#it also helped that i took my french exam a year early and had an extra study period my senior year—my IB experience was really something | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lis-likes-fics · 4 years ago

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English, Please

Part 1: Late to School... By a Lot

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You sighed, rubbing your temples as you groaned, frustration only rising in your body as you assessed the situation. Your school had been released for Christmas and New Year’s break and you were visiting family and friends out of state. Your break was long and enjoyable and it had been time to finally go back home and back to school where you would started second semester.

Except you weren’t back at school for your second semester yet. On the trip back home, your car had broken down so you and your parents were waiting for a tow truck to come and pick you up from the gas station where your car had stopped working.

You dad knew the car had been acting up and said we would get it fixed before it was time to head back home, but everything moved so fast that he’d forgotten to. So you got on the road, halfway from your destination home and from where you’d just left.

You would’ve been fine missing the first couple of days back after the break, it’s not like you’d have a schedule change or like you would have a test for when you got back.

Except you did.

Before you left for your break, your French Professor gave you all a set of flashcards to look over for your break of the things you’d learned and told you all that you would have a beginning of semester exam to see what you remembered. The test would be the first grade of the semester and you couldn’t retake it.

So now you were stressed because you needed to take that test. That and you wanted to see your professor again. You knew it wasn’t exactly right to have feelings for your teacher, but you couldn’t help it if you found him highly attractive.

You weren’t the only one who thought so either. A lot of the female students in his class only take the class because of him. You had decided to because you like the French language and it was your last year of high school. Why switch languages?

Then three new, young members of the staff showed up, both named Professor Mikaelson. Professor Niklaus Mikaelson, Kol Mikaelson, and Elijah Mikaelson were brothers who’d decided to start teaching.

While Niklaus was attractive, he also proved to be quite strict when it came to teaching his students, and sometimes his assignments weren’t the easiest and he made sure of it. But the students still loved him. You had him for your art class and he liked some of your work.

Kol was the theatre professor. Everyone in that class liked him, but if you didn’t know how he taught you would think he wasn’t supposed to be a teacher at the school. You were in his class, as you decided to take art and theatre, trusting that it would be fun to double in fine arts. He always admired your way of acting.

Then there was the undeniably attractive Professor Elijah Mikaelson. You were surprised to end up getting all three brothers and some call you lucky, as only a few ended up having the privilege.

He was kind but strict enough to make sure everyone did their work to the absolute best of their ability. You were one of his top students. You always showed up at least two minutes early for his class, you always but bonus work at the bottom of your assignments to show that he knew you paid attention in his classes, since you had to talk in French in his classes and anytime you speak to him, you made sure to put extra care in your word choice and pronunciation, and you turned in your assignments early with extra work.

You knew you were one of his top students, but you didn’t know you were his favorite.

You’d been able to get the car fixed and back to Virginia before the last day of the first week back. You got up extra early on Friday, put on your best clothes, grabbed everything you would need and made sure to read your flashcards going out of the door and into your own fully functioning car before heading off to school.

In the hall you ran into your best friend, Caroline. Oh, boy. “Where the hell have you been?!” She yelled, rushing over to you and inspecting you.

You sighed and spoke, “Sorry, Care. Dad’s car broke down when we were halfway through our trip and we got stuck in a city with very suckish connection and I couldn’t call. I would have, I swear.”

“Well, you missed Professor Mikaelson’s test! He said no retake.” Caroline told you.

You nodded, “I know, I know.” You sighed, “Look the bell is about to ring and I have Professor Niklaus first. I’ll catch you at lunch?”

She nodded, “You better. See you at lunch.”

You nodded and rushed to your class without being called by the others teachers to stop running. When you got to the class, Niklaus smirked and said, “Ah, Miss Y/N, you’re alive. I was beginning to worry that something happened to one of my good students.”

You gave him a nod, an apologetic smile, and told him, “Forgive me, Professor. I had car troubles and got stuck outside of Virginia. If there’s any work I need to get done, I will immediately.”

He nodded, “No worries. You’ve only missed an assignment that’s due tonight. Since you were not here, I’ll have you turn it in Monday morning. It shouldn’t be difficult for you.”

You nodded, “Of course, Professor. Thank you.” The bell rang and he announced for everyone to take their seats.

