#like. a zombie(?) with no heart and a doctor who the zombie goes to once a day to have his heart checked lol

[ibyul]

.

[deathsbestgirl]

okay here goes: never again & the cancer arc.

a little more in depth? than what i've already posted lol

never again opens with scully sitting in the basement office, contemplating where she fits, where she is in "their" office. she's holding mulder's nameplate and the first thing she says to him, after he ranted about having to take vacation, is "why don't i have a desk?"

he doesn't seem to understand why she's asking, where it's coming from and answers glibly, sarcastically. she's not happy with his answer. so she just...moves on, asking what he wants her to do while he's gone.

in the first scene, we saw scully not paying attention while their informant talked to mulder. she's looking at a memorial, the messages & gifts people left for a lost loved one. she takes a wilting flower petal.

season 4 has been tense. they've dealt with some twisted cases, she was held in contempt, she couldn't protect mulder or give him what he needed or stop him making a huge mistake in paper hearts. skinner was disappointed in her. they also had one of their most ridiculous cases in el mundo gira, an episode i know is commonly disliked. i don't necessarily enjoy it either but there are a few lines that really grabbed my attention.

it's about immigrants, who avoid the government at all costs in fear of deportation or jail (maybe worse). but they're mostly invisible. they're hired for cheap labor, but that's the most they're noticed for. their deaths & lives aren't a concern to this country.

scully is able to find the cause, but the two men infected & spreading the deadly fungus escape. they escape because they're "invisible"

scully wasn't there for mulder's conversation with lozano, but her statement at the end echos what lozano says in a way. when they first arrived, scully waved her badge around completely not understanding how she would be received in a migrant community as a federal agent. she made the same assumptions lozano did. but she follows mulder's lead, and the science, and the truth lands somewhere in the middle, and there isn't a satisfying conclusion to the case. yet again.

they rarely get all the answers. and even when they solve a murder, close a case — what's the cost?

i think scully sometimes feels invisible. her life is standing still. they're hidden away in the basement. she already had to fight for a place in male dominated fields. now she has to fight for the validity of the x files & mulder.

and maybe more than that, mulder doesn't always understand that scully wants to be on the x files, in the basement with him. she was assigned and he doesn't take her dedication & investment as seriously. not because he doesn't know the personal cost to her, or that she chose to stay, but because he has a hard time believing it, accepting it. he tells her several times there's life beyond the x files, to go be a doctor, she'll be head of the bureau. he never expected her to stay, to make it her life too. but she does. she chooses him & the x files over and over. and she wants him to understand, but i don't think she completely understands either.

i said once that it seemed to me scully truly realized how deep she was in with mulder in folie a deux. she was frustrated when mulder acts like he's the only one being "punished" being assigned to a case he thinks is a load of crap, but she was taking seriously. to her, it's always "we" and he acts like it's just him. he goes off without her, ends up needing her help & being right that it was a legitimate case & an x file! and in the end, she tells skinner as much as she can. she sees the zombie people. she sees the being in his room. a madness shared by two.

anyway. i think in never again she wasn't sure exactly what was bothering her, but she knew she was hitting that wall. and that's how she ended up with ed. talking about her patterns. mulder doesn't exactly fit the mold, but scully still wasn't getting what she wanted or needed. and she only calls ed for a date after mulder makes that comment.

mulder knew she would go, even though she refused in their office. he knew exactly where to find her. he was frustrated with her in the beginning, and then he's frustrated with her again for giving up the case when following pudovkin didn't lead to anything x files related, only russian mob. he wasn't trusting her, wasn't believing her.

the last time he asked her about a date was in the jersey devil. which he interrupted and she was happy for it. she didn't take the second date. this time when he asks, she decides to go on a date. exercise some autonomy instead of doing "as told, as always"

scully wants to work on the x files with mulder and have a life. when given the choice, whenever options are presented to her, she chooses mulder every time. but she wants to feel the same in return, especially after she feels like she's failed (him).

at ed's apartment, she doesn't want to go to the nice restaurant he got a reservation for. she wants to go the bar that's a great place to go when you're feeling crappy. because she's so obviously feeling crappy. when have we seen her seek out a date? or any other male attention? (seriously anyway, or without going back to mulder)

even though mulder isn't the typical controlling figure in her life, though he has his moments, like what's happening here...what she says about her father is true of mulder too.

she's hitting that wall, she needs to rebel. but how can she "rebel" against mulder & their work, on a illegitimate x file (lol). she rightfully hands off the case, then goes on a date, gets a tattoo and sleeps with a man who ends up trying to kill her (arguably stumbling into a real x file)

i think scully figured out what she needed to. she doesn't seem affected by this instance of violence like she was by duane barry, her abduction or donnie pfaster. (ed had just tried to kill her and she still tries to stop him sticking his arm in the furnace. she kept appealing to him.)

she knows what she wants at the end. but mulder won't say it, and neither will she. they both know but if they can't say it, they can't be on the same page and they can't really move forward. they stay in the ouroboros, in the endless line. somehow different yet exactly the same.

mulder not finishing his sentence, refusing to repeat her words back to her, was like a nail in the coffin. they know. it is their life. their lives have become (almost) completely intertwined, they made it this way. they are each other's person, they have the same path because of the choices they make over & over.

and then: mulder starts to do something different in leonard betts.

scully has always been there when he needs her, for the work, for samantha, for his mom. mulder is always there when she's emotionally vulnerable (as far as she lets him). she says she's fine over & over, she tells him she's back & she's not going anywhere. and when it comes crashing down around her, when she can't hold the facade & he's there & steady for her, she falls apart in the safety of his arms.

[side note: it's so funny to me how scully still never has any idea what she's walking into. if we don't see a slideshow, she's going in completely blind. he always gives the case to her piece by piece.]

this scene is just. my favorite. mulder can look at horribly disfigured bodies, he'll touch & taste anything at a crime scene. but he's disgusted when he realizes he's touching bile. he can hold it together at dismembered bodies, but would love to draw the line at touching them.

but scully asked for his help, and how often has she done that in regards to her domain on cases? i'm sure there had to be some, but i can only remember her asking mulder to smell a body in revelations.

anyway. this man is genuinely horrified at the idea of digging through a dumpster of left over body parts.

there's nothing he wants to do less, but he does it. because she asks him to. (and it should lead them to some answers.)

later, leonard betts goes after scully. tells her "i'm sorry, but you've got something i need" after they've ascertained is brain was "riddled" with cancer, and he feeds on it, could identify it in anyone, he spent a lot of time in cancer wards, likely scavenging when he could.

scully is shaken after.

and here, mulder doesn't understand what's bothering scully, and he does something we don't seem him do very often, if ever this outright? he explicitly tells her she did a good job, she should be proud.

i think i've said before i don't think scully lets herself feel proud very often. she craves validation, always tries to do the most, is always excited to tell mulder when she has something. here he's giving her something she should love, and she can't appreciate it because she needs to get out of there. she's terrified. another case solved, ending in death. she saved herself again. but now...she's facing the possibility of cancer. and despite being a skeptic, she believes leonard betts.

which!! we saw earlier in the episode too. when she's about to examine leonard betts' decapitated head and his eyes open & his mouth moves, almost as if whispering to her (genuinely reminds me of when she sees her father in beyond the sea) — she can't continue the autopsy. she calls mulder and he picks up on it immediately. and in this moment, she isn't particularly vulnerable. and more typically, that's when we see her believe most, when her defenses are weakened and she needs something to hold onto, or she can't bring herself to use her defenses.

"blinked or winked?" his jokes this episode are so important to me. because never again was so tense, so leonard betts taking place after never again and before memento mori is a good cushion. he's responding to what he understood about scully after never again, and trying to bring back their usual banter. scully is still pretty annoyed with him but they're still together on this case. they disagree, scully playing skeptic as mulder throws his crazy theories at her.

and scully's expressions whenever they're on the phone are so much more expressive. it's special. she lets go of her professionalism and just reacts, and mulder is having a great time. he thinks they're getting back to a better place, and they are, but everything still remains in the silence.

mulder is still making jokes and scully pretends to be unamused (she is hopeless in the best way). and because i love when scully says riddled:

so truly, leonard betts is a connecting episode. there are a few lighthearted moments after the intensity of never again, an episode that was about mulder not understanding where scully was coming from, and leonard betts is about what he was able to understand. giving her validation. it's also makes more sense that he doesn't try to give her any physical comfort after, to me, if leonard betts happens after never again. paper hearts happened not that long ago, and scully was fierce in that episode and physically affectionate with him.

mulder and scully both knew at the end of never again what's between them. mulder leaves "but it's become mine" unsaid, he cuts himself off. scully was frustrated with not truly knowing her place with mulder, on the x files, in their office. his unfinished sentence and the following silence said it all. if it was ever going to happen, it would have been right then. and it doesn't.

leonard betts is a little cushion between two intense episodes. the awareness of their feelings in never again, trying to find their rhythm again in leonard betts & scully's revelation at the end. they lead to the emotional & physical vulnerability in memento mori and through the cancer arc. the feeling of what they're losing before it even started.

[c-rose2081]

Perfect (Zeddison Drabble)

prompt by @mbradshaw1997 : Zeddison as Parents

—

—

Zed’s undead heart was racing.

His palms were all slimy.

His head was buzzing with thoughts of varying kinds. Fear, panic, guilt. But also excitement, joy, and hopefulness. He couldn’t sit still, not for a second. And he kept rubbing the flats of his palms against the scrubs borrowed from the hospital. Terror. Fear. Panic. Elation. Over and over again, bouncing around along side his brain.

“…Addison is in incredibly good shape, Zed. You shouldn’t be worrying so much.”

Eliza was sitting in a hard orange chair, reading one of the hospital magazines. She appeared as nonchalant as any best friend could be, but Zed knew she was just as nervous as he was. She had been on the same page for at least half an hour, and her boot was tapping the floor in a nervous rhythm.

“I know that,” Zed garbled, rubbing both hands through his hair, “she’ll be fine. I know she’ll be fine. But-but this is the first ever baby born of two monster parents. It’s history…”

“Addison is only half-alien, Zed.”

“But what if something goes wrong?”

“It won’t go wrong. She’s already in labor, alright? If you weren’t so annoying they’d have let you stay in there with her.”

Zed scowled at his best friend, kicking the side of her boot as he passed her chair for the hundredth time that day. He had wanted to stay with Addison as she was giving birth, but there were policies in place. Even with all the progress they had made for Zombie rights, prejudice still existed and probably always would. Humans and Zombies didn’t share the same hospital — therefore having a Zombie in the delivery room was…worrisome. Zed wasn’t planning on causing any trouble though, and was now pacing outside.

He just wanted news.

It felt like ages since Addison officially began pushing, and so far they hadn’t heard anything.

“The Doctors all said that Addison was in perfect condition for this,” Eliza tried to soothe him again, letting her magazine drop as she lifted a brow in question.

“Yes. But something could still happen. And a zombie hasn’t ever…you know…had a baby with a non-zombie. What if there are side effects?”

“Then we’ll worry about that as a family,” Eliza drawled, “this baby is going to have plenty of doting aunts and uncles of every species. I swear Willa was more excited than Addison about today.”

“I know. If it wasn’t finals week, I’m pretty sure Principal Lee would’ve cancelled classes for this,” Zed laughed, shaking his head, “I bet the team is just happy to have an afternoon off.”

Both Zed and Addison were still closely connected to Seabrook High. Zed was the Football Coach now, while Addison was both the Cheer Coach, and the first ever Inclusion Studies teacher. Every student in the place loved her to death, and so it wasn’t any sort of surprise that all of town was waiting with bated breath for this event. Hell, it was big enough to count as a holiday. E-Brook was probably blowing up waiting for news.

“I just think you’re worrying yourself over nothing,” Eliza sighed. Zed grunted and continued his pacing, fondling his hands and checking the time on his z-band. It felt like ages — it was probably only a few minutes — when the sounds of footsteps reached his ears. He pivoted quickly, spotting a familiar figure in mint green scrubs coming down the hall, “is she ok?” He breathed once the nurse was close enough, “Addison, is she —“

“Fine, Mr. Necrodopolis. Your wife is doing just fine. She’s just about ready actually, if you’d like to be with her.”

“R-really?” Zed gawked. He thought he was going to miss out on the actual birth — it’s what he was expecting. The nurses eyes twinkled with friendly mirth, crinkling at the corners.

“Exceptions are made all the time. Please come with me.”

Zed nodded slack jawed, waving at Eliza who shot him a double thumbs up in support. He padded behind the nurse, once again wiping his hands nervously, “if you feel faint, don’t expect us to catch you,” the woman joked, no doubt having done this a thousand times. The closer they got, the clearer the screaming became. He hated hearing Addison in pain, even if it was to bring a new child into the world.

“Come on in.”

Zed hesitated outside the door, seeing all of the human nurses inside. But he swatted the feelings down quickly. He had been invited to be here for this part — he wasn’t intruding on the process. Ducking into the room, Zed skirted along the wall as to keep out of the way of those working around his wife. They were all focused intently on their task, but gave him little nods of recognition as he passed them. Addison was groaning in agony, normally fair cheeks strawberry red from exertion. Her cheeks glistened with tears, and sweat sat like little diamonds at her turquoise hairline.

“I’m here, Addison,” Zed breathed, finally reaching the empty bedside and grabbing her hand, “I’m right here, baby.”

“…Zed…” the woman barked hoarsely, though it was cut off by another scream of pain.

“We’re in this together,” Zed insisted, “right? Just like always?”

“…uh-huh…” Addie managed, nodding her head, “Zed, this is our baby,” she sputtered, as thought she couldn’t quite believe it herself.

“Sure is. And they are going to be just as good looking as me.”

Addison probably would’ve hit him if she wasn’t already squeezing his hand so tightly.

“Alright, Mrs. Necrodopolis. One more big push.”

“You got this, Addie.” Zed urged, “one, two…”

The scream from his wife was loud and agonized. But, from that pain came a new sound. A wail…one not belonging to Addison.

“Ah! Well done,” The nurse insisted excitedly, the others fluttering about the room with towels and scissors, “it’s a girl. Congratulations.”

“A girl,” Zed breathed, still clutching Addison’s hand as she groaned in exhaustion, “did you hear that Addie? It’s a girl.”

“…where…” the woman rasped, obviously completely drained, “Zed, where…?”

“I see her, Addie. I can see her. She’s coming.”

Indeed he could see her. The little squirming thing was passed from nurse to nurse as she was wiped clean and bundled up like a cafeteria burrito.

“There we are, ma’am,” the head nurse said with a smile, pressing a button to help Addison sit up before passing the bundle of new life into her arms. Zed leaned in a little closer to have a look, completely breathless himself. She was the most beautiful thing in the world — next to his wife, of course. She had very light skin that was tinted faintly green, and a full head of dark green hair. However, there was a long pale stripe cutting through through the side of it, a bit like a werewolf stripe. And, mixed into those pale strands were small ocean colored hairs.

And, as the baby girl opened her eyes with a mewl, Zed sat back. Blue eyes. Bright, crystalline blue eyes, just like her mom.

“She’s perfect,” Addison mumbled, using a finger to gently touch the baby girls cheek.

“Just like you, mama,” Zed assured her with a kiss to the temple.

“Do we have a name picked out for the little one?” The Nurse wondered, clicking a pen. Zed glanced to Addison, who nodded and smiled faintly.

“Eztelle. Eztelle Camryn Necrodopolis.”

“My mom’s name?” Zed wondered in pleasant surprise as Addison leaned against him, still holding baby Estelle in both arms.

“It suits her, don’t you think?”

“It sure does,” Zed sighed, letting Addison lean against him as they stared at the new member of their family, “it’s perfect.”

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

(This is mostly for Grillby, but you can add whomever you'd like :) )

So Grillby's (or other) S/O went to the doctors to have something patched up, and caused them to have to be put under anesthesia. After they wake up, Grillby is there and rubbing their shoulder. S/o then goes on to say, "My husband will get mad at you if you rub my shoulder like that.." because they're still loopy. Grillby responds, "I am your husband.". After he says this, the heart monitor connected to S/O picks up in speed for a couple of seconds.

(Basically the tik tok that went around for a while if you've seen that lol)

Undertale Grillby - He is confused. You don't remember him? Is it normal? He's looking at the doctors, scared. What did you do to his S/O? He tries again, and this time, S/O pushes his hand away telling him they don't know who he is. Grillby's flamme becomes a bit darker and he's a bit hurt, but he tries to stay rationnal and keeps in mind it's just the anesthesia and that you will eventually remember him. He will be so relieved when you eventually snaps out of it. Maybe.... Maybe don't ever do this again, his soul can't take it. He will be clingy all day long after that.

Underfell Grillby - Ash thinks it's hilarious and he will torture you, telling you that you're right, he's not your husband but the guy who found you roaming outside, that you slept a hundred years and there's now a zombie apocalypse outside and that you were a zombie and he just saved your life so now you have to serve him for two hundred years or he'll throw you back to the zombies so you can get eaten. You bursts in tears, terrorised. Ash should feel bad. He really should. But he can't stop laughing at your face. You're so gullible, it's amazing. Though, unfortunately, you remember everything once you snap out of it and you are well decide to get revenge. Ash feels his sins crawling on his back.

[caramelo7dulce]

multi-fandom Rec. List

Masterlist Here Katara/Zuko from “Avatar: The Last Airbender” Annie Edison/Abed Nadir from “Community (2009)” Parker/Eliot Spencer from "Leverage (2008)" Sherlock Holmes/Joan Watson from "Elementary (2012)" Keith/Pidge from "Voltron: Legendary Defender" Barry Allen/Caitlin Snow from "The Flash (2014)" Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper from "Sherlock" Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy from "Pride & Prejudice and Zombies (2016) The Asset/Elisa Esposito from "The Shape of Water (2017)" Jupiter Jones/Caine Wise from "Jupiter Ascending (2015)" The Doctor/Rose Tyler from "Doctor Who" Rick & Morty (Platonic)

Annie Edison/Abed Nadir from “Community (2009)”

Door Number Two by MC-Aitlyn - Flaming lips and wild hearts lead to a truly unexpected evening for Miss Annie Edison. 

Loose Ends by MC-Aitlyn - Annie discovers that getting what you want and learning what you need are often mutually exclusive. Will not make much sense without having read it. Sequel to Door Number Two. 

What's In a Name? by Thedupshadove - Abed is worried that these fantasies might not be the most moral thing he's ever indulged in, but they're too sweet to give up. Little does he know he's in for an even sweeter surprise.

always means always by  MicrosuedeMouse - Annie needs to get away from Denver for a bit, and Abed once offered his couch if she ever wanted to come to LA, so she asks if she can come visit for a couple weeks. She can come visit for as long as she wants, but Abed doesn't say that. He just says yes.

__________

Katara/Zuko from “Avatar: The Last Airbender”

lines in the sand by sweetsymphony - In order to bring peace back to his war-ravaged nation, the rebellious future Fire Lord is arranged to marry the Princess of the Southern Water Tribe. Despite their marriage being born of duty and not love, the Fire Lord and his new Lady discover they have far more to worry about than each other.

Fire On The Ice by Dyce - Lu Ten survives the siege of Ba Sing Se, and Iroh returns home to depose the usurping Ozai. Determined that no more sons or daughters will die in war, he begins peace negotiations with the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes.... offering Zuko and Azula, his secondary and tertiary heirs, as marriage-pieces. Zuko is offered to the Water Tribe... specifically, to Hakoda and his daughter Katara.

The Prince's Choice by FrostedGemstones22 - Katara is 18 and the Southern Water Tribe has held an uneasy allegiance with the Fire Nation for the last 100 or so years. When Katara's tribe goes through a food shortage, Katara takes it upon herself to make sure they survive. She agrees to enter a competition where the young Prince Zuko will choose a wife out of 35 women. Katara promises herself she only has to last a day until a truce she can't ignore is offered, and now Katara is in it for the long haul. A Zutara! Selection AU. 

__________

Parker/Eliot Spencer from "Leverage (2008)"

Self Defense by ifwednesdaywasaflowerchild - Eliot takes care of Parker, after an incident involving a drunk douche who couldn't take no for an answer.

What Did You Do? by Telaryn - In the aftermath of the San Lorenzo Job, Eliot realizes that he's been using Damien Moreau and the challenge of bringing him down to avoid his growing feelings for a crazy, blond-haired thief.

Drag Me Into The Light by DeannaWesson - When a special job goes wrong, who can Eliot depend on?

A Favor for a Friend by JadeSnowe - In which Parker convinces Eliot to teach her about sex so that she doesn't disappoint Hardison. But it's never that cut and dry when hearts are involved.

In the Bitterness by Glitter_Lisp - Parker's life doesn't follow anything like a normal schedule, but there are some things that are always the same: Alec is always home before her, Nate and Sophie are always home after her, and Eliot hasn't been home in years.

___________

Sherlock Holmes/Joan Watson from "Elementary (2012)"

Closer by 14winters - Sherlock goes to Joan for a favor. She accommodates him.

Closeted by Rochelle_Rochelle - The old tied to each other in a closet trope.

As long as you know who you belong to by sometimesmaybe - No wild jealousy or creepy, over-the-top possessiveness. Just Joan and Sherlock musing on their relationship and what it means to belong to someone. Wholeheartedly.

Benefits by Rochelle_Rochelle - They pulled away for air, forehead to forehead, Joan spoke between breaths, "My room? Your room?" "Sofa," he responded and stood up. "I don't think I can make it up or down those stairs." Joan smiled at him.

The four times Sherlock kissed Joan (and the one time she did first) by CamelotLady - The titles says it all, basically.

Four Times Sherlock Touched Joan (And One Time She Touched Him) by time_converges - Four times Sherlock made the first move, and one time Joan did.

__________

Keith/Pidge from "Voltron: Legendary Defender"

Heatstroke by steelrunner - Keith lends Pidge a hand. She returns the favor.

__________

Barry Allen/Caitlin Snow from "The Flash (2014)"

This is My Scar, Not My Birthright by chasingblue57 - Twelve neat crimson lines tie them together, even years before they meet, but perhaps it's the shared heartache and loss that truly make them soul mates.

__________

Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper from "Sherlock"

Fever When You Kiss Me by PetraTodd - Molly Hooper's fellow Betas at St. Barts wonder how she can deal with Sherlock's notorious bad Alpha behavior, but she enjoys assisting the detective. The only problem with the situation is that Molly is in unrequited love with him…and she isn't really a Beta.

________

Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy from "Pride & Prejudice and Zombies (2016)

To Put A Warrior At Her Ease Is A Potentially Painful Endeavour by Sarcasmismydefaultmode - Elizabeth is feeling justifiably diffident about her wedding night, and Darcy is willing to do anything to put his new bride at her ease, with interesting, and slightly painful, results for all involved.

A Warrior's Courtship by EriksTrueAngel - A courtship is a delicate matter. However, in these dark times, one does not have the luxury to wait for a considerate amount of time.

___________

The Asset/Elisa Esposito from "The Shape of Water (2017)"

When You Whistle by Tyellas - A maybe-jealous amphibian man and a hasty bathtub plunge in nylon stockings combine for an unforgettable afternoon.

The Shape of Me; The Name of You by Thaliel (Alodia) - He had no name, only titles and a series of noises that she wasn’t able to replicate no matter how hard she tried. They could communicate, yes, but culturally they were still worlds apart. Elisa brings them a little closer together, by giving him a name.

___________ Jupiter Jones/Caine Wise from "Jupiter Ascending (2015)"

In The Space Between Your Finger and My Skin by splash_the_cat - Sometimes Jupiter wonders if what she has to offer is enough for Caine.

That's What Love Is by ItsClydeBitches - Jupiter teaches Caine a thing or two about Earth promises.

__________ The Doctor/Rose Tyler from "Doctor Who"

I Think I'm A Tad Possessive by Vampiyaa - The Doctor knows he's possessive of her, but her constant flirting with and attention from pretty boys of all species causes him to have violent outbursts in secret

Thirst by Khaelis - A walk in the desert leads to unexpected troubles.

__________ Rick & Morty (Platonic) from "Rick and Morty"

Safe by RovingOtter - Morty has a conversation with another Morty in the Citadel about their respective Ricks. It sends him down a rabbit hole of questions, doubt, and discovery.

The S-943 Incident by Anonymous - He's busy but all Ricks are important and he will take care of every single one that walks into his building.

Finite by AwesomeMango7 - Morty realizes he’s painfully average, and is doomed to live a painfully average life. He could never be as great as Rick, he could never be as smart as him. He could never go on adventures without Rick. So he has to leave.

Firsts And Other Stories by Anonymous - A series of firsts and other observations, in a world where everyone has their own Daemon.

[onebatch2batch]

i don’t really have a prompt for this fic, nor an excuse to be writing this instead of my zombie au but here, have some good ol’ fashioned post-canon kastle fluff xo

[READ ON AO3]

excerpt:

“Could’ve been he went up against someone who didn’t like the alter boy shit.”

“Frank.”

“Ah, sorry, Karen. You know it gets to me.”

Karen gets home to a vigilante on her doorstep, except it’s not the one she’s expecting and it’s not her doorstep. Matt Murdock is sitting on the linoleum of her kitchen floor and he’s in his suit—not the nice charcoal one from this afternoon at work, but the maroon one with the mask and the horns. He’s slumped against her fridge and there’s blood on his lip. She’s sure that further examination will show more blood beneath the crimson of his outfit, but she doesn’t think to do that right away because she’s exhausted and surprised and horrified, standing there in the doorway of her apartment. It takes longer than she would like to admit to get her bearings. 

“Oh, shit.” 

Karen glances down the hall to see if there’s anyone around and locks the door behind her. It was still locked when she got home, so he must have come in through the window. She’s still in her work clothes—after she, Foggy and Matt locked up for the day she’d been out to dinner with Tish Walker. It had been nice, and normal, and exactly what she needed to separate herself from the crazy in her life.  

Half of which is bleeding on her floor. Karen drops to her knees beside him and carefully pulls off his mask with shaky fingers. His eyes are closed and he is still--too still. 

“Matt? Shit, Matt, can you hear me? Hey, wake up.”

He doesn’t move. She sets two fingers to his pulse, heart hammering. 

Alive, but faint. 

“Oh, Matt, shit shit. Come on, what happened?”

He stirs, faintly. His eyes blink open unseeingly. Matt gasps, all raggedly and wet, and the stone in her stomach sinks further at the sound. “Karen.”

“Yeah, I’m here. Hey, what happened? Can you tell me? I don’t know what to do—“

His face screws up as he tries to sit up. He doesn’t get very far and after a brief struggle, he collapses once more with a painful sounding cough. Blood smears against the fridge behind him. “You were—closer—“ he gasps out, and then goes still again. 

“Goddammit.” She presses the back of her hand to her mouth, mind racing. There’s only one other person who she can think to call right now, and the thought makes a hysterical kind of laugh bubble up in her throat. “Oh, you’re going to kill me for this.”

—

To his credit, Frank Castle takes one look at Matt and doesn’t comment. He squats next to the couch — Karen getting Matt out of his suit and somewhere more comfortable by herself had been a feat — and takes stock silently. 

Karen pushes her hair behind her ear, standing at the foot of the couch. She waits until Frank sighs. 

“Can you help him? Please.”

He turns to look at her over his shoulder, frowning. “I can help with the little stuff. Stitches. Looks like his shoulder needs set. But I ain’t a doctor, Karen.”

She sniffs, nodding. “Okay. What do you think happened?”

Frank rolls up his sleeves and grabs for her extensive first aid kit. He rifles through it and pulls out several items, starts threading a needle. “Dunno. There’s been a lot of talk about a new group in town. Some thugs tryin’ to put their name out. It’s been ugly—trafficking, murders, robberies. Drugs. Could’ve been that. Could’ve been he went up against someone who didn’t like the alter boy shit.”

“Frank.”

“Ah, sorry, Karen. You know it gets to me.”

He sends her a wry smile, drops it when he notices the look on her face. “Hey, hey. Karen. He’s gonna be fine, alright? You wanna help or get cleaned up?”

She glances down at the blood on her blouse, at the streaks smudging her arms. Looks at Matt’s slack expression, how pale he looks in her old baggy sweatpants and bare chest. She straightens determinedly. “I want to help.”

He nods. “Okay.”

—

It takes the better part of an hour. All in all he needs sixteen stitches in various places, his shoulder reset, and a lot of cleanup. Karen handles that part alone, gently washing away the blood and dirt as Frank brews coffee in the kitchen. 

When Matt is clean, she touches a hand to his cheek. “Matt, come on. Wake up, okay? I have to yell at you for breaking into my apartment.”

“Like you’ve never broken in anywhere.” A mug appears by her head. Karen takes it thankfully, sending Frank a grateful smile. 

“Thanks. And that was different.”

“Yeah.” He snorts. “That time you were only snooping, not injured. Come here.”

He helps her to her feet, ducking his head to place a soft kiss on her lips. It’s brief and tender but it still makes her chest ache with want. He smells like coffee and the lavender soap in her bathroom and when he pulls away his smile is crooked. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she breathes, and then sets her head on his shoulder with a deep breath. “Thanks for doing this. I wish I could have called under better circumstances.”

“Mhm, it’s nothin’. Will say I was hoping for a repeat of last night when you called, though.” 

She flushes, but lifts her head to give him a pleased smile. His gaze scorches over her skin. “Yeah? Were you hoping for a second date, Mr. Castle?”

“Yeah, somethin’ like that. Hopin’ I haven’t, uh, lost my touch. You know it’s—it’s been awhile.”

She thinks of the night before, standing in this very spot. Takeout boxes on the kitchen counter. Candles lit. Frank with his hands on her hips as she touches her lips to his for the first time, both of them scared and exhilarated. How a small kiss had bled into tongues and teeth; how they’d barely made it to her bed. Her heart pounds as she remembers. “I think your touch is just—fine.”

