it up as you spending the night at Jungkook’s. The second day however, he visits the library where your office hours are held only to find your usual table empty and your students upset over your lack of contact.
“Here,” Doyeon had said, pointing to the vague email you sent. Taehyung skimmed through the barebones message, mentioning that you had to take an indefinite leave and that the students can email Professor Kim Namjoon if they still had lingering questions.
Taehyung notes the sincere apology at the bottom, and how you tack on that “you are a wonderful group of students and I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors.”
Almost as if you aren’t planning to come back.
He could hear Taehyung deflate on the line, knowing that Jungkook has no idea where you are either.
“Did you…” Jungkook scratches his head, sitting at his kitchen table, “did you check her room for a yellow notebook?”
“What?” Taehyung asks, “I checked her room yesterday. Y’know the weird thing is? Her room is clean, like clinically clean. There’s nothing on her desk, the sheets are washed, and her clothes are all folded and put away. Usually it’s like a whirlwind in here.”
“Yeah,” Jungkook replies, remembering how your room is usually quite lived in, with warm sheets and a candle glowing.
“Why aren’t you more stressed out, dude?” Taehyung says, and Jungkook instantly feels guilty. “Your girlfriend’s fucking missing, are you gonna get up and help or not?”
“Y-yeah, I’m just a little shaken,” he manages to reply, thinking about how you tried to explain to him the other night. He pinches the bridge between his brows, regretting not letting you have your word when refusing to listen to you. Maybe if he heard it, things would have turned out differently.
Taehyung sighs, “Yeah, it’s a bit of a shock. She really isn’t like this normally, but I trust her. If you can, maybe contact Jung Hoseok? I already visited Kim Namjoon and he doesn’t know anything, but he’s the only friend I know that could have any idea.”
Jung Hoseok. He remembers that name frequently in your notebook. Not as frequently as his, but enough to have a good idea he could be involved in your sudden departure.
“Okay, I’ll visit him today.”
•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••
The tables that you usually occupy for study groups are painfully absent of your presence, noted by your stressed out students that are hoping you’ll show up unexpectedly.
Thankfully, Hoseok is working today. Jungkook eyes him from the doorway of the playroom, seeing Hoseok carefully distribute plates of snacks as a movie plays on the flatscreen. He looks like a preschooler himself, decked out in a sunflower yellow bucket hat and denim suspenders. Jungkook tries to see if there’s anything strange emanating from Hoseok, like if he also has secrets to hide, but feels nothing of the sort.
“You’re really creepy, Mister,” the door swings open to reveal a little girl, tugging impatiently at his cargos.
Hoseok makes a face at Jungkook, rolling his eyes. “God, just come in. You’re scaring my children.”
The little girl practically shoves him inside, forcing him to sit at the playtable on the very end. She then hands him a plate of cheddar Goldfish and strawberry fruit snacks, a toddler’s delicacy. Hoseok makes a show of telling the children to be quiet, focusing on the movie’s “historical elements” and “symbolic imagery” but they don’t understand any of that and just want Hoseok to move so they can watch Mulan.
Jungkook feels like he’s being crushed in the too-small chair and Fisher-Price table, munching absentmindedly on his Goldfish. Hoseok is playing on his phone, not sparing him a glance as he texts someone.
Jungkook swallows, wishing he had some milk to down the snack. “Uh, are you texting y/n?”
“No,” Hoseok replies coolly.
“Well, do you know where she is?”
“I can tell you where she went,” Hoseok replies eerily, plucking a fruit snack from Jungkook’s place, “as to whether she’s still there or not, I’m not sure.”
“I’m sorry, but are you mad at me?” he whisper-hisses, not wanting to disturb the children enamoured at the front of the room. He’s tired of the secrecy and blurry answers.
“Yes, I am,” Hoseok snaps just as quietly, leaning in to get into his face, “I’m mad because I believed in you.”
“Believed in me?” he gapes, “you don’t even know me!”
“I may not, but I believed you’d trust y/n at least. She’s a victim too, y’know.”
A victim?
“Look,” Jungkook puts some space between them, afraid he would get too heated, “just tell me what’s going on so I can understand. I know I messed up, but I feel like I’ve been in the dark for God knows how long.”
Hoseok bites his lip, “It’s really not my story to tell. Y/n didn’t want to tell you right away because she wasn’t sure of the circumstances. She wasn’t sure even if she was supposed to tell you.”
Jungkook watches the expressions morph on Hoseok’s face. He sees the faith in his gaze, as he holds his phone expectantly, as if he’s also waiting for a sign that you’re okay. Jungkook suppresses a sigh, looking at his own blank screen. Shaking his head, he manages to smile knowing that so many people believe in you.
So why can’t he?
•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••
You hate this. Three days ago you felt peachy keen, ready to transcend into your own universe and live your life to the fullest.
Now three days later you’re sitting at the wine lady’s cottage, waiting for the past two days for her to show up.
“How long does she need to go on this ‘spiritual retreat’?” you admonish, looking on angrily at the same waitress that has served you for the past two days.
“I don’t know,” the waitress has grown tired of your presence, waiting all day in the little restaurant for the owner’s presence, “until she feels more spiritual, I guess?”
It annoys you further that this waitress has the spitting image of Sehlyung. It’s weird to see her with natural pin straight black hair, always loving the pretty blond-white color and sacrificing her hair health for the bright hue. Every time she sees you still in the same spot, she makes it a point to roll her eyes and walk a little louder. This version of her is just as temperamental, unwilling to budge.
You groan, shamelessly annoyed as you drop your head on your arm. “And are you sure there’s no angel’s wine in the bar? I’m willing to take the risk of switching lives with my third dimension-self at this rate.”
The waitress eyes the one empty bottle of soju that decorate your side of the bar, chalking it up as a drunk episode. “No,” she says flatly, jerking her hand out. “Now, please pay and leave. We’re closing up, but I’ll give you a call if she decides to show up late. Since y’know, you’ve left your number here despite our protests.”
“Can I stay until you’re at least done cleaning—”
“No.”
You narrow your eyes, snatching up your half-finished bottle of soju before tucking it in your purse and offering up your credit card in exchange. You know you’re not in the right mind, but you’re pulling at strings at this point and you don’t know what to do.
After a couple paces of shaky walking and trying very hard not to appear tipsy in public, you plop yourself onto the beach, overlooking the shore. You place your backpack next to you, taking off your shoes and dipping your toes in the sand.
You glare hard at the moon, despite the distance the big ball of extraterrestrial rock is bright and full. It reflects in the ocean and bathes you in it’s grace.
Sighing at its beauty, you take a swig of your soju as your feet wade in the water. The touch of the ocean is glaringly cold, but your body feels warm and the contrast is appropriately jarring. You feel stuck between two worlds, your body in one while your heart is in the other, desperate to find the bridge to bring you home.
What exactly was the goal in bringing you here? Did you need a break from your real life? Did fate want you to remedy your relationship with Jungkook? Were you supposed to rewrite the wrongs you committed in your other life?
You snort, taking a long swig. It's easy to see how well that went.