The first three classes ended and you were watching the clock as your English class moved so slowly. After the bell, you stood with your already gathered items and rushed down the halls to get to Professor Elijah’s class. If you got there quick enough, you’d have three minutes to tardy bell.

You got there, the first student to the classroom and sighed. Elijah was standing outside of his classroom door, seemingly pleased to see you but a little frustrated at the same time.

You bowed your head as you walked up to him. “Professeur Mikaelson. Pardonne-moi. Au retour de la pause, notre voiture est tombée en panne. Je viens de rentrer hier soir. (When we got back from the break, our car broke down. I just got back last night.)”

The professor furrowed his brows as he listened. You continued, carefully thinking over your words so you don’t mess something up.

“J'espérais pouvoir encore faire le test. Je pourrais venir après l'école. Je pourrais faire du travail supplémentaire. Tout ce que tu as besoin que je fasse, s'il vous plaît. (I hoped I could still do the test. I could come after school. I could do some extra work. Whatever you need me to do, please.)

Elijah closed his eyes and held up his hand. You pursed your lips as you waited for his response. "Tu es l’un de mes meilleurs. En raison des circonstances, je vous autoriserai à le prendre. Merci pour l'explication. Venez me voir pendant le déjeuner après avoir mangé. (You are one of my best. Due to the circumstances, I will allow you to take it. Thanks for the explanation. Come see me during lunch after eating.)

You smiled and spoke, "Merci beaucoup! (Thank you so much!)”

You walked into the class and took your seat, setting everything out and getting right to work as you waited for the bell.

After the class ended, you got to lunch and quickly grabbed your meal sitting with Caroline as you dug in quickly. “Woah, woah, woah! Slow down!”

“Can’t. I have to get to Professor Mikaelson’s classroom during lunch so I can take the test. He’s allowing me to do it because of what happened. I’ve got to get there quickly.” You told her.

She asked, “He’s letting you take it? That’s so weird, he was so insistent on no retakes.”

You shrugged, “I guess since I hadn’t taken it yet, it doesn’t count. I dunno. I just need to hurry.”

“Eat, don’t inhale.” She told you, giving a small look of slight disgust at how you were practically stuffing your face. She then raised a brow and gave a suggestive look, “Do you think you’ll be doing some under the table work?”

You almost choked on your food as you looked at her, coughing a little, “What? That’s ridiculous! He’s a professor, I’m a student! We can’t do that!”

She shrugged, “Well, we are seniors and you are a consenting adult. So…”

You shook your head, “You are unbelievable, Care.”

She shrugged again, “Hey, do you have a pen or pencil I could borrow? I lended mine to someone in my last class and forgot to get it back. I need to write something real quick.”

You nodded and dug in your bag, “I only have the one because I stupidly left my spares at home, so give it back.” She nodded and grabbed the pen, quickly getting to work with whatever she was writing.

You finished your food and stood, throwing your bag over your shoulder and saying, “See you next period in theatre.”

She nodded, “Okay, good luck.” She gave a suggestive movement and you rolled your eyes as heat rushed to your cheeks.

Professor Elijah Mikaelson was a very formal and professional teacher. He would never. Especially not with someone like you.

But that didn’t stop your mind from wandering.

You finally got to class and took a breath before knocking on the door.

“Entrez. (Come in.)” His voice came through the door, the French accent slipping off of his tongue so elegantly.

You took another breath and stepped in. “Je suis ici. (I am here.)

He looked up, raised an eyebrow, and smiled. "Ah. Mademoiselle Y/L/N. Viens t'asseoir. (Ah. Miss Y/L/N. Come and sit down.)” He motioned to the chair he moved in front of his desk.

You nodded and sat down in the chair, setting your things to your side. “Merci encore. (Thanks again.)”

He stood and went to retrieve your assignment. You dug in your bag for your pen and closed your eyes shut. “Merde. (Shit.)” You muttered.

“Excuse-moi? (Excuse me?)” Elijah asked, a hint of amusement in his voice at your use of profanity.

You pursed your lips and spoke, “Pardonne-moi. J'ai oublié mon stylo. (Forgive me. I forgot my pen.)”