“Just fine, huh?” The stare he’s giving her now sends a shiver down her spine. He cups one palm against her neck, steps closer. “That all?”

“Frank, not with Matt here. He could wake up.” The last thing Karen wants is for Matt’s supersonic senses to pick up on any of...that. For all she knows, his abilities could even work when he’s unconscious and she would never forgive herself if he heard that. She blushes again, clears her throat. Sips her coffee. As much as she wants to give in and return to kissing Frank, it’s out of the question. She hesitates unsurely. “Will you stay, anyways?”

The question seems to throw him for a loop. He frowns. “‘Course, Karen. I’m not—hey, I came here for you. Not for him, alright? I came here because I—...it’s not just that, for me. I mean I want that, too, but uh.” He huffs, exasperated. Gives her a sideways glance. “It’s more for me. You gotta know that.” 

Shit. Don’t sleep with Frank with Matt in the other room. Don’t sleep with Frank with Matt in the other room. Don’t do it. “Okay. It’s—for me, too. You’re more than that for me, too.”

He smiles, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Wanna get some shut eye? I’ll stay up for a while.”

“I won't be able to sleep,” she murmurs, gaze returning to Matt’s still form. It’s nearly midnight but there’s too much going on in her head to sleep. Most of all, what’s going to happen when Matt wakes up and finds the Punisher in her living room playing nurse. “...want to play a game of chess?”

—

When Matt comes to, he’s disoriented. The last thing he remembers is getting knocked sideways by some thug and then making a hasty escape, head ringing. And then he’d been so close to Karen’s apartment, he’d—

Karen. He’s at Karen’s. 

Matt grunts, tilting his head to listen. It’s quiet in the apartment but he can hear two sets of even breathing from the other side of the room. One presence, so familiar, is Karen. She’s sleeping, if her even breaths are anything to go by. The other presence is also painfully, shockingly familiar--and chuckling out a quiet laugh. 

“Seen better days, Red.”

Matt grimaces. “No thanks to you. What are you doing here, Frank?”

They keep their voices low. Karen sleeps on. Frank shifts imperceptibly but doesn’t come closer. Matt trails a hand over his chest in search of his wounds. They’re all sewn up and bandaged. His right shoulder aches. His head aches. Shit, his whole body aches. He’s a little fuzzy from sleep and it takes a moment to realize how close Karen is to Frank. She’s leaned against his shoulder, arm intertwined with his. 

“Babysitting your sorry ass.” Frank huffs. “Karen called me when she found you. Needed help fixin’ you up.” 

“So she called you?” 

He wishes he could say he’s surprised, but he’s not. Karen has always shown a particular interest in Frank Castle, so it seems a logical progression that they’re friends. Or--well, maybe more than that. He can smell Frank all over the apartment, now that he’s looking for it. Matt exhales, sitting up slowly. The room swims. 

“Yeah, got a problem with that?” Matt grunts. He’s in no mood to pick a fight. Frank snorts. “You got a dislocated shoulder, stitches, bruised dome. Nothin’ you haven’t seen before, I’m sure.”

Karen shifts again, murmuring softly in her sleep. They both fall silent, waiting until her breathing has evened out. Then, Matt sighs. 

“This is happening, then?”

“Mhm, sorry to burst your bubble.”

“Contrary to popular belief,” Matt grits out as he manages to swing his legs off the couch and onto the carpet, “I have other things to worry about that what Karen gets up to.”

“Clearly.”

Matt puts a hand to his ribs, glad that none of them are broken. Out of any injury he’s ever had–that’s the worst. It makes moving around a lot harder, and it’s already pretty hard with the wounds he’s sustained. It takes a few long moments once he’s upright for the ache in his head to subside. After a few deep breaths, he turns in Frank’s direction. “Thank you. You didn’t have to help, but I’m grateful you did.”

Frank doesn’t respond to that other than a grunt. Then, “She’s gonna want to see you before you leave. Make sure you’re alright.”

“Don’t wake her–just let her know it’s fine.” He pauses, and then adds ruefully: “It’s all fine.”

He doesn’t wait for Frank to respond, and instead sways awkwardly to his feet and blinks against the throb in his head. At some point someone had changed him into sweatpants, so he grabs at a sweatshirt on the armchair and pulls it on carefully. His suit is in a bag on the floor and he grabs it on the way to the window. He’s listening for anyone who may have followed him when Frank calls out softly.

“Red. This somethin’ I need to worry about?”

He stops in consideration. Tonight was rough–he’d been outnumbered and barely escaped with his life. Even so, he knows Frank has been out of the game for a while. Matt hasn’t seen much evidence of the Punisher in Hell’s Kitchen, and he wonders if that is in part to what’s happening just behind him. 

“I’ll let you know,” he says finally. 

Frank hums his assent. “See you around, Murdock.”

–

Matt is barely out the window when Karen stirs, lifting her head to look around. “Matt–?”

“He’s alright,” Frank murmurs. “Just missed him.”

She sighs and sets her head back on his shoulder. “I’m surprised you guys didn’t wake me up. I didn’t hear any arguing.”

“Hey, I can be civil,” he objects, shoving at her side gently with his elbow. “And anyways, he wanted me to tell you it’s all fine.”

“It being us?”

“Guess so.” 

Her hand finds him as she considers his words. She slots her fingers with his, tracing over the trigger-rough bumps and scars. Frank lets her think, lets himself enjoy the quiet. That’s what she is for him–she’s the quiet, the peace. He’ll patch up Daredevil a hundred times if it means they can sit in the silence after, shoulder to shoulder, her careful fingers tracing paths over his palm.  

“Thank you for tonight,” she says after some time. “I’m glad you came. Come to bed with me?”

And yeah, as she pulls him towards the bedroom with a sleepy smile and without stopping to put away their empty mugs or the chess board (where she absolutely decimated him), Frank decides he would play doctor every day to any vigilante she might bring around, as long as she looks at him like that after. 

[sorryimanon]

Character: Katsuki Bakugou

Warnings/tags: heart warming fluff, language, and suggestive themes

Word count: 2.5k

In which your boyfriend takes it upon himself to pamper you on his day off.

Author’s note: some self indulgent fluff. this is a continuation of dad!bakugou and torch daughter. there will be more. enjoy :)

D/N= daughters name

-

Katsuki heavily relied on you to babysit your rambunctious four year old daughter during the days when he'd be on patrol from dusk till dawn. Very rarely would he be home before the two of you tucked yourselves in for the night, leaving him to eat the leftovers from dinner alone at the table. As sad as it is, it didn't bother you in the slightest. In fact, knowing Katsuki was keeping the crime rate of Japan low, you were more than happy to become a stay at home mom. Most of your friends tried to talk you out of it, but you were already settled after giving your two weeks notice at your low paying job. Waking up and seeing your daughter first thing in the morning is better than staring blankly at a bright screen all day behind a musty wall, running on nothing but decaf coffee, and sluggishly going to and fro like a zombie.

Ever since your daughter manifested her quirk, you’ve been trying your best to maintain her sudden outbursts while at home. The doctor prescribed it as Torch: the ability to become a human torch and ignite flames throughout your body and fingertips. For now d/n is only capable of setting herself on fire, using the flames as a barrier to protect her from any harm instead of combating. However, sometimes she'll forget to extinguish herself, having you to manually use an actual fire extinguisher on her. Burn marks would litter the outskirts of your shirts, the aftermath ash smudged on your face, and the tiny hairs on your forearms long gone after handling d/n.

Your boyfriend appreciates the way how you compose yourself around d/n, not allowing the temptation to fling the little gremlin out the window prevail, because if the roles were reversed it'd be a whole different story. Sometimes he sits back in his desk chair, after a long night of meandering around the city, and tries to remember the last time you were properly treated. Of course, Katsuki never fails to remind you day and night he loves you through his actions, some including selfish indulgence late at nights, but all in all he didn't lack being the hopeless romantic counterpart for you. He wanted you to take a break from it all, have him handle the at home duties and the slimy daughter. Leaning back against the chair with his brows furrowed slightly, he began to mentally plan out your day already.

It was a Friday when Katsuki forced himself out of the comfortable security that is your arms and walked with light feet to his daughters bedroom. Today is his day off, so he has to make sure everything goes smoothly or else he's going to have more burn marks on his office desk.

He didn't bother knocking first and saunters in the familiar space, the faint snores from d/n somehow relaxing him. Her walls were freshly painted a light shade of blue, the contrast not too saturated to peel the attention away from her posters that covered every inch of her room, all of which were pictures of his prohero colleagues. D/N had to beg for her father to purchase a Deku poster, one of which she saw don display when the both of you brought her to the mall for a quick trip. He internally cringes every time he makes eye contact with the lifeless eyes of Deku when he enters her room.

Katsuki neared his daughter and kneeled down to where his head was leveled with hers, chuckling lightly when finding a small pool of drool collecting on her cheek.

"Wake up little shit," he whispers, nudging her uncovered shoulder with his knuckles, startling her eyes to flutter open. D/n nearly gasped at the sight of her father. The covers that were wrapped snuggly around her fell at the foot of her bed when she jolted up in surprise, eyes brimming with excitement.

"It's today right? Mommy's day!" Katsuki covered her mouth with his abnormally large hand, not wanting her obnoxious voice to blow their cover.

"Yes, but you're gonna have to be quiet for daddy. Don't want to spoil the surprise for mommy, you understand ya little brat?"

Hand still attached to her mouth, d/n nodded her head feverishly, hands clenched into tiny fits. Once he thinks she's shimmered down a little, he finally removes his hand and motions her to follow him.

Meanwhile in the other room, you were still fast asleep, limbs not once switching from their position over the cozy blanket. The chill breeze from the propped window regulated your body temperature nicely, along with the beautiful songs sung by the birds that reside in the trees close by. You stirred awake momentarily, feeling the loss of a presence that's usually laying beside you during these times of slumber. Katsuki's side was empty, the indent from his body molded onto the foam mattress, leaving you to believe he woke up not that long ago.

After convincing yourself to leave the comfort of your bed, you decided to search for the missing blonde. You crack open the door to a weird combination of radio music blaring throughout the house, and the delicious smell of something cooking in grease. It's no doubt your boyfriends doing. He always likes to impress you with how skillful he is in the kitchen. He hasn't made a dish you disliked yet nor will he allow himself to do so.

Standing side by side, minus the height difference, d/n and Katsuki both were too immersed in their cooking to notice you leaning against the island counter, trying very hard to not cry instantly at the sight in front of you. Watching them interact together was definitely something you'd be treasuring for the years to come.

A rush of savory and sweetness infiltrated your senses, the scent strong enough to knock you back to sleep. As if he read your mind overnight, Katsuki took it upon himself to prepare your favorite breakfast dishes. The dinner table made for three already set by none other than d/n, who currently looked proud at her work and craftsmanship. A large vase was propped in the center, a collection of vibrant flowers stuffed to the brim, the water inside almost overflowing. Attached to one of the stems of the flowers was a tag, the handwriting sloppy and hard to decipher.

To my dumbass, love ya - K.B

You felt the delicate touch of your daughter wrapping her hand around yours, giving it a slight tug before pulling you into the kitchen again. Katsuki flicked his gaze to you now, flashing the same mischievous grin you grew to love. his hands simultaneously worked on the food while taming the animal, that is indeed your daughter, from bumping into the pan handles.

"What's all this for?" You asked, the question directly appointed to both your boyfriend and daughter.

"Oh, so I can't treat my sexy girlfriend to a good meal?" he teased while setting the burners to low, letting the food cool off before plating it. Your daughter audibly gagged at the comment and swatted Katsuki's arm.

D/N's tiny legs were faster than yours and reached the cabinet where the plates and cutlery were stored at. To her dismay, the cabinet was higher than she anticipated. trying her best to waiver down the disappointment as she climbed on the sleek marble counter top, losing her footing here and there. Katsuki caught her in time before she misplaced her footing and almost toppled onto the floor.

"May I need to remind you not to climb on the damn counter tops anymore d/n?" he scolded as he put her down before grabbing enough plates for everyone.

Pursing her lips tightly, she crossed her arms and said, "But if I'm going to be a future hero then I have to battle my way through tough obstacles!"

U.A's immense training and work studies came in handy when dealing with d/n's hard headed ideologies. It's been a stressful reoccurrence, having to constantly teach her the importance of being a hero at such a young age. Her impulsive tendencies mirrored the blondes old habit of taking action before thinking. But there was always a saying when storing away your fear and facing danger head on.

"That's true, but sometimes a little teamwork wouldn't hurt. Your father should know a thing or two about that when he was a young U.A student," you said as you patted her head.

"What'd you say shitty woman? Talking crap so early in the morning already?" a strange popping sound alerted you to turn around, only to find Katsuki flaring his flashy quirk with a glare that could splice you open.

But his alarming gaze wasn't the thing that was scaring you at the moment.

"WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT USING YOUR QUIRK IN THE HOUSE! YOU'RE GONNA SET OFF THE FIRE ALARM AGAIN, IDIOT!"

-

You thought the smorgasbord of a breakfast was the last of your boyfriends romantic gestures, but you should've known better once he demanded you to change out of your sleep attire and into something to  wear outside. Not thinking twice about where he was dragging you to, including daughter, you decided to play it safe. He approved on your choice of ripped jeans, synthetic tank top, and thrown on cardigan once heading off to the car.

The car ride to the mysterious destination was short lived as your boyfriend pulled up into the driveway of his old house. Mitsuki stood waiting by the threshold of the doorway, waving her fingers sweetly to whom you can only assume was you and not her only son. She stepped off the porch once Katsuki shifted the car in park, unlocking the doors as well. His mother reached the side where d/n stayed strapped in her seat and yanked the door open.

"Ah my little princess! How have you been? I missed you so much!" She unbuckled d/n's seat belt and flattened her in a tight hug, squeezing till her eyes popped out. "I can't wait to spend the weekend with you baby girl! Are you excited to have a little fun with grandma?!"

"Calm the fuck down, you're gonna kill her if you keep squeezing!" Katsuki's voice boomed out of the window.

"Oh pipe down you little shit I'm not harming her! Also don't talk to me like that! You're old enough to treat me with some respect by now!"

"SHUT UP YOU OLD HAG! JUST TAKE THE LITTLE GREMLIN AND GO!"

After the heated exchange, Katsuki eventually calmed down and drove the two of you back to the house in complete silence. It was quite a shift in a sense of environment wise. By now d/n would be begging you to make her some pudding or pour her a cup of lemonade, then place yourselves in front of the tv watching a random kids program till evening. Tonight you lend the torch to your boyfriend, allowing whatever devious plan he conjured up to unfold.

Before you could shuffle into your shared bedroom, Katsuki placed his calloused hands onto your cramped shoulders. Merely centimeters from your ear, he laid a chaste kiss on the area beneath it, smiling at your innocent reaction to his sudden actions and nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You smelt the familiar scent of caramel and men’s soap, both of which you undoubtably loved when combined.

“Suki?” Upon hearing his nickname, Katsuki quirked an eyebrow at you. “What’s with all the romantic gestures lately? Cooking my favorite breakfast, the flowers, and our daughter. Don’t get me wrong, I love her! It’s just nice not to worry about if she’ll set the curtains on fire again.”

You felt the vibrations of him chuckling behind you.

“Isn’t it obvious? I just want to fuck the shit out of you,” you sat paralyzed by his bluntness. his tuft hair tickled the underside of your chin, earning him an acute giggle from you. “I’m just kidding, pretty face. I figured you needed a weekend where you just relax and did nothing. Let me do all the work. That’s including getting rid of the brat.”

Shifting in his arms to where you can face him, you can now see the adoration oozing from usual heated glare of his vermillion eyes, the scowl long gone and replaced with a soften feature not so many from the outside can witness. To think this was the man you devoted yourself and love for, to allow him to bare witness anything and everything you endure. He’s a man of showing his compassion through his actions, not lousy words of affirmations that anyone could sputter out and proclaim its love. No, he reflects back everything right with the world, even when you felt the weight of it searing through your system, dragging it down with you. The same explosive blonde awaits patiently by the opening for you to enter, no matter how long it’ll take for you to accept his love. Because he’ll be there. Waiting.

And here he is waiting. In your arms to repeat those three words you made out from watching the movement of his lips.

The words leave your mouth effortlessly, the proclamation hanging in the air between you two.

“I love you too, Katsuki. Thank you so much, for everything.” Like so, you kiss the plump flesh of his lips, the same inflammation of your heart burning as before. The strong muscle of his tongue prods your entrance, practically begging by licking your bottom lip. Katsuki grabbed your chin as gentle as he could muster, titling it for a better leverage to explore your mouth in return. Your hands trailed across the defining shape of his collarbones, rubbing any part of his body so that your fingers remained busy. Both of you hum in satisfaction, relishing in the feeling of the intimate moment. To your disliking, he removes his lips from yours and hovers instead, panting from the mini-make out session seconds ago.

“I’m going to marry you some day, mark my words. So don’t act fucking stupid when I pop the question,” he hotly proclaims, not once removing those piercing red eyes from yours. That’s when you knew he wasn’t bullshitting. If there’s one thing you learned about Katsuki over the years of dating, is that he doesn’t throw out promises in the air nonchalantly without keeping them. You can vaguely hear the ominous sound of wedding bells in your ears.

“Sounds intriguing. I always wanted to see you in a suit and tie.”

“Ya know, maybe someday might be tomorrow-.”

You cut him off with a scorching peck, making his eyes widen and dilate with every given second you laid your lips onto his. “Shut up babe and ravish me already.”

A mischievous grin forms on his mouth as he links his arms around the back of your knees and hoists you over his shoulder. He erupted into fits of laughter after hearing you squeak from the abruptness. The door to your shared bedroom came into view, your boyfriend kicking it with his free foot before entering through the threshold.

“You��re in for a long night sweetheart. Now that our daughter isn’t here, I’m not holding back on anything,” he threatens as he lays you down on the comforter.

Another thing you learned from your relationship. Katsuki is always true to his word.

-

[yandere-society]

The Devil in the ICU

Pairing:

Synopsis: You’ve rarely spoken to your neighbor Jimin, but he’s always been kind to you. When you get into an accident that lands you in the ER, you’re grateful to see who’s taking such good care of you. It isn’t until later that you start to wonder… will you ever be leaving the hospital?

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: Blood, murder/death, yandere themes, stalking themes, needles/IVs

Admin: @psycho-slytherin​

Request:

How did you wind up here? 

As you slump back into your bed, with him lying on the floor next to you, a hazy thought informs you that it must look like a scene straight out of Romeo and Juliet.

Although, you think ruefully, glancing down at the sharp shard of glass clenched in your fist, I don’t think Juliet would have done this.

“Merry fucking Christmas.”

~Three weeks earlier~

Taehyung, leaning against the doorframe with a steaming mug of coffee in his hand, looks as handsome as the day you married him. “Have a good day at work!”

You give him a quick kiss, shivering in the brisk morning air. “You too. Remember that we have that dinner tonight!”

Tae laughs. “Is that what we’re calling the awards ceremony? You know you’ve earned bragging rights.”

“Shush!” You boop him on the nose before turning and making for your car. On the other side of the fence, you can see your neighbor Jimin step out onto his porch. He catches your eye and, as Taehyung goes back inside, you smile amicably and nod at Jimin before getting into your car. You see him at his front door every morning, and he’s always friendly.

On your drive to the university campus, you think about tonight’s dinner. You’ll be presented with an awards for Arts Education despite being one of the youngest professors in the university’s faculty. You were thrilled when the dean of the school contacted you for the honor.

Once you park, you speedwalk to your first class of the day and burst through the door. You soon find yourself looking at twenty students, some bright-eyed, some more zombie-like.

“I’d apologize for being late,” you say, “But at this point I don’t think anyone is surprised.” The more awake students laugh, and you sling your bag onto your desk at the front of the room. “Let’s get started. Yoongi, you’re up first for workshop. Why don’t you stand up and read?”

Of all of your students, you think Yoongi is the most likely to pursue his career in creative writing. 

He nods and stands. You can see his hands trembling as he clutches the paper. 

When he sits back down after reading his poem, there’s a smattering of applause. “Very nice,” you say. “Now, who’d like to offer their feedback?”

~~~

Hours later, you dismiss your last class. You can’t wait to go home and tell Taehyung all about your day.

“So this one kid really decided the best move, instead of asking for an extension, was to plagiarize Twilight. Fucking Twilight!” 

Taehyung laughs as he buttons up his shirt. “What did you tell her?”

“Ugh, I hate to report anyone for plagiarism, I told her to write something new and turn it in for half credit.”

“No wonder your students love you. I think you’re personally responsible for all of the creative writing majors on campus.”

You finish zipping up your dress. “Probably. Let’s get going, yeah?” 

“Your wish, my command,” Taehyung says, gallantly bowing you out the door. You giggle as he opens the passenger side door for you. “For real, Y/n, want to get away for a weekend to celebrate? This is a nationally recognized award!”

“Hm…” you pretend to think. “Maybe we could go somewhere warm and sunny, with lots of beaches.”

Taehyung interlaces his fingers with yours, lifts your hand to his mouth, and kisses your palm. “Whatever you want. Christmas is coming up, maybe we can travel somewhere for the winter.”

You smile and look out of the window as Taehyung begins the drive. The ceremony is being held at a hotel twenty minutes away. And in a few weeks, you’ll be spending Christmas with the love of your life somewhere warm.

Under the twinkling night sky, everything feels so peaceful. Suddenly, you see a flash of light overhead. “Tae! A shooting star! Look-”

BANG. You hear the sound of crunching metal, feel a violent jerk, and everything goes dark.

~~~

“When she wakes up, start her on 20 milligrams of morphine. If her blood pressure is still low, go ahead and add saline to the IV. She shouldn’t need a transfusion unless anything opens up again.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

Doctor. Are you in the hospital, then? Was there an accident? “Ugh…” You blink hard in the blinding light. You’re woozy, and your mouth tastes like copper.

“Y/n! Doctor, she’s awake!” You hear a familiar voice, and feel a hand grip your own.

“M-Mom?”

“Y/n. Thank heavens, you’re awake.” Your mom’s voice is strained and thick, as though she’s been crying. When your eyes finally focus on her, she’s sniffling, and her eyes are bloodshot. She’s wearing a formal black dress – did she come straight from the ceremony?

“What happened?” You croak.

“You were in an accident,” your mom says, her voice breaking. “A bad one. We weren’t sure if you would make it.”

You wince. That doesn’t make sense, and the cost of a hospital stay isn’t in your budget. “Where’s Taehyung?” 

Your mother is silent for a moment too long, and you feel your chest grow tight. “Mom, where is Taehyung? He was in the car with me!”

“He… he didn’t make it. I’m so sorry,” your mom whispers. “The doctors did everything they could.”

No. “You’re lying.” Of course she is, she has to be, he’s your husband, he can’t be gone. “Don’t lie. He’s fine.” 

“Y/n, baby…” 

“No!” You weakly pull your hand from her grip. Angry tears form and begin to spill down your swollen, tender cheeks. “You’re lying!” Please, you beg inside your head, please be lying. Not Taehyung. He’s healthy, strong, smart, he has to be fine. 

You can see unshed tears shining in your mother’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“We weren’t going that fast,” you say desperately. “It can’t have been bad.”

“You broke a leg and a rib, fractured your collarbone, and punctured your lung,” Your mother says quietly. “They said you were lucky to have no brain damage.”

You sit back, stunned. It’s true, you’re wrapped in bandages and the parts of your skin that you can see are black and blue. When you lift the blanket, you can see a small clear tube protruding from your chest. Still, it’s impossible. You had only been driving for a few minutes. “What happened? The accident?”

“I-It was a hit-and-run,” your mother responds shakily. “They T-boned your car and drove away. There were witnesses, but no cameras and nobody got a license plate. They put out a notice for the car.”

You swallow. Despite your injuries, it seems like you’re unable to feel anything at all. Please, no… 

There’s a soft knock at the door. “Y/n?” You look up and through the dark fog in your head you feel a tinge of shock.

Standing in front of you, wearing blue scrubs and a mask, is… your neighbor.

“Jimin?”

Jimin nods. “I’m sorry for what you’re going through. I just need to adjust your IV – are you in pain?”

“No- yes.” As soon as the word escapes your mouth, feeling spills back into your body. Fuck. Suddenly you can’t breathe, your chest feels like it’s on fire, and your leg… “It hurts really badly.”

“Let me increase the morphine dosage.” He steps towards the machines and IV to which you’re hooked up and fiddles with some buttons.

Your heart feels as though it’s stopped on Taehyung. You refuse to believe it, and so you refuse to grieve. “I didn’t know you were a doctor,” you say to Jimin. Your voice sounds like a robotic copy of itself. Out of the corner of your eye, you see your mother glancing at you with worry.

“I’m not, I’m a nurse,” he replies. 

“You take good care of her, you hear?” Your mom says to Jimin, clearly understanding your silent signal not to bring up Taehyung. She was lying – he has to be fine.

Jimin nods firmly, the ghost of a smile on his face. “Yes, ma’am. She’ll be up and about soon, but for now she needs rest.”

As your mom rises slowly from her chair beside your bed, she grasps Jimin’s hand in hers. “Make sure she’s okay.”

“I will.”

Once your mom leaves, your eyelids feel heavy. Your brain is foggy with distorted thoughts of Taehyung. Why can’t you remember anything? “What time is it?”

“Three in the morning,” Jimin supplies.

That surprises you. “It’s been hours.” 

“It has.” “Do you know what happened to the awards ceremony?”

“The… what?”

Of course he doesn’t. Why should he? You sink as far as you can into your pillow, wishing only that it would suffocate you. It feels like there’s an all-consuming black hole in your chest, clawing at every part of you. Taehyung. Taehyung. Taehyung.

“I’m sorry about your husband,” Jimin says gravely. “I met him several times. He was a very kind man.”

“He’s not gone,” you reply stubbornly. He can’t be. “I just need to get better and get home.” Tae will be there.

Jimin pauses. “We’ll do our best.”

“Thank you.”

“The doctor will be back in soon,” Jimin adds. “I can give you something to help you sleep after.”

“Oh, you’re an angel.” After everything that’s happened, you don’t think you can ever sleep again. At least, not until you’re with Taehyung. Surely, the doctor will be able to tell you the truth. 

The doctor comes in, a middle-aged Black woman who introduces herself as Dr. Greene. She walks you through your injuries and the path to recovery. “Luckily, they could have been a lot worse,” she says, eyeing your chart appreciatively. “You should be discharged in two weeks, give or take. After that, it’ll be a while still with your leg in a cast. You’ll have to come back for more check-ups. And as soon as your lung heals, we want you to start physical therapy to counteract all the bed rest. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Where is my husband?” You ask desperately. Behind Dr. Greene, you see Jimin’s face has turned stony. “He was in the car with me, his name is Kim Taehyung–”

“Your husband has passed away,” the doctor says simply, quietly. “I’m sorry.”

At last, with this authority figure having sealed his fate, you allow yourself to cry for Taehyung. Loud, animalistic sobs tear from your chest until your abused ribs and lungs can’t support you anymore and you collapse, screaming silently into hands that hurt to lift. 

“Y/n…”

“It’s not fair. It’s not fair! It should have been me.” The two of you were only on your way to the dinner because of you. It’s your fault. Your fault. Your fault. “It should have been me!”

You feel fingertips lightly touch your aching shoulder. From his earlier position near the doorway, Jimin is suddenly right next to you. “No, it shouldn’t have. And it’s not your fault, Y/n,” he says. 

“Grief is natural and necessary, really, for the healing process,” Dr. Greene adds. “But Nurse Jimin is right, you shouldn’t blame yourself.” She looked back at her chart. “Jimin, you’re on call for the night, yes?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Keep an eye on her pain levels. Y/n, if you’re uncomfortable or need anything during the night, press this button and Jimin will come check in on you, alright?”

You nod numbly. You don’t care. You hope you do die during the night, so you can at least be with Taehyung. 

Jimin leaves and returns in what feels like both an hour and two seconds, holding a clear bag full of liquid and a bottle of pills.

“Take one of these to help you sleep. This is for your blood pressure – it’s still low – and we’ve added more morphine.”

You simply hold out your hand for the bottle, shake out a pill, and swallow it down without water. Why would you need water when the love of your life is gone?

“Remember, press the button if you need anything,” Jimin says. “I’ll be right here for you.”

“Mm.” You turn over as much as you comfortably can and almost immediately fall into a hopefully dreamless sleep.

If only you were so lucky.

The crash. The moment of the shooting star. Over and over and over again.

“Y/n! Come on, baby, wake up!” You can’t see anything, but you can hear his voice. “They’ll be here soon, you have to hang on for me, okay?”

7.

“Help! Somebody help! No, she’s worse than me, hurry up!”

H.

“Miss? Can you hear me?” 

“Shit, he’s coding!”

L.

“Y/n?” You feel yourself being gently shaken, and still half-dreaming, your body gives a great shudder from the accident. “I’m sorry to wake you. I just need to take your vitals.”

“Blue,” you reply, barely able to form the word. You saw it. “The car was blue.” 

When you look up, you realize that it’s not Jimin, but a nurse you’ve never seen before. She pauses for a moment, clearly perplexed, before she blinks.

“Oh! You were in a car accident?”

“The car was blue,” you continue, scared to lose the thought. You’re a professor of writing at a top university, you should be able to express yourself more fluently. But your words seem to escape you before you can capture them. “License 7-H-L.”

“Oh, my… the nurse looks around before grabbing a pen clipped to her scrubs and scribbling the numbers onto a notepad beside you. “You’re a regular detective!”

“Where’s Jimin?” You ask. You don’t know this new nurse, but at least you trust Jimin.

“Oh, his shift ended,” she replies. “He’ll be back tonight! In the meantime, can you tell me how you feel?”