You miss your life back home. As much as you love the one your alternate self has made here, nothing compares to Sehlyung’s humor and dirty jokes. Nothing compares to the look on Beomgyu’s face after getting a sentence translation correct. Nothing compares to the way Jungkook looks for only you after a concert, desperate to give you a hug and an affirmation that he did well.
Just as you are about to sing to the moon and beg for a reprieve, a body plops themselves next to you, snatching the bottle from your hands.
“Y’know, normally when people run away, they leave a mysterious note.”
You frown at Jungkook, who looks absolutely ethereal as he stares at the moon. He’s glittering in his denim jacket and black jeans, as if he’s part of an intimate moment in a slice-of-life film. You have half a mind to grab your phone and yell at Hoseok, but it’s far too late since your location has already been revealed.
“What are you doing here?” you ask, trying not to snap when Jungkook pours the contents of your drink into the ocean. “Hey, I paid for that.”
Ignoring you he says, “I’m here to take you home.”
“I don’t have a home here,” you snap, and you mean it.
Jungkook digs a hole for your bottle, letting the sea green grass sit in the sandhole. He turns to you, looking weary and worried. You try not to feel worried over the slump in his chest, or the way he looks like he ran a marathon to find you.
“Then where is your home?” he asks gently, resting an arm over his knee and turning to face you.
You curl up further into your body, hoping you’ll shrink if you press your legs close enough to your chest. “It’s not here,” you mumble into your knees.
“Tell me where,” and you don’t shove him away when he puts his palm on your thigh, coaxing you out of your shell. “I’ll listen this time.” Deathly slow, you lift your head up, letting him catch your stray tears and spread your body with warmth. He scoots over to you, the rough sand making it difficult as he tries to wrap his arm around you. The both of you let out a breath, missing each other’s touch. “I’m sorry,” he says, the apologies melting into your temple, “I should’ve listened from the beginning, and been more patient. It’s my fault you’re all the way out here.”
The oceans crash against both of your feet, the water eager to swallow you whole.
“Two months ago I got into a fight with you, the other you,” you start, and Jungkook doesn’t budge, and you’re thankful he doesn’t attempt to bombard you with questions, “it wasn’t a stupid fight. It was something building for a long, long time. And I came home drunk. One second, I was two seconds away from being sideswept by an incoming truck, and the next second it’s daytime and it’s you that nearly runs me over.”
He rubs small circles into your shoulder, and you almost hum at his touch. You miss Jungkook so much.
“The Jungkook I’ve told you about isn’t dead,” you explain, “he’s—and I’m, we’re from another universe.”
And between you, Jungkook, and the moon you profess your journey. Starting from the anxiety you felt from the first week, how you holed yourself in your apartment until Namjoon had to whisk you out, to your relief when Hoseok believed your crazy ideas. Halfway through you decide to piece your theories within the story, your last conversation with Jungkook, coupled with the angel’s wine and explaining how scary it was to see your matching tattoos and the meaning behind them.
“But, I wasn’t trying to fall in love with you so I could go home,” you admit tearfully, feeling the weight of the night on your shoulders, “it, it just happened naturally. It made me believe that in another world, we would’ve worked out. Just like he said.”
“I believe you,” he says firmly, exhaling. The whole explanation, understatedly, is a lot to take in. But he isn’t going to reject it, in fact as absurd as it is it makes far more sense than you planning out a Jungkook-inspired sci-fi novel or questioning your sanity. “I—I didn’t want to at first. It was easier to say you were crazy but, it doesn’t seem like the case. The way you saw me that morning we met, I could see how much you cared for me—him—us?” he scratches his head, unsure of how he should refer to himself in the situation.
“I don’t blame you,” you shake your head, “Namjoon wanted me to see a doctor.”
“It must’ve been hard,” he states, “seeing so much of him in me.”
“You are him,” you retort, looking up so that your noses are touching. There’s pain in both your gazes, equally upset at the circumstances. “I’m sorry you got the short end of the stick. I wish you could’ve met me, the other me, under normal circumstances.”
“Remember what I said before?” he asks, lifting a hand to brush your hair behind your ear. “I said that our meeting was fate. And now I believe it more than ever.”
You laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Y’know, Jungkook believes in fate too. He used to joke about hearing the bell when he found ‘the one’ like in Kimi No Na Wa.”
Jungkook grins, “That guy of yours seems pretty cool,” he jokes, “let him know that in our case, the bell was my horn because I didn’t wanna run you over.”
The whole situation is confusing, but you’re thankful that Jungkook seems to be at ease now that all your cards are laid out.
“So does your Jungkook do film too?”
“Uh,” you choke out a cough, “he’s actually a singer, dancer, producer, and films when he has the time. Mostly singer, the main one in a K-pop group. With Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, Yoongi, Namjoon, and Seokjin.”
He gapes, “Kim Seokjin? The actor Seokjin? Damn he’s like, super fine—”
“God this is so weird.”
“So how many figures are they making a year? In the hundred-thousands, like six-figures?”
“Er, more like eight,” you squeak, “and then some. But you put a lot of your money into donations.”
“Damn babe, you downgraded,” Jungkook jokes, and you smack him playfully on the arm. “So that’s how you got the song, huh?”
“Still With You? Yeah,” you say, running your hands through the soft sand, “it’s weird to live in a world without your music, byproduct of my job. It happens to be a big part of my life,” your eyes glaze over the ocean, “I missed hearing your voice.”
“Y/n,” Jungkook threads his fingers through the sand to find your hands, “I’m really, really sorry I doubted you.”
You disagree, “It’s a crazy situation. I don’t even know if I’m really sane at this moment,” you chuckle, “I mean, the time went by so fast. I would be paranoid because for you, it’s like being in a new relationship. I didn’t think it would be so easy to love you all over again like that.”
“Neither did I.” Jungkook replies warmly, and he smiles when he sees you gaping. He leans over to press a kiss to your lips, a feeling long-missed. “And a little part of me knows he feels the same way, too.”
•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••
It’s almost 12AM before you return to your apartment, dripping wet because neither of you anticipated the sudden spring shower. You tumble in like wet noodles, giggling like children in hushed whispers as you struggle to find the lightswitch.
The lights blare on for you, Taehyung’s fingers hanging by the toggle. His hair is wet from the shower, and he looks like he sees a Christmas miracle when he wraps you up in his arms, despite the protest of you being dirty with sand and salt.
“You dummy, don’t ever scare me like that ever again!” he sobs into your shoulder, and you return the embrace as you pat his head comfortingly.
“Sorry Tae,” you say, “had to do a little soul-searching.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes, more like world-searching if anyone were to ask his honest opinion. But Taehyung is looking past your body to mumble a teary ‘thank you’ to Jungkook, and he nods his head politely.
“Well next time you soul search, you better call.”
“Done and done.”
Satisfied that you are going to stay the night and not budge, Taehyung returns to his room. He gives you a good scolding however, and he makes you promise that you’ll give him the full story over breakfast.
After that bump, Jungkook and you can’t keep your hands off each other. You two shower the grime off your bodies, taking turns shampooing and scrubbing. Even after you’re clean and towel-dried, Jungkook’s fingers fail to untack from your skin, pushing you eagerly to your mattress as he presses kisses along your clothed body. He’s singing against your skin, waxing poetics about how beautiful you are and how much he loves you.