He lifted one side of his suit jacket, reaching into an inside pocket and pulling out a sleek and fabulous black pen with a single strip of gold at the tip of it. “Utilisez le mien. (Use mine.)”

He handed the pen over to you and you admired it’s elegance. While you did so, he slid a couple of blank, lined pieces of paper over to you and a seperate stack of two papers covered in printed writing.

You looked over it and then up to him. He explained, “Je veux que vous traduisiez parfaitement cet extrait de The Great Gatsby. Vous n'aurez droit qu'à trois erreurs. Si vous ne terminez pas avant la fin du déjeuner, je vous laisserai rester tard et donnerai un mot à votre prochain professeur. Tu peux commencer. (I want you to translate this excerpt from The Great Gatsby perfectly. You will only be allowed three errors. If you don’t finish before lunch is over, I’ll let you stay late and give your next teacher a note. You can begin.)”

You stared at the paper blankly, surprised and nervous. You didn’t think this would be the assignment, it wasn’t what he described.

“Quelque chose ne va pas? (Something is wrong?)” He asked.

You shook out of your daze and muttered, “Non, juste confus. Je pensais que c'était un test de mémoire. (No, just confused. I thought it was a memory test.)

"C'était pour tout le monde. Je comprends votre situation, mais vous n'avez toujours pas passé le premier test. Vous avez donc un test plus difficile à faire. (It was for everyone. I understand your situation, but you still haven’t passed the first test. So you have a more difficult test to do.)

He motioned to the papers and for you to get started. You nodded and uncapped the pen, taking a breath in and bringing the papers to you and taking a breath.

He brought a stack of papers to his desk and put them in front of them as he went through to start grading. You bit your lip and began working, writing your student ID number and the date in the top right corner.

You took another breath in and began reading the first sentence. You translated it carefully as the tip of the pen wrote against the paper.

You admired how the pen complimented your handwriting. You’d been told once or twice that you had such great handwriting and people always admired it, but you never really paid much attention to it, not caring much for how you wrote but more about what you wrote.

Your neat and elegant cursive wrote onto the paper smoothly and quickly as you began working. After a few uncertain translations and read-thrus to make sure it was right, you sunk into it and began to right, your nerves sinking away.

Elijah looked over the papers he was grading and over to your progress. His breath hitched slightly and his eyes went wide. You looked up a little when you heard the small gasp.

"Monsieur? (Sir?)” You asked carefully. He shook his head and cleared his throat, “Pardonne-moi. Continuer. (Forgive me. Carry on.)

You nodded slowly and went back to your paper. After a while, the bell rang and you looked up as you but your lip. Elijah took in a deep breath and asked, ” Avez-vous besoin de plus de temps? (Do you need more time?)“

You nodded, "S'il vous plaît. (Please.)”

He nodded and motioned to your paper for you to finish. He grabbed a sticky note and began scribbling on it. You looked up through your eyelashes, subtly looking at what he wrote.

As he wrote out your name, you bit your lip and took in a small breath. Why was your name in his handwriting so sexy?

You shook your head and continued.

When you finally finished almost ten minutes before your next class ended, you nodded and slid your papers over. He looked over the paper and told you carefully, “Vous avez oublié de mettre le nom complet et le numéro de classe de votre professeur. (You forgot to put the full name and class number of your teacher.)

You looked up at him and the paper. You didn’t think you would have to since your paper would be different from everyone else’s. But you didn’t argue.

Instead, you added the class number and Elijah’s full name up at the top next to your student ID number.

"Merci. Tu peux partir. (Thank you. You can leave.)” He handed you your note and confiscated your papers, setting them to the side.

You nodded slowly and stood, getting to the door before saying a small, “Au revoir. (Goodbye.)” He nodded and you turned to leave, heading to your next class.

You opened the door slowly and walked in. The teacher looked up at you and smiled. “Ah, Miss Y/N. Good to see you weren’t intending on skipping the whole class.” Professor Mikaelson spoke, er, the other Professor Mikaelson.

You handed him the note, “My apologies.”

Kol read the note quickly and nodded, “No, the apologies are mine. It seems my brother was keeping you busy. Have a seat and write down these last things before class ends. Thank you.”

You nodded, “Thank you, Professor.”

You went to take your seat with Caroline who was giving you a large and unsettling smile. “So…how did it go?”