“I’m… dizzy. My heart…” You can hear it pounding hard in your ears, far too quickly, and leaving you lightheaded. Your whole body hurts, centralized in your leg and chest, far worse than last night.

“Your blood pressure must have gone back to normal, let me get that saline off for you. How’s the pain? Your morphine should have worn off by now.”

You wince. “Bad.”

“Okay, I’ll adjust that.” The nurse fiddles with your IV before turning back to you. “I think your mother will be here soon. In the meantime, is there anything I can do for you?”

“Actually… can you tell her not to come?” A wave of guilt tries to wash over you, but it’s overpowered by the darkness already inside. “I just want to sleep today. She shouldn’t bother.” You pause. “I don’t want any visitors.” “Ah- sure thing, whatever you’d like,” the nurse chirps hesitantly. “Oh, and… what happened to your hair?”

“What do you mean?”

The nurse points. “You’re missing a chunk of hair, I’m guessing from the accident. Hey, maybe when you get out you can try a new style!”

“Yeah, maybe.” You lay back down and stare at the ceiling, wishing only that it would fall apart and crush you. What’s the point of anything without Taehyung? But… what about your students, your classes?

The day passes in a blur, and your intermittent napping keeps you barely aware of your surroundings. You don’t dream of the crash again – it’s a blessing, but at the same time you wish you could remember the rest of the license plate. You finally awaken for real once dusk has settled on the hospital.

You press the button, and immediately Jimin is in your room. “What can I do for you, Y/n?”

You take a deep breath. “Can you please bring me a pad of paper and a pencil?” You were a teenager when your father passed away, and writing was the only thing that saved you then. Perhaps it will be your healing salve now.

“Sure, there’s paper right-” Jimin pauses beside your bed before handing you the pad of paper. “Here, sorry. And you can use one of my pens. How are you feeling?”

“Groggy,” you reply. You’re surprised by how weak your grip on the pencil feels. “Numb. It hurts, but…”

“I’ll make a note for the doctor. Don’t worry, I promised your mom that I’d help you get better. Your lung should be healing soon,” Jimin says. “But I need to change the bandages on your chest tube, if that’s okay?” “Yeah.” You forgot it was there, the clear tube coming out of your chest. It’s held in place with bandages, which Jimin carefully removes before cleaning off your skin and placing new ones down. He’s wearing a silver locket that you’ve never noticed before. It suits him, shining against his skin.

“Thank you,” you say as he finishes taking your vitals. 

“I’m happy to help.”

The next week passes in a blur; between crying fits for Taehyung, assuring your mother that you’re alright, scribbling down everything on your mind, and forcing yourself to sleep simply to avoid the reality of waking hours, you barely have a second to consider your own healing process.

It isn’t until Dr. Greene beams at you that you register: physically, you’re feeling a lot better, and after a week of bed rest and god awful depression, you’re ready to try hobbling around. 

“Looks like you might actually get out a few days early,” Dr. Greene says. “We’ll be able to remove that chest tube tonight.” Beside you, your mother begins crying with relief. 

“Wonderful.” It’s still hard to smile, but you manage a weak attempt. Later that day, you hear a bit of commotion in the hallway, and soon the nurse brings in a huge basket of cards, flowers, and stuffed animals.

“Woah… what’s all this?” With effort, you sit up and take the offered basket. The sweet smell of the flowers is a welcome change to the cold sanitation of the hospital. 

“From your students!” The nurse says happily. “Some even sent you books!”

“Aww, they’re sweet.” You flip through one of the books and notice that all your advisees have signed the title page and scribbled well-wishes in the margins of the chapters. Their kindness and love sparks your first real smile since the accident.

You spend the day reading, counting down the hours until your chest tube is removed. When you’re finally wheeled to the OR and numbed up so they can sew the hole in your chest shut, you feel relief. Your leg is still in a cast, but at least your body is fighting for you. 

That night, you’re drifting off to sleep when you feel a painful tugging on your chest, right where your stitches are. “Mm?” You blink sleepily and see Jimin’s silhouette standing over you.

“Ah, Y/n. I’m sanitizing your wound so it heals well, don’t mind me. How are you feeling?”

“I’m a little sore,” you reply honestly. “It’s not too bad, though.” “Let me fix that for you.” You can see Jimin’s dark figure change something on your IV. “That’ll help you feel better.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, feeling sleep begin to overtake you.

“It’s my pleasure, Y/n.” That night, your dreams are choppy and chaotic. At one point, you dream that your body is on fire; at another, you’re back in the accident but instead of Taehyung, it’s Jimin. The sun has barely risen before you bolt upwards. “Gah!” Your throat is burning, dry, painful – it feels like you’ve swallowed sand.

It must be extra early, because Jimin is still there. He rushes to your bedside. “Y/n? What’s wrong?”

“I- who are you? I need… water…” you croak, your vision swimming before you. You don’t know who this man is, and you don’t know where you are. You can vaguely feel yourself falling backwards.

“Okay, let me get you some- wait, Y/n!”

~~~

You awaken with Jimin, Dr. Greene, and another nurse standing over you. Packed in bed beside you are several ice packs. Even so, you feel your body sweating. 

“What… happened?” You manage. Your tongue feels thick in your mouth.

“You woke up with a bad fever. It’s lucky Jimin thought fast and worked to cool you down.” Dr. Greene said. “We’ll have to keep you monitored for longer than we anticipated.”

“W-Why do I have a fever?”

Dr. Greene’s brows knit together. “I… I’m not sure. We’ll keep an eye on you for the next couple of days and see if anything changes.”

Your fever goes up and down throughout the day, occasionally spiking dangerously enough that the monitors around you begin to beep in alarm. Around noon, Jimin comes in with water and a bottle of pills. He’s wearing a lopsided Santa hat along with his scrubs.

“Merry almost-Christmas. Here, take two for the fever.”

“What are you doing here?” You ask weakly. Even in your fever-addled mind, you remember he only comes at night.

“My shift changed. You need more urgent care anyways, and I volunteered.”

You swallow down the pills and nod. “Thanks.”

“Your bruises have improved,” Jimin observes, lightly touching your face.

“I guess. Fuck.” You feel the sudden urge to douse yourself in cold water. “I just want to get out of here.”

Jimin is quiet for a moment. “Have they found the car that hit you?”

“How would I know?” You feel a wave of dizziness hit you, likely brought on by a heartbeat that never seems to slow down. “Jimin, please…” Save me.

“We’ll see how you’re doing tomorrow,” Jimin says. “For now, you should stay awake. What’s your favorite color?”

“Uh, green.”

“Favorite food?” You can barely think. “Sushi.”

Jimin grins. “Favorite neighbor?”

You try to summon a chuckle. “Whichever one is saving my life.”

“Fantastic. I’ll see you later tonight. Your mother should be in here soon – let me adjust your pain meds, we kept you off of them from the fever but they might just help.”

The night feels eternal; you can’t sleep a wink, and your mother stays with you the whole night. Your fever continues to climb and although at first your breathing is rapid to cool you down, by the time the sun rises it feels as though your lungs have stopped working entirely. You don’t know if that’s normal for a fever.

“Doctor!” Your mother calls for what feels like the thousandth time. 

Dr. Greene hurries into the room, Jimin right behind her. “Is it her fever?”

“No, it’s…” Your mother points wordlessly at your hands. You can’t see what she’s talking about, but when you raise your hands you see your fingertips are blue. You can’t think. You can’t breathe. You don’t care. Everything is fuzzy, so fuzzy… the monitors are beeping again, but you can barely hear them. You’re gasping for air now, choking on nothing. You can’t breathe.

“Doctor Greene,” Jimin says loudly, “I think she’s overdosing.”

“Lord, you may be right. Get the Narcan!”

Jimin darts out of the room and returns just as your eyes begin to flutter closed. Taehyung… 

~~~

There’s a cliff. Taehyung is there, you know it. You just need to jump. The moment you start walking, though, it’s almost as if you’re being pulled away from the edge. No! You open your eyes. Has it been minutes? Days?

“Dear god,” your mother says breathlessly. “She’s awake.”

“How on earth…?” Dr. Greene wonders, wiping her forehead. “Jimin, props to you for your quick thinking. But an overdose? How?”

“Doctor, it’s possible that with her weakness and weight loss, plus the fact that we held off the morphine for several days, an average dose might have caused her to OD.” Jimin suggests. His voice seems to carry more authority than even Dr. Greene’s.

“Yes, perhaps… but the fever?”

“Hm…” Jimin reaches forward and prods at the stitches on your chest. You immediately flinch, your raspy voice yelping in pain. “An infection. Possibly blood poisoning.”

“You know, you really might be right,” Dr. Greene says thoughtfully. “It’s not impossible. Okay, we’ll start you on an antibacterial and switch to lower-grade painkillers.” With this note, Dr. Greene and Jimin file out, leaving you with your mother.

“Momma, did you ever find the car?” You ask, gripping her hand urgently. The owner of that car killed your husband; you want them brought to justice.

“No, sweetie, I’m sorry.”

“What about the license plate?”

“Well, none of the witnesses saw it-”

“No,” you shake your head. “I- the nurse wrote it down. On…” you point to the notepad beside you. “The first page.”

Your mother picks up the abused pad of paper, filled with random journal entries and doodles, and flips to the front. “Y/n, there’s nothing here. It’s blank. Maybe you dreamed it?”

“What? No.” You’re sure that the nurse wrote it down for you. “Check on the floor.”

After a brief but thorough search, the paper doesn’t turn up. What had happened? You can’t possibly remember the partial plate now. Shit. And even so, it was a literal fever dream – you could have made the numbers up.

“Y/n, I’m going to go for an early Christmas dinner at Aunt Ella’s, but I’ll be back tomorrow morning, okay?” 

“Sure, mom.” She’s barely slept, after all. 

The next several days pass and you gradually begin to recover. The lab tests confirmed your blood poisoning, and you feel more grateful than ever that Jimin managed to catch it early – it could have killed you. It’s now been more than two weeks since the accident, and finally the doctor tells you that you’ll be ready to go home soon. As Christmas approaches, you’ve heard holiday music float through the air and bows and wreaths appear in your hospital room and down the hall. Even with the holiday cheer, the loss of the license plate weighs heavy on your mind.

“Merry Christmas Eve! Time to get up and try walking around!” The afternoon nurse says cheerfully as she helps you out of bed. With your heavy green cast making your leg feel detached, you clunk around while holding the nurse’s arm. You near the window, which overlooks a parking lot decorated with dirty snow, and gaze down onto the cars. Can you ever feel safe in a car again?

“Which one’s yours?” You ask the nurse absentmindedly, suddenly struck by another bolt of grief. Her life is normal. She has a car and goes to work.

“That white one right there next to the blue Prius,” she replies, pointing. You mindlessly follow her finger, when suddenly –

Blue. You clutch at your chest and stumble backwards, nearly falling if she hadn’t caught you. “That’s…” No, it can’t be. But in your heart and deep, deep in your memory… “Can you read the plate number on that blue car next to yours?”

“Uh, it’s a little too far away,” she replies, squinting. “I think it’s Jimin,’s though, I always see him pulling in just as my shift is over.”

Jimin. “Does it look dented at all?” You manage. “His car?”

“Ah… a little? I’m not sure.”

Jimin does have a blue Prius, you know that from seeing it in his driveway every day. So why, today, did the thought strike you so violently?

“You know, I think I’m tired. I’m going to lay down.”

“Oh, okay. Do you want some water or to go to the bathroom?”

“No. I just want to be alone.”

“Okay.” The nurse looks worried, but leaves you settled back in your bed. Night falls quickly and you hear a knock on the door. Jimin lets himself in, a bottle of pills in his hand.

“Hey, I heard you’ll be getting discharged soon,” he says cheerfully. He’s still wearing the Santa hat.

Blue. “Yeah, hopefully.”

“Awesome. Well, you need to take these,” he says, shaking two pills from the bottle in his hand and handing them to you.”

“What are they for?”

“They’ll help you sleep and let your blood vessels dilate to regulate your blood pressure.”

“Mm.” You wash them down with his offered water. Almost as soon as you swallow, you feel your body rebel against you – you lean over and vomit onto the floor. The smell makes you gag and you feel everything you’ve eaten come up a second time, the stomach acid burning your throat.

“What- what did you give-” you can’t finish your sentence as your stomach convulses again. Jimin rushes over to you with a bucket and you lean into it, retching. You continue dry heaving long after your body is completely emptied, while Jimin rubs your back reassuringly. “G-get the doctor,” you croak.

“Are you going to be okay alone-?” “Yes. Please, just…” your body shivers as he gets up and leaves. What did he give you? You’re doubtless that those pills caused your vomiting. Just the thought sends you back to your bucket, although you’ve no more left to give. 

“What on earth happened?” Dr. Greene says, rushing in. Jimin is close behind her.

“He gave me pills…” you gasp as your body tries to vomit again. The muscle contractions leave you feeling boneless. “They made me throw up.”

“You’ve got no known allergies on file…” Dr. Greene says, consulting a chart by your bed. “Jimin, what did you give her?”

Jimin produces a bottle clearly labelled DOXEPINE. “Just to help her sleep, she was asking for something earlier.”

Your heart drops. “That’s not-” you’re interrupted by another gagging fit. You want to scream at your body that there’s nothing left, but you can barely speak. “Not the same-” fuck.

“She must have a sensitivity to the Doxepine,” Dr. Greene says thoughtfully. “Jimin, make sure she stays hydrated. If she keeps throwing up we’ll need to keep her longer for observation.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Ngh… no…” Dr. Greene leaves before you can tell her that that wasn’t the same pill bottle.

“Here, drink this,” Jimin says, offering you a bottle of water.

“What did you give to me?” You ask, panting. As soon as the water touches your tongue you reach for the bucket, your body rejecting it immediately.

Jimin blinks innocently. “Sleeping pills.”

“Fuck off, that wasn’t the… same bottle.”

“Y/n, you’re sick and grieving, it’s understandable that your eyes are playing tricks on you-”

“No. You… poisoned me!” You summon what strength you have left and swipe at the nurse, who’s now leaning over you. Your fingers catch the silver chain around his neck, and the motion knocks the locket open.

Fluttering out of the locket and onto your bandaged chest is… hair?

No, not hair. Your hair. The color, and texture… it’s exactly the same.

You’re missing a chunk of hair, I’m guessing from the accident, the nurse had said.

Not from the accident. Almost in slow motion, your eyes travel up to meet Jimin’s. 

“Y/n, you’re acting erratic.” As if nothing happened, he plucks your hair from the bed, tucks it back into the locket, and straightens his Santa hat. “I’ll have to tell the doctor to consider sedatives. Merry Christmas, Y/n.”

“No-” Your stomach contracts once more and by the time you look up, gasping for breath, he’s gone.

You spend another sleepless night in the hospital, growing more paranoid by the minute. You refuse to eat or drink anything you’re given – you’re still nauseous, and what if it’s full of sedatives? 

When dawn breaks on Christmas Day, you’ve never felt less cheer. You’re concerned about Jimin; the car is surely a coincidence, but the hair? And the pills?

“Y/n?” Dr. Greene knocks on the door. “Merry Christmas. How are you feeling?”

“I want to get out of here,” you respond immediately.

Dr. Greene smiles. “We’ll see how you do moving around today. How’s your nausea?” 

“Better,” you lie. Anything to leave. You can handle nausea at home.

“Wonderful. Well, Nurse Jimin will be taking care of you today, since your other nurses are off duty. Press the button if you need anything.”

You nod, shivering. Should you tell Dr. Greene? Before you can consider it, though, she’s left the room.

Hours later, Jimin pops his head in, his Santa hat crooked. The locket is still swinging from his neck. 

“Hey! Dr. Greene said if you’re doing well by the end of the day, you might be discharged for tomorrow!”

You stare at him. Can he really pretend nothing is wrong? “Great.”

“Let’s get you up and walking around.” Jimin offers you his arm. At first you don’t want to take it, but your legs are too weak on your own. He slowly leads you out of your room and down the hall before circling back. You pass another window overlooking the parking lot and there, in the same spot, is the blue car. From this window, you can see much better.

“Which car’s yours?” you ask quietly.

“That blue Prius next to the white one,” he says cheerfully, pointing.

Finally, when you squint you can read the license plate: 7HLC946.

7HL. Your body stiffens. It’s the same car. Then, that means… you swivel slowly until you’re staring at Jimin, who’s still looking out of the window. He killed your husband.

He leads you back to your room. You feel frozen, and not from the wintertime. When you go inside, you hear a soft click. Your eyes widen. He locked the door.

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly from behind you.

“F-fine. Perfect,” you reply, your voice shaking.

“You know, you really have to stop getting yourself in trouble,” he says, strolling to the bed and smoothing down your sheets. Your eyes dart to the locked door. If you made a break for it with your cast, he could still beat you to it. “Every time you’re supposed to get discharged, something happens, and then who has to save you?”

“I’ve recovered,” you say firmly. Is it an ego thing? He wants credit for doing his job?

“Before, you always had your husband to save you,” Jimin says, standing. His eyes are drilling holes into you. “Do you know why he’d always see you off at the door?”

“Wh-what are you talking about?” “It’s so I couldn’t even look at you. He was always around, but not this time. And this time it was me that saved your life.” Jimin is advancing now, still smiling serenely. Your heart pounding, you back away, your cast clunking against the floor. 

“It was you,” you whisper when your back hits the window. “Your car. You hit us.”

“Almost gave me a heart attack when I saw you remembered my plate,” he says now, examining his nails. “Lucky I saw it before your mother did. How is she, by the way?”

“You… you killed my husband!” Your scream is more animal than human when it rips from your throat. You’re fully prepared to leap at Jimin and take the life he took from Taehyung when he pulls out a syringe.

“Shhh…” he says, stepping forward. “What did I say about sedation?”

Your blood runs cold. You don’t want to know what’s in the syringe, or what he’d do to you if he injected you with it.

Caught between him and the window, you freeze. You have to get away from him. You turn around and swing your heavy cast at the window. 

With a painful CRASH, the glass shatters. Shards fly everywhere, several of them catching and slicing your skin. You hear commotion outside and below as you shoot for the window and try to grab onto the windowsill. You nearly sob when the glass in your grip breaks off the windowsill. Almost… just like your dream of the cliff, though, you’re dragged back from the escape. Jimin locks one arm around your neck and pulls you away from the window.

You feel a sharp prick in your arm and, seconds later, your muscles seem to melt. If Jimin weren’t supporting your weight you would have fallen. Shit. What did he do to you?

“It’s for your own good, my love,” he says, carrying you to the bed and tucking the blankets in around you. Your tongue feels too heavy for your mouth; you can’t speak, and you can barely move your arms. 

There’s a loud banging on the door. “Y/n! Are you alright?”

“One second,”Jimin says to you before striding to the door and opening it.

“Jimin! What happened?” The voice belongs to a doctor you don’t recognize.

“Hey, Dr. Kim. Y/n started being combative and went for the window. Luckily, I got her calmed down and back into bed.”

Help. Your vocal chords won’t respond to you. “Hhe…”

“Goodness. We should get her moved out while the window is being repaired.” “I agree, but she did just fall asleep and she hasn’t slept in a while. I suggest giving her an hour.”

“Alright, well, please keep an eye on her.”

“Sure thing, Doctor.” Jimin shuts the door and locks eyes with you. 

“I’ve waited for you for a while, you know,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed. His position pins down your left arm, but your right is still free. If only you could move it. “You never got sick, or hurt. I checked. You never even came to visit.” Jimin continues smiling, but his eyes are cold. “That wasn’t very nice. It’s your fault that I had to make you come visit.”

“Stuh… you,” you gasp, forcing your head to clear. “Psy…” Let me go, you want to scream. You’re straining with the effort just to lift your head.

“I know, I know, why didn’t I just talk to you at your house? Well, your guardian was always there. But here, I’m in control. And I’m the one that can save you.”

You can sense feeling returning to your arms. If he keeps talking, it might give you more time to recover from your paralysis. Luckily, Jimin seems so relieved that he can finally tell you everything that he doesn’t seem close to shutting up. 

“Do you know how many times your mother has thanked me for saving your life? How Dr. Greene said I was her favorite nurse?” Jimin caresses your cheek, becoming more animated as he speaks. “Even you, Y/n, you called me your angel.”

You try to bite him when his hand gets close, but your jaw muscles are slack. C’mon… 

“And you’re right, I am your angel. I’m your guardian angel, and I’ll always keep you safe.” You can almost lift your hand. At his words, he leans in to kiss your forehead and with enormous effort, you use the same moment to lift and swipe your bloody hand, still gripping the jagged glass from the window, at him. The glass catches Jimin right in the neck and he gasps and sputters, pressing a hand to his throat as bright red blood gushes from the wound, spattering you and staining the bed. Meanwhile, you collapse, your strength entirely spent.

Jimin staggers upright, hand outstretched towards you. When he tries to speak, his voice is a mere gurgle.

“Y/n- you… no…” with that, he falls to the floor. You see him try and fail to rise again before Jimin sighs and is still at last.

How did you wind up here? 

As you slump back into your bed, with him lying on the floor next to you, a hazy thought informs you that it must look like a scene straight out of Romeo and Juliet.

Although, you think ruefully, glancing down at the sharp shard of glass clenched in your fits, I don’t think Juliet would have done this.

“Merry fucking Christmas.”

[7spaceace7]

Ego Holiday Headcanons

Haven’t decided if I’ll make more after this, but here’s some festive headcanons for the Septic boys! (tagging as Yuletube for my submission for the past two missed days, hope that’s alright!)

Henrik Von Schneeplestein

-The host of the Septic Ego Holiday Celebration (est. 2017)

-STRESSED

-If he wasn’t stressed enough by being a doctor (and parent lmao), HE IS NOW

-Getting all the egos together for the holidays and making sure they DON’T kill each other?? Someone give this man an award

-Everyone keeping their limbs would be his only Christmas wish

-He does not get said Christmas wish (see: Robbie)

-Switches up his black coffee for coffee with peppermint creamer

-Chase eventually hooks him on peppermint tea instead, he knows the Doc needs sleep

-Can be found humming along to the Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy as he cooks holiday dinner

-Definitely has a “kiss the cook” apron

-Chase crossed out the “the” on it with “zhe” in sharpie

-Day 5, Schneep still hasn’t noticed

-Loves it, but still wears his doctor coat on top of it

-Gets very cold easily, so the fire is always burning

-Has a nutcracker collection

-It’s getting out of hand

Chase Brody

-Holidays are,,, hard for him

-Still sends his kids cards and presents, never actually knowing if they get them or not

-They do, I promise

-Wasn’t originally keen on celebrating with everyone, he has a tendency to self-isolate

-But once he gets there, he’s glad he did

-IMMEDIATELY tackled in a hug from Jackie

-”YOU’RE HERE!! Couldn’t start without you, dude!”

-Everyone else smiles and gives the appropriate hug

-(Anti does not, but no eye roll this time at least)

-Absolutely loves warm apple cider and has a good recipe to make his own

-Favorite Christmas movie is Elf, no I do not take criticism

-Has a soft spot for Mickey’s Once Upon A Christmas though because of his kids

-Holiday puns, you CANNOT get this man to shut up with the puns

- “Where’s Anti?” “Up to SNOW good! There’s SNOW way we can REIN him in now!”

-Once it snows, this boy is sledding down every hill in SIGHT

-Teaches Robbie how to catch snowflakes on his tongue

-Marvin makes him a “World’s Best Dad” sweater

-He totally cries and does not take it off the rest of the season

Jackieboy Man

-Christmas is his favorite holiday

-Good luck getting him to sit still around this time

-Has super strength, so he doesn’t quite have the same “don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself” factor that everyone else does??

-Nearly giving Henrik a heart attack everytime he moves, but make it Festive™

-”Guys it’s snowing!!” “JACKIE GET ZHE FAHK OFF ZHE RAILING”

-Slides down the stairs anyway

-Marvin made him a whole ass “ugly supersuit” instead of just a sweater

-It is a w f u l, but on purpose

-Ofc Jackie adores the shit out of it

-Loves snowball fights!

-Always gets targeted by Anti tho

-Eventually it turns into a snowball war

-Pulls Chase over to tag team him, then discovers Marvin has an alliance with Anti

-They will be here a while

-Time to break out the reindeer-themed boxers

-They go along perfectly with his red and blue sweater-suit

-Eventually able to settle down when it gets dark out, bonus points if there’s hot chocolate involved (courtesy of JJ)

-Don’t forget the marshmallows

-Wants to help everybody out with their plans, always does his best

-Even if his best includes falling off a roof

Marvin the Magnificent

-Made everyone sweaters, even Anti

-Spent too much time on the design parts to make em perfect, so he had to rush getting them all sewn

-Uses his magic to sew like three at once

-December 1st, 12:00am is when the Christmas music starts

-Mariah Carey impressions that slowly get higher as the month goes on

-Performs a “Let It Go” rendition that could rival Idina’s during christmas karaoke night

-Switches his regular mask for his holiday one with snowflakes instead of card suits on it

-The decorating master, with JJ as his apprentice

-Favorite part is designing for the lights outside

-Learned a spell to make it look like it’s snowing inside

-Forgot to learn the spell to make it stop snowing inside

-Ended up just sticking with those paper snowflakes dangling on the ceiling

-Asks Jackie for help with the lights on the roof, not because he can’t easily do it himself, he just knows that Jackie likes to help and this is the one thing he knows he can’t break

-Did not expect Jackie to break himself by falling off the roof instead

-Ends up finishing the lights with his magic anyway (after he untangles his boyfriend from the lights, that is)

-Can and will destroy Jackie during snowball fights just because he can

Jameson Jackson

-THIS BOY oh this boy

-Brings out the classic holiday music and sets it up on the gramophone

-LOVES making up dances to the music

-May be a classic boy, but his guilty pleasure is Michael Buble

-(Robbie calls him bubbles whenever he comes on)

-Goes ALL OUT with the holiday baking

-Cookies of all kinds, homemade gingerbread for the houses, so many pies, even learns how to bake his own bread

-Everyone agrees that his pumpkin bread is the best

-Anti especially loves the cherry pie for “aesthetic purposes”

-Has a whole “Twas the Night Before Christmas” puppet show routine

-His job is making the decorations while Marvin sets them all up, it’s a great dynamic

-Definitely makes those traditional popcorn garlands for the tree

-for some reason puts an orange in his stocking?? The others are confused, but he’s so excited so they just let him do his thing

-Now everyone has oranges in their stockings

-They still don’t know what it means

Antisepticeye

-Die Hard is a Christmas movie, dammit!

- “Grinch Bitch” is what his sweater from Marvin says

-Secretly likes it, but fuck off

-Wears it to sleep every night in Winter

-You know that thing where cats get under Christmas trees and swat at the ornaments? Yeah that’s him

-Loves the white elephant gift game

-Ends up getting a present and it’s a turtle

-His name is knives

-KING OF SNOWBALL FIGHTS

-Fills his snowballs with fake blood so they explode on people

- (at least we hope its fake)

-If it doesn’t snow enough, he is the bitch who throws water balloons instead

-Henrik still has work leading up to Christmas, so Anti listens to him rant when he gets home

-Christmas patients are fuckin crazy and he loves it

-One time fell asleep and woke up with a red nose and antlers

-Chase was never safe after that

-Kept the antlers though, they jingle

-Saved them all from Chase’s puns that day

- “Where’s Anti?” *distant, staticky jingling* “Ah there he is”

Robbie the Zombie

-LIGHTS...pretty lights…

-He loves the lights, and will try to eat them if you’re not careful

-Says they’re static candy

-Doesn’t get cold because he can’t feel it, so he often wanders around in the snow

-One time he came home without his left foot and Schneep nearly had a heart attack

-Turns out it froze in the snow and snapped off his leg

-The Great Foot Search Party of 2020

-Please don’t forget to bundle this boy up before going out

-Anti has knitted him a hat and scarf for just this reason

-Henrik was the Proudest Dad that day

-Totally gets to put the star on the Christmas tree every year

-Marvin levitates him high enough

-Favorite holiday movie is The Polar Express

-One time JJ came out with his signature hot cocoa during the movie scene and Robbie was THRILLED

-Talking almost knocked him over thrilled

-Tries to sing along to holiday music, the lyrics don’t work out much

-Really good at keeping a beat though

-Marvin made him a sweater with bells on it

-Adores the bells, flaps the too long sleeves to make them jingle

Shawn Flynn

-Likes Christmas, but like lowkey

-He’s a toymaker!!! He makes adorable toys for all the egos as their presents from him!!

-Didn’t really have a family to go back to in his days at Joey Drew Studios, so he was used to spending Christmas alone, usually working

-NOT ANYMORE!

-Now he has Too Much Family (but in the good way)

-Absolutely gets nicknamed Scrooge at first, probably because he really likes A Christmas Carol and he’s a grump

-Often can be found being pulled off to dance by the gramophone with JJ

-He’s got two left feet, but JJ doesn’t really care

-If anyone still believes in Santa, even just a little bit, it’s because of him

-Has a giant red sack that he fills up with toys he’s made and/or the ones no one could sell back at the studios and donates them to orphanages

-Usually sticks to his old timey clothes, but when he does wear modern Christmas attire like the sweaters, he has,,,no idea how to match things

-It’s ‘cause he’s red/green colorblind

-once asked why Marvin had “yellow” hair

-JJ makes sure that his decorations have lots of blues so it’s not so much strain on his eyes

[honeymoonjin]

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: cursing, mentions of explicit sexual content, mentions of blood. the results of the fan favourite vote poll are at the end of this chapter.

banner designer @jamaisjoons​ | thank you sfhs babies i love you 3000

ELIMINATION

On the seventh Day of every Week in the game, Y/n’s elimination vote is released for 48 hours following the post of the fic. Please note, this is NOT the Fan Favourite vote, which has already happened.