“Jung—koo, Jungkook,” you say breathlessly, running your fingers through his damp locks, “Taehyung’s in the other room, we can’t be loud.”
“Don’t,” kiss, “give,” kiss, “a fuck,” Jungkook pants, large hands trailing over your soft skin, memorizing every inch of you, He presses his length against your thigh, insistent, “if this is the last time, we’re going off with fireworks, baby.”
And with that, you relent. It’s nothing short of electric, the way he takes great care but great power into your pleasure. He takes his time, as if it isn’t the first and last night, tracing every inch of your body because he doesn’t know what the future entails for the both of you.
You’re equally stung like live-wire, wracking with pleasure as he seals his affirmation to you with sweet nothings, bodies pressed against each other feverently like they’ve always meant to be. Every bit of contact is purposeful, unbridled and overflowing with affection.
When you’re done you’re both sweaty and almost painfully content, acceptant of the ambiguity of your futures.
“Jungkook?” you ask, holding his hand tightly.
“Yes, pretty girl?”
“Will you… fall in love with me again?”
“Is that even a question?” he balks, leaning forward to peck your nose. He smiles at the way you scrunch your face. “Your office hours are 1-3PM, Mondays and Thursdays in the general library. If you’re not there, you’re teaching the History of Neuroscience in the ARC building on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 10:20 to 12:10. I also know where you live, so.”
You don’t care how sweaty you are, and tuck your head underneath his chin, needing to be closer.
“I will find you,” he promises, “hopefully not under my bike the second time around, but I’ll take what I can get.”
“You’ll have a lot of explaining to do, y’know,” you sigh into his chest, feeling it rumble as your hair dampens. Your hair has dried long ago from the shower, but you know Jungkook’s trying hard to be strong as he cries into your crown, “you should leave before I wake up, just in case.”
“Hoseok and I will handle it,” Jungkook assures you, “we’re like the Power Rangers, defenders of space and time.”
“Alright Red Ranger, make sure you’re at least clothed before I wake up, then.”
He pulls away lightly, seeing your equally red-rimmed eyes and ruddy cheeks. Both of you bump arms as you try to wipe away each other’s tears. The moon continues its power over your bodies, the only source of light in the room. Despite its movement since your time at the beach, it continues to illuminate the room and make the moment glisten with the rhythm of time.
“You really think this is the end for us, huh?” his voice cracks, his hands cradling your face.
Stretching to reach him, you press a kiss on every available centimeter of skin on his face. His forehead, his cheeks, his chin, his lips. You take care to kiss the tears away, silently wishing nothing but the best for him. He immediately melts into your touch, and he gives you a teary smile.
“It’s not the end,” you assure, “it’s our beginning. Thank you, for loving me.”
Jungkook nods, pressing a long, sweet kiss to your lips. “I can’t wait to fall in love with you again.”
The two of you sleep like that, not with a goodbye, but with a promise.
•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••
W1.
When you wake up, it’s loud.
The transition is jarring, painfully so. Gone are your soft flannel comforter, replaced with dry, scratchy sheets that are a poor excuse for bedwear. Your hands are heavy, bounded by the fluids snaking into your bloodstream. Your eyes are crusty and bleary, taking in the plain white and wood room. The sharp sound of the monitor reverberates in your ears, a high-pitched reminder of your slow vitals.
Everything is painful, confirming that in fact you did get hit by that truck. You give props to your alternate self for dealing with this for the past two months.
Your eyes dart around the room, taking in the night sky and the full moon looming above you. The only other person in the room is your baby niece, who is just short of five years old. She has since ceased coloring at her little table, her little mouth gaping open like a pufferfish. You make eye contact with her, and she nearly spills over her 64-count Crayola pack as she throws herself off the chair, running over to reach for your hand.
“Auntie!” she cheers, the biggest smile on her face, “you’re awake! Mama said you were hibernating like bears do, and that you would probably wake up by spring time. She was right!”
Although it pains you to smile, you manage to squeeze her hand in return. You open your mouth, the inside feeling tacky and gross. “Ah-ah,” you grimace when no sound comes out, just rasps and ghosts of what once was your voice.
Your niece’s face crumples, and she lets go of you. “Imma go get mama, she’ll bring help!”
She leaves you alone to succumb to the beeps of your monitors and the pain in your bones. Your fingers grapple the paper-thin sheets, and your gaze drifts to the moon. You think of Jungkook, sleeping blissfully in bed, holding you with so much tenderness and care. In a matter of what felt like minutes since you fell asleep in his arms, disappears just like that.
The doctors and your family find you hysterically crying, the monitors going crazy as you hyperventilate yourself into a stupor. You feel like you’re choking on air, whatever little tubes in your body restricting access to fully express how torn and conflicted you’re feeling all over again. The medical expertise does work to evacuate your family, chalking your reactions up as your trauma catching up to you and the shock of the past two months hitting you full force.
•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••
It’s nearly 3AM when the music cuts out with no explanation, and Jungkook is annoyed. He just got that set down and he finally felt confident in adding facial expressions, but the manager killed the music and now his head is spinning.
He’s heaving, hands on his head as he tries to get his body back to equilibrium. He watches intently as Namjoon immediately takes the call, not even bothering to leave the studio to answer it. The rest of the members watch as Namjoon’s expressions morph into happiness, combined with short “yes”es and “I understands.”
Namjoon makes eye contact with Jungkook first and beams, “She’s awake!”
What originally felt like a hot and stifling room, immediately dissipates into an air of relief. While not all the members may not know you personally, the thought of a fellow co-worker on the road to recovery is enough to ease their exhaustion.
“What?” Jungkook doesn’t hide it, and collapses on the floor, thoroughly spent for today. “Is she okay?”
“Well, she actually just passed out. But she’s conscious.”
“What, why?” Jimin asks, rolling a water bottle over to Jungkook.
“Doctors say she woke up in a panic, started freaking out when it sunk in that she’s been in a coma since winter.” Jungkook’s heart squeezes painfully of the thought of you scared and feeling trapped in that small hospital bed.
“Well, can we go see her in the morning?” Jungkook says hopefully, biting his lip.
“We can’t,” Namjoon confesses, looking down at his shoes in disappointment, “at least not right now. y/n was apparently terrified. The doctors think she’s suffering from some form of PTSD, because she can’t recall anything that happened after she got hit. Her guardians are sending her to a facility for her to process her trauma. It’s in the countryside, and she’s not allowed visitors until she’s fully recovered.”
Just when Jungkook thinks he has you back, you’re already far from his reach. He should be happy, knowing that you are well on your way to get better. He’s thankful enough that you’re finally awake. But the small, selfish part of him wants to visit you, and comfort you.
Whether you’ll let him or not is your choice, but this time, he decides he’s going to fight for you.
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A letter
Part two is up!
Standing at the gate you thought of the past few months you had in your semester in Japan. Your family and friends told you that this would be the adventure of a lifetime before you left, and they were right. You made many friends and had a few crazy moments but that wasn’t what made this semester an adventure. It was him.
Love was the last thing on your mind during this time but somehow it had crawled its way to your heart. His eyes were cold and uninterested towards you at first yet they slowly grew warm. Your broken Japanese causing him to chuckle.