You rolled your eyes, “I got a more difficult test, that’s how it went. I had to translate a two-page excerpt from The Great Gatsby into French.” You held out your hand, “Pen, please.”

She nodded, “Oh, my bad.” She handed you your pen that she’d stuffed in her bag. “I assumed you wouldn’t need it.”

You rolled your eyes and got to work before the class ended.

You spent the day nervous about what you might have gotten on the test. You were in your last class of the day sitting next to Damon Salvatore who would give suggestive winks to you whenever the word “sexual” would pop up since you were in a science class talking about how some organisms sexually reproduce and how other asexually reproduce.

You looked down at your work when the door opened to the classroom. One of the office aids handed a note to the professor and you shrugged and looked back down at your work. Then she spoke, “Miss Y/N Y/L/N.”

You looked up and she handed out the note for you. You stood from your chair and retrieved the note. You returned to your seat and read it to yourself.

’Miss Y/N Y/L/N,

I have graded your paper and would like to discuss it with you after school, if you are free today. If not, come see me Monday morning before school starts.

Professor E. Mikaelson.’

You sighed and bit your lip, half wondering if you talk would be good or not and half admiring your name in his writing.

Damon nudged your shoulder, “Oo, someone’s in trouble.”

You laughed at your friend’s antics, “Shut up, Damon.”

He laughed and nudged you again, childishly pointing at his paper to the word ‘sex’. You rolled your eyes, “You and Caroline suck.”

You waved your goodbyes to your friends and headed to Elijah’s classroom, your nerves getting to you as you shakily raised your fist to the door. You took a breath and knocked.

“Entrez. (Come in.)” He said through the door. You sighed and opened the door once again.

“Je suis ici. (I am here.)” You told him. He turned to you smiled and spoke, “Miss Y/N.”

You stopped slightly as the words that came out of his mouth were English and not French.

You nodded slowly, “Oui. J'ai votre note. (Yes. I have your note.)”

He nodded, “Yes. Thank you for coming to see me.”

Your knees almost buckled just then. You were not expecting him to speak in English. In fact, you had never heard him speak English before. You were always supposed to speak to him in French and he, you. Those were his rules.

“Bien sûr. (Of course.)” You continued to speak French, even if you did stutter. You didn’t want to get in trouble for not doing it.

His voice was so amazing when he spoke in that lovely language, but it was even better to hear him speak in English. It was still so elegant in his voice. You expected his voice to have the same accent as his brothers, but it did not. His voice held a trace of it, but it had a certain uniqueness to it.

You loved it.

He motioned to his desk and had you sit back down in the chair he pulled up again in case you came. “Please, come and sit." He removed his suit jacket and laid it over his chair before taking a seat.

You sat down slowly and carefully, making sure your weak legs could support you. He pulled up your paper and looked at it, sighing as he handed it back to you. You took that as a bad sign and slumped slightly.

He spoke, "I read your paper and checked over it.”

You nodded, “Et? (And?)”

He smiled, “You passed with flying colors. The only error I saw was a simple and common mistake.”

You nodded, a smile on your lips. “Ç'est incroyable! (That’s/It’s incredible!)

He nodded, "It is. I have never had a student like you. And this handwriting is impeccable. I have been rooting for the person with this handwriting since the work they turned in was so amazing, but I could only identify it by the student ID. When I saw you write…I couldn’t handle myself.”

“Quoi? (What?)” You asked, surprised.

He nodded and stood, walking around his desk to you and taking seat at the edge of it next to you, “You are the best student I’ve ever had. And your handwriting is the best I’ve ever seen in my life. And, may I say, you are the most beautiful I’ve ever seen.”

You were speechless. You were dreaming, you had to be. There was no way. It just didn’t make sense.

“Je- er… Tu-… (I- er… You-…)” You couldn’t seem to find English or French words to use.

He asked, “Have I overstepped?” He got off of his desk and began to travel back behind it. You spoke instantly, “Non! (No!)”

He looked back at you, “So you won’t mind my saying that you are a talented and beautiful human being who I’m most fortunate to have in my class. I missed you while you were gone. I was worried when you didn’t show the first few days.”

You were at an extreme loss for words. Not only was he finally speaking English, he was telling you how beautiful and talented you were? This didn’t make sense. You had to be dreaming. Right?