Vote closed. Thank you for participating!

DAY FOURTEEN

There’s something exciting and indulgent about sitting apart from Taehyung and Jimin, yet sharing secret glances and muffled smiles.

You’d had to leave Taehyung’s room at different times, you and Jimin sneaking back to your respective rooms to change out of his clothes so it didn’t look odd.

As the eight of you gather in the lounge, sleepily curled up with mugs of coffee or lying back against the couch for a few more moments of peace, the familiar faces of the others send a pang of guilt through you. Like you were lying to them. Omission is a type of lie, you suppose, but you try and smother the feeling. You’re allowed to be selfish.

Especially when it made Taehyung and Jimin look so happy.

Taehyung, who was almost always cheerful much like the puppy you saw last night, now looks like he can’t even contain it, his toes wiggling and eyes gleaming. Jimin, who on the other hand tended to be a little stiff and wary during these meetings, seemed more at ease than he’s ever been in front of everyone.

Could the others really blame you for wanting to see them happy?

You bite down hard on your tongue as Sejin arrives, the final piece in the puzzle. Maybe they could. You count your lucky blessings you don’t have to pick a favourite as well as someone to eliminate. Staying objective and making a decision tomorrow would be hard enough.

“Are we all ready?” Sejin checks, consulting with his watch to ensure it was in fact nine on the dot.

Catching everyone off guard, it’s Jungkook that speaks up, sitting beside you with crossed legs. “Ready, PD!”

The rest of you go still for a moment of surprised silence. When was the last time Jungkook had sounded that chipper? You’d found it strange when, being only the third one downstairs after you and Jin, Jungkook had neglected the last empty couch in favour of sitting beside you. Still half asleep, he’d exchanged pleasantries and basically face-planted into a cup of hot chocolate, inhaling the steam like his life depended on it.

Now, though, he seems more alert than most of you, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as he waited for the meeting to start.

As you glance around, everyone seems equally shocked and relieved, except Jin, who just smiles quietly. You send the eldest a questioning gaze, but he just shrugs.

“Alright, today we just need to cover the prompts, Y/n’s Bangasm Bomb, and then we’ll finish off with the audience vote for fan favourite. Sound good?”

At the mention of fan favourite, Jungkook straightens up, knee jiggling. Your heart goes out to him. Not only had he had a rough time lately, but he put so much effort in to his prompt, and you can’t help but hope he gets it. He could use some cheering up, though he seemed cheerful again all on his own. “I’ll cross my fingers for you, Doctor Jeon,” you promise with a soft smile.

He glances back at you, eyes glittering. “You will?”

“Of course.” Out of the corner of your vision, you feel two sets of eyes on you. “You did well.”

He wrings his hands, gaze dropping. “I wasn’t even top three last week.”

You shrug lightly. “Then you’ll be most improved.”

When he grins, teeth poking out cutely, your shoulders drop in relief. “If I win, I’ll take you somewhere really fun, I promise!”

“Alright,” Sejin cuts in, breaking off your conversation, “our theme was dynamics and roleplay. Just like with last week, we’ll go through each of the guys and get Y/n to guess. Should be pretty easy. And we’ll see if anyone will be taking over the bunkrooms. Namjoon and Hoseok, you’ll be returning to your rooms tonight unless you failed your prompt again.”

Namjoon and Hoseok, squished up on either side of Taehyung, lean over him to high-five after the older one cheers.

“I’ll miss it,” Hoseok confesses, “but I missed my own bed even more. Namjoon; you’re welcome for a sleepover anytime.”

“A sleepover sounds fun,” Taehyung answers quietly, but Hoseok trills and cups his cheeks, inviting him too.

Across the other side, to the left of Jin and Yoongi, Jimin stiffens and instinctively sends you a look of uncertainty. Your lips part, but of course you can’t say anything in front of everyone.

Instead, you give a minute shrug and lean back. Taehyung had already spent the past two weeks being relatively free with his affections, and it seems unfair to get upset by it now. Especially when you were still having sex with other people.

Like a bucket of cold water down your back, the decision you made last night comes into clarity. You couldn’t go out on dates. You couldn’t really kiss or hold hands in front of the others lest they find out. And you couldn’t even be faithful to them. What exactly made declaring your feelings and choosing to be together any different from how you were before?

Before you get too deep into your thoughts, you notice the room has gone silent, everyone staring at you. “Hm? Sorry?”

Sejin’s pointing to Jin expectantly. “Could you state your guess for what Seokjin’s prompt was, Y/n?”

Jin’s face is weirdly unreadable, eyes not really focusing on yours. You struggle to process enough to recall the answer. “Um, poolboy.”

Jin remains silent, making Sejin cough awkwardly. “Yes, poolboy and client was his prompt. Congratulations, Seokjin, you didn’t explicitly tell Y/n your prompt and successfully completed it.”

On the other side of the room, Taehyung’s eyes fly wide, before his shoulders slump, blushing as Hoseok quietly teases him.

“Yoongi?”

You clear your throat, feeling weirdly strung-out, like your attention is in a million places at once. Get through the meeting, then you can chat with Min and Tae. Just stay focussed. “Yoongi was, like, an animal?”

“Predator and prey,” Yoongi explains smoothly, finally starting to look a little less zombie-like. “And I made sure we were in view of the cameras outside. The ones by the gazebo.”

Sejin nods, choosing to sit on the coffee table instead of just standing in front of you all. “Right. Congratulations, Yoongi, you also successfully completed your prompt within the rules. Jimin’s one?”

You’re pretty sure every person in this room could guess his without a second thought. “Stripper.”

Jimin blows you a teasing kiss with a wink, and you try not to look too endeared, heart leaping at the soft look that hides behind his flirty act. “I hope you all enjoyed the show.”

Beside you, Jungkook goes oddly stiff, face falling. But before you can ask him about it, he’s taking a deep breath and putting on a smile again, albeit a smaller one. You frown as Sejin congratulates Jimin before turning to your couch and indicating it’s Jungkook’s turn.

“Doctor and patient,” you hear yourself answer easily, but you find yourself still worried about him, remembering what he said about Jimin yesterday. Maybe he wasn’t as cheery as he was making himself seem today.

A similar look of worry flickers across Jimin’s face at Jungkook’s odd response, and you decide that once the meeting is done, you’ll ask Jungkook about it. Maybe get him to talk to you privately, or everyone so you’re all on the same page. Anything so that you can resolve the strange upset Jungkook seems to have.

“...his prompt. Now, Namjoon?”

“Husband and wife,” you offer up reflexively, grateful of the warm albeit shy smile Namjoon sends you in response.

“Now, Namjoon and Y/n, I’m aware you spent a significant amount of time together in the rec room. Of course, you can retain your privacy, but I do need to ask if Namjoon explicitly told Y/n his prompt in there.”

Looking like a teacher’s pet being told off, Namjoon’s eyes go wide. “I didn’t!”

Sejin lets out a quick laugh, holding a calming hand up. “That’s fine, that’s all I needed. Congratulations, Namjoon, you’re out of the bunkrooms.”

Taehyung looks nervous when Sejin’s stare rests on him. His eyes keep darting around to the other men like he’s waiting for their reactions. When Sejin asks you to guess the prompt, you hesitate. Something about how uncomfortable he looks gives you pause. “She doesn’t have to guess,” Taehyung offers up, “and you don’t have to say it. I already know I lost.”

Sejin gives him a look of sympathy. “The editing team did catch you telling Y/n directly which means you’ll have to stay in the bunks for next week, but unfortunately the nature of these meetings does require each prompt to be revealed to the group.”

You can see the puppy behind Taehyung’s eyes as he rounds them, pouting up at Sejin. “Really?”

“We don’t have to give details,” Sejin offers up shortly. “And none of these prompts will ever be things anyone has on their hard limits list, so please don’t think anyone hear will be in any position to judge it.”

This seems to ease Taehyung’s worry significantly. “Pet and owner,” Taehyung offers up shortly. “And I lost because I told Y/n. Time for Hoseok.”

Even as your heart aches to jump up and go to him, Jimin also shifting in his seat restlessly, you see Hoseok quietly wrap a hand around Taehyung’s elbow and Namjoon rest his head tentatively on Tae’s shoulder. You settle back, forcing yourself to remember you and Jimin aren’t the only ones that care for Taehyung.

Sejin clears his throat and gestures to Hoseok. “Lucky last, I suppose. What’s your guess, Y/n?”

You think back to Monday night. Hoseok teasing you throughout the day and then tying you up at night in the prettiest ropes, feeling entirely under his control. You’d called him Master. “Master and sss….sub?”

Hoseok smiles sweetly, his voice honeyed. “Almost. You and Jungkook were my pretty little slaves, princess.”

In perfect synchronisation, the others turn their heads around to you and Jungkook, sharing a couch. “I remember now,” you state weakly as Jungkook shifts on his spot.

Sejin looks distinctly uncomfortable with the sudden turn, wincing at Hoseok. “Well, congratulations because you also successfully completed your prompt. Anyways, that’s that done, time for the Bangasm Bomb. As you all probably recall,” Sejin explains, sliding off his glasses and wiping the lenses with his shirt as he goes, “the requirement was that Y/n had to stay in a different bed every night otherwise she’d be in the bunkroom. Luckily, she managed to do so, so Taehyung is the only one required to stay there.”

Taehyung shrinks, bottom lip sticking out in disappointment and Jimin watches him, stricken. Against your better judgement, you call out to Sejin. “But are we able to voluntarily go there?”

Sejin shrugs. “Sure, you already did so once this week. No rules against it.”

Jimin brightens up, but before he can say anything, Hoseok’s cheering, jostling Tae’s side. “Guess the sleepover will be back in the bunkroom, Tae!” Across the side of the room, Jimin visibly holds back his irritation.

“Can we do the audience favourite now?” Jungkook pipes up in a hopeful voice.

“Oh, of course.” Sejin fumbles to slide his glasses back on, lenses still smudged at the bottom, and clears his throat dramatically. “Alright, so I’ll just say the top three again. Third place this week was Namjoon.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen comically as he croaks out a, “Really?”

“Ah, I’m so proud,” Hoseok croons, reaching across Taehyung to pat Namjoon’s knee enthusiastically. “Young grasshopper learnt well.”

Namjoon still seems in disbelief, letting out a stilted laugh. “Wow, I- Goodness, that’s so nice of them!”

Beside you, Jungkook’s practically vibrating with nervous energy. He wasn’t even in the top three last time, and you can tell he’s feeling the pressure. Yoongi seems unbothered, even as his eyes keenly focus on Sejin; Jin waits patiently, not looking like he’s expecting anything. Jimin’s more focused on Taehyung than the announcement, his eyes locked onto the boy that’s sandwiched between Namjoon and Hoseok as they celebrate. Hoseok looks relatively uncaring about the favourite, lips still spread in a heart-shaped grin at Namjoon’s victory like it’s his own.

“Second place,” Sejin continues, “was Jungkook.”

You hear and feel his reaction rather than see it. Hear the exhale as he sinks, a mix of relief and disappointment making his frame go lax on the couch. Leaning over, you send him a warm smile. “Good job, Kook, you did really well.”

“Who’s number one?” he asks instead, leaning forward with his legs tucked up under him.

Sejin gives a small smile. “The highest number of votes this week went to Yoongi.”

“Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook questions quietly, but it’s drowned out by Hoseok’s excited woop and chirpy laughter as Yoongi’s mouth drops open, doing a double take at the news.

“Are you serious?” Yoongi exclaims, a disbelieving grin spreading across his face as Jin rubs his shoulders and Jimin congratulates him lowly. “Holy shit, who would’ve guessed?” His eyes find you suddenly, brightening with realisation. “I get to take you out tonight,” he declares.

A shock of thrill runs through you at all the possibilities of some private time with the enigmatic doctor, but you can’t help but glance over, wary of Tae and Jimin’s reactions. Though Jimin just looks a little stiff, Taehyung’s eyes are on you, sullen. Rather than jealous, it seems more like he’s disappointed he couldn’t be the one to take you out. It’s a relief he isn’t mad, but it only increases the unsettled feeling in your heart. You, Taehyung and Jimin sorely needed to talk.

“Well, then,” Sejin interrupts, breaking you out of your daze, “that’s your Sunday meeting, I’ll see you all back here tomorrow for elimination.”

Like clockwork, the seven guys turn their heads to look at you, even as Sejin bids you farewell and leaves out the front door.

“Do you know who you’re voting out?” Jin asks with a complete lack of tact, an easy smile hiding the concern in his eyes.

You cough awkwardly. “I have no clue,” you answer honestly. “I’m just… trying not to think about it until I really have to, you know? I still don’t want to vote out any of you.”

“That reminds me,” Jin speaks up, though he states it awkwardly, almost sounding rehearsed, “I think we all need to have a group talk. Set some things straight.”

Jungkook recoils like the comment was directed at him, letting out a light huff. “Can’t this wait?”

Yoongi grimaces. “With all due respect, Jungkookie, I think it would be best to just have a chat now and sort this out. If the therapist thinks we need to talk, he’s probably right.”

“It’s not like it’s urgent,” the youngest rebutts, “let’s just do it some other time.”

Jin sucks in a breath. “We’re all sitting here now, Jungkook, and clearing the air. Unless you want to go back to feeling uncomfortable.”

Jungkook’s eyes cast towards the ceiling like he can’t believe he’s stuck here. “Oh my god! I already spoke to you, just pass it on!”

“You know I can’t do that, Jungkook,” Jin says calmly, even as his eyes flare in ire. “We want you to be happy, and I’m sure you’re not the only one that has been struggling, and if we-”

“If you want me to be happy, fucking let me leave, Jesus,” Jungkook swears, and you flinch when he suddenly stands, rushing away quickly. “I’ll come back when I’m done.”

“Done?” Jin asks, looking completely lost. “Goodness, that kid gets angry at everything these days.”

“A talk does sound really helpful, Jin-hyung,” Namjoon offers up. “If you want, we can hang around and wait for Jungkook.”

Jin lets out a light sigh, smiling gratefully. “I figure it’ll be good for us. Hopefully. I just worry about everyone, you know? Just because this is a reality show doesn’t mean we need to be always fighting and throwing drinks in people’s faces and stuff. We need to communicate like adults.”

Yoongi frowns. “You don’t need to take all that burden on yourself, hyung. I’m sure they didn’t teach you to handle this kind of situation in your training.”

Jin goes to reply, but the moment his mouth opens, words are cut off by a dual ding, two phones going off.

You glance over to where Taehyung and Namjoon both instinctively check their phones, faces falling almost simultaneously.

“Oh,” Taehyung says shortly, face falling. “I should’ve remembered.”

“What is it?” Jin asks with knitted brows.

“It’s his stream,” Namjoon explains guiltily, “he normally begins it earlier than this, so he was probably trying to leave so he could start.”

“Why didn’t he just-?” Jin exhales roughly, Yoongi’s hand falling to his shoulder to anchor him. “Whatever. He’s angry now, I guess, let’s just wait for him to finish and once he goes offline someone can text him and ask him to come down. Is everyone fine with that?”

Although no one protests, the air is significantly stiff with tension; Yoongi makes another round of coffees, Taehyung opens the stream and watches it with the volume turned muted, biting at his fingernail. It feels like such a departure from the same time last week, and being tuned in just feels even more invasive than last time.

“The people in the comments aren’t happy about him being late,” Taehyung notes nervously. “He looks upset.”

“I don’t think you should be watching,” Namjoon admits, shifting in his seat as he tries to avoid looking at the screen. “Doesn’t it feel strange to you?”

“I’m just making sure he’s okay,” Taehyung insists hollowly, eyes locked onto it. “He’s trying to touch himself but he’s not getting ha-”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Yoongi spits harshly, returning with four cups of coffee balanced precariously in his grip. “Watch it if you want, but respect that we’re choosing not to.”

Taehyung frowns, but doesn’t protest, returning silently to the screen. Alone on your couch, you take a cup of coffee from Yoongi’s outstretched hands and cradle the cup, feeling the warmth seep into your bones, your heart still as cold as if it were frozen in ice.

True to Yoongi’s command, Taehyung stays silent as he watches, and the entire room sits in uncomfortable quiet until, what can only be fifteen or twenty minutes later, Taehyung lets out a defeated sigh and locks his phone, setting it on the arm of the couch.

The implication is clear, and Jin sets his jaw, looking determined albeit regretful. “Okay, can someone text Jungkook? Let’s get this over with. Just remember it’s for the best.”

Though it seems like even Jin himself is unsure of that, everyone waiting in dread as Taehyung sends him a text, and he comes down the stairs a few minutes later, cheeks flexed with irritation.

You fight the urge to reach out to him when he collapses onto the couch beside you, hair messy but clean and in the same casual clothes as earlier. He seems restless and volatile, and you can’t help but wish the lot of you weren’t having this talk now, or wish you could just jump forward in time to when everyone was happy and alright again.

“Go on, then,” Jungkook starts, snapping the silence. His arms are crossed tightly and eyes piercing as they glare at Jin. “Start the group therapy.”

Though he’s been silent for a while now, Jimin lets out a tired groan. “Fucking hell, Jungkook, he’s trying to help you! Seeing you be upset makes us feel terrible.”

Jungkook stiffens, and you can just about feel the heat radiating off his body as he fires up. “Oh, I’m sorry, next time I’ll just be miserable in private!”

Jin looks stricken, rubbing at his temple. “Jungkook, you said you were going to try and seek out the things that made you happy.”

“And you said you weren’t going to reveal what I said to you in confidence,” Jungkook replies shortly, but before Jin can protest, he’s continuing, voice strained. “But- I do want to try and make things better. I’m sorry; I’m really stressed out and it’s frustrating not being able to leave this place. I thought if I got fan favourite I’d at least get a break.”

The rest of you fall silent for a moment. Your eyes sting, so you blink to ease the ache. “We understand. We want you to be happy. Can we all agree to try our best to just stay chill and talk this through?”

As the others nod, Jungkook scoots back like he’s trying to bury himself into the corner of the couch. “But talk what through? Do you not realise how shitty it feels having all of you sitting me down for an intervention right now? I don’t know whether to be offended or humiliated.”

Taehyung’s face crumples violently, like he’s about to cry. Hoseok, unusually solemn, clears his throat lightly as he pats Tae’s back. “JK, it’s not all of us gathering to dunk on you. I for one know that there are things I’d like to get off my chest. Things that bother me and stuff. I think if we all just front up to what we’re struggling with then we can work through these issues together. But it’s gotta be all of us. If we want to be happy here.”

Jin sends Hoseok a grateful look, sitting back in his seat when Jungkook begins nodding. “I can do that,” Jungkook agrees in a small voice. “Just… someone else can start.”

The concept of owning up about your feelings is clearly as paralysing to the others as it is to you. Everyone falls silent, looking around at each other’s faces and waiting for someone else to speak up. A thread of worry niggles in the back of your brain that Taehyung or Jimin would confess your closeness, bursting the bubble that was already so fragile.

In the end, it’s Yoongi that chooses to go first, heaving a great sigh to brace himself. “If I’m perfectly honest,” Yoongi admits, “I’m a little concerned that we’re going to be cornered into conflict no matter how much we avoid it. As nice as the producers are-” he pauses to glare at one of the cameras filming the interaction with an ‘I’m watching you’ gesture, “this is a reality show and reality shows are founded on drama. And look how much effort it took to get us to sit down and actually talk to each other? It would’ve been easier in some respects to just get angry and hateful and fight every other day, and I don’t think everyone is as aware of that as hyung and I are.”

Jungkook swallows. “I do worry about that, too,” he reveals. “I mean, not in the same way, but… If we wanted to, we could just all hate each other and only interact when we had to and then never speak again when we all leave. Which is weird because for now, we can’t go anywhere. We’re all gonna be really close and then we’ll just go our separate ways. And I don’t know what to do about it… If that makes sense.”

“But you did that exact same thing to us,” Jimin protests. “If you’re scared of us all acting like strangers then why push us away?”

Jungkook frowns stiffly. “That’s what you did at the start!”

“And it sucked,” Jimin retorts immediately. “It felt awful seeing everyone socialise and feeling like I had to stay out of it to protect myself. That’s why I’m not acting like a dick anymore.”

“Well, that’s up for debate,” Hoseok quips with a scoff.

Jimin sends him a withering glare, but Jungkook pays no mind to Hoseok’s remark, eyes still on the blue-haired man. “Everyone else was ignoring me anyway!” His voice is brittle, powered only by his frustration, and it feels like a pot ready to boil over. “Yoongi and Jin always do their own thing in the kitchen and never like me helping out, Namjoon and Hoseok have their whole teacher-student thing going on, and the only people my age are so up each other’s asses that they don’t even look at me half the time! Y/n has six other guys to sleep with so it’s not like I can even hang out with her that much. Everyone’s paired up and left me out of it but you all act like you haven’t. And then it’s all, ‘oh, why is Jungkook all grouchy?’ like I’m just making your lives difficult or something.”

Jimin winces. “We never tried to-”

“It doesn’t matter if you didn’t try to, you did! You and Tae fucking drool over each other all day long and even when I try and- and- talk to either of you, it’s clear that you’re just thinking about the other person.” Jungkook stands suddenly, whirling around to face Taehyung. “I thought that day in the confessional shed, Tae, when you said it wasn’t just Y/n… I thought you were talking about me. I thought we were having a moment, you know, and then it turns out it was just Jimin. It’s always Jimin.”

“Come on, that’s not fair,” Jimin cuts in, “he can’t help his feelings.”

Taehyung sends Jimin a confused look hastily before turning back to Jungkook. “Kookie, I’m really sorry. I don’t want to exclude you anymore. I’ll do better.”

“You shouldn’t have to apologise, Tae,” Jin pipes up tiredly, and a strangled cry comes from Jungkook’s throat, the boy almost hysterical.

“Why do you want so badly for no one to be on my side, Seokjin?”

“God, it isn’t about that-”

Jungkook seems borderline hysterical, bottom lip trembling violently as he points at the eldest. “Well, what is it about? You act so fucking high and mighty, Jin, yet you’re in the same fucking situation as me.”

Your eyes widen as Jungkook turns to you, knees almost bumping yours with how close he’s standing. Behind him, Jin makes a low noise of warning. “Don’t, Jungkook…”

Jungkook’s eyes are wild, two points of red on his cheeks. “Jin has feelings for you but he won’t say anything because he thinks you just see it as sex. And he has the fucking audacity to try and give me advice on my feelings for-”

“Jeon Jungkook!” Jin bellows, standing too. Beside him, Yoongi tugs at his wrist, but the eldest shakes it off. “You have no right to-”

You’ve had enough of sitting silently, wincing at Jin’s volume, the therapist so far from the pillar of emotional stability he usually was. “Just let him get it out, Jin, he’s frustrated.”

Jungkook scoffs even as Jin shakes his head in disapproval. “Are you serious?” Jungkook asks you incredulously. “I tell you Jin has feelings for you and you’re still trying to suck up to me?”

You reel back, brows knitted. “I’m defending you, Jungkook.”

“I don’t want you to fucking defend me, Y/n, I’ve had enough of you leading everyone on and then not returning anything. You have all the power here and you just toy with us and act all innocent.”

“What are you talking about?” you cry, throat aching with the effort it takes to keep your voice steady.

Jungkook’s eyes gleam, unshed tears reflecting the light. “Jin-hyung tries to be romantic and you tell him it’s just a scene to you, instead of just doing Namjoon’s prompt you take his virginity like it’s a 90s romcom, making it “special” for him. You want every one of us to fall for you so that you can get fawned over by seven hot guys, but you aren’t willing to take any of the responsibility that comes with it. You act like things are so hard for you having to choose, but you’re breaking our fucking hearts doing it!”

You open your mouth to retort, but a crashing wave of guilt overtakes you, and your cheeks are wet before you even realise you’re crying. Intentional or not, you rue all the times you complained about elimination, knowing that the guys must have been feeling so much worse. “I’m so sorry, Kook,” you make out, covering your nose and mouth with a hand to try and contain yourself.

From the other side of the room, it’s Namjoon that speaks up next, voice flat and reserved. It’s a stark contrast to the fire in Jungkook’s voice, but he looks no less affected by everything. “That’s not fair at all,” he says shortly, “Y/n isn’t in charge of our feelings any more than we are, and you don’t have any right to judge her for what I chose. I was the one who wanted my first time to be special, Kook.”

Namjoon’s low volume seems to influence Jungkook, taking his noise level down a notch. The words just hurt more. “Maybe you shouldn’t be here then, Namjoon. This isn’t where you come to have your cherry popped by a nice, young lady you can bring home to your parents.”

“Oh, my god,” Hoseok exclaims with a groan, “are we seriously just complaining about everyone now? Is that what this is? Good going, Jin, really fucking helpful.”

A whirl of dread rushes through you as the anger continues to flit around the room in an ugly cloud, everyone having a bone to pick with each other. Jin makes a noise of outrage, hissing back at Hoseok when he speaks. “I don’t see you coming up with any suggestions. Do any of you have any fucking idea how hard it is to have everyone expecting you to magically solve their problems and shoulder their burdens and not a single one of them gives a shit about you?”

“That isn’t true,” you protest, immediately regretting drawing attention back to yourself.

Jin scoffs. “You haven’t said a fucking thing since finding out I have feelings for you. Wait, no; you haven’t said a fucking thing since I got upset with you on Tuesday. Did you really never think to ask even once how I was doing?”

Your excuse feels flat even before you say it. “I was waiting for you to-”

“Ding ding ding, we have a winner!” he sings sarcastically. “Everybody waits for me to solve things and then complains when it’s not helpful enough,” Jin spits, glaring at Hoseok with the last few words.

A shuddering sob cuts into the silence that follow his words, and in unison you all turn to Taehyung, who has his face buried in Hoseok’s shoulder, Namjoon rubbing his back as his shoulders heave.

Jimin sucks in a sharp breath at the sight, body twitching as he fights the urge to rush over, and instead raises his voice to address the room. “Alright; show’s over. This isn’t solving anything.”

“Why should you decide?” Jungkook cuts in immediately. “I’m miserable and you don’t care, Jin’s miserable and you don’t care, but the second it’s Taehyung…!”

Jimin rolls his eyes, leaning back in his seat. “Why are you so bothered by it?”

Jungkook lets out a cry of frustration that sounds closer to a sob. “Because you’re taking him away from me! I can’t compete with you! Everybody’s obsessed with you, everybody wants your approval and you just drink it up, you narcissistic, selfish piece of shit!”

Around the room, everyone sucks in a wary breath, but Jimin’s already standing, features sharpened in anger. “Why are you acting like it’s my fault he has feelings for me? Maybe he doesn’t like you because you’re a whiny fucking brat who takes everything personally.”

“That isn’t true,” Taehyung hiccups out, “Jungkookie’s nice, Min. And you’re not selfish.”

Though the tension in the room just keeps rising and rising, you can see, behind Jimin’s standing figure, Yoongi sitting stiffly on the couch. He keeps glaring at the cameras expectantly, with one hand clutching his phone and the other latched onto Jin’s wrist, keeping him from interfering further. The two exchange words quietly, shaking their heads in disapproval.

On the more emotional side of the room, Hoseok holds Taehyung closely, soothing him as Namjoon looks up hesitantly at the others. “I really think we should stop, guys…”

“Let’s all take a chill pill,” Hoseok quips as Taehyung’s tears stain his shirt.

Jimin lets out a noise of disgust. “Oh, shut the fuck up, Hoseok.”

“Is no one gonna stop this?” Namjoon asks hesitantly, glancing up at the cameras.

“What did I say?” Yoongi retorts rhetorically. “They aren’t going to interfere. They know this drama gives their show more views.”

“Good for Jimin,” Jungkook states petulantly, “the more views he gets, the better he feels.”

“Coming from you,” Jimin says over the sound of Yoongi clicking his tongue in exasperation. “Maybe the reason you hate me so much is because you and I are the exact same, Jungkook, I just do it better.”

“Again with your superiority complex,” Jungkook huffs. “How long until everyone here gets sick of you, Jimin? How long until the novelty wears off and you’re left alone on your high horse again, huh?”

Jimin flinches like he’s been hit, but takes an accusing step closer to Jungkook. Around them, everyone shrinks back in their seats, Hoseok shielding Taehyung’s ears and Yoongi and Jin with a phone sandwiched between their cheeks as they make a call. Namjoon’s begun to cry, too, but he hides his running nose with a sleeve, eyes wide and shining as they watch Jimin and Jungkook square off.

The two of them are a few steps apart, now, not even the coffee table dividing them. Jimin, although physically smaller than Jungkook, appears to tower over the other as his face darkens. “At least I’m good at my job, Jungkook. Why did you come down so soon? Blow your load too quickly like an amateur?” When it doesn’t gain any more reaction than Jungkook’s face twitching in annoyance, Jimin grins wickedly. “Or could baby not even get it up, huh? Take your dick away, you’re not much of anything, are you?”

Jungkook lunges before Jimin is even done speaking.

The thud of impact and grunt of rage from the youngest echoes through the room sickly as Jimin reels back, clutching at his nose. Already you can see the intense scarlet pooling between his fingers, dripping down as his eyes tear up with anger and pain.

The urge to jump in, do something, almost overwhelms you, but you feel yourself paralysed, shocked and barely able to process anything like it’s a bad nightmare.

On one side of Jungkook and Jimin, Taehyung wails, struggling in Hoseok and Namjoon’s hold as the two of them keep him from interfering. On the other side, Yoongi stands up in alarm, keeping his voice calm as he splays his palms. “Woah, woah, that’s enough now-”

Jimin pulls his hands away, spitting out the blood in his mouth even as more streams to fill out. “You little fucker,” he hisses. “If you broke my nose, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Jungkook lets out a bitter laugh. “Take your face away, you’re not much of anything, right?” he mocks.