“You think you could do better?” you rolled your eyes at him “Of course I can. You’ve seen my English grades.” He teased you. Your classmates noticed the closeness you and the star volleyball player shared. “Sakusa why don’t you have girlfriend?”
You could vividly remember all the days you ended spending with the germaphobe. ‘I bet he would hate being here right now’ you thought. His dislike for public transportation ran deep but he had an even bigger hatred for airplanes. He would always tell you about how he didn’t know how you made it on the flight to Japan.
“Hours stuffed in a plane. You must have some sort of illness by now.” A giggle escaped your lips. “I wore a mask the whole time you know! Plus, I always take disinfecting wipes to clean my seat. One can never be too careful.” A smile creeped up to his face. “didn’t know you were so clean”
The intercom calling your flight to board broke you out of your thoughts about the middle blocker. You had been lucky enough to have gotten a free upgrade. Instead of flying economy, you would be flying first class. Going back to your hometown felt bittersweet. You would finally be able to your family and friends that you missed dearly but at the same time you would be leaving your new friends. You would be leaving Sakusa. He hadn’t even stopped to say goodbye to you. Your housemate who was the manager of the team had delivered a letter he wrote to you. You didn’t want to open it until you got home but the anticipation was eating at you. ‘No, he doesn’t deserve a second thought’. Your eyelids began to feel heavy halfway through the flight that you couldn’t help fall asleep.
A smile was planted on your face as you ran towards your family that came to the airport to take you home. “How was the flight”? one of them asked. “Long and tiring but otherwise it went pretty well. By the time you reached your home it was dark, and your family had wished you a goodnight. You opened your backpack to dig out your phone when you noticed the letter. Taking a deep breath, you opened it up.
Dear Y/n,
I have probably disappointed you by not saying goodbye, but you have to understand that I didn’t want to. Having a goodbye means I won’t be able to deny that you’re gone. I must sound stupid but now I feel like this gives us another chance to see each other. I want to see you again. I never told you this, but I have been scouted by the MSBY Black Jackals and will be pursuing volleyball as a career. You are technically the first person I am telling this to, but really that depends on when you read this. I am grateful that I met you and I hope that you will be watching my games in the future. I feel scared to even write this, but I have a crush on you.
You paused to take a breath. Instead of giving you an actual goodbye he had settled with writing a letter to confess to you. Tears began to form in your eyes. “why did you have to be such an idiot Sakusa?”
You probably think I’m stupid to be confessing to you in a letter after you left the country. I’m sorry if this leaves a sourness in your mouth but I was truly afraid of ruining the perfect last 4 months that we were able to have together. It felt like I was in a romance anime where the couple never kisses. I will forever be waiting for your kiss. I wish you the best in University. Remember to follow your heart and don’t think too hard about the future. The pieces will slowly fall into place. Please keep in touch.
Love,
Sakusa Kiyoomi
Curling up in a ball on your bed you clutch the letter into your chest. You had stopped crying by now, but you didn’t even know how to feel. Why did he have to be so fucking stupid? There was no way he would actually wait for you. You had two years left of college and would not be returning to japan until after your graduation. No, you would not hold out hope for a guy you’ve never even kissed. ‘but you almost did’ the voice in your head spoke. It was right. The two of you had almost kissed one night after he picked you up from a party your housemate dragged you to.
The scowl on his handsome face made you smile. “What’s got you so grumpy Usa-chan” He rolled his eyes at the pet name you had given him based off of Ouran host club. “You calling me at 1 am to pick you up is what has me annoyed. I can’t believe you are out this late.” You leaned over the center console of the car and wrapped your arms around his neck. You looked into his eyes “Kiyoomi, you are my knight in shining armor.” He let out a sigh. “Then I guess you owe me a kiss for rescuing you.” You let your eyes flutter to a close hoping that maybe he meant those words. After a few seconds you opened them again and saw the slight pink hue that danced across his face. You laughed and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I owe you after this for sure Usa-chan”
Now you know that he probably had wanted you to kiss him. Now you were back home, thousands of miles from Japan. Thousands of miles from Sakusa. Your great adventure had suddenly turned into a cruel joke all with a piece of paper. But you kept the paper with you up until your graduation. You always hoped that even after these years he would be waiting for you back in Japan.
#haikyuu!!#haikyuu#haikyū!!#haikyuu x reader#sakusa x reader#sakusa x y/n#sakusa kiyoomi#haikyuu sakusa#sakusa x you#sakusa
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The Tension’s Overflowing P2
Surprise! If it wasn’t obvious, that wasn’t the end. :P Both @tooshhhy and @imagine-that-100 sent me the same context of “ I’m drunk on public transport and you’re high and we both keep looking at each other knowingly” and the more I thought about it, the more I was like “Hm. I can make these link up.” which was why it was taken a ‘smidge in my own direction’ lol. So, here’s the second prompt from my fantastic prompt list.
Part One
It hadn’t been a great idea to down that last drink before I left the bar. I didn’t feel nauseous (thankfully), but I sure as shit felt lightheaded. My co-workers had wanted to go out after work for a drink, since a bunch of us had the day off tomorrow. Which was nice, until it got late and they wanted to bail and head home for the night. I wasn’t going to waste half a pint that I’d paid for. That’s ridiculous. However, we’d been out since we knocked off, and it was nearly one in the morning now. That was a decent while to have been drinking. I probably should’ve allowed myself to waste that money and leave the half-drunk pint on the table. Because now, sat on the tube on the way home, having the carriage spin slightly every time I moved my head wasn’t an ideal situation. At least I could be grateful that it was fairly empty and I could wallow in my thoughts in peace and quiet. But that peace was short lived.
I was snapped out of my drunken haze when a man got on at the next stop and sat across from me. His unruly curls were a fucking mess, his leather jacket looked well worn, and the sunglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose just came across as obnoxious. But that… that looked like Matty. His hair was different, and he didn’t usually have stubble adorning his chin like that, but I was about 98% sure that was Matty. He must’ve been high, or drunk, or something, there was no other reason that he’d be wearing such dark shades at this hour. Which was annoying because it meant that I couldn’t tell if he was looking at me or not. If he’d even recognised me or not. I hadn’t seen him in years. Despite that it was me who had suggested the distance between us, it had been him who ultimately enforced it. As tour took off and the full-length album came out, he was suddenly incredibly unavailable – even if I had wanted to hang out. Time differences and busy schedules meant that we lost touch, and things just… fizzled out. Ross was the only member of the band that I still kind of kept in contact with these days. I had all but forgotten about that drunken night where I passed out at his place. But now, being faced with the man in question, everything was being dredged up again. This was the absolute last place I wanted to be. As I sat there over analysing this development in my Wednesday night and progressively sobering up the more that I realised the situation, I was suddenly even more mortified when he got up and crossed the carriage.
I shrank back in my seat as he sat next to me. “Hey.” He said quietly, without looking at me.
“Hi.” I mumbled back.
“Been keeping well?” He asked.
I just nodded, letting the silence linger for a second before deciding it was probably polite to ask him as well. After all, we were stuck here together and it was likely he wasn’t going to go away, if the things I knew about him still rung true. “You?”
“Pretty good, y’know, touring and stuff.” He said with a dry chuckle. “Things are pretty different these days.” He added with a shrug.