“Monsieur…” You began, trying to figure out what to say.

He finally told you, “English, please.”

You don’t know what possessed you to say this in such a way, but you probably should have thanked it.

“But I thought you liked French.” You spoke, your brow raising as your words sounded like silk and your voice deepened very slightly.

His eyes seemed to light up. Like you had never heard him speak English until now, he had not heard you speak it. He sighed as he spoke, “Beautiful.”

He smirked, taking a couple of steps toward you, “Someone’s naughty.” He turned your chair over to face him.

Your face heated up as you realized what you had just said and what he was doing. “Oh my- Forgive me.”

He kneeled in front of you, looking up into your eyes as his darkened slightly. His hand landed softly on your knee as he looked at you. Your body heated up as you assessed the situation.

It was safe to say that you were thoroughly turned on and hot. Your breath heat up as you looked into those dark brown eyes.

“The pleasure of hearing your voice is so fulfilling. It’d be a wonder to find out how fulfilling you could be…” He spoke, seemingly thinking out loud.

Continue reading on Wattpad or Ao3...

~~~

Suit and Staglist: @avala-moon @xxwritemeastoryxx @melodiclovesong @thebrotherssalvatore321 @strangerliaa @njeancastro316 @dumble-daddy @mrs-salvawhore @deviously-innocent

#the originals #the vampire diaries #fanfiction #fanfic #elijah #Elijah Mikaelson fanfiction #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson x y/n #elijah x reader #teacher/student #professor mikaelson #mr mikaelson

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sasuhinasno1fan · 3 years ago

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Goodbye, I’ll see you when I get back-Lukadrien June Day 27

It was a toss up between this and the Chronicles of Narnia au I came up with today. I might slip in the Narnia AU later. Anyway, this is a Jinx au, the book written by Meg Cabot. In this AU, Lila is Luka’s cousin on his uncle’s side and Sass is his cousin on his mom’s. Goodbye

Luka liked this, making out with Adrien. Before, it had just been them hanging out and ignoring Lila’s many attempts to get Adrien’s attention. Even worse attempts at magic. Now he could make out with Adrien and he wasn’t so afraid of his magic anymore.

His family was special. There was a story about a woman from their family who was called a witch and died in America, leaving her children alone during the witch trials. Thing was, she actually was one. Her tell was her Heterochromia, something not common then, or at least common enough to have a name other than ‘tainted with the devil’. Luka had Heterochromia, mild, but it was still there. He was always having bad luck, knew when things were going to go badly and just reacted to try and stop them. like when he pushed Adrien out of the way of a passing biker the first time, they met because of the red of a door looking a lot like blood. For a long time, he just waved it off as stories, something their grandmother would tell when family gatherings happened. Sass was interested in the history of it and their other cousin Lila, well she took it farther.

Luka never believed it but then he met her. It was so stupid, he knew it was, but he was able to find a love spell and he cast it. At first it was just her paying attention to him, then asking him out. Then it got out of hand, to a stalker level. Like, they lived on a boat, leaving every few months. They’d been sailing and somehow, she ended up on a boat following them. It was the whole reason he was even in Paris and not with his family. He wanted nothing to do with magic after that. Of course it was his luck that Lila was very into it, thinking she was a special second witch after the whole story about there being one user in each family.

Luka wanted nothing to do with it, but with Lila trying to cast love spells and attempting curses, he had no choice. When Adrien kept showing interest in Luka, Lila decided to play a different field. She ‘changed’ for the better. Sass didn’t believe it for a second, warning Luka she was trying something. Adrien had as well, but Luka held hope. Until Lila invited his love spelled old crush to their school dance. When his cousin started talking about what he’d done and then tried to pin her own love spell attempts on him, Luka left, angry and frustrated. He’d had a dream about his ancestor, the same one who was a witch, coming to him and telling him to stop being afraid of his power.

So when Lila basically kidnapped him and tried to do ritual that would take his powers and give them to her, he decided enough was enough. Adrien swears it had been because of noise, but Luka knew that Adrien was spelled to come look outside because he cast it. He helped save Luka and tell Luka’s aunt and uncle. Which led to now, Luka was a twisted ankle and a few bruises and a very nice new boyfriend.