Sensing things turning for the worst, Yoongi widens his eyes and jumps forward, but his hands just catch on empty air. Jimin’s already launched himself forward, taking Jungkook off-guard as he shoves him with balled fists, using the full weight of his body to send the other tripping backwards.

Jungkook curses when he lands harshly on the coffee table, empty and half-full cups of coffee flung off, some smashing directly under him. He rolls off, instinctively curling his body away from Jimin.

Passing Taehyung over to Namjoon, Hoseok leaps up to tug Jimin back as the man continues to step closer to Jungkook’s prone body. The moment he gets a hand on Jimin, however, he’s met with an elbow to the cheek, stumbling back from the impact.

For a moment, everyone goes silent. Jimin stares wide-eyed at the red mark quickly blooming on Hoseok’s cheekbone, the dom looking shocked as he rubs at it.

That second of inaction is all it takes for Jin and Yoongi to descend on Jimin at the same time, an arm firmly grasped by each man as they drag him backwards. Jimin doesn’t even fight it, though, a strange clarity and sorrow in his eyes, even brighter than the red that’s beginning to drip down to his shirt.

When Sejin bursts in and rushes over to Jungkook, it’s too late to really solve anything. The combative atmosphere has dissolved into the sick, defeated aftermath of Jimin and Jungkook’s physical alteration.

Still, he directs Jin and Yoongi to take Jimin upstairs to ‘cool off’, crouching beside Jungkook and making sure he’s okay before he tugs the boy gently up. As he leads the youngest in the opposite direction, towards the front door, Jungkook twists in his grip, trying to look back towards the group.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he wails, “please don’t hate me, I’m so so sorry!” Jungkook babbles on almost incoherently, feet stumbling as Sejin tries to shush him, pulling him out the door.

The moment the door clicks shut, it’s like the emotions of the past hour or so hit everyone at once. Namjoon has joined Taehyung in crying, Hoseok trying to rub their backs at once with a pained face, his cheek beginning to swell slightly.

With your shoulders and chest heaving violently as you sob - the silent tears finally finding their voice - you blink away your blurry vision and heave yourself off the couch. The three of them accept you with open, albeit shaky arms, and without any care about exposing your relationship, you wind your arms around Taehyung’s waist and bury your face in the crook of his neck.

“Do you think they’re okay?” Namjoon asks in a small voice, fiddling with the damp sleeve of his shirt.

As if to answer his question, you hear hurried stomps, followed by Jimin bursting briefly into your line of sight, rushing down the stairs and out the front door without even a second glance.

Even the split-second view of him you got sparks worry in your chest. He’d clearly made a minimal attempt to wipe away most of the blood, but there were still dried smears below his nostrils and down his neck, and the shirt he’s wearing looks like something out of a horror movie, likely the material he used to clean himself up.

Jin and Yoongi follow down, but not fast enough, the blue-haired man long gone by then. The two of them seem hollowed, clearly taking this on as their own burden, as their fault - especially Jin, who’s knitting his brows harshly to stop his own tears.

Taehyung’s straightening up immediately, wrapped up in the middle of the three of you on the couch as he calls out to the older men. “What did he say? Is he okay? It’s not broken, is it? His nose?”

“Tae, easy,” Jin soothes, voice thick with emotion. “Yoongi took a look at it, it’s not broken, just tender. Jungkook sure does know how to swing a punch, though. Jimin was lucky.”

“Lucky,” the masseuse repeats weakly. “I don’t know if anything about this was lucky, hyung.”

“Can we even come back from this?” Namjoon asks slowly. “If we couldn’t talk like adults without fighting, then surely we’re doomed to just-”

“Nobody is doomed,” Jin assures. “If I’m perfectly honest, it seems like Jungkook was so wound up that there was nowhere for him to go except this. He probably just needed to totally vent and get it all out. I should’ve seen it coming, I’m so sorry.”

Yoongi grimaces, a hand on Jin’s shoulder. “None of this is your fault, hyung. We’re all complicit and we can all learn from this, but let’s not play the blame game. I just hope Jimin and Jungkook don’t entirely despise each other after this. I actually thought the kid liked- Anyway. Best thing we can do now is give them some time.”

You suck in a deep breath. That whole time, you’d just sat there, too shocked or too cowardly to move, you don’t even know which one. And although it’s too late, at least there’s one thing you can do to help, rather than just waiting passively. You gently detangle yourself from Taehyung, Hoseok and Namjoon and get up off the couch.

When Yoongi - the most composed of the bunch - sees you kneel on the carpet, beginning to pick up chips and fragments of the shattered cup, he lets out a noise of concern. “Y/n, you shouldn’t-”

In your haste to help, and your shakiness from crying, it’s no surprise that your fingers are clumsy, grabbing onto a shard too harshly.

You see the blood welling before you feel it, a hot line of pain that opens up across the base of your palm and spills onto the carpet. Dumbly, you just watch it collect in the fibres. You’re sure when the showrunners rented this house, they hadn’t anticipated blood to be the fluid they’d need to be cleaning up. But in just one day, so much had been shed needlessly.

You’d probably sit there forever, numb to your own injury were it not for Yoongi rushing forward, his fingers gently prying away the sharp shard of ceramic, holding your hand so tenderly as he inspects it.

“You’re coming to my bedroom, now. Can you stand?”

Yoongi’s voice feels far away, inconsequential. You hum just to feel your throat vibrate. Letting out a sigh laden with worry, Yoongi lifts you off the floor slowly, waiting to see if you can get your feet back under you.

It seems you can stand, though it takes all of your focus. The others are talking behind you, voices fretting, but they reach your ears like you’re underwater.

It’s less than a second of eternity before you’re blinking away the cotton fog, slowly coming back to your senses.

The first thing you feel is a freezing solid surface against your legs and back. As it seeps into your bones, it wakes you up, and you fight to focus your vision, watching the colours swim sickly.

“...hear me?” The shapes and shades begin to settle like silt on a lakebed, revealing Yoongi’s round face as it crumples in contained concern. “Y/n, can you hear me?”

“I h-hear you, yes,” you slur out, coughing away the remaining thickness in your throat.

“Good, okay, stay with me,” he instructs, crouched in front of you. “What day is it?”

The more you tune back in to your surroundings, you become aware of a second person behind Yoongi. Hoseok’s long legs sprawl gracefully in front of you as he sits on the toilet seat lid, but his head is dipped back onto the tile. He looks totally devoid of any of the positive energy you’re used to seeing on him.

“Everything’s ruined,” you mumble lowly.

Yoongi sucks in a breath and tilts your face back to him, his fingers cold like ice. “I need you to not worry about that for now and stay alert. What day of the week is it?”

“Sunday,” you give after a beat.

“Good, and what’s my name?”

You frown, shifting in his grasp. “I’m not concussed, you know.”

Yoongi huffs, his hands falling from your jaw. “I’m trying to keep you distracted, you brat. What’s my name?”

“Min Yoongi. Doctor Min Yoongi I gue- Wait, why do I need to be- ow!” You automatically try to jerk your hand close to you when a searing, stinging pain explodes your nerves, but an iron grip around your wrist keeps you steady.

Glancing down, you see Yoongi deftly wrapping a bandage around the base of your palm, winding it around your thumb. Below, the burning ache of antiseptic makes you wince. “It hurts,” you whine.

“Unlike poor Hoseok, you did this to yourself,” Yoongi replies shortly.

You pout. “Do you bully all your patients?”

“Only the ones I like.” Clearing his throat with a tinge of pink in his cheeks, Yoongi finishes bandaging your wound. “You’ll live.”

Despite yourself and the events of the past few hours, your lip twitches. “Reassuring.”

Before the doctor can respond, Hoseok lifts his head and blinks down at the two of you balefully. “He hit me,” he breathes in a sullen voice.

“Jimin?” Yoongi begins to pack up his little first aid kit, slumping back against the vanity you’re propped up on. “You got in the way.”

“He didn’t just push me away, he elbowed me right in the face,” Hoseok explains meaningfully. The thought seems to bother him more than you’d expect. “I didn’t think he actually hated me like that.”

“Isn’t that your whole shtick?” you ask tiredly. All of your annoyance, frustration, anger and even your guilt seems to have been sucked away by the chill of the tile, leaving you feeling strangely hollow and detached. “Two sparring doms trying to outdo each other?”

The truth is, Jimin didn’t like to speak or hear about Hoseok, and you hadn’t actually spent that much time with the professional dom to hear his side. Hoseok shrugs with a sigh. “I know he doesn’t like me. And I think he’s an arrogant prick, but I’d never hit him. I thought it was just a bit of fun to play up the rivalry, you know? I guess not to him.”

Yoongi looks grim. “I don’t think it’s wise for us to make any judgements about each other based on any of the events of the past six hours. We all got caught up in it, and I’m sure we’ll be able to forgive and move on.”

Hoseok nibbles at a thumbnail, unassured. “Do you think they’ll send them home for aggression?”

“Who knows?” Yoongi answers honestly. “But hey; you’ll get to be the winner of your rivalry and outlast Jimin. That’s something, isn’t it? You always wanted to.”

A shiver runs up your spine at the despairing look on Hoseok’s face. “Not like this,” are the only three words he makes out before a sob bubbles up his throat. He claps a hand over his mouth, but the dam has burst.

“Hobi,” you coo, shuffling forward on your knees to avoid putting pressure on your injured hand. He lets out a shuddering breath when you take his hand and link in your fingers, providing some physical comfort. “Let’s go downstairs, maybe make some dinner, and wait for Jimin and Jungkook to come back in. We’ll say our sorries and go to bed on a warmer note, yeah?”

Hoseok pauses, bites his lip to cease his tears, and nods shakily. “Yeah, let’s do that. Even if he hates me, I… I want to apologise if I’ve contributed in taking things too far.”

You hum, standing up. Though you wobble for a bit, you feel far more stable than before, and you use your links hands to tug Hoseok to his feet too. “And I want to apologise for not being fairer with you all. But we can’t do anything until Jungkook and Jimin are ready to come back.”

Yoongi pushes himself off the floor with a grunt. “And Hoseok, I’m getting you an icepack for that cheek of yours.”

Though Hoseok protests, five minutes passing sees you in the kitchen, Hoseok slumped at the breakfast bar with a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a paper towel pressed to his face. You busy yourself with putting some rice on to cook and Yoongi and Jin work in their usual companionable silence, preparing a basic beef broth.

Both uninjured and not much help in the kitchen, Taehyung and Namjoon occupy their hands and minds with cleaning, following YouTube tutorials on how to get coffee and blood out of the carpet. They haven’t made all that much progress by the time dinner is served, but nobody comments on the dark patches, huddling on two couches in the lounge instead of the dining table. Though no one admits it, you need the extra physical comfort.

As you eat, you find yourself glancing back and forth between the two full bowls waiting on the kitchen countertop, and the front door. “Should someone go out and check on them?” you ask eventually, snapping the silence.

“I texted Sejin asking if they needed any medical attention,” Yoongi offers. “He just said no.”

“Minnie took his phone,” Taehyung said in a low voice. He’s barely touched his food, staring blankly into space. “But he only sent one text saying he was okay and he won’t reply to any of my other ones.”

“We wait,” Jin decides resolutely. “We’ll just sit here and wait for them to come back, and then hopefully we can all agree to put this past us. It was awful, yes, but I think it needed to happen. And hopefully nobody feels like they have anything weighing on their conscience anymore.”

Nobody protests and so, you wait.

The leftovers - god, when was the last time you’d had leftovers in this house? - are wrapped up and put in the fridge, the pots cleaned. As the sky dims, you turn the lights on inside. Nobody dares leave long enough to have a shower, but Taehyung darts upstairs to grab some blankets so that you can tuck up in two groups - Taehyung stays by your side with Hoseok, and the two eldest sandwich Namjoon.

Time passes stiffly, but it does pass. When the sun goes down, there are still only six of you in the house. Everyone’s so emotionally exhausted from the fight, and strung out from the anxiety of listening out for the door, that when it suddenly opens you all jump, Hoseok even cursing as he gets a fright.

The sudden spike of hope in your chest tanks violently when it’s Sejin that rounds the corner, a grim look on his face.

Taehyung frowns, his frame trembling as it leans into you. “Where are they?”

Sejin gestures back the way he came. “They’re in the production van.” Taehyung stands up immediately, but Sejin steps in front of him, hands splayed. “They just want to have some space, Taehyung,” he explains.

“There’s more space in here than there is in the van,” Taehyung protests weakly, even as he settles back down between you and Hoseok. “When are they gonna come back inside? It’s getting late.”

Sejin’s eyes flit around the six of you as he shifts, uncomfortable. “I’ve told them they’re welcome to stay the night there and use my bed. I came in to tell you that I’m going to go home now. Please don’t go out and disturb them. I’ve talked to them, but now they need some time to chat to each other and think about what they’d like to do.” The older man adjusts his glasses and gives you a pained smile. “Try and get some rest.”

A cold bolt of fear runs down your spine. “What they’d like to do?”

Taehyung swallows hard, hands beginning to tremble. “They aren’t going to leave the show, are they?”

Sejin’s mouth opens, closes, opens again. “Please try and get some rest,” he repeats, rather than answering. Taehyung shivers, and you feel the pressure of his forehead on your shoulder as he wraps his arms around your waist.

The producer turns to leave, making Yoongi frown. “Hey!” he calls sharply. Sejin turns around to face him. “I was meant to be taking Y/n out as my reward for fan favourite.”

You bite your lip anxiously. Truth be told, the thought had slipped your mind, and you don’t fancy leaving the others now, certainly not Taehyung who was clinging to you like a frightened puppy.

Sejin curses under his breath, rubbing his temple. “I’ll call an Uber.”

Yoongi steps back a little like the response surprises him. “No, I- This isn’t really the time, is it? I want to ask if we can do it tomorrow night instead, or something? I’m staying here with my friends tonight. We’re staying together.”

“That’s fine,” Sejin allows, a weak smile gracing his tired features before he gasps. “Oh! That reminds me…” He turns so that he’s addressing the group. “I don’t think anyone is in the emotional headspace for eliminations, so… I’m pushing the Monday meeting to Tuesday. Nine in the morning like usual. Just rest up tomorrow.”

“Good to hear you care now,” Yoongi mutters bitterly.

Sejin winces. “I think we’ve had enough conflict today, Yoongi-”

“Something you could have solved,” the doctor accuses harshly, “if you’d answered my texts or my calls and come down when we were asking you for help. I won’t forget that.”

“It’s done. There’s nothing more for me to do beyond apologising.”

“Which you haven’t done,” Yoongi fires back immediately.

“I’m sorry.” The producer gives a stiff wave of farewell to the group. “My girlfriend is waiting outside. I’ll be back first thing tomorrow.”

When Sejin leaves the villa, the group heave out a unanimous sigh of exhaustion. It’s been a long day, but the thought of splitting apart, of being alone with your thoughts, is more than you can bear.

“Could we…” You swallow down the croakiness in your throat as everyone turns to look at you. “Could we maybe all stay down here tonight? Together?”

Namjoon’s eyes soften. “I’d like that. I could grab some blankets?”

Taehyung looks up. “I’ll get pillows.”

One by one, four of you run upstairs, Yoongi and Hoseok wanting to get into some more comfortable clothes for sleeping. Before you do the same, you turn to Jin.

He’s starting to push the coffee table towards the television, leaving more room in the middle of the couches. Stubbornly keeping himself busy.

“Jin,” you call out hesitantly, making him glance up in the midst of straightening the table against the wall. “I want to apologise. For relying on you for everything and not taking responsibility of the situation.”

His eyes soften, a pained smile. “You don’t have to.”

“I do and I am,” you counter, “I’m sorry. And for what it’s worth… Me calling it a scene, I… It wasn’t a grand statement. It was just a slip of the tongue. You mean more to me than just this game, than just sex, and I feel terrible that you’ve gone the whole week thinking that was the case.”

Behind you, you can hear footsteps descending the stairs. Jin glances up, then back at you quickly with a shake of his head. “To be honest, I’ve gotten over it. I’m fine; you don’t have to worry about me. I think it’s better just to keep it about sex.” He makes a vague gesture, indicating the day’s events. “Less messy.”

You blink, not expecting that. Had he gotten over being upset? Or gotten over his feelings for you? “Oh.” But Hoseok and Taehyung are stumbling down the steps, hesitating in the doorway, and you know you can’t dig deeper. For now, you’ll have to just be happy he doesn’t seem to be still bothered by it. “No worries. I’ll- I should go get into some pyjamas.”

That night, none of you really sleep the night. You lie tucked between Yoongi’s reassuring mass on one side, and Taehyung’s comforting warmth on the other, and try to steal whatever moments of respite you can. But a restless night shared with five guys who mean far more to you than they should is far preferable to a night spent alone, and you count your blessings for it. Although you’re all a little broken, you have each other’s support to stop from shattering completely, and hopefully you can stay together long enough to heal.

ELIMINATION

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[hargrove-mayfields]

this was requested by @deardmvz ! based off of this lovely post!!

Billy is released from the hospital a few months after he’s out of that place, having been dragged back to his own world a bloody mess by a group of government men in hazmat suits.

They said he was lucky to have spent as long as he did in a toxic environment and come out of it only needing a weekly breath treatment and a couple of bandages. But he knows it wasn’t luck.

Because if there was such a thing as lucky, Billy Hargrove was not it.

Rather, it was because he’d learned how to give the monsters over there what for. Didn’t hide and come whimpering at the first signs of rescue, begging for their protection like everyone was expecting him to after dealing with monsters and breathing polluted air for six months.

Six months. He couldn’t believe that. To him, on the other side, it had felt more like years.

But he’d stumbled out of that place all the same, dripping axe still gripped tight in hand, in case this was his mind giving up, in case his hell wasn’t really coming to an end after all, and in the end, he was tougher, more resilient, unafraid.

But the doctors didn’t really believe that, did they?

As soon as he was given the clear in the emergency room, onced over for physical injuries he’d thankfully avoided and the doctors having given him something that made him cough up most of the gross stuff that’d been collecting in his lungs, he was sent straight to the psych ward.

Because he could kill as many monsters as he wanted, and he could spend months as a survivor, doing what nobody before him had been able to without super powers, but he was never going to be able to shake the isolation, the uncertainty of everyday he spent over there. Not without help.

The upside down was a no man’s land, he didn’t have the time of day to think about what he’d done, who he’d lost, what had happened to him. But the moment he’s free of it, he’s back to reality.

Back to being the kid down on Cherry, with years of baggage to carry even before all this interdimensional bull that he’d never worked through. With a sister who thought he was dead, and a father who probably wouldn’t care less whether or not he was.

They see all of that, so he pushes them away, refusing every attempt the nurses make at helping him. He doesn’t want their help anyways, he doesn’t want to be in the hospital anymore, and he sure as all hell doesn’t want to be a part of some government conspiracy.

But with enough personal questions and screenings, they’re able to, a couple of weeks into the program, coax it out of him, working him up to the breaking point and the following outpouring of guilt.

Pushing him to admit things about himself he’d never had to look in the face until that hard shell he’d had to build up to protect himself from monsters of all kinds since he was just a kid dissolved away, and he was left a sobbing mess in a support group, going on and on about having chased his mother away, how he was working on chasing his little sister away.

About the way he treated his peers and the way he let others treat him. About Heather Holloway and everyone else and how he’d killed them.

Straight away they get him in to see somebody, something he doesn’t really like the sound of at first, but they say they’re willing to release him from the psych ward if he agrees to go regularly, so it’s worth a shot.

That is, until he realizes he has nowhere to go except back to his house. 5280 Cherry Lane, where Neil Hargrove, the very first monster he’d ever had to fight, would be waiting for him.

He tries to get out of it, to go back to who he was before he’d let all this stuff get to him, but it doesn’t last. He’ll bark out nasty things at the nurses and refuse to cooperate when they get to trying to evaluate his head again, but there’s no bite behind it, and he can’t keep it up.

That seemingly infinite well of hatred and pain had been drained by his time on the other side, until he just didn’t have it in him to be angry all the time anymore.

Billy tucks his tail and goes to the shrink, signs the release papers at the hospital and goes straight to that first appointment like he isn’t terrified of what will happen the minute they let him go home for the first time in forever.

Some part of him knows it’s no different than what he’d already been dealing with in intensive care, but there’s still something about being out there on his own, shooed away from what had become his sanctuary after escaping just to have some government approved doctor tell him he’s mentally unwell, that doesn’t sit right with him, and he walks out of that office even more nervous, more jittery to return than before, but he can’t avoid it forever.

The house isn’t too far from downtown where the office is, so he just walks home. He thinks of stopping at a payphone and call ahead, to let them know he’ll be coming home, but he hasn’t exactly been carrying pocket change with him, and he thinks it might be better if they’re not expecting him anyways.

It’s bitter cold outside, a dusting of snow on the ground making him walk slow over slippery sidewalks, unused to the conditions, but it’s the most fresh air he’s gotten in a long time, out in the kind of cold he can appreciate.

Over there, it was a clammy kind of cold, the type that clung to his skin and seeped into his bone, like he was under water. But this is different, the sun shining overhead taking off some of the bite, a cross wind that blew his hair back in his face and made the tip of his nose go numb.

By the time he reaches the door, he still doesn’t know exactly what he’ll say. How does one go about breaking the news to their family that they aren’t really dead?

The general idea is this: ring the doorbell, hope against hope that Neil isn’t afraid of zombies, appeal to his inner anti-government conspiracy theorist, and pray that he’ll buy it for long enough not to shoot him dead and maybe let him inside.

First step goes smoothly, and he’s ready to move on to blocking punches in the case of a kinemortophobic, but when the door is yanked open, it’s not his dad, and the rest of the plan goes out the window. It’s Max that answers, and before he has time to even process that, she wraps her arms around his torso in a hug tight enough to knock the wind out of him.

He doesn’t know what to do, this wasn’t what he’d been anticipating, so he kind of just, awkwardly pats her back and tries to ask her if he can come in, but all she does is squeeze him tighter.

Susan peers around a corner in the house, “Max, who was at the…” They lock eyes, and she trails off, a mix of relief and apprehension and maybe something like fear on her face. “Bring him inside, dear.”

Max pulls away and lets him in, wiping at stray tears with her sleeve pulled up over her hand. She waits for Billy to sit on the couch, and sits down right next to him, pressing into his side. “Where were you? We watched you die.“

“Wasn't me.” He eyes Susan, trying to communicate to Max that this was top secret, don’t tell your step-mom immediately after leaving a government facility information, but Susan chimes in.

“She told me everything. After what happened she was too upset to remember her agreement. We both signed the NDA.”

And for a second that pisses him off. Not at Max and Susan, but the agents who knew what was happening and still had the nerve to bring them in to threaten them without even bothering to mention he was still alive.

Right now that’s the part he tries to focus on. That he was still alive, and had better things to worry about than what he couldn’t change. “It was a clone. A fail safe made by the shadow in case your merry band killed me. When he died, I was trapped.”

“In the upside down?” Max’s eyes were wide as could be, the color drained from her cheeks. “But-but that almost killed Will and he was only there for like, a week.”

“Do I look like a scrawny twelve year old kid?”

“Muscles can’t protect you from toxic air, jerk.”

Susan’s looks frantic in that way she used to around Billy’s dad, who is notably not present, as she scolds, “That’s enough, Max. He’s been through a lot to get here, let’s let him ask some questions.”

It wasn’t like Billy really minded Max’s questions, he was sure he’d have quite a few himself if it was Max who had come back from the presumed grave, but he did have one of his own sitting heavy at the front of his mind. “Where’s Neil? He get his work schedule changed or something?”

“He’s gone.” Max deadpans.

At her tone, Billy feels his stomach drop, his heart stutter. “He died?”

“Heavens no. We got a divorce three months after we buried you, or what we thought was you.” Susan looks at Max tired, remorseful. “He was never the same without you.”

Things had been close to boiling over even before everything, he worried who had filled his shoes. He nods towards Max. “How bad was he?”

“Better and worse. He never laid a finger on us, but he was…”

An overdramatized shiver runs through Max as she finished her mother’s sentence, “Creepy.”

Susan nodded in agreement and explained, “So nice, so reserved, it was like we were constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“And he’s not coming back?”

“Why should he? He didn’t even tell us where he was going.” Max scoffs, missing the implication of what he asked. Seeing her still be so clueless made Billy infinitely grateful that Susan had finally given his old man the boot, even if that meant he was somewhere in the middle now.

He figures that was something he was willing to deal with if it meant Max was okay, and Neil wasn’t anywhere near her. Now he just needed to know if Susan would be expecting him to go find his dad on his own and move in with him.

He doesn’t mean to let as much tension into his voice as he does when he asks, “So what’s all this mean for me?”

“What else? You are never leaving me again, asshole.”

So it was settled, and judging from the look Susan gave him, she agreed with Max’s answer. Which was, overwhelming, to say the least.

Not that Neil had exactly been a family man, but the fact that they were willing to accept him back into their home without him around was more than Billy knew how to process just yet.

His room had already been converted into a storage space as Neil had been moving out, dragging everything that had never been unpacked in the first place out into the one space he viewed as disposable.

They thought he was dead, he couldn’t have expected them to keep his room the way he left it, and though it did sting a little when he found out half of his stuff was missing, either taken by Neil or thrown out in the process, it was soothed by Max giving him a box of all the things she knew were the most important to him, having snuck in and gone through his belongings herself.

Billy decides to let Susan keep her little storage room, it had been too drafty in there to make for a decent bedroom anyhow, so he moves into the carpeted corner of the basement, which he notices is finished now.

Before, the ceiling had been wide open, half built wooden slats coated in years of dust and cobwebs, a single exposed light bulb offering the only source of light. Now it looked like an actual room, and it made him feel something tight in his chest.

Because Neil had retiled and painted the upstairs bathroom when his first wife left him, and he had finished the basement when he thought his son had too.

Billy doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel about his dad anymore. He’d been dreading the moment he would have to walk through the doors of his own house out of fear and hatred of that man, but learning he wasn’t even there, he almost missed him.

Almost. But then he thought about the way Susan and Max were now, so distinctly different in the comfort they exhibited in their own space, no longer having to constantly cower in fear of the overbearing head of the house, the person he’s free to be now that Neil isn’t around, and suddenly he’s not so remorseful.

Though he does catch Susan once, standing in the kitchen one morning and crying over an old photo of her and Neil.

He’s pretty sure, from the glimpse that he gets, that it’s from the first church registry photoshoot they did as the Hargrove-Mayfields, when the photographer had mindlessly said something like “now just mom and dad,” making both him and Max gag, which made Susan cry after it was over.

That night had been her first taste of the real Neil Hargrove when Billy got a beating in the parking lot. He still remembers the horrified look on her pale face as she told him it was alright when he apologized, snotty nose and bruises on his skin.

He knew the feeling was the same for her, torn between the man they needed Neil to be and the man he had actually been to them, so he pretended not to see her tears. Silently, she agreed to do the same, and ignore the way he sometimes sat in Neil’s chair with a glazed over look in his eye, or sighed and trained his gaze to the floor when he passed the family photos still hanging in the hallway.

It takes a long while for the three of them to settle. Max is a constant ball of excitement, reminding Billy so many times a day that she’s happy to have her brother back that he might just cry about it once he’s alone, and Susan and him are nervous 24/7, pinballing off one another as they try and fail to forget the ghosts of the house.

He thinks about leaving for a while, moving in somewhere all on his own, but his therapist tells him it’d only make things worse now, to lose his support system. Besides, he didn’t have a penny to his name, so it wasn’t like he had much of a choice but to just suck it up and stay with the Mayfields.

In the meantime, he gets himself a job working stock at Melvald’s. They had an open position after Mrs. Byers skipped town, and he thinks they would’ve hired just about anybody to try to get back on their feet after the now demolished mall almost put them out of business, even zombie boy 2.0. His boss is understanding enough, doesn’t say a word when he has to go into the back and have a panic attack when a grieving family member comes in.

They tell him that’s what’s best for him, getting out there and doing something, even if it’s not the something he would ideally be doing at this point in his life. It had never been his intention to stay in Hawkins after graduating, he wanted to go to college back in his home town, but he had to admit it was growing on him some, and setting up roots there was supposed to be good. Maybe that was just the fact he wasn’t allowed to leave talking though.

The guy they’re sending him to, he thinks is somewhat of a quack. His advice is shaky at best, and he treats Billy like some kid, giving him tasks and a reward system more fit for Holly Wheeler than an eighteen year old with enough trauma for the whole town.

So even though he does cooperate, does everything last thing the guy asks of him, he doesn’t particularly feel the need to go beyond that, face the deeper set issues his therapist doesn’t even know about.

Billy’s lack of cooperation makes the whole thing more complicated, gives him less that his therapist can tell him to work on, so he asks him just to talk to Susan.

They’re closer now than ever before, far beyond all the tension and avoidance and misplaced resentment, but they still don’t really talk about any more than what’s necessary. Things like, how was your day, could you help me with this, are you okay, but nothing substantial.

It should be easy, they’d been living under the same roof since he was twelve, so they should have plenty to talk about, it just never seems like the right time, though he has been thinking about it a lot, the way he treats her despite how much she’s done for him.

He doesn’t really have a plan to bring it up, he’s fully prepared to go back to another appointment the next week reporting no dice, but there’s one morning where the clock keeps ticking and the both of them are still wide awake in the living room, like a stalemate of who’ll give in to sleep first.

They both look like they need it, Susan’s hair is frazzled, the bags under her eyes as dark as the coffee she drinks. Billy knows he’s not looking so hot either. He doesn’t remember the last time he could go to sleep without his subconscious taking him back to that place, so he doesn’t even try anymore, just waits until he gets so exhausted he’ll pass out into a dreamless sleep.