“I can imagine.” I agreed. This conversation made the whole damn train carriage feel stifling. Why would Matty have thought that this was going to be anything other than awkward when he came over here? He should’ve just left it. Should’ve just continued in awkward silence and left without saying a word. That would’ve been much easier on my brain. That would’ve been a million times-
“I’m sorry.”
I stared at him in bewilderment as I tried to process those words. “What?” I asked, watching as he took his shades off and rubbed at his eyes.
“I’m sorry.” He muttered again. “For being a cocky prick when I was younger.”
He was apologising...? If I wasn’t fucking thrown for a loop by just seeing Matty after so long, having this conversation right now while half-cut was just making my brain reel. “Are you saying you’re not a cocky prick now?” I asked, again taking in the sunglasses, jacket, the overall look.
“No, I am.” He laughed with a nod. “I’m just more self-aware about it now.” And just like that, the awkward atmosphere broke away. I couldn’t help but laugh, which just made him laugh more. It all but echoed down the mostly empty train as I was reminded of hundreds of good times I had pushed to the back of my mind. When our laughter finally subsided, he nudged me with his shoulder. “I’ve missed the shit out of you, love.” I could smell the wine on his breath as he said that. He was a lot more drunk than what he was letting on.
I sighed deeply, feeling like I might regret my next words but being unable to stop myself saying them anyway, “I missed you too, Matty.”
We caught up for a bit, mostly about the band and his life, as mine was nowhere near as interesting in comparison. The more we chatted, the more it suddenly felt like a slot of my life had clicked back into place. As the stops passed by outside the window, I realised I was now fairly close to where I needed to get off.
“Where are you even going?” I asked as I turned back to Matty. Last time I had been to his place, he lived nowhere near here - but that was years ago now.
“I, erm…” He stared out the window for a moment, squinting thoughtfully. “I don’t know.” He shrugged.
“How can you not know?” I asked with a loud laugh.
“Where are you going?” He shot back.
I frowned at him for dodging the question, but answered anyway, “Home.”
“Then that’s where I’m going.” He grinned.
My eyebrows shot up in surprise as I shook my head, “No way.”
“Yes way.” He argued.
“I’ve not seen you in years and you want to come to my place?” I asked in shock, my words coming out quicker than I expected. “Where are you living these days?” I tried to press him, hoping he would at least give me a rough idea of where to relocate him. He just made the motion of zipping his mouth shut. “Come on, Matty.” I huffed with a roll of my eyes.
“I just won’t tell you where I live and then you have to take me back to yours.” He said defiantly as he crossed his arms, looking awfully proud of himself.
“I’ll get it off your licence.”
“What makes you think that I have it on me?” He asked confidently. “You gonna frisk me for it?” He smirked.
I just stared at him in disbelief, “You’re an idiot.”
“Yeah, maybe. But you love me.” He retaliated with a wink.
I felt an uncomfortable flutter in my chest as he said that, but was still too drunk to process it properly. “Yeah, don’t remind me.” I mumbled.
“Why not?” He asked, looking curious.
“Just stop talking or I will put you in a taxi and leave you there.” I threatened as I tried my best to look serious, but I had a feeling by the expression on Matty’s face that I had failed.
“I will never stop talking!” He boomed loudly. I was incredibly grateful that there was nobody else here for me to feel embarrassed in front of. “At least until I am sober enough to regret this tomorrow morning.” He added before standing up, wobbling slightly on his feet before grabbing a rail to steady himself. “Come on. This is your stop, yeah?”
After quite a large amount of effort, I was able to escort the (as it so turned out) very drunk Matty to my front door. “Matty, you need to support some of your own weight.” I groaned as he leaned himself onto my shoulder. I wasn’t used to his hair being so wild and curly like this, it kept getting everywhere any time his head was near mine. He pushed himself away from me, steadying himself before taking a few steps. I watched as he went to walk up to my front door and instantly realised a potential issue. “Watch the steps.” I said, but he didn’t seem to register it. “The steps Matty, the steps-” I scrambled to stop him from breaking his nose on the pavement as he absolutely did not see the steps, proceeding to trip over them and plummet face first into the pavement. Thankfully, I was able to catch him just before the impact. He just laughed. “Fuck sake. Is this what it was like when you were trying to get me home?” I huffed as I managed to get him up all four steps and tried to find my keys.
“No, I just carried you.” He slurred drunkenly into my shoulder.
“What..?” I frowned to myself. That didn’t ring any bells and I thought I would’ve remembered something like that.
“I just carried you.” He repeated.
“No, I heard you. Why?” I corrected.
“You fell asleep on the bus and I didn’t wanna wake you up, so I mostly just carried you back.” He explained as I pushed the door open. The thought of that was a lot more endearing than I expected it to be.
Matty instantly hauled himself off my shoulder and stepped inside as soon as he could.
“I like what you’ve done with the place.” He commented as he walked into the kitchen.
“I’ve accumulated a lot of shit since you were here last.” I agreed. He poured himself a glass of water and continued snooping around. I watched as he poked through my bookshelf, moved his way onto my records, and eventually stopped in front of the TV cabinet as he crouched down to examine the DVDs at the bottom. It was surreal to see Matty in my flat again. I didn’t expect in a million years that this was likely to happen. “So, you want me to get you a blanket or..?” I prompted, feeling keen to go to bed since it was now well past one in the morning.
“Aw, we’re not gonna hang out?” He pouted.
“Not at this hour, no.” I chuckled.
“But I want to.” He whined, pushing himself back onto my lounge room rug and staring at the ceiling.
“And I want to sleep.” I argued.
“We’ve not hung out in years.” He continued, opting to ignore me.
“We can another day.” I assured him as I draped a blanket over the side of the couch.
He just groaned loudly, sitting in silence for a few moments as I watched his mild tantrum in amusement. “Fine.” He eventually sighed.
“Everything is still in the same spot if you need anything.” I said as he pulled himself up off the floor.
“And you?” He asked.
“What?” I frowned back, confused as to what he was getting at.
“Will be..?” He raised an eyebrow in question.
“In my room..?” I offered. He nodded to himself as I said that, looking pensive as his gaze flicked from my bedroom door back to the couch. I waited for him to say something else, but it looked like the gears in his head were turning as he tried to figure something out. “All right, well… Good night.” I said with a nod.
“See you in the morning, love.” I heard him call out in a sing-song voice after me. I was grateful to still be drunk enough to not overthink that upcoming situation too much.
* * *
Memories came flooding back as soon as I woke up the next morning. Right, there was a man presumably still asleep on my couch. A man that I used to have many, many feelings for. This was not how I expected to spend my day off. I was grateful that I hadn’t been too drunk this time to have patchy recollection – this time, I remembered everything that I had said. Whether Matty remembered everything that he said… that was going to be another story. I hadn’t heard him throwing up throughout the night, so perhaps he had already bailed. It wouldn’t surprise me. Gradually, I got myself presentable and slowly made my way out into the lounge room. I heard Matty before I saw him, his loud snores emanating from the couch. Stepping quietly around it I took in the sight before me. Matty looked like a mess. His curly hair was all over the place, he had drooled onto the couch pillow he was lying on, he had one shoe still on while the other was near the coffee table, a leg half kicked over the back of the couch, it was truly something to behold. And thus, something I couldn’t resist snapping a quick picture of and sending it to Ross before he had the chance to sort his hungover self. As I stood at the edge of the kitchen, texting Ross about where his friend had ended up, a particularly loud snort caught my attention. I looked up, seeing Matty frowning in his sleep and then sleeping beauty’s eyes snapped open. He quickly squinted as he took in the light in the room, before spotting me watching him.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He groaned as he rolled over and pressed his face into the back of the couch.