He doesn’t know what it is that compels him to say anything, because it’s not awkward or even tense silence really, but he does, his tired voice cutting into the quiet.

“I dunno how to make it up to you.” He’s looking down at his hands, at the barely there scars that still litter the skin there. He thinks for a moment about how much worse it could’ve been, before looking to her. “I mean, I’d get it, if you didn’t want me around.”

Susan looks back at him, not having expected him to say anything really, let alone something so heavy. “What’s this about, Billy?”

“M’not even your kid, Sus. I just- I dunno. Why’d you let me back in?”

She looks baffled. “Should I not have?”

“I’m an adult. don’t need to be moochin’ off my ex-stepmom.” He feels like he had the very first time he ever met her, scared to look her in the eyes, only this time for an entirely different reason. “M’not your burden to carry.”

“Honey, you’re not mooching. You go to work, you help around the house, you help me with Max. That’s more than I could ask for.” She hesitates, unsure of how wide his boundaries are, then adds, “And, maybe you aren’t my son by any stretch of the imagination, but you will always be Max’s brother.”

He had been expecting something about his dad, always had some suspicion that he’d forced a dependent on Susan after he left, but the total opposite seems to be true, and that makes a lump rise in his throat.

In the absence of a response, Susan continues, “If there was one thing you could do for me though, I know you lie to your therapist. Don’t.”

He doesn’t have it in him to fight it, has enough sense about him to know she’s right. All he can manage is a breathless, “Okay.”

She pats him on the shoulder gentle as can be, and stands up from the couch. He doesn’t look up as she retreats to her bedroom, afraid the tears that had welled up in his eyes would spill over if he did.

When he hears her door close softly is when he lets the tears fall. It’s still a lot for him, to have someone be so casual in looking out for him in that way he still hadn’t quite grasped was possible.

The very next day Billy fesses up, and to his surprise, they don’t immediately cart him off when they hear he’s been faking. That had been his biggest fear, with the power that these people held. They’d threatened to lock him up if he ever ran his mouth, so he didn’t know what to expect.

He did feel stupid though, opening the damn for the same guy who gave him stickers for taking his meds about all the things he’d bottled up. But it works to get him into a better program than what they had him doing before, and he realized he’d had it backwards.

The fear of what they were going to do to him kept them from doing anything at all, and it gave Billy a deep sense of relief, that he’d finally broken free of that.

So instead of being assigned things like brushing his teeth or going outside for five minutes a day, which was decent advice, but completely irrelevant to what he needed, now his therapist had started telling him things like throwing out the razor blade he’d been saving for a rainy day, dumping the last of the nonprescription pills he kept in his night stand.

The more he did, the more complicated they got, until he was told that, in exchange for completing his tasks, he would only have to visit the office once or twice a week instead of every day. His last assignment before that could happen was to make amends with his past.

The most obvious thing the doc wanted him to do was forgive his parents, but Billy didn’t know where to even begin on that one, or really, if he had or hadn’t already done as much, so he went with the other way first, apologizing to everyone he had, or felt he had hurt.

He started at the cemetery. Max came with him and held his hand as he broke down graveside, begging his repentance for all the people who’d died last July. Talking to their survivors was strictly out of the question, they still thought he was the hero that tried to save as many as he could and was killed in action, not the one responsible.

That had been the story spread it the public by the people who had known all along he wasn’t really dead, monitoring his activity on the other side while they turned murderer into martyr. The more time he spent in the shrink's office, the less sure he was that even he knew what side he was on.

Apologizing to the living proves to be easier. He starts with the Sinclair kid at one of the weekly nerd meetings Max holds at their house, now that it’s safe, pulling him aside for a few to say his piece, which, judging from his reaction, Max had already done most of the heavy lifting for him.

When they came back he got fixed with a glare from the unfamiliar little girl that was always around these days, and he realized he and Lucas had that in common, a weapon of a little sister.

Next came minor inconveniences, people like Tommy who he used as a punching bag just because they were friends. Most of them blew the whole thing off, they were in high school when it happened, didn’t understand the moral dilemma of it all, and everyone but maybe one kid who he might’ve punched a little too hard when a fight broke out after football practice forgave him.

Last on his list, the one person standing in the way of what was supposedly the next step of his healing process, was Harrington.

Steve’d had his own fall from grace, and Billy fell much, much harder than he had, so it could be the easiest apology he has to do, but there were reasons it might be the hardest too. He didn’t think he deserved forgiveness for the way he’d treated Steve, which he’d never even apologized for in the first place, and it seemed like a cheap shot to be doing it now, more than a whole year after beating his face in.

He tracks him down at work, rifling through shelves lined with tapes he wasn’t interested in until he had the guts to approach the counter and ask Steve to follow him outside. The bastard doesn’t even look suspicious, doesn’t hesitate in giving him his warmest smile and inviting him behind the counter instead with a, “What’s on your mind, man?

It should be awkward, uncomfortable at the very least, they're having a conversation that should be happening anywhere but in two folding chairs behind the counter at Family Video, and yet, Billy feels none of that unpleasantry, just a conviviality he’d never expect to have with Steve Harrington, of all people. T the one apology he’d expected to be turned down is accepted with a simple, “It’s okay, Billy.”

That’s what made him different. He wasn’t like Tommy, who’d told him to forget anything ever happened, or Susan, who was adamant that it wasn’t his fault; Steve actually forgave him without ignoring what he did, and that, that was what this was about.

He finds himself frequenting the video store on his off days, trying to make friends with the one person other than Max he felt like he could trust, who trusted him, and from there it turned to swinging by Steve’s place after work, going out on the weekends together, falling head over heels in love.

That last part Billy tries to deny, tries to rationalize that maybe he’s just clinging to something constant after so long in isolation, but the longer he spends around Steve, the more he knows there’s no way around it. Billy was so gone for him and his stupid hair and his stupid laugh and his stupid little family video vest.

There’s a while where he tries to distance himself a little, feeling guilty about crushing on the only person to extend the olive branch back after he got out, but then Steve starts showing up at his door, and Max would hide a guilty smile behind her hand.

Once summer hits, just a few short weeks shy of the anniversary of when the shadow got Billy, Susan and Max get more and more careful around him, like they don’t want to set him off, and he gets that. Sometimes Max or one of her little friends would mention something that had happened last July, a sort of ‘hey, remember when we,’ and he would get a little, off.

Never violent, never cruel, never the Billy he had been before, just, reserved.

He thinks they’re afraid he’s going to snap. That they’ve gotten the wrong impression from all this recovery stuff. The very last thing he wants is for Max to think just he’s a shmooze, faking being better to get on her good side.

But they’re not. They’re just want to give him his space, after everything, and he knows he’s got to get out of his head about it.

For now though, when he’s afraid he might break his promise, he takes off, but it depends on what kind of day it is where he’ll go. Sometimes it’s the pool, at the picnic table on the other side of the fence, or to the cemetery again, making the rounds between all of the markers, the ones he put there, or even to visit the totaled Camaro, sold to a junker and kept in the corner of some private property, his blood still on the seats.

Once, he’d made the mistake of going to the steelworks, just to sit on a railroad tie outside of the place for hours, having a panic attack alone as he tried and failed to forget bad memories, bruised ribs, falling fast, losing control.

None of those were particularly healthy places for him to be spending his free time, so per therapist recommendation, he starts finding better spots to hang out, places that weren’t just a way to retraumatize himself.

The problem is that in Hawkins, there isn’t anywhere really to go unless he wanted to spend all day in a dingy old diner or in half abandoned shops downtown. He liked taking Max to the drive-in on the outskirts, but the point is he needs somewhere to go away from his step-family.

When Steve finds out about his new assignment, the rides to and from work and quick drop ins just to say hello turn into days off spent at the quarry together, nights spent in front of Steve’s huge TV set.

One day after a double shift at Melvald’s, they end up out back by the pool. The air conditioning in Steve’s old house was not the best when it came to humidity, and Billy doesn’t like to be too hot. Something about the feeling is too familiar, too much like being on the floor of the sauna, sweating bullets and pleading for his life.

Heat is also one of the many things that triggers coughing fits, making him hack up his lungs from the months he spent without clean air to breath, so Steve’s ushering him outside to dip their feet in the pool and get out of the stuffy old house before he gets sick.

The smell of chlorine wading off of the pool isn’t all that much better. The strong chemicals make his nose and his throat and his whole chest burn like fire. Just the smell of it is enough that he has to try to remember that that hasn't been his reality for almost a year now, that he isn’t in the storage room at the pool downing bottles of poison.

It doesn’t bother him so much though, because the bad stuff, that’s all in the past now, isn’t it?

He tries instead to focus on the good things, on the breeze that they do get in the beating down sun and the way it carries cool air off the surface of the pool, offering more relief from the heat than they could get inside Steve’s inferno of a mansion, and on feeling the sunshine warming his skin again, the cold water and the smooth liner against his calves submerged in the pool. He even tries to focus on Steve, leaning all his weight back on his hands outstretched behind him, sitting so close to Billy their knees bump in the water every time Steve kicks his legs out.

And quite frankly, it’s not particularly hard, paying attention Steve with the way he’s practically glowing in the summer sun. As much as winter was his season, his forever pale skin and how he could rock a sweater didn’t even hold a candle to the way he looks now.

Maybe he is wearing preppy khaki shorts and a sun visor, but the way his back freckles in the summer, the skin on his cheeks and his shoulders flushing from the heat, his long hair sticking to the back of his neck with sweat, it’s a sight that makes Billy's heart pitta-pat.

Still, as nice of a view as Steve makes for, nothing can distract him from the nagging feeling that has Billy on edge. That sense that his flesh will start burning if he stays out here too long, that he’ll lose control of his body. That he’ll hurt Steve.

If Steve’s old nail bat propped against the pool shed, or their newer method of self defense, a machete from the hardware store purchased after Billy's last panic attack, hidden underneath of the chairs, offer any indication, the feeling may be mutual.

Despite the aviators perched on Billy’s nose, Steve must notice that distant look in his eye, because he offers Billy a quaint smile and, using one hand to stand up, he announces, “Be right back, gonna go get us some stuff.”

Billy nods and vaguely wonders what ‘some stuff’ means before turning his attention back to his surroundings. Back to following his therapists advice and watching the ripples in the pristinely kept water, listening to the rustle of untrimmed grass when a breeze comes through, bumble bees in the neighbors yard, anything at all that might stop his mind from wandering.

He’s almost feeling grounded again when he feels a chill run down the back of his neck. Goose pimples fan out across his skin, a deep seated cold to contrast the heat. He knows the feeling well, he’d gone through six grueling months using it as his only advantage over the monsters out to get him.

Some rational part of his mind tells him it’s just a bead of sweat rolling down his back, a loose strand of hair from the messy bun Max had put in his hair that morning brushing against his skin, the fact that his legs are still submerged in the 70 degree water, but he isn’t feeling rational after that, and he feels panic setting in again.

He wants to go run and tell Steve, wants to grab something to defend himself, but he can’t, he’s just, frozen to the spot.

The feeling is gone as quickly as it came, but everything else feels different now.

The pool water feels sticky and warm, almost like it’s sucking him in. The cement surrounding it feels rougher against his palms, and so hot to the touch. He’s scared to even blink, afraid that on the other side of that calm darkness, he’s in that hell again, and this has all been some delusion.

There’s a bang from behind him, and he’s on his feet, heart racing a thousand miles a minute. He’s just short of reaching for the machete under the chair when he notices it’s just Steve.

He’s standing by the sliding door, having pushed it open with his knee so far that the glass hit off the other door, and balancing way too much. Feeling like his legs are going to give out from under him and bringing one hand absently to his chest, Billy breathes out, “Damn it, Harrington.”

“Sorry.” There's a sheepish smile on his face, which has gone pinker than even the sunburn with a hint of embarrassment. He has a bulky radio balanced on his hip, a glass of something in each hand, and a deck of cards tucked under his chin. “A little help?”

Hurrying up the steps, Billy takes the radio before Steve can drop it and smash it to bits on the concrete. Steve takes the opportunity to explain himself, “I made lemonade, my gramma's recipe, and I thought we could use something to do.”

Maybe it’s reckless, maybe it’s the exact opposite of what he should do, but he puts the radio on the table and lets Steve distract him from that creeping feeling with mundanities.

It’s almost funny, how getting out of the house for him used to mean partying and sneaking out to wreak drunken havoc on the town. Now it meant sipping lemonade and playing double solitaire and go-fish with the fallen King poolside, like he was in some retirement community or something.

The only thing that kept him from feeling too ridiculous was the radio, which was playing a decent selection of rock music, not too much of the glitzy stuff he pretended not to like or the poppy stuff Steve definitely did.

Once the sun went down, the smallest bit of orange and pink sky disappearing behind the thick trees, and all the breeze had died out, they moved away from the pool's edge to the plastic chairs, pushing two together and sitting cross legged so they were facing one another. The night air was thick with the smell of a burning citronella candle and chlorine.

The cards had been long ago abandoned, both of them favoring just being in each other’s company, swapping stories of how bad work had sucked that day, and things like plans for the week. Billy sort of just likes having an excuse to look at Steve all night.

It’s more calm than Billy’s had in a long while since coming back, and he almost get to appreciate it before the chill comes back, this time accompanied by the distant rustling of leaves.

He could’ve pretended it was just a critter moving around or the trees settling, but then they hear the unmistakable sound of a monster's trill further out in the woods, and there’s no longer any doubt about it.

Steve freezes, looks to Billy with eyes as wide as saucers and, slowly as can be, reaches blindly behind himself until his hand closes around the base of the wooden bat, which had been moved closer as night fell.

He rises to his feet, stopping cold when the chair creaks as his weight lifts off it, trying to make as little noise as possible, an action mostly pointless with the radio still on. It’s too late anyways, they’d already been seen. Billy could feel it.

“Stay here. I’m just going to check it out.”

“No way, out of the two of us, I’m the only one who’s ever killed one of those things.” Steve looks like he wants to argue, wants to be noble and brave like he has to be for everyone else, so Billy tells him sternly, “I’m coming with you.”

And maybe Steve doesn’t refuse his help, but he isn’t looking at Billy either. His gaze, empty and exhausted, is trained on the trees, searching for signs of the monsters they’re both used to handling on their own. He leans into Billy’s side as they start into the woods, and he can feel him shaking.

The leaves and twigs all along the ground that crunch under their tennis shoes as they move deeper into the woods sound impossibly loud, drawing enough attention to their location that this was guaranteed not to be a surprise attack.

Billy would’ve preferred it that way, they were easier to kill if they weren’t expecting a fight, but he supposed he should just be grateful that they’d found them before they could make their way into Steve’s backyard and take them by surprise.

They reach a clearing and he gets a dreadful feeling like his entire body has been dipped in ice water, and he knows they're right in the middle of a swarm. Instinctively, he puts his arm out across Steve’s chest. “Stop.”

“What?” Billy doesn’t respond, but as Steve’s eyes adjust, he notices them too. About six or seven demodogs, behind trees and bushes, hiding from their prey. He whispers harshly right into Billy’s ear, “Do you think they see us?”

“No shit.”

“Then what the hell are they doing?”

“Waiting for their chance. But we’re not gonna give it to them.” He digs the heels of his Chuck’s into the dirt, grip tightening on the machete. He glances over at Steve and tries not to think too hard about the apprehension written across his features, “You ready for a fight?”

Steve pales, like he was never expecting it to get that far, but they were about thirty feet, maybe further, into the woods already, they wouldn’t be able to book it back to Steve’s house in enough time. The damn things were much too fast. He swallows hard, whispers, “How do I kill one?”

“Aim for the base of its skull. Never let it get your weapon in its mouth. Always pay attention to your surroundings.” His voice is quiet, but stern, trying not to let any fear slip into his tone that might make the other boy more afraid. He was the experienced one, if he were to let it show that he was scared, Steve might go running for the hills. “And Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Plant your goddamned feet.” Steve nods, furrows his brows and tries to force a breathy chuckle at the call back, but he barely manages a huff, and Billy can tell he’s terrified.

They don’t have time to think about it though, in the middle of a swarm he can’t let him dwell on it for too long, so he turns his attention off of Steve, and whistles, shouts “Hey, assholes! Come and get us!”

There’s a breathless second where the dogs don’t move an inch, he can tell Steve is about to say something that could’ve gotten the both of them killed so he cuts him off, “Get ready, Harrington.” One of the demodogs, he’s guessing the leader of the freakish pack based on the sheer size of it, shrieks, the cue for the others to start charging them.

These ones are fast, probably faster than even he’s used to, and he doesn’t like how close the first one gets to Steve before he brings his bat down it, so he pulls him closer by the back of his shirt, presses their backs together so there’s less room for a surprise.

The big one comes after Billy, the bigger threat of the two. The sense works as a two way street, if he can tell where they are, they can tell where he is, and they don’t like that.

It only takes him a few swings to get it stumbling, two more to finish it off, but in the time it takes him to kill the one, he loses track of where Steve is. Frantically he looks around, taking note of the location of the dogs, until he finds him in the dark a few feet off from where he is, swinging his bat at the runt over and over, making sure it was good and dead.

And Billy would be impressed, except for there was another dog charging him, just a few seconds off from closing its teeth around Steve’s arm on the backswing. It’s too close for him to try to kill it, so he kicks it, making it hiss and tumble across the muddy ground.

Steve looks over at him, blood spattered on his face and fear in his eyes. Billy wishes he could stop and appreciate the close call, but it’ll come back, and there’s another charging from the other side, so he settles for shouting, “Just remember what I told you and you’ll be alright!”

With the biggest out of the way it’s easy pickings, Billy takes out the next one that tries him quick, but another catches him off guard, clamps it’s teeth down hard on the machete, lodging it in its mouth. It gets cut bad, but not enough to really do much damage to it. If he lets go, he’s defenseless, if he doesn’t, he’s going to lose his arm.

That’s a call he’s almost willing to make, wrenching his weapon free at the risk of getting himself bit, but he doesn’t have to, because Steve takes it for him, running over from somewhere and bringing the bat down hard on the back of its head.

It would be too distracting to thank him, so he just nods his way and turns back to the last two dogs still alive, Steve taking the one that was still hiding and leaving the other for him.

At this point, he’s feeling pretty confident, one dog on its own is nothing much to worry about, and it seems it knows it too, because it stops a few feet off, daring him to come at it first. He takes his own advice and plants his feet in the dirt, daring it right back.

It charges him, and he stabs it straight through its head. It was a weak one, a last line of defense they didn’t expect to need, and it hisses out it’s final breath after only one go.

Billy hears the one Steve went after scampering off too, judging from the uneven drag of its weight across the forest floor, hurt badly enough it won’t last long.

He tries to feel for any others, but they don’t travel in packs that big, not without an order to follow. He rolls his shoulders and relaxes his stance, but he doesn’t dare dream of letting go of the machete yet. Even as it drips sticky slime and gore in thick drops onto the ground, even if it feels so heavy in his hands, also splattered with gooey blood.

There’s a moment of disturbing calm, the bodies of maimed demodogs scattered all around them as Billy tries to remind himself that they’re in his world this time, instead of him in theirs. He closes his eyes to shut out the panic and just listens.

Listens for gentle reminders that he’s in the real world. The sound of the katydids in the trees. A stray breeze rustling the leaves, dry from the relentless heat. The distant scratch of tires on pavement. Softly bubbling water from the jets in Steve’s pool.

He notices that the radio is still going, making the whole thing feel somehow more eerie, as if interdimensional monsters lurking in the neighborhood wasn’t bad enough on its own. Like when a car goes off the road, still playing a reckless teenager's final anthem. Billy wonders what song he’d like to be playing when he died. Maybe some Misfits.

But he isn’t dead, not yet anyhow, and that’s not the music that’s drifting out to where he’s still standing stock still in the woods, waiting for reality to hit him.

REO Speedwagon with Can’t Fight This Feeling carries softly out to their location, probably one of the lamest songs to fight monsters to if you were to ask Billy.

I can't fight this feeling any longer

And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow

What started out as friendship has grown stronger

I only wish I had the strength to let it show

Though he’s got to admit, it’s not a horrible song for this thing he has going with Steve. After that close call of the dogs stalking so close to his house, Billy doesn’t think he has it in him to let the chance to bring it up with Steve slide through his fingers again. He’d never forgive himself.

I tell myself that I can't hold out forever

I said there is no reason for my fear

“Harrington.” When he opens his eyes again Steve isn’t there, and for a second he’s got to fear the worst. To wonder, if the dogs aren’t the only thing he’ll find dead. “Steve?”

'Cause I feel so secure when we're together

You give my life direction, you make everything so clear

“M’here, Bill.” He's leaning against a tree, his bat still held close at his side, looking winded, but alright, from what Billy can tell at least. “Just needed to, to catch my breath.”

And even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight

You're a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter's night

And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might

“You scared me, asshole.” Billy gathers his courage, rides the wave of adrenaline to take a step closer, until he’s hovering right in front of him, dangerously close, to say, “Listen Steve, there's something I’ve been thinking about for a while, and after this I just, I can't fight it anymore.”

He gets the memo, half-lidded eyes focusing on Billys lips, making him flick his tongue across them on instinct, tasting remnants of strawberry chapstick and lemonade dulled by the scent of copper. “Then don't fight it.”

And I can't fight this feeling anymore

I've forgotten what I started fighting for

It's time to bring this ship into the shore

And throw away the oars, forever

Their weapons are tossed to the ground before Billy closes the small gap that was left between them, ignoring all the muck and goo and blood splattered on their clothes and their skin to cup the side of Steve’s face, kiss him as soft and as sweet as he knows how after a fight like that.

'Cause I can't fight this feeling anymore

I've forgotten what I started fighting for

And if I have to crawl upon the floor, come crashing through your door

Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore

Steve pulls away too soon, a soft gasp escaping his lips as he leans forward, forcing his weight onto Billy. The magic of the moment comes crashing down, when he notices how dreadfully pale Steve is, even in the darkness of the woods, untouched by street lamps or moon light.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Through gritted teeth, he mumbles into Billy’s shirt, “I think one got me.”

“Jesus, you're telling me this now?” He helps him lean back against the tree again, feeling he has the right to fret over him after a first kiss. “Where at?”

“My leg.” He says it so casual, Billy’s expecting nothing more than a nick, a last attempt at a scratch from a dying dog, but it’s bad.

Skin and muscle are torn through in a gash probably five inches long on Steve’s leg, deep enough he swears he can almost see bone. It’s already bruised dark, deep purple and black under all the blood, and bent just a little, like the bone had been cracked, but not quite broken.

Billy has to fight the urge to wince, to gag, to let any sort of panic over the severity of the bite show, because he knows Steve hasn’t seen it yet, that he’s maybe even in shock right now. The moment he let it show how bad he thought it was, Steve could pass out on him. Or worse.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Thought we were having a moment.”

“Well I’d like to have at least a few more, if you wouldn’t mind.” He sighs, but he drops the attitude. Stressed as he may be, Steve needs him level headed right now. “Can you walk?”

“Sure, yeah.” Something about the way his voice sounds like he’s struggling for air makes Billy not believe him, but he offers him his arm to let him test his weight anyways. It doesn’t go well, “Son of a mother bitch!”

“Yeah, I’m gonna take that as a no.” Billy figures it’d be better just to come back for their weapons later than to wait around for a second attack with an injured Steve, or to get sliced to ribbons carrying them and Steve back to the house. Because that’s what he’s going to have to do, from the looks of it.

He bends down and lets Steve wrap his arms loosely around the back of his neck, and hooks his hands under his knees to lift him. With his leg off the ground, he’s guessing Steve must catch a glimpse of how badly it’s torn up, because he throws his head back and mutters an “Oh shit.” to the stars.

Billy wishes his voice sounded more certain when he assures him, “You’ll be alright, just don’t look at it.”

There’s blood dripping from Steve’s leg on the grass, all on the concrete steps from the backyard that lead into Steve’s house and then the hardwood floors. Billy tries not to think about how they’re leaving behind a trail that would lead the monster straight to them.

They’d killed the dogs though, so he tries his damndest to believe that his biggest worry right now would be not being able to get the stains out before Mr. and Mrs. Harrington got back.

“Where do you keep the first aid around here?”

“Upstairs bathroom, third door on the right.”

Billy frowns. Trying to get him up the stairs was going to be awkward, the space between the wall and the banister so narrow, and Steve’s legs so long. The only way he can keep from dragging his wound against anything, which he’s almost positive would kill Steve at this point, is to turn sideways.

It feels like it takes forever to get up the steps and walk down the upstairs hallway, dodging side tables and potted plants until they reach the bathroom.

Even once they get there, Billy winces, taking in the tall, but thin door frame. “M’not fitting through here with you, Stevie. Gonna have to let you down.”

“Okay.” His jaw tightens, like he knows it’s gonna be hell to put pressure back on his leg, and Billy thinks about how he’d rather knock out the entire wall than have to watch Steve hurt himself.

But slowly, with Billy’s help, he gets his good foot back on the ground, and his arms unwrap themselves from the back of his neck. Billy keeps one hand holding tight on his hip, to keep him from toppling over while standing on one leg.

“Let me go in first, okay?” Turning around so they’re facing each other, he gives Steve both of his hands and kicks the half opened door the rest of they way open to reveal the dark bathroom behind him. He gets Steve to use the doorframe as a brace long enough that he can turn the light on, then gives him his hand again.

Steve takes the first step, hopping on one foot and making barely any progress. A steely look crosses his face, like he’s already decided what he’s about to do, and he lets his other foot down to the ground.

“That’s it, Stevie, just like that,” Billy mutters little encouragements under his breath, tries anything to keep Steve from thinking about walking on a broken leg. “Keep it coming, baby, just a few more steps.”

The closest thing to the door is a double tiered wooden shelf with magazines and towels on it, so Billy pushes the towels onto the floor with one hand and helps Steve sit down on it with the other.

Maybe it’s the wallpaper, but his complexion looks ghastly, all green and grey where he should be flushed and lively. Before he starts getting everything together, Billy puts his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You good?”

It was a stupid question, Steve scoffs and says, his voice strained, “No.”

“At least you’re honest.”

Steve groans and stares up at the ceiling, ignoring his leg and the puddle of blood spreading on the tiled floor. “Shouldn’t I be at the hospital right now?”

“Normally, I would say yes,” Billy crouches down by the sink, digging in the cabinets underneath it for the first aid and a rag, “But closest hospital to us is the general hospital, and they’re not going to be thinking about demodog infections. They’ll put a cast on this thing and kill you.”

“Oh.” A poor choice of words, because Steve whispers, “I’m not gonna die, am I?”

“Not if you let me take care of you.”

He soaks through three wash rags with blood before the bleeding slows down enough that Billy can clean it, and slowly the shocked state of mind he was in starts to wear off. At least, judging from the way he’s gripping the edge of the shelf he’s sitting on so hard his knuckles turn white, it’s starting to hurt him pretty bad.

But Steve stays agonizingly quiet as Billy works anyways, hardly even wincing, despite the obvious amount of pain he’s in. Billy clicks his tongue, “I know you’re holding back on me, Steve.”

“You’re one to talk.” He’s defensive, borderline hysterical. “Mister pretending to be tough just because you’ve been through this once.”

“Next time I’ll just let the dogs get you, then.”

Ignoring Billy's rudeness, Steve mutters, “It just hurts so fucking bad.” A tear he’d been trying to hold back slips past, running a track through the dirt and blood that had gotten on his face.

“I’ll get some pain meds in you in a minute, just need you to be alert for this.” 

He swallows thickly, like he’s scared. “Ready for what?”

“Well, you’re gonna need stitches.” 

“Do you even know how?” 

He didn’t. The most he’d ever sewn was a tiny hole in a jacket sleeve, but he didn’t feel it wise to tell him that. “I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.” 

“No way. Absolutely not.” Steve grabs his hand tight to emphasize his point. “You are not coming anywhere near me with a needle.” 

“Look, the alternative is it gets infected and you lose the leg. Or, you know, since nobody has ever survived a bite, your life.” He’s not trying to be snappy, but the more blood Steve loses, the more nervous he’s getting about wasting time arguing.

“Man, could you cut back on being an asshole for like, five minutes.” Billy rolls his eyes and tries to reach for Steve’s leg again, but he pulls away from his touch, blinking real slow like he made himself dizzy or he’s getting sick, before he tacks onto the end, “I’m wounded.” 

“I know, I'm just trying to help you, Stevie. Please.” 

Sighing and running his fingers through his hair, he puffs his cheeks out with a sigh and gives in with Billy’s pleading. “Whatever, just, get it over with quick.” 

He goes back to not saying anything, biting his tongue while Billy tries to do a decent patch up. It looks somehow even gnarlier than before, with crooked and sloppy sutures, but it stops the bleeding for long enough that Billy can wrap it as tight as he can with some gauze and an ace bandage.

He sits back on the balls of his feet, and takes note of how they were definitely going to have to go to the government hospital where he’d been treated in the morning. Steve’s quiet so he asks, “Steve?” 

“M’good.” He assures halfheartedly, leaning forward to hold his head in his hands. “Doin’ just peachy fucking keen.” 

They stay upstairs, Billy completely unwilling to try to get Steve back down to the main living room on a busted leg. He'd have to worry about showering and getting the stains that’re all over the Harrington’s floors off later, right now he was just worried about making sure Steve made it through. 

There’s a second living room, a foyer, Steve calls it, at the end of the hall, so he takes him in there, lets him sprawl out on the couch while he goes to get a phone and something for Steve to take from the first floor. 

He snatches up the rotary off the coffee table, and goes digging in the medicine cabinet for pain killers. Near the back is a bottle of Vicodin, thank god for Mrs. Harrington’s many ailments and her equally surplus supply of pain pills. 

Before making his way back up to Steve, he remembers to make sure to lock the sliding doors. Not that it would do much to really stop a demodog, but it’s the thought that counts. He decides to tack a blanket up to block the glass too, in hopes that it might make their scent at least a little harder to track. 