“Why are you on my couch?” I shot back as I slipped my phone into my pocket.
Matty paused for a moment at that, sitting up slightly as he looked down at the couch. “Why the fuck am I on your couch..?” He questioned quietly. Looking up for a moment, he took in his surroundings. “Your place looks different.” He noted.
“You came back here last night because you refused to give me your own address.” I informed him. He just groaned again.
“Sorry.” He mumbled.
“It’s fine.” I chuckled, grabbing a new glass of water and trading it out for the half-drunk old one sitting by the foot of the couch.
“Why were you even on the tube last night?” I asked as I sat down in the recliner beside him.
He pinched the bridge of his nose as he sat up properly, “Uh… I was out with a mate, and that was where he had to go so I kind of just… got on? I guess?” He answered, sounding incredibly unsure of his explanation.
“You didn’t have a mate with you..?” I questioned, suddenly wondering if Matty had really been that drunk to have imagined getting on a train with someone.
“No, no, he was on the other line.” He elaborated. “I just felt like I should get on too, I suppose.” He laughed drily. “Glad I did, in hindsight. Who knows where I would’ve ended up had I not bumped into you.”
“Probably passed out in that carriage, still slumped into that seat.” I smirked at him.
“Would’ve woken up cuddling with some homeless guy.” He grinned back, then instantly winced. “You got any coffee?” He asked quietly. “And maybe some paracetamol?”
“Yeah, give me a minute.”
Once he had a coffee in his hand and some painkillers in his stomach, Matty seemed a bit more ready to face the day. For how drunk he had appeared last night, I expected him to have been more hungover today, but he looked fairly well composed. I switched the TV on to offer some background noise as he drank his coffee, but as soon as there was any new stimulus in the room Matty found himself with a million thoughts to get out of his head about whatever was playing. It was good to know that some things never changed. The more we spoke, the easier it was to fall into familiar habits of hanging out in each other’s company. He had gotten up just before eleven, but now it was fast approaching five, and I hadn’t heard him mention anything about going home.
“How you feeling?” I asked as Matty came back from the bathroom.
“Huh?” It looked like he took a second to comprehend what I meant. “Oh, fine.” He shrugged.
“Not hungover?” I frowned.
“Nah, been okay since the coffee.” He said with a dismissive wave of his hand as he flopped back onto the couch next to me.
“Then… why are you still hanging around?” I asked in confusion. It didn’t seem to make sense if he was feeling well enough to go home that he was still sat in my lounge.
“Because I want to hang out with my friend.” He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You said we could another today - today is another day.” He added as he wrapped an arm around me and pulled me into his side.
That took me aback for a second, both for the sudden intimacy and because that meant that he remembered the small details of what was said last night. I had dismissed his apology for the most part, given how drunk he seemed then. But maybe there was more to it than drunken ramblings. “Yeah… I did…” I said apprehensively, unsure if I wanted to start the line of questioning that was on the tip of my tongue. “You remember everything you said on the train?”
“Yeah. Of course.” He nodded.
“You say that but you seemed pretty drunk. I wouldn’t have expected you to remember much.” I argued.
“I remember important things, even when wasted.” Matty countered with a pointed look.
“Important?” I questioned immediately.
“Getting to see you after so long and finally apologise, that was pretty important to me.” He elaborated as he ran a hand through his curls.
“It was?”
“Of course, it was!” He said instantly. The tone of his voice almost sounded offended that I’d even ask. “I also remember nearly giving myself a concussion. Thanks for stopping that.” He chuckled.
“Yeah, uh, it’s no problem.” I mumbled. What he was saying was just raising more questions than providing answers. “So, you meant everything you said then? About missing me?” I continued.
“Sure did.”
“You miss me?” I felt like my thoughts were just spiralling deeper and deeper for each thing that he said. I hadn’t properly allowed myself to think about Matty in years, but now it was just all flooding back. I had missed him, a lot more than I let myself realise.
He let out a deep sigh as he moved away slightly, turning on the couch to face me. “I can see myself falling into old habits if we continue like this, so let me explain. I didn’t mean to come across like I did when you admitted your feelings. I was an idiot, you caught me off guard, I didn’t know what to say so I just defaulted to what was easy to say. I genuinely hadn’t ever thought about it, it hadn’t crossed my mind that you thought of me that way. You asked for space, so I wanted to give that to you. Then I just… got pulled away from it all. But in hindsight I should’ve made more of an effort to stay in touch and make sure we were on the same page. Because the more I was away from you, the more I realised I missed you a lot more than I expected myself to. Turned out I probably did return your feelings. That hit me pretty hard last night when I saw you. It took me a few minutes to work up the courage to come over and say sorry, because you had every right to tell me to fuck off.”
Matty watched me intently, clearly awaiting my reaction, but this was just all too much to take in at once. This made things back then, now seem very different. This made things last night, now seem very different. “You… you were into me?” I finally spluttered in bewilderment.
“Stop questioning everything I say.” He laughed. “I don’t say shit I don’t mean.” I made a thoughtful noise as I tried to make sense of this. If he was into me then, did that mean he was still into me now? Is that why he was so hellbent on spending time together last night? Everything I had pushed under the metaphorical rug in my brain was now quickly ripped back out and cluttering up my mind floorspace. “Do you have an opinion on any of this?” He prompted.
I stared at him for what felt like a solid minute before one thought finally floated to the top of the pile of junk. “I really, really want to kiss you right now.”
He looked surprised for a second, his gaze flicking to the space on the couch between us before he looked back up at me with a devious look. “Then maybe you should.”
Don’t overthink it. Don’t overthink it. Don’t overthink it. I pushed myself forward on the couch, grabbing a fistful of his jacket and pressing my lips to Matty’s in such urgency that I nearly missed. My brain stopped after that, unable to remember what I was meant to do in this situation other than make the initial move. I had had enough willpower to kiss him, but didn’t have enough to take the lead. Thankfully, Matty was willing to take the initiative for me. As soon as his hand found my waist, as soon as he kissed me back, the feeling of excitement at the reciprocation shot right through me. I brought my hand up to sit in curls at the base of his neck as the overly rushed kiss started to find its pace. This moment had played on my mind for years. How this would feel, how it would play out, if Matty would be a good kisser. It turned out that I couldn’t have predicted how unbelievable it would feel to kiss him, no matter how hard I tried. My stomach twisted as he deepened the kiss, suddenly feeling far too many years of pining getting expressed all at once. It was odd feeling his stubble brush against my chin, that hadn’t been something I had accounted for all the times I had imagined this. His hand brushed against the small of my back, leaving my skin feeling like it was practically tingling where he touched. I let out a jagged breath, trying to piece my shattered mind back together for a second.
“Fuck me.” I breathed in exasperation, moving back slightly from him.
“Really?” Matty asked a little too eagerly as he planted a kiss on my neck.
“No, Matty.” I laughed, trying to keep my voice steady despite his teasing. “I just… this is… ridiculous.” I muttered.
“In a good way?” He asked in a voice that sent a shiver down my spine.
“In a very good way.” I answered bluntly. “I just can’t believe I waited, what? Three years? To do this.” I explained.
“Well, I’ve got plenty of time to make up for what we lost.”
#matty healy x reader#matthew healy x reader#sunsetinmyvein#sunsetinmyvein prompts#sunsetinmyvein requests
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masterlist 🕊
hi!! welcome to my masterlist!
i try to make all of my imagines as inclusive as possible. PLEASE let me know if i discriminate against any group in any way; this is a safe space for everyone!
fluff 🧸 | angst 🕯| steamy ⚡️| personal favorite 🦦 | from an event ✨
↬ i write predominantly fluff!
PETER PARKER
imagines - anywhere from 1k to 10k words
desperate times and desperate measures 🧸
↬ you're an avenger on a fake date with peter to get information from a group of villains, and peter has to think quick in order not to blow your cover... wink wink
far from home (part one, part two, part three, part four, part five) 🧸🕯
↬ you and peter sit next to each other on the plane to europe and what begins as a friendship turns into so much more
can’t help it 🧸⚡️
↬ you and peter have been dating for a few months now, and being the kind boy he is, he always asks for a kiss when he wants one. when kissing he always lets you set the pace because he's afraid to hurt you (because of his powers), but this time, his feelings are too much…
sista-sista 🧸🕯
↬ you (peter's sister) were recruited by nick fury multiple years ago. ever since he discovered you, he took you in and trained you to work behind the scenes at S.H.I.E.L.D., and was the one to help you recover after being kidnapped by a terrorist group and experimented on (which resulted in you getting your powers). nick convinces you to work on a mission with peter, resulting in your coming clean to him about your past and the biological relationship between the two of you
study date 🧸
↬ you and peter have been friends for most of your life but have slightly grown apart this last year due to peter's spider-man duties. finally, the two of you get together to work on a project and things... happen?
fancy-schmancy 🧸
↬ you and peter sneak out of a fancy charity event because adults are boring and there’s better things to do
competitive 🧸
↬ you and peter have had an interesting relationship due to the fact that you're both competing for being number one in your class. but, over time, a small, unexpected romance grows out of the rivalry
laser tag 🧸⚡️
↬ tony organizes a game of avengers laser tag. you and peter are on opposite sides and have made it clear to each other that you will fight to the death- whatever it takes
NINE-NINE! 🧸
↬ you and peter spend most nights watching brooklyn nine-nine together and have found just how similar the two of you were to the show's lead couple, jake and amy
how about a kiss, saumensch? (part one, part two) 🧸🕯
↬ when peter sees you reading the book thief and talking about it afterwards, your love for it makes him want to read it. so, he does, and he decides to follow in the steps of rudy steiner, asking for a kiss at every chance he gets
take your things and go (part one, part two) 🧸🕯
↬ you and peter have a love-hate relationship that makes some advances when the two of you land in a close situation
holy water! 🧸⚡️
↬ after catching you and peter getting a little heated, natasha decides to take things into her own hands... in the messiest of ways
letters 🧸
↬ after too long a wait for you and peter to just get together, the team decides to get you together their way
curiosity killed the cat 🧸🦦
↬ peter parker is a photographer. the boy is absolutely obsessed with taking pictures of anything that attracts him, anything that catches his eye... anything, particularly you
under the mistletoe 🧸🕯
↬ high school holiday parties can lead to unfortunate circumstances... especially when it involves your lifelong enemy and one godforsaken garnish
spider-man chapstick 🧸
↬ nostalgic finds at new york bodegas can lead to flirtatious and awkward encounters with the boy you call your best friend
the benefits of fake dating 🧸
↬ although incredibly annoying, flash thompson’s arrogance was just what you and peter needed
valentine’s and pickup lines 🧸🦦
↬ sometimes, having to do mj's job for her can work out in the best ways. especially when it's valentine's day and a certain local hero has an errand to make
midtown morning announcements 🧸🕯
↬ as a reporter for midtown tech's daily announcements, it's easy to get carried away with ideas. especially ones involving the newest superhero from queens
brace-face 🧸🦦
↬ in which you get braces, peter is persistent, and mr. delmar gives you free slushees
take a bullet 🧸🕯
↬ you and peter go on your first mission without the team, flirting can be a powerful tool, and cliches like "taking a bullet" for someone don't seem so unrealistic anymore
bad date 🧸
↬ maybe trying to get over a crush on your best friend wasn't such a good idea after all
trust issues 🧸🕯
↬ it wasn't peter's fault that he had trust issues after his mentor's death and his most recent superhero friend's manipulation, but it also wasn't your fault that you just wanted to be his friend
locked out 🧸
↬ y/n can't remember to grab her keys, peter misses the old days with you, and may baked extra cookies
peter! from physics! 🧸
↬ y/n can't be controlled by wallets, peter parker gets crushes too easily, and crime in new york is abnormally low
to the man who let her go 🧸🕯
↬ fuck brad davis. yeah
odd one out 🧸🕯
↬ thanos' plan was to wipe out half of the universe, but what happens when the universe isn't evenly numbered?
swing and a kiss 🧸
↬ crushes from english class and a *touch* of ptsd turn into a new form of transportation, messy rooftop shenanigans, and a lecture from one (1) tony stark
i want it, i got it 🧸
↬ newfound confidence during karaoke night certainly can end up in peter parker making bold moves
stolen kisses 🧸
↬ secret dating always ends in getting caught, especially by a suspicious best friend and a group of superheroes that’s been rooting for you and peter for years.
wish i were heather 🕯
↬ a relationship that never happened and the wrong one that did.
blurbs - under 1k words
party confessions 🧸⚡️
↬ you and peter get paired up for seven minutes in heaven
go fix my car, assbag 🧸
↬ you catch flash bullying peter in the hallway and you decide you've had enough of his crap (haven't we all?)
over-protective peter 🧸
↬ when flash harasses you in the hallway, peter steps in and gets maybe a bit too angry…
movies and cuddles 🧸
↬ the avengers have a movie night and you and peter end up in a slightly embarrassing situation
let me show you 🧸
↬ peter helps you frost a cake in the avengers' kitchen at midnight and it turns into a food fight in which your father, tony stark, catches the two of you mid-fight
scaredy-cat 🧸
↬ you and peter are dorm neighbors (at MIT, of course), and he helps you out of a sticky-spider-situation
condensation 🧸🦦
↬ cute neighbors drawing on condensated windows sure have the key to your heart
may? 🧸
↬ sometimes, peter parker is a bit too caught up in the moment to realize the words that come out of his mouth... but, all for the lolz, right?