Steve is hesitant to take his mother’s prescription, afraid of the side effects, but then he tries to drag his leg up from the floor to prop it on the coffee table so he can get more comfortable, and his mind changes right quick. He almost convinces Billy to let him take more.

Next is letting somebody know. Part of him wishes they could just sweep this whole thing under the rug and forget it, but this was a small town. The woods behind Steve’s house stretched all the way to the now empty Byers’ residence, to the Wheeler's, and from there to Hop’s cabin. 

Keeping this a secret would cost lives, that he could be sure of. One measly pack of demodogs weak enough to be taken out by the two of them was guaranteed not to be the last. This was the start of another battle, and they needed as many people as possible to be ready for it.

He sits down with the phone next to Steve on his own cushion, careful not to jostle the couch too much. “Do you know Hop’s number?” 

“Just give it here.” 

Billy watches Steve dial the number, not a fan of how instinctual an action it seems to be, and as he barely gets a word in edgewise over Hopper on the other end of the line. When he get the chance to breaks the news, the call is over almost immediately, Hop getting ready to warn everyone else. He hangs up with tears in his eyes and a defeated posture. 

The instant the phone is discarded on the side table, Steve tells him, his voice thick with tears and exhaustion and pain, “I don’t wanna do this again, Bill.” He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and shakes his head. “Just, last time, we were so close to losing Hopper, losing you, and I just- I can’t do it.”

“Hey. Look at me, Steve. It's not gonna be like last time. You got me now.” Steve does look over at him, his eyes wide, but he only cries harder. 

Not knowing what else to do, Billy tosses an arm over his shoulder and pulls him close, and Steve leans into his touch, but there’s a deep frown on his face. Billy thinks his heart breaks clean in two as he insists, in a voice so worn, so dejected, “That’s just one more thing for me to lose.” 

“I say it’s one more person looking out for you.” His heart fluttering in his chest, he prays the kiss in the woods wasn’t a heat of the moment thing, and presses another to the side of Steve’s head. 

As best he can with his leg up on the coffee table, Steve settles up against Billy's side, sighing heavy through his nose. 

Long enough passes that he thinks Steve’s fallen asleep, the pain meds would hopefully knock him out soon, but then he breaks the silence with a quiet, so gentle Billy almost doesn’t hear it, “Will you?”

“Will I what?” 

“Look out for me?” The way he says it, it’s almost like he’s embarrassed to ask, so unable to believe that somebody would care about him instead of the other way around. 

“‘Course.” Billy smiles despite the way seeing Steve so broken makes him feel, lets the fingers on one hand trail lazily up and down Steve’s arm in a way he hopes is comforting. “Even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight, remember?” 

Steve rolls his eyes, but he presses himself somehow even closer to Billy and sighs a little laugh, sniffling. “God, you're never gonna let that go, are you?” 

“Hey, I’d rather remember our first kiss as being to REO Speedwagon, which is super lame by the way, than with you bleeding out in the woods, so.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve sits up a little straighter so he can look him in the face. There’s still some sadness in his expression, but there’s a hint of a smile too, and Billy will take that as a win any day. Teasingly, Steve says, “Maybe you’ll like the second one better.”

“We’ll just have to see won’t we?” He leans in, but it’s Steve who initiates the kiss this time, leading with more heat behind it than before. He tangles his hands in Billy's hair, deepening the kiss with the press of his tongue against Billy’s. 

The angle isn’t very comfortable, a crook forming in Steve’s neck to reach Billy, and they pull apart for a breath. Face flushed beet red, Steve whispers, “Hey, Billy?” 

Billy hums in response, too flustered to get his words in order, “Hm?” 

“REO Speedwagon isn’t that bad.” 

[not-close-to-straight]

Random Wanda Vision Thoughts--

Episode 1: I am an emotional bitch crying at Wanda and Vision saying “i do” at the end of episode 1, like can these babies please catch a break? they just want to be happy. 

Also Agnes and the 70′s show mom are my favorite wtf. 

STARK TOASTERS I SEE YOU. 

WHO IS WATCHING THEM WTF 

Episode 2: 

Dottie should die, she seems like the type who needs gently run over by a bus

WHO IS IN THE RADIO

Elizabeth Olsen is so cute in this, absolutely adorable 

IS THAT DAVID SCHWIMMER PLAYING THE PIANO

Vision is drunk from getting gum in his gears, I’m actually cackling right now. 

Tiny bit culty with the “for the children” thing, huh? Yikes

BABY BUMP! 

Some creepo decides to get in on their world and Wanda literally went “i think the fuck not, let’s try this again and this time in technicolor” 

is that the cop who asked out Ant Man on the radio?

The difference in “sitcom” Wanda who is happy in her world and “real life” Wanda when she realizes something isn’t right is honestly astonishing and Grade A Face Acting. See what happens when they let women do more on screen then walk around in tight clothes with full lips parted in a sexy pout? 

Episode 3: 

Seventies Vision’s hair is ENDING ME, I can’t even deal with that. 

IT HAS TO BE DAVID SCHWIMMER except he looks like “russ” from friends instead of “ross” 

Poor Vision is not handling impending fatherhood well 

COMIC BOOK NAME DROP BILLY AND TOMMY I LOVE IT 

Poor pregnancy fritzing Wanda. DID WANDA JUST GLITCH A TIME ERASE AND NOT MEAN TO? Listen, I did not expect to love them as a couple this much. EW HER WATER BROKE OMG 

A STORK 

Oh Wanda, poor baby she’s so afraid, I write way too much fan fiction about how all these characters are secretly terrified to go through life alone to be okay with this. 

Why did I start crying immediately when the babies were born, I’m too emotional for this. She is so beautiful and Vision is so soft meeting his son as himself, oh my gosh. THE TWIN SCREAMS while the other twin comes omg this is Grade A Sitcom bullshit. 

The doctor knows something is Up and so do Herb and Agnes. *don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious*

...have we actually seen Ralph and I’m just blanking on it? WHY DON’T THEY LIKE GERALDINE? WHO IS SHE?

Oh no i’m crying again over pietro and the sokovian lullaby. Don’t let me watch this while I’m PMSing wtf this is torture. GERALDINE KNOWS ABOUT ULTRON

OH SHIT WANDA IS PISSED LOOK AT THAT DANGEROUS LADY. that head tilt is fucking lethal. 

I love agnes oh man. I know because of spoilers she’s something of a bad guy? but I love her

WHAT HAPPENED TO GERALDINE OMG DID WANDA KILL HER

Oh no, not dead. Just kicked tf out of the bubble. I just realized the symbol is for Sword. Is this some sort of experiment to keep Wanda contained post Endgame? I should have read more spoilers, I’m fucking confused. 

Episode 4: OH HOLY SHIT IT’S MONICA RAMBEAU AND IT’S POST EG SNAP OH MY GOSH SHE HAS NO IDEA SHES BEEN GONE FOR FIVE YEARS MY HEART IS BREAKING MY HEART IS BREAKING I CAN’T TAKE IT 

It IS the cop that hit on Ant Man! WHAT DO THEY MEAN WESTVIEW DOESN’T EXIST 

Oh it’s Darcy! Damn straight it’s Dr. Lewis. How very shocking, a woman was the one to show a room full of Ridiculous Men what’s going on?

ZOMBIE VISION OH MY GOD “no we can’t” oh man she is starting to CRACK and Vision knows something is wrong OH NO 

At this point I should point out that I am 1000% surprised at the quality of the show and 1000% pleasantly surprised by how much I’m enjoying it. The bar for Wanda’s character development was literally subterranean, but this is has been frankly sort of amazing?? 

Episode 5

Agnes asking about “taking it from the top” WHAT. I love so much the way the characters “break character” it’s so interesting and well done! WHY IS WANDA LYING TO VISION. 

WHERE IS RALPH

oh my god the babies are children now?? why isn’t agnes noticing?? THEY’RE SO CUTE I COULD CRY ALL OVER AGAIN 

I do not. trust. hayward. Why is he asking about Wandas nickname? Monica knows whats up-- she knows Wanda is grieving and hurting. 

THE VISIONS CORPSE WHAT? WHAT IS WANDA DOING OH MY GOD SHE STOLE VISION. Vision has a living will? Don’t you have to be human for that? Are you telling me the woman that loved Vision would straight up ignore his wish to not be turned into a weapon after his death? I have a hard time with this. 

Oh no Vision is starting to worry me. He’s onto Agnes, he’s noticing Wanda getting careless...the boys are adorable though. Good on Agnes for not even flinching. 

DAMN RIGHT WANDA COULD HAVE TAKEN OUT THANOS LETS HAVE SOME RESPECT PEOPLE. Also, why is Monica being sketchy about Captain Marvel? 

EMAIL ALERT EMAIL ALERT “none of it is real.” oh my god what is happening?!?!

“Is this yours?” OH MY GOD. “This will be your only warning” she is so unafraid and I love her for it. I love her accent coming back when she breaks characters LOOK AT HER TURNING ALL THOSE MEN AROUND I LOVE HER. 

“Fix the dead” oh my god the shock on her face. The absolute irony of her trying to tell her boys there’s rules when she’s writing the playbook as she goes. Oh my god. “Can’t I?” Jesus, then the credits start rolling because she wants the episode to be over but Vision won’t let her OH MY GOD. My heart is breaking

WHAT DOES IT MEAN SHE DOESN’T KNOW 

SHE RECAST PIETRO

Episode 6

OOOOH look at the classic costumes! Pietro is slaying me. I mean, it’s the wrong pietro but its still very funny. The way Vision calls her out and then plays it off is.... spooky. She is fully aware thats not her brother. “Be good.” holy shit. 

Look at me not liking Hayward again. “which one is the sassy best friend” i feel like that’s....racist. “don’t use the last five years as an excuse to be a coward” DRAG HIM SIS 

Listen Uncle Pietro being a little shit head is my favorite. I use the OG Pietro in my fics but this one is hilarious. 

Vision lied about being on duty? Yikes. The one house where people are stuck in a loop? YIKES. Its crazy how everyone is starting to be super aware of Wanda pulling the strings--MAGIC CHILD OMG. 

Whats past ellis avenue? Is that the limit of Wanda’s powers? I don’t super understand how Vision has his powers if he’s technically dead. HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT THE AVENGERS ARE she really just gave him enough life to exist just barely. Agnes knows he’s dead so she wasn’t snapped??

Agnes’s witchy laugh while dressed like a witch is legit awesome. We call that FOREEEEEEEEESHADOWING! Oh and there’s Ellis Ave. Got it. 

Monica’s blood is changed?? Idk how to feel about Black Character willing to die for White Charaxter? I mean I know Wanda should be Jewish but still. Uncomfortably close to icky tropes but maybe I’m reading too far into it.

YIKES where was she hiding the kids till now? How’d she do all this? “I’m not a stranger or your husband” YIKES.

OH MY GOD DEAD PIETRO

OH MY GOD VISION STAY IN THE BUBBLE SOMEONE SAVE HIM SAVE HIM OMG BILLY CAN HEAR HIS DADDY DYING SAVE HIM

“The people need help” oh Vision you are truly Worthy

She literally expanded her world to save him omg

DARCY WHERED YOU GO geez look at power of this girls mind it’s about damn time we got a glimpse at just how intense her powers are

Season 7

Ok is this like a reality show? Oh man she is GLITCHING.

Oh no it’s just Wanda not Wanda vision cos she feels alone? So sad. She really is losing it isn’t she and not in a “lol how awkward” sortnof way but in that truthful hard to watch way that so many of us feel when we’re at the breaking point

“I actually did bite a kid once” I literally ugly laughed right there

I KNEW I COULDNT TRUST HAYWOOD

It’s so nice to see Darcy used in a real way. Her character was totally wasted in Thor

The way Wandas little interviews get more and more sad :(

Uhhh what does that mean Agnes is quiet on the inside? Again with the Ralph thing. I’m starting to think there’s no Ralph at all??

LOOK AT THIS GIRL WITH HER SPACE ROVER . She’s got that same look of determination her mama had. WHAT IS HAPPENING TO HER WHY ARE HER EYES BLUE

“....soooo Wanda killed me?” I’m ugly laughing again and I shouldn’t be but the comedic delivery is excellent. The whole “office” vibe with the cameras is making an otherwise devastating episode fairly funny

LOOK AT THIS GIRL STANDING UP TO WANDA we love a sharp cheekbones beauty

“Maybe I already am” I mean, I would have loved to hear that post Ultron when for some reason everyone blamed Tony for everything?? But hearing it now is just horrifying and I hate it

Oh vision deciding to go get to his wife is beautiful.

WHERE ARE THE BABIES WHERE ARE THE BOYS OH MY GOD IM FREAKING OUT WHAT BASEMENT THATS NEVER GOOD

Uh hey what the fuck is up with Agness creepy basement of horrors??

AGATHA HARKNESS OH MY GOD

This song is a BOP wtf she deserves an Emmy for this shit

Snoopers gonna snoop what?

Episode 8

Of course it’s Salem, where else would a witch story start

“They simply bent to my power” What a queen

lmaoooo THAT ACCENT COMES AND GOES Agatha really said what we’ve all been thinking

Wait so Wandas power drew Agatha in? I thought maybe Agatha trapped her here?? SHE DOESNT KNOW WHAT WANDA IS

THE BABIES

Oh ouch this trip down memory lane is gonna hurt me isn’t it?

Oh no her mama I’m dying inside send help. The TV sitcoms. Oh my god is this her last memory before her parents died. HELP ME I CANT WATCH THIS

Oh my god, she had powers when she was little?? SHES NOT AN EXPERIMENT???

Listen I generally think telling a story retroactively is lazy writing? Just give us a well developed story the first time?? But this is BRUTAL and brutally well done.

SHE SAW HERSELF IN THE MIND STONE???

Would it have been so difficult for them to give us even a PEEK at this version of wanda vision in CACW? Marvel has the worst habit of just popping up like “oh hey these two love each other all the sudden with no real reason for it” but this is wonderful. So much character development.

Oh listen to this woman begging to be able to bury her husband omg. WAIT SO SHE DIDNT BREAK IN AND TAKE HIM?? WHAT ARE THEY DOING TO VISION?? DID HE PUSH HER INTO THIS PSYCHOTIC BREAK?? HE TOTALLY PLAYED HER INTO RECREATING VISION SHE JUST WANTED CLOSURE. He literally showed her visions dismembered corpse and said “say goodbye” I will kill this dude wtf

“I can’t feel you” guys I have to pause this so I can cry for a minute

“I can’t feel you” and then she leaves. Totally alone in the world. My heart is an empty husk.

Why the house though? Why west view?

OH FUCK ME UP ARE YOU KIDDING ME VISION WAS GOING TO BUILD THEM A HOUSE I CANT TAKE THIS ANYMORE

It’s not even real vision? Just the projection of her broken heart? “Welcome home” I am broken. Physically broken.

CHAOS MAGIC

SCARLET WITCH

I CANNOT

OH MY GOD WHITE VISION??? NO NO NO

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

the worlds collide - i: an old face

Summary: Who are you? Now that the new world has collided with the remnants of the old? 

Pairing: BTS x reader (slight Got7/Jackson x reader)

Warnings: Referenced violence, covert sexism, zombies  Notes:  I knoooow I should be working on lessons to build and looking back at you but this idea just won’t let go. I originally wrote it for my 30 minute challenge but it got out of hand. So here it is, a zombie au! Not sure how long it’ll be yet but we’ll see! UNEDITED. Word Count: 3.2k

At the center of the end of the world, humanity was stripped to what it only needs to exist - strength, camaraderie, and grit.

With the undead nipping at your heels day and night, the only thought that remained were thoughts of where the nearest exist is, how to store food, how much farther for the next stronghold, and how long will that stronghold last. To survive, you stripped away everything unnecessary from your former life. All the bashfulness, the shame, and coated yourself with an armor as thick as the new callouses on your fingers - you still remember the first time you’ve went topless around Namjoon, and neither of you flinched.

Frankly, you’ve forgotten how to be anything else but this brought you to your new role in the new world. You’re no longer a girl, or a woman - you’re a survivor.

And with your old life etched in the sinew of your muscles, of your arms and your legs, you became a valuable member of the group. Along with Jungkook and Hoseok, you carry the front, bashing heads of zombies left and right, clearing the way to a new possible food source and haven.

It was a tiring existence, the type of tired that can’t be washed away by sleep. If that’s what you can call those pockets of peace you have when you’ve finally trusted them to watch your back.

It took long for you to finally drop your guard around these boys that you now call your family. Understandable, given that men didn’t really have a great track record for women to trust them even prior to the apocalypse. But you’ve met them in a tight circumstance, that had them trusting you before you even bothered to try.

(It was Jimin who first reached out, somehow unchanged by the cruelty of the new world. Always soft, always yearning.)

The seven of them had been friends before shit went down, and you were just a lucky one to be part of their orbit.

You remind yourself of this now that the new world has began.

This is the longest you’ve stayed in one place since two years ago, and it’s starting to feel like a place everyone could plant their roots in. The town’s largely untouched by the apocalypse, its strategic location in the mountains and quick response had them building trenches and walls, to keep the hoard from closing in.

It’s an extra precaution thoughtfully made by a self-sustaining community. For once, isolation brought forth more benefits than mishaps. They’ve barely lost people, largely untouched by the terrors of the world outside theirs. Innocent. Their lives went on. No nightmares, nothing.

The first time one of the pleasantly-dressed girls approached you with what could’ve been friendship, you flinched.

The boys were taken to it so easily, perhaps being as weary as you are didn’t make them jaded as it has made you.

Namjoon was swept away by the village committee, his brains and leadership evident with how he led you to safety. Jin and Jimin’s apprenticed under the village doctor, Yoongi’s turned to farming along with Taehyung, while Hoseok and Jungkook’s muscles are put to test building houses at the craft shop.

Everybody’s found a place except you, because while this town’s been untouched in all the good ways, it’s also been untouched in a sense that it kept to all the antiquated ways of the old world.

And, you hate how much you resent it in your deepest of hearts.

It’s as if they thought that putting you in a dress will wash away all the blood in your hands, as if you didn’t shed as much as all the boys did if not more. You’ve been turned away from all the things you could do, and are now being forced into things they want you to.

It’s suffocating, being torn with the desire to put your foot down and the fear of being perceived as ungrateful.

“They don’t understand, do they?”

You blink out of your thoughts and turn to a familiar face making himself comfortable beside you.

Jaebeom’s pushed away the unfinished basket to the side and pulled up one of his long legs to rest his elbow on.

By his side is his gun, locked and loaded, always ready even after months of quiet. You didn’t even hear him come in, but instead of being unsettled, you’re a slightest bit relieved to know that at least someone hasn’t gotten rusty.

The scar on his eyebrow stands out underneath the moonlight, and on  the porch of your little house way’s away from the center of the town, you two make a fine pair of outsiders.

“No, they don’t.”

Even in times of peace, loss is inevitable.

Namjoon mulls over this as he looks at the list of names up for the next supply run. Two names have been crossed, and two funerals were attended last week. One had a body, another didn’t.

Old man Jungho died of a heart attack after his son died outside, and along with the grief, Namjoon could feel the pressure placed on his shoulders by a community unused to “unnatural” losses.

He’s developed a cycling procedure that makes it slightly fair to everyone who volunteered. Marked with blue ink are the ones who were in the previous run, those in black are the ones who are up for the next one.

With the latter list down by two, Namjoon turns to a different corner of his notebook to see your name. Until now, he’s had every excuse not to put you out there but now…

“Fuck,” Namjoon sighs and rubs his face with his hands. He doesn’t know why you’ll want to do this again. He’s tried asking you but somehow, you’ve grown farther and farther away.

When he tried to find you in the village garden with Yoongi, suddenly you’re out getting water. When Seokjin did your monthly checkup, you’re as impenetrable as the walls, when Hoseok tried to approach you with improvements for your home, you brush him away saying you’ve dealt with it with Jaebeom.

Jaebeom.

Whom you’ve only met a month in after you’ve settled into town. Who somehow’s been rumored to visit your house after dark, when the boys you’ve spent two years with haven’t even gotten the chance to step into your home.

Namjoon lets out a shaky breath. You’ve been so unreachable it’s made him cry out of frustration when the nights are dark and the seven of them feel your absence the most in their own quaint home.

They miss you, so much. Even Yoongi who’s as taciturn as they come has tried reaching out to you, working endlessly hard in his own little garden at the back of their house to produce strawberries that you love so much.

“Who’s on the list?”

Hoseok steps in the kitchen and jolts Namjoon out of his longing. He’s wearing his “fight” pants and boots, his gun taken out of the secret cellar and empty go bag slung on his shoulders.

Namjoon pushes his notebook towards him and watches as his friend’s face grow dark at the sight of your name.

“No.”

Namjoon sighs at the conviction in his friend’s voice. It draws in Jungkook from the living room, wearing the same pants and same tension in his shoulders every run.

It’s different when it was just the seven of them, now, they have to lead a bunch of unseasoned people outside the walls just so they don’t go in blind when - not if - shit hits the fan. The loss of the Youngho weighs heavily on Jungkook. They were of the same age, but not the same life experience and ultimately, that was what killed him.

“No, what?”

Jungkook takes in the tension of the room and glances down at the open notebook. “Oh.”

He mouths your name silently, treasuring each syllable. How long since he’s called you? How long since you two talked? Back outside, he liked to believe you and him had a special bond born in the midst of danger and trivial common hobbies from the old world.

He still has that photo card of an old gaming character you two loved.

“I can’t play favorites.” Namjoon states, teetering between duty and keeping you safe inside the walls. If you knew, you’d probably hate him for this, but you don’t.

“You can - you have!” Hoseok slams his hands on the table, the sound echoing inside their house. Everything falls silent followed by footsteps from the second floor.  “What makes it different now?”

“The difference is the fact that we lost someone!” Namjoon bellows, his anger and stress rolling off him like waves but Hoseok doesn’t stand down. He knows its selfish, but the only thing that has him going now that you’ve pulled away is the knowledge that you’re safe.

“We always lose someone—“

“It’s not just us anymore, you know that, Hobi.”

Hoseok bites his cheek at Namjoon’s use of his nickname and he could feel the rest watching him like a hawk. All at once the fight goes out of him. It’s true. In exchange for safety, the get a community - for better or worse.

A hand lands on his shoulder and he turns to Taehyung, who in turn offers a strained smile. “At least, she has two of you to keep an eye on her out there. Like old times.”

Hoseok never thought he’d feel nostalgic about the times they’re elbow-deep in zombie gut but — “Yeah, like old times.”

Except, it isn’t like the old times.

Jungkook’s always been an awkward guy around girls, especially pre-apocalypse. He was all long limbs and Bambi eyes, not quite steadfast on what he was as a man and easily shaken by every attractive girl’s attention.

And although he’s grown a bit, confident in his looks and skills in this new world, he still hasn’t mastered the art of rejecting someone.

(He’s never had to, not when it was you.)

And so, he’s stuck at the last meeting with his back against the wall and one of the town’s remaining daughters - Hyerin-  crowding his space as opposed to being beside you across the room.

He doesn’t even know that Hyerin signed up for the run, especially with how he’s told her that it’s dangerous and that she hasn’t had the proper training to go out there. It rankles him all sorts of wrong when she said that her father said that “it isn’t as dangerous as they made it out to be” as if they’re lying about the dangers they’ve faced.

And sure, they’ve cleared out a large space around the town of zombies but things can always go wrong, and if there’s anything Jungkook has learned is that things have a habit of luring you to a false sense of security before fucking everything up.

Hoseok’s giving the briefing to their small group of ten, and he could see his friend’s eyes linger a second too long whenever it passes you. You with your hair pulled back and back straight, it almost brings him back.

But then you smile at something Jaebeom says and Jungkook feels his chest tightening on cue. You haven’t smiled nor even looked at him since the start of this briefing. What had he done wrong? What have they done wrong that drove you away?

“We might encounter people on this run, and I want you to remember - people are more dangerous than zombies.” Hoseok reminds the group, “They can think, they can plot - and are much harder to predict. We’ll need someone to bring up the front before we flank the space—“

Before Jungkook could raise his hand, yours shoot up along with Jaebeom’s.

“I’ll do it.”

From the back, Jungkook could clearly hear the murmurs of the men in the group. Someone, someone stupidly brave enough speaks up, “I think you should let the men handle this, darling.”

Jungkook sees you put your hand on Jaebeom’s arm before turning to where the voice is. It’s one of the older folks, large and burly with eyes alight with mockery.

You smile sickly sweet, “Oh? I’m not the one who puked on the side of the road during the last run, am I?”

The man sputters and laughter erupts around him, his friends who were equal parts terrified at the sight of a half-torso crawling towards them last month. It’s easy to laugh when it’s not your ass on the line.

Before he gets another word in, you remind him, Hoseok, Jungkook and everyone in the room how dangerous you were on the outside. And how dangerous you still are here.

“And for the record, could you stomach killing a man when you can’t even finish off a zombie? I can,” you pause the silence being answer enough, “So, no, I’m not leaving this to the men.”

“Antagonizing them isn’t earning you any points.”

Keeping your eyes on the road helps you steady your nerves. Outside, you could see the remains of pushed over cars as your caravan makes its way away from the forest and down the mountain.

According to the last team’s run’s intel, there were traces of people loitering down the town proper and so Namjoon’s sent a team before you get caught unawares.

Hoseok coughs, “Y/N. Are you listening?”

“I didn’t know there were points to earn.”

One line, and its scathing but, Hoseok thinks, at least you’re talking to him. He was afraid he’s forgotten your voice.

He may have abused his power a bit to split you up from Jaebeom but it still makes sense, given that you two have worked together longer outside. You with your speed and him with his agility, you make a pretty good team.

And with your pretty face, people tend to underestimate you until its too late.

Hoseok pauses and mulls over your statement. Adjustment is hard, he knows, pandering to people who don’t know how hard it is on the outside but it’s needed. He doesn’t understand where your dislike of it comes from, so much so you’ve decided to ostracize yourself not only from the people in town but also from them.

(He’s a man. Of course he doesn’t understand. Old or new world, men can only touch the surface of what damage the world has done to women.)

“Y/N, it’s just so we could live with them peacefully. No trouble.”

You finally turn to him and he shivers from the coolness in your eyes. “When have I caused them any trouble? I help out, don’t I? I’m a functioning member of the community - is it required to be all chummy with them?”

Framed like that, Hoseok doesn’t have any answer but a semblance of the truth lying in a question, “Why don’t you talk to us anymore?”

Outside, the caravan reaches its destination and people pour out of the old trucks.

“Is there anything to talk about?”

Of course, of course there is, Hoseok wanted to say. But job calls, and  when the sight of tracks greet your group, everything goes back to the back burner.

By the looks of it, there were at least four people about. All with large feet which most likely mean they were males.

Hoseok made a executive decision and sent back all of the group except you, Jaebeom and Jungkook. Given the situation, your group had too many people for this run turned reconnaisance and moving that many people will slow down any retreat you might need to do.

So he sent them back up with a message to Namjoon about the situation. He’ll get a lashing later but he’s sure the guys will understand. A small group is more manageable, but a group with established trust and dynamics (at least with the three of you) is more than ideal.

Your tracking leads the team to one of the larger convenient grocery stores in town. It’s long been looted and cleaned out, but somehow, one of the older craftsmen in the village figured out how to run the generator. Now, it’s store room is being used to hold and freeze any meat and fish you can’t afford to salt. How long you’ll have it running with the generator, who knows?

At what previously was an aisle for chips and snacks, you and Hoseok tread lightly, guns cocked and hands steady, your ears straining to hear any off-beat step as you get deeper into the store. Somewhere across the room, you know that Jungkook and Jaebeom are doing the same, closing off the larger exit.

It’s four on four, the odds may not be on your favor if it comes down to it but it’s not on theirs entirely either -whoever they are.

The morning light filters through the broken glass windows and reflects on your gun as you step forward to the large space at the end of the aisle. At the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook, -free of that girl hanging off his arm- tilt his head towards the large freezer ahead of you.

Behind him, Jaebeom moves to the right, taking position for a surprise attack while you three continue to advance. The freezer’s door is slightly ajar and you could almost make out the conversation and the shadows moving about inside. There’s unfettered laughter and guffaws, pulling you into a false sense of familiarity.

That laugh…

You were so in your head that your next step crushes a stray glass and echoes in the store. For a moment, it rings in the air, suspended like Hoseok freezing to look at you, before suddenly everything just- drops.

Out the door, someone tackles you to the ground, grabbing your gun and tossing it under the shelves. Your head bounces against the tiles and it steals your breath in pain but without missing a beat, you drive the heel of your palm to the man’s chin, hard enough to unbalance him off your waist.

The man rolls to the side and tries to grab your foot before you break free and kicks it to his face. With satisfaction, you hear him grunt in pain before grabbing at you again.

To the side, you see Hoseok trying to reach you, his gun similarly tossed away by the paler and taller man clutching his shoulder, slumped against a turned over cart. You’re ears are ringing, and you might’ve hit your head but vaguely you could hear someone punching someone at the other side of the aisle.

Everything happens so fast - and ends so quickly.

Your vision clears up as a cock of a gun rings clear, pausing everyone’s movements.

In front of you is a face you’d never thought you’d see again. He’s darker, with what seems to be a permanent five o’clock shadow on his jaw, but his eyes light up at the sight of you and a smile stretches on his lips, his hands up but uncaring of Jaebeom’s gun against his head.

“Y/N, long time no see.”

You gasp, frozen on the floor. “Jackson.”

End Notes: Hearts are appreciated but comments are gold. Let me know what you think and if you want to be included in a tag list!