care package 🧸🕯
↬ life is tough, but when a boy donned in red and blue shows up to make you feel better, it isn't so bad
eau de cologne 🧸⚡️🦦
↬ avengers galas normally annoy you, but the scent of a certain hero can most certainly distract you
massage for massage? 🕯
↬ unrequited feelings hurt, especially when your hands are the one massaging away his pain
a drive to montauk 🧸
↬ a peaceful roadtrip with peter
moonlight tears (part one, part two) 🕯
↬ depression took you away from yourself, but peter didn't let it take you away from him
the penis game 🧸🦦
↬ a group of boys at the library plays the penis game and none of them manage to get above a quiet yell, so you take matters into your own hands
peter parker for pepper spray! 🧸
↬ y/n lost her pepper spray, old men in new york are creepy, and peter parker just walked out of delmar's with a sandwich in hand and a kind enough heart to help out an enemy
english lit meet-cute 🧸
↬ all it takes is an awkward mishap and some confidence to finally get you and the boy you keep seeing around campus together.
overnight beach trip 🧸✨
↬ in which you and peter take a trip to the beach for a night.
headcanons - stories in the form of chaotic bullet-points
internship 🧸
↬ tony stark not only helped in bringing together a group of people to protect earth, but also in sparking young love
dirty talk (part one, part two) ⚡️🦦
↬ to the public, peter parker is the epitome of innocent, but after a conversation at lunch, he is determined to prove the opposite
hallway bookworm 🧸
↬ girls reading and crying while walking in the hallway sure do seem to have an effect on peter parker
tiktok famous (part one, part two, part three, part four) 🧸⚡️
↬ the wonderful chaotic adventures of y/n and peter making tiktoks
midnight at delmar’s 🧸
↬ working alone late at night can be dangerous. 'nuff said
i go hard like thanos 🧸
↬ popping off to an absolute banger during an avengers meeting is the best way to set yourselves up for failure
quaranteens 🧸
↬ how you and petey boi spend your quarantine <3
gross 🧸🦦
↬ chaotic mess in which you pull a Dumb Bitch Move and write a song for peter while relying on the hope that he never sees it
new york boy 🧸
↬ life is hard when you visit your uncle in new york and all of a sudden there's a cute boy named peter parker in your life
giant teddy bears 🧸
↬ first dates are awkward, peter sucks at dance dance revolution, and the night ends with a giant teddy bear and something sweet
actual books!
flicks (currently on wattpad; i will not be uploading this to tumblr as of now)
↬ in which a girl named indigo and a boy named peter bond over the love of movies, the loss of parents, and the power of saving the world | bonus imagine!
lmk if any of the links are faulty or if there are any other problems with the imagines! i have been on this site working on transferring my work for hours i have the brain of a strapless croc rn pls forgive me!
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We all know Badd still attending high school, do you have any soft headcanon about how Garou would be like or what would Garou do when he's picking his cute smol boyfriend Badd up after school time's over? (Eg: waiting in front of the school gate while people wondering "who's this handsome young man waiting for?", Garou set bored face before but once he saw Badd he's instantly brightened, etc). Also, how people around school will react that Badd the delinquent has a very handsome boyfriend now?
diflkdjhfk YES VERY GOOD
So uh. I’m an idiot who wrote this out three separate times then forgot to post it and went back to the home page so forgive me for this being so late kdjhflkjsdhf
I’m going to break this into pre-dating pre-pardoning, dating pre-pardoning, and post-pardoning because those are three very different scenarios (also I appreciate that everyone seems to be in agreement that Badd and Garou would start dating before Garou gets pardoned kdjshflkjhf)
Pre-dating Pre-Pardoning
It starts out as a joke: Garou complained that there wasn’t anything for him to do when Badd and Zenko were in class, so Badd jokingly asked if he was going to start showing up to pick him up from class
He didn’t think anything of it until he left his school that day and saw his dipshit, still-a-fugitive roommate leaning up against a light post, looking super inconspicuous.
So Badd immediately beelines over to him and asks him what the fuck he thinks he’s doing are you crazy, someone might see you.
In Garou’s defense, he was wearing a beanie, hoodie, and facemask. He wasn’t super exposed, but it still gave Badd a heart attack.
Even with the mask, Badd can tell Garou’s got that signature shit eating grin on his face, and he says “What? I missed you, so I came to pick you up from class.”
Badd kind of grumbles and lets Garou walk him to go pick up Zenko from class, and it becomes a tradition.
There aren’t too many parents around Badd’s school, the kids are older and it’s assumed they are self-sufficient enough to either walk home themselves, or take public transport. Plus, a lot of them hang out after class, or go to cram school.
But the students themselves think it’s very interesting that Resident Grump and Hooligan Badd has a very handsome boy waiting outside the school every day to walk him home.
People just assume that Garou’s his boyfriend, because who else would wait outside the school for him like that?
Badd doesn’t hear about these rumors for a while because most of the people spreading them are a little scared of him (listen they know he’s a nice kid, but he’s scary as shit regardless), but one of his classmates eventually brings it up and he’s not sure if he wants to laugh or cry.
Unlike Badd’s school, Zenko’s school has a few parents that come to pick up their kids. Not a ton because of aforementioned expectation that the kids are self-sufficient, but there are some parents who work close by enough that they come to pick up their kids and walk them home.
Badd’s always been the center of some gossip for these parents because it’s pretty well known that he’s the only one taking care of Zenko (and none of them know he’s Metal Bat) so they frequently talk about him out of concern (how is that boy supporting his sister?)
But when he starts showing up with a tall, strapping stranger? The gossip circle explodes.
He’s a handsome boy, one parent reasons. Is it possible that he’s been modeling on the side and the man is one of his coworkers?
Either way, they don’t bother asking. Badd tends to keep to himself when he picks up Zenko, so they leave him be.
Badd tries not to think about the way Garou’s face brightens when he spots Badd on the staircase. He tries to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. He fails on two counts.
Dating Pre-Pardoning
Not much changes to be honest. Badd’s a bit concerned by how little their dynamic changes when they start officially dating. Zenko finds this very funny.
Really the only change is that Garou pulls down his mask for long enough to give his boyfriend a kiss.
Sometimes they’ll even hold hands.
Only sometimes though, because Garou has a tendency to swing their arms back and forth like he’s seven, and has hit passersby on occasion.
When they walk Zenko home, they both hold her hand, and Garou carries her backpack.
They try to keep the hand holding to a minimum around Zenko’s school though, as they’re trying to avoid as much attention as possible.
Post-Pardoning
Once Garou’s no longer a fugitive, he drops the beanie, hoodie and mask.
Badd’s classmates cannot believe he’s dating a former S-Class fugitive turned S-Class hero. Zenko’s classmates’ parents can’t believe he lets Garou around Zenko. Still, none of them have figured out that Badd is Metal Bat.
Seeing as the cat’s out of the bag, Badd and Garou are a bit more open with PDA. They mostly stick to holding hands, but they’re just glad to be able to do that publicly without worrying about drawing attention.
Badd’s a bit more giggly with Garou at this point. Garou has a tendency to hug him and bury his head in Badd’s neck, and/or pick him up off the ground. Badd’s long since stopped pretending he thinks it’s annoying.
Garou will also show up with bouquets occasionally. The first one was flat out a plant pulled out of the ground, but after that, he figured it out. Badd’s never been on the receiving end of getting flowers and he’s gotta admit, it’s...nice.
Listen man, I just want them to be a cute little family—
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