[femalechibiblogger]

My Top 10 Underrated Anime Series

1. Welcome to the NHK

Plot: The main protagonist is Tatsuhiro Satō, a university dropout entering his fourth year of unemployment. He leads a reclusive life as a hikikomori, ultimately coming to the conclusion that this happened due to some sort of conspiracy. One day just when his life seems entirely unchanging, he meets Misaki Nakahara, a mysterious girl who claims to be able to cure Tatsuhiro of his hikikomori ways. She presents him with a contract basically outlining that once a day they would meet in the evening in a local park where Misaki would lecture to Tatsuhiro in an effort to rid him of his lifestyle. During these outings, many subjects are discussed, though they almost always pertain in some way to psychology or psychoanalysis. One of their first meetings in fact deals with interpreting Tatsuhiro's recent dreams. Both Tatsuhiro and Misaki, however, have a tendency of over-doing things, such as hiding the truth, especially from each other and themselves. Despite Misaki's offer and pressing attempts at salvation, it is Tatsuhiro's neighbor and high school friend, Kaoru Yamazaki, whom Tatsuhiro often turns to in moments of need and support. Despite his own idiosyncrasies, Yamazaki is one of the more stable characters in the story.

While many may not know about this series, those who do know of its existence can see it’s appeal. This anime shows that some people, like the main character, are shut-in’s due to social anxiety holding them back from living a regular life. The anime deals with subjects such as social anxiety, hiding depression from loved ones, paranoia, and a crippling fear of never being accepted by the outside world. 

Throughout the series, Sato tries to go outside more often and is pushed to do this by a high school girl, Misaki, and his old classmate now neighbor, Kaoru. All the while, Sato meets some people from his past who cause him to go down a different path, such as becoming part of a ponzi scheme or joining a suicide group, because they themselves have problems that he unknowingly becomes a part of. This goes to show that if you have struggles with batting depression or have family problems...seek proper help before bringing others down with you.

2. Tiger & Bunny

Plot: The series takes place in "NC 1978" in a fictional, re-imagined version of New York City called Stern Bild City, where 45 years before, superpowered individuals known as "NEXT" (an acronym standing for Noted Entities with eXtraordinary Talents) started appearing and some of them became superheroes. Each of the city's most famous superheroes work for a sponsor company and their uniforms also contain advertising for real-life companies. Their heroic activity is broadcast on the popular television show "Hero TV", where they accumulate points for each heroic feat accomplished (arresting criminals or saving civilians, for example) and the best ranked hero of the season is crowned "King of Heroes". The story mainly focuses on veteran hero Kotetsu T. Kaburagi, a.k.a. Wild Tiger, who is assigned a new partner: a young man named Barnaby Brooks, Jr. However, Barnaby and Kotetsu have trouble working together, as they have conflicting opinions on how a superhero should act, while at the same time they are trying to crack the mystery of the murder of Barnaby's parents. In addition, the appearance of a homicidal vigilante NEXT named "Lunatic" stirs up the public and makes them question the place of heroes in the city. 

The main heroes, Kotetsu and Barnaby, do not like each other at first...but a strong bond grows between them as they protect the city and help each other from the tragic moments of their pasts. They even help each other with the problems that they face within the series’ current timeline: Kotetsu slowly losing his powers, and Barnaby being manipulated by someone who he thought of like family. 

While not as big as My Hero Academia, this series still has lots of good moments, terrific super heroes, and powerful storylines. Tiger & Bunny is definitely worth watching for anyone who loves superheroes and anime.

3. My Roommate Is A Cat

Plot: Novelist Subaru Mikazuki, who is shy and not good with other people, and Haru, the cat that has been living a severe stray life. This is a story of them suddenly living together and describes the happiness of living together from both point of views.

This series is definitely underrated. My Roommate is a Cat is filled shows how much of an impact a person...or in this case a cat...can have on a person who has lived a life of solitude and books. The main character, Subaru Mikazuki, begins to slowly open up to those around him thanks to the help of a stray cat: Haru. From Haru’s point of view, Subaru is someone whom she desires to protect and take care of, as she fears that he cannot survive without her. Subaru also comes to term with his parents’ deaths and learns to move past his guilt, and realizes that there are many people who love and care for him.

This series shows that it’s ok to open up to the people around you, and that no one is truly alone.

4. And Yet The Town Moves

Plot: Hotori Arashiyama loves mysteries, but there’s one she just can’t solve: why does the solution to one problem inevitably seem to lead to another? Like how when Hotori has to start working at the Seaside Maid Cafe after school to pay off a debt and her friend Toshiko fortunately knows exactly how a Maid Cafe should be run. Which is fortunate since Hotori has no clue. Except that, unfortunately, Toshiko has no interest in working at the cafe—until she discovers that Hotori’s childhood friend Hiroyuki is a regular. Which SEEMS fortunate. Except that Hotori doesn’t know that, while Toshiko likes Hiroyuki, Hiroyuki secretly likes Hotori, while Hotori secretly has a crush on… No, no more spoilers!But if that’s not enough drama, there’s work, angst with a certain math teacher, table tennis between her classmates, her younger brother versus the school’s bad girl… And yet, even though everything seems like it’s going to crash at any moment, somehow Hotori’s life keeps going hilariously forward.

Sure...it doesn’t have sexy and cute maids that most maid-theme anime has... But And Yet The Town Moves is still a series worth watching. The series features cute, slice-of-life storylines filled with antics by the mystery-loving Hotori Arashiyama. Because of her crazy antics and goofy nature, Hotori brings laughter and new experiences to those around her. 

If you want an anime featuring klutzy maids and funny slice of life, then And Yet The Town Moves is definitely the right choice. 

5. Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken!

Plot: Midori Asakusa wants to create an anime, but she's too disheartened to make that first step by herself. By pure chance, she meets Tsubame Mizusaki, an up-and-coming socialite secretly dreaming of becoming an animator. Together with Midori's money-loving best friend Sayaka Kanamori, the energetic trio start the "Eizouken" club and slowly work towards making their "greatest world" a reality.

This anime is truly a one-of-a-kind masterpiece. Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken! has animation that is truly breathtaking and filled with the imaginations of aspiring animators. Throughout the series, our three protagonists: Midori, Sayaki, Tsubame experience the hardships of running their own studio, all the while dealing with the Student Council and School Board who wish to shut down Eizouken. But no matter how hard they try, there is no stopping these three girls from making anime and running their studio. 

Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken! has such brilliant animation, creative storylines, and normal looking characters who viewers can relate to. If your dream is to become an animator, than you certainly learn a lot from this series.

6. Angels of Death

Plot: 13-year old Rachel awakens to find herself trapped in the basement of an abandoned building. Without any memories, or even a clue as to where she could be, she wanders the building, lost and dizzy. In her search, she comes across a man covered in bandages. He introduces himself as Zack and he wields a grim-reaper like sickle.A strange bond is struck between them, strengthened by strange, crazy promises…These two, trapped in this strange building, don’t know why fate has placed them there. But they will work together desperately to find a way out…

Rachel and Zack are quite an unlikely duo...yet their skills and personalities are what complete each other: Rachel is calm and calculating, while Zack is aggressive and strong. But they have something in common: They both suffered their whole lives, became killers, and being killers is what got them trapped in the mysterious building in the first place. Together, they face various serial killers who want to keep them from escaping: A doctor with an eye fetish, a pumpkin-headed child who wants to bury Rachel in his graveyard, a female-prison warden who’s obsessed with punishing ‘sinners’, and a faithless priest whose goal is to test the faith of those who fall victim to the killers within the building. 

Angels of Death is filled with such mystery and psychological thrills. While it is not for the faint of heart...it is definitely for those who wish to find a good psychological thriller to watch.

7. Zombieland Saga

Plot: In the year 2008, high school student Sakura Minamoto is abruptly killed by a truck on the morning she plans to submit an idol application. Ten years later, Sakura, along with six "legendary" girls from various eras of Japan's history, are brought back as zombies by a man named Kotaro Tatsumi, who seeks to revitalize Saga Prefecture by putting together an all-zombie idol group known as Franchouchou.

Unlike most ‘pop idol’ anime series, that feature cute girls whose music can save the world...this one features cute girls who are zombies who were brought back to life to save a city as a pop idol group. While it seems unusual, Zombieland Saga shows the viewers all the things that Saga has to offer...because it basically advertises the entire prefecture. The members of Franchouchou: Sakura, Saki, Ai, Junko, Lily, Yugiri, and Tae...are determined to become a great idol group while keeping their true identities a secret. Thanks to their mysterious manager, Kotaro Tatsumi, they are given a second chance at life and learn more about each other...but they also help each other move on from their deaths and give closure to the loved ones that they had to leave behind. 

If you are looking for a ‘pop idol girl’ anime that is different from others...then Zombieland Saga is definitely a good choice, as it does differ from the usual plots that anime featuring pop idol groups has.

8. Mitsuboshi Colors

Plot: Set in Ueno. The series follows three elementary school girls, Yui, Sat-chan, and Kotoha, who together form an organization known as "Colors". Together, they perform various deeds and errands to protect the peace in their town.

This series is very adorable and is filled with a lot of hilarity. What makes it hilarious, are the crazy antics of the crybaby Yui, the rambunctious Sat-chan, and the dark-humored Kotoha as they try to help others and maintain the peace in the town that they love so much. They recieve help from local shop owner, Pops, who gives them clues to solve, and are often coming into conflict with police officer Saito, who sees them as nothing but trouble while dealing with their childish antics. 

Mitsuboshi Colors really does make you want to go to the real Ueno in Japan, and see all the shops featured within this series.

9. Lovely Muco

Plot: The series depicts the life of the pet dog Muco and his owner Komatsu, who lives in his glass-making workshop in the mountains.

Lovely Muco shows life through the eyes of Muco, a shiba inu who lives in a mountain town with her owner, Komatsu, who works as a glass blower. Muco is an energetic dog who finds everything around her fascinating. Muco loves Komatsu more than anything in the world, who gives her lots of love in return. Muco also interacts with other people such as Komatsu’s long-time friend, Ushikou-san, bar owner Bouda and his energetic daughter Rena. 

Lovely Muco shows the viewer how the world looks through the eyes of a dog, and what goes through their curious minds.

10. Chi’s Sweet Home

Plot: A grey and white kitten with black stripes wanders away from her mother and siblings one day while enjoying a walk outside with her family. Lost in her surroundings, the kitten struggles to find her family and instead is found by a young boy, Youhei, and his mother. They take the kitten home, but, as pets are not allowed in their housing complex, they try to find her a new home. This proves to be difficult, and the family decides to keep the kitten. While being housebroken, the kitten mistakenly answers to "Chi" (as in shi- from shikko, the Japanese word for "urine") and this becomes her name. Chi then lives with her new family, learning about different things and meeting new people and animals.

This series is filled with so much love and cuteness that it could give you diabetes. Chi’s New Home shows viewers how the world looks through the eyes young kitten ‘Chi’, as she grows to love her human family and makes new friends along the way. Chi and her family love each other greatly, and cannot imagine living without each other.

Chi’s Sweet Home shows us just how important family is, and how a new member of one’s family can bring so much love and joy into one’s life.

[c4ts4ndstuff]

i felt the sudden urge the other night to write down my testimony, so here goes!

tw religious OCD and tw suicidal ideation under the read more

mine’s a little odd, because i’m not 100% exactly sure when i was saved, and i know that sounds bad.

i was raised in a Christian family, my Dad’s been a pastor my whole life. i prayed to God asking him to forgive me of my sins when i was about...6-7ish.

one night when i was about 14 i started thinking of how God is serious. with God you’re either fully with him, or against him. there is no middle ground. i realized i had to make a decision. did i want to live life doing whatever i wanted, and be separated from God, or did i want to follow God? i decided i wanted to follow God, and got baptized soon afterwards. i then started to read the Bible, pray, and God started convicting me of my sins.

things then started to get messed up in my head in the months leading to my 16th birthday. see, i was born with an extra pathway in my heart, and at  random times my heart would start to use that extra pathway instead of the normal one. which doesn’t sound like a big deal, but the extra pathway was like a shortcut, and my heart would get stuck in a new, shorter rhythm. so even if i was just sitting in a chair my heart would start to beat super hard and fast, like i was being chased by zombies. while i would experience this every so often growing up, i never made a big fuss over it and would normally just try to go lie down somewhere until it passed and my heart was beating like normal. in the months leading up to my 16th birthday however, it started happening on a monthly basis. it took a few months for me to be able to see a doctor, and during that time i worried. a lot. i was scared that during an episode, my heart was going to burst and i’d die. all this thinking of death had me worrying, what if i wasn’t saved?

just a month after my 16th birthday i was able to have an procedure done on my heart, and it fixed things physically.

mentally though, i kept worrying over my salvation. i kept looking up over and over how to be saved, i would pray again asking God to forgive me, and then i’d feel better. until a few months i’d worry again, then it’d only be a few weeks, and then it was just days before i’d start to worry again.

with all the times that i’d ask God to save me, i wasn’t sure when i had really been saved, if i had been saved at all. not being sure of when i was saved just added fuel to the fire, because how could i be saved and not know when it happened?

i know now that i have OCD, but it took me a while to figure that out.

i also started to get these weird “convictions” (AKA OCD was messing with me). i couldn’t use the 6th slot in the Minecraft hotbar, because it was so close to 666, the mark of the beast. i started to feel anxious over different series i liked. i thought the anxiety was God telling me not to engage with these different shows, so to make the feeling go away i promised God i would avoid these shows. it worked... for a while. the third time that happened i didn’t get any relief after making the promise, and i think that’s what led to happened next.

i was about 18, and i was scrolling through tumblr completely fine. but then a thought suddenly popped up: “what if God asked me to give up fiction?” that one, simple sentence managed to torture me for almost six months. i’ve always loved reading, and watching TV. i’ve just always loved stories, and the thought of not being able to even think about a story (because my mind instantly took it to the most extreme level), upset me. and before i knew it the thought had gotten twisted up in my head, and i thought God had asked me to give up fiction.

eventually video games got lumped into that, and without any way to distract myself all i could do was obsess.

i obsessed over whether God really wanted me to give up fiction, over whether or not i was saved, and over whether the simplest of things were sinful or not.

i struggled so much with this, and i was miserable. which then added the icing on the cake, where how could i be saved if i was feeling so miserable and upset over something God might have asked me to do?

when i was at one of my lowest points and i was struggling so much with going back and forth on my salvation (not just whether or not i was saved, but if i had been saved once and then lost it), i prayed to God asking him to kill me if i wasn’t ever going to be saved, because at least in hell i wouldn’t have to worry about my salvation.

I was terrified of sinning. I was so scared, i would obsess over whether the weirdest things were sins, or somehow start to think i was doing things in a sinful way, even things like breathing.

i’ve struggled with intrusive thoughts to an extent for years, but this point they were really upsetting me. inappropriate images and curse words would just pop into my head. i was in agony because even though i didn’t want those thoughts, i thought it was a sin for them to even appear in my head. so whenever one would pop into my head, i would stop what i was doing and ask God for forgiveness. however all this just gave the thoughts more focus, and caused them to appear even more. no matter how hard i tried, i couldn’t prevent the thoughts from appearing.

however when looking up something to help with the intrusive thoughts, i found out about religious OCD, which gave me something to work with.

i would google my obsessions, but then i started adding “OCD” to the end. and with that  i started finding so many people who were experiencing things just like me, people who struggled over their salvation, over different convictions they weren’t sure they had to follow.

i still struggled for a while, but now i had hope that maybe things weren’t as bad as they seemed.

a couple months after that (for a total of almost six months since i really started to spiral) i had a breakthrough.

i knew at the time i wasn’t doing great mentally, and probably had OCD (but still hadn’t fully accepted it yet), but one day things just... clicked for me. God gave me a moment of clarity, and i was able to realize that God was okay with me enjoying fiction. and i was able to have some peace, and i knew i was saved.

i was not cured. i’m not sure it was even a whole day before i started worrying again over if maybe i was wrong and i still shouldn’t enjoy fiction. but God gave me the strength to hold onto that moment of clarity, and i was able to make it through. and with being able to basically have fun again, i was able to distract myself instead of obsessing over all my worries 24/7. i was able to eventually sleep through the night again.

it’s been a couple years now, and i still struggle with various obsessions. every few months or so i’ll spiral again. i’ll be afraid i’m sinning by reading, i’ll start to worry about my salvation again, i’ll worry about the promises i made because of my OCD. a lot of times i can practically feel different obsessions hiding behind a corner, waiting for the right moment to strike. i’ve gotten better though about recognizing them for what they are, so even though sometimes something will stick in my head for months, other times it’s just for a few minutes.

i could not have done this without God, even though my OCD tried to twist me away from him.

if any of this sounds familiar to you, PLEASE look up scrupulosity/religious OCD, or message me and i’ll send you some resources! you’re not alone ❤

[jazy3]

Thoughts on Grey’s Anatomy: 17X4

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

This week we finally got the answer to the question that was on everyone’s minds: Who’s on the beach?!?!? And the answer was none other than George O’Malley! I was right! Ha! I love it when that happens. Yes George was on the beach and we got to see him have a lovely heart to heart with Meredith about life and death, how things were for her and the others after he died, and what life is like for her now.

I was surprised that the heart to heart meaningful conversation turned out to be between Meredith and George and not Meredith and Derek, but I feel like that is coming later. I think the meaningful conversation with Derek will happen right at the end of Meredith’s beach adventure just before she recovers and comes back to the land of the living.

I like that they addressed why Derek and George look older than they did the last time we saw them by having George say that maybe they look older to Meredith and by virtue the audience because that’s how she likes to think of and picture them. The sand isn’t real, the water isn’t real, and Meredith’s perceptions of them and their physical appearances aren’t real either.

We see Richard and Bailey join Meredith and George on the beach at the end sequence when the real life Richard and Bailey move closer to Meredith’s bedside and talk to her which establishes that the beach is neither here nor there. It’s not the afterlife, but it is. It’s not heaven or hell, but it can be. It’s all happening in Meredith’s head, but it’s not. It’s a dream, but it’s also reality.

I liked the call backs to how Meredith, Alex, Cristina, and Izzie laughed a George’s funeral at the ridiculousness of it all. We also got some introspection from Meredith when George asks if she still dances it out like she used to and she says no and that she hasn’t really since she lost Cristina. George gently reminds her that Cristina isn’t dead like him. 

She’s still very much alive she just lives someplace else and that she shouldn’t give up on something she loves that makes her happy because Cristina lives in Zurich, Switzerland instead of Seattle, U.S.A. But we also get some insight here that to Meredith, Cristina moving an ocean away felt like a death and still does. She hasn’t danced it out like that since she left because she’s mourning that loss and to her not being able to see Cristina whenever she wants to is akin to not being able to see people like Derek, George, and Lexie like she used to because they’re gone.

Alex’s departure is different in that way in that once the pandemic is over and travel has opened back up and she’s done being mad at him she can go see Alex and Izzie and the kids whenever she wants. She doesn’t even have to get on a plane if she doesn’t want to. She can drive or take the train. The same holds true for Callie and Arizona. But the loss of people like Cristina, Derek, George, Mark, and Lexie is different because she can’t. Getting to Cristina means enduring at least two separate several hour flights across an ocean and she hates flying. 

Seeing all of those other people is impossible because they’re not alive anymore. And she feels that loss everyday whether she’s able to verbalize it or not. I loved Meredith’s ending line about finding your people and holding them close because those are the ones that get you through the tough times. The fact that she made Richard her POA comes full circle in this episode when we see him trying to comfort her and make a decision at her bedside. 

Richard is struggling about whether to enroll Meredith in the trial when he realizes she’s trying to say something. He gets closer and tells her he’s here for her only to realize she’s mumbling in her sleep and talking to George. Because Richard has seen Meredith and the others through it all he knows exactly who George is. He knows what the significance of that is and he realizes that she’s not trying to speak to him or get better. She’s talking to her friend George on the other side. She’s dying and if he doesn't do something soon she’ll join him. This realization causes him to decide to enroll Meredith in the trial.

I like that we also got an update on George’s Mom who we last saw in Season 8 talking to Callie about her marriage to Arizona and the birth of her daughter Sofia. George tells Meredith that grief is different for everyone and that his mother carries hers and that makes him sad and that sometimes he tries to shake it out of her and try to let her know that he’s still there and he’s still him even though she can’t see him anymore.

I loved how Meredith commented that he’s basically haunting her and George replied, “Well sure if you want to call it that.” The gentle teasing nature they had between them as friends was one of the things I loved most about their relationship and it was nice to see that here. I also liked their conversation about choices. Meredith asks if it’s her choice whether she stays or goes, and George says that it depends. Some people get to choose, and some don’t. He would have stayed if he could, but she appears to have a choice. On the one hand she’s worried about the kids and how losing her and becoming orphans will affect them.

On the other hand, she’s tired and has been through a lot and all the people she loves are on that beach. So, it’s a tough call for her to make. When they were sitting there on that beach and George turned to Meredith and said, “If you stay here you might break him,” and they turned to reveal Richard sitting next to her? Ugh that got me! Also watching Meredith shake convulsively from COVID while unconscious and talking to her dead friend was unnerving and a little scary especially since this is a real disease that is hurting real people. My heart breaks for anyone going through this in real life.

I also loved their exchange about the kids. Where he tells them how great they are and she says he never got to meet them and he tells her that he checks in on her and them from time to time. I also love that his comment establishes that all of the other people Meredith has lost are able to check in on her and the kids and that the other people that other characters have lost can do the same. It’s a nice image and something I think all of us in the real world like to imagine and believe when we lose a loved one. That they’re watching over us.

I loved how in Meredith’s Voice Over this episode she says that Medical schools often ask applicants for an essay describing a time they faced adversity and how they overcame it because they want to know how people will cope with the challenges they'll face as a doctor. And that some students worry they have nothing to write about because they haven't faced difficulty. She didn't have that problem. LOL!

Meredith is the main character, the lead star, and the anchor of the series and they introduced this plot in the premiere this season which mostly likely means that she won’t die or be sidelined by this permanently. And since the show is reflecting a real world disease and pandemic that means that if Meredith lives one of the other characters or someone else close to them will be dying from it most likely. Sadly, it looks like that might be Tom after this episode.

Tom’s got some funny dialogue when he tries to interrupt the staff meeting Richard is holding about COVID by tablet and with Helm when she comes by to drop off his COVID test. I liked how Jackson just walked over and knocked over the tablet to shut him up and everyone just laughed and carried on. His scenes with Helm were pretty funny too. The Zombie appearing on screen scared me though!

In the end we see that Teddy finally comes to talk to him and bring him soup after Helm tells her how bad he’s doing and how much he needs a friend as she desperately tries to save Meredith. When Tom didn’t answer the door or make a sound my first thought was that he had collapsed, but no it’s worse than that because as Teddy turns to leave the camera pans over and we see Tom cold and shaking in a blanket on the other side of the door unable to respond.

Which means his condition has worsened and he’s in pain, but he can’t communicate that to Teddy because he’s too weak to speak or he can’t make his voice loud enough to be heard over the pouring rain. Man that was some downpour! I wonder if it was fake rain that they created or if it rained that heavily the day they filmed that scene. Good to see Tom finally bought a house though! Seeing as last we saw he was living out of a hotel and then got Teddy a beautiful apartment only to find out at the last minute that she had gotten back together with Owen so he went back to living in a hotel again. Glad to see he got some digs.

I’ll be sad if they write Tom off as a character as I’ve really come to like him and he’s interesting and complex. Plus, I love seeing someone call Owen on his crap with such humour! We also got some good social commentary on how health practitioners often base treatment protocols and assessments on the standards of care and presentation developed for white patients, but that because diseases present differently in people of different races and genders that needs to be accounted for.

Especially because your race, gender, and where you grew up affects your predisposition for certain illnesses and can affect the presentation. Owen failed to catch something serious with his patient when they were initially brought in because he was using the standard developed for white patients which is different from the standard for Asian patients. 

One of the new interns who is Asian brings this up to Nico who eventually says something to Owen who brings it up to Bailey who calls him on his privilege and reminds him that he needs to not only check himself, but because he is white and is the head of Trauma for the hospital it is his responsibility to update and improve protocols to make sure that every patient is getting the best care possible.

As Bailey says true equality means taking into account that we are all different. And when it comes to medicine conditions present themselves in different ways based on race and other factors. Giving everyone the exact same care based on a standard of care developed by and for white people is not equality because it means that people of colour like his patient receive a lower standard of care which can lead to unnecessary suffering and death.

True equality means providing equitable care that takes into account who a patient is physically when treating them. As Bailey says equitable care is not the same as equal care. One takes into account the reality and ensures true equal treatment while the other gives the appearance of equality while disadvantaging anyone who’s not a white straight cisgender man. While I like that they addressed that Nico was a complete jerk to everyone this episode.

He acted like the whole thing was no big deal when the intern brought it up and brushed off her comments about Anti-Asian racism from earlier in the episode that we’re totally valid. The intern was looking for some solidarity and for someone above her to back her up on some real issues. Instead Nico blew her off and talked down to her only to bring the issue up himself to Owen in the exact way he told her not to. Nico’s a good surgeon and he was right to say something, but he is a horrible human being, teacher, and boyfriend.

He continues to treat Levi horribly for no reason and as Jo says Levi deserves better. I liked Jo and Levi’s interactions this episode. They were funny and I love them! Also did anyone else think it was weird that Jo and Levi were having a conversation about how horrible Nico is as a person and how horribly he treats Levi when Nico was literally a metre or two in front of them and could hear everything they were saying? Nico’s an ass and apparently, he doesn't care that he’s an ass and that everyone thinks that of him.

I’m actually liking the whole Jo and Jackson friends with benefits situation. So far, its made for some good comic relief! I like too that we finally saw Jackson admit that he’s jumped from one relationship to another way too fast for his whole run on the show and that he needs to take some time and get some therapy and figure out what he wants. I love that Jo was immediately on the same page and laughed at the idea of them having a relationship right now. She needs a sex buddy, not a partner. He’s got work to do on himself and as she says she feels broken and is still trying to heal from the trauma she has experienced.

I also liked the scenes with Amelia and Link. I like that Amelia was able to express herself and her frustrations and that Link made the decision to support her. My best friend that I watch with made comment that she felt like under the same circumstances Owen would have just stormed back into the house whereas Link angrily moved some toys aside so that he could sit next to Amelia while she felt all her feelings and talked about them because that’s what she needed to do. 

I also liked that when Amelia tried to push Link to talk later on he opened up about his process and was straight with her. Talking about all of her feelings out loud and in the open because if she bottles them up, she’ll wind up relapsing is her thing. Link’s thing is to focus on the positive and play his guitar. As Link says he’s happy to support her on her thing, but if she wants their relationship to work she has to support him on his thing. And she does. 

My favourite line this episode? “What are you playing?” “It’s a song called ‘If The Virus Doesn’t End Us, Then Climate Change Probably Will.’” Too funny! And accurate! We also learn that Amelia loves to garden and is apparently quite good at it and they appear to have a herb and vegetable garden at Meredith’s house. We get some awkward dinner interaction courtesy of Maggie and Winston’s relationship this episode when he invites her to a virtual Birthday dinner for his beloved Grandmother which is then crashed by his estranged father. 

His Grandmother invited him and within five seconds of being on the call he insults Winston and says that the idea that his son who is a Cardiothoracic Surgeon at Tufts is a genius is laughable because apparently he failed sixth grade. This man is an asshole and I can see why Winston hates him. That being said Winston exiting the call and leaving Maggie hanging there with his Grandmother, father, and some other relatives that she’s never met was not okay.

It was extremely rude. He should have told Maggie he had to go before signing off or said that they should both leave the call. Maggie is a class act for staying on that call and asking his upset Grandmother if there was cake. Side note: I did love Maggie and Winston’s conversation about what pencil nerds they both are! This is a match made in heaven so whatever issues they do have they’ll work through them because this is clearly meant to be.

My only real complaint about this episode was the absence of one Cormac Hayes. As my best friend said after we finished watching, “Did you notice who wasn’t in this episode? McWidow. Where the hell was McWidow?” I concur with this sentiment 100%. Hayes makes everything better and I’m sad when he’s not there. I get that Meredith was on the beach with George this episode and that was the focus on her storyline, but it would have been nice to see Hayes stand outside her window or sit next to her or talk to Jo about her condition.

That’s the other thing. Season 16 established that Jo and Hayes are friends and that she’s rooting for him and Meredith to be together and live happily ever after. So I’m surprised that they haven’t had a scene yet this season. We’ve seen Jo interact with Link who she’s close friends with and Levi who’s her roommate, but not Hayes. I’m hoping we’ll get that next episode. So far the majority of Hayes’ scenes have been with Meredith, followed by Jo, followed by Bailey. 

If Hayes can’t interact with Meredith like he normally would because she’s unconscious I want to see him interact with Jo, Bailey, Maggie, and Richard more. The fact that we’re seeing intimate scenes with Jo and Jackson gives me hope that we’ll get to see those kinds of scenes for Meredith and Hayes. Although it’s entirely possible that those scenes were filmed last season before the pandemic hit so maybe not. 

I also like that we got some important timeline information this episode. Jo mentions murder hornets (remember those?) which puts this episode at the beginning of May. She also says that her and Alex divorced the same year they got married which means that Seasons 14 and 15 span the same year. Which makes sense given the other information that we have and means that the relationship we saw in Season 15 only lasted a matter of months. 

Which is good news in the sense that nobody really liked any of the ships from that season apart from Tom and Teddy and Amelia and Link and this establishes that all of those relationships were short lived and occurred over a matter of months, not a full year or more. Based on what I caught of next week’s promo it looks like Meredith’s condition is improving (!) while Tom’s condition is deteriorating, and Bailey’s Mom is in bad shape and is being admitted! COVID is no joke! Buckle up everyone!

Until next time!