One who was a very good kisser. Like really good. Adrien was younger than him, he wasn’t supposed to be this good.

“Ooh.” Sass teased as he walked into the dinning room where he and Adrien were supposed to be working on homework before they were very distracted. Sass had been a godsend throughout Luka’s whole stay, more interested in the history of magic than actually trying to use it. “Kissy kissy.”

“Can I help you?” Luka asked.

“Your mom is on the phone. Sounds like they’ve docked in the French countryside.”

Luka took the phone, not really moving far from Adrien. “Hi maman.”

“Hello mon trésor. How’s the ankle?”

“It’s doing well. I’ve been keeping off of it. Won’t be fully healed until halfway through summer vacation, but it’s ok. More time to play the violin.”

“Speaking of which, that scholarship, when do you have to play for them?”

Before the whole dance incident, Adrien had told Luka that their school offers scholarships for different departments and if he got it, Luka could attend the school for his last year instead of only staying for the rest of the year and moving back. Luka liked the school and he knew graduating from there would give him a great chance into getting into a university he wanted.

“I did it actually two days ago. I won’t find out until after exams though. But I think I did well. I just had this burst of inspiration and wrote a whole piece to preform for them.”

“You still have to let me listen to that.” Adrien whispered to him.

“Oh I’m so glad. I know got it; I have full confidence in you. however-”

“However? What can I not stay anymore?”

“No, no, of course you can. I think it would be so great for you there, even though your sister and I miss you like crazy. We just need you to come home for the break.”

“What? Why? Maman, I have a messed-up ankle. Being on a boat isn’t going to help.”

“Your aunt and I were talking and we think it’s probably best if Lila comes and lives with us on the boat. And I know that staying far away from her until she changes is a good idea but you need to understand. I sent you to Paris to be safe and then the girl invites your stalker to your dance as well as tries to hurt you and lie to get out of it? You’re lucky I even said yes to you staying for another year. I want to see that you’re ok with my own eyes.”

Luka wanted to argue but he couldn’t. his mom was right. She travelled on a boat every few months, somethings longer and she thought Paris would be safe for Luka. he had a twisted ankle and a magic hungry cousin that said different.

“Fine, ok. I’ll come back.”

“What’s going on?” Adrien whispered, no doubt seeing the frown grow on Luka’s face.

“I have to go back home for the break.”

“For how long?”

“I think the whole break.”

__________________

Luka hated having to leave. He’d lived on a boat his whole life so there was never really a place that felt like home for him other than the Liberty. Paris was starting to feel like that. He knew he’d be going back in a few months, but it felt like he didn’t get to spend a whole lot of time with Adrien. Staying in contact on the boat would be hard. Half the reason Lila was going there was so she learned to live without easy access to things. His mom did have a hotspot but it wasn’t absolute. Plus phone service wasn’t also the greatest. He liked Adrien, a lot. He’d been so nervous about actually dating anyone after his mishap with the love spell but Adrien was worth it. Besides, Sass helped him find a spell to cancel his love spell so he was able to take care of that before his former stalker went back home. Things were good with Adrien and he didn’t want to leave.

But here he was in the train station, with a sudden cheap trip his mom got hold of. He didn’t get to say goodbye and he was worried Adrien would take that the wrong way, along with the distance. He could only hope his message he left with Sass would help keep things together.

“Alright, ready?” the assistant his aunt got for him, since he was still on crutches, came back from quickly using the bathroom before they headed to security.

“I guess.”

Luka fiddled with his passport and ticket, watching as they got closer to security when he heard his name.

“Luka, wait!”

He leaned over the arm of the chair to see Adrien and Sass.

“Do you know them?”

“Yes, please turn around.”

Adrien was out of breath by the time he reached them. “Hi.”

“Hey, what are you doing here? I thought you were at an event with your parents?” the suit told Luka he had been.

Adrien kneeled down so they’d been at the same eye level. “I was. Sass texted me and told me your mom got you an early ticket and how you were leaving tonight and I didn’t want you to leave before I could say goodbye. Well, maybe more ‘see you soon’ but you know.”

Luka couldn’t help it, he tugged Adrien over and kissed him. “Goodbye. I’ll see you when I get back. And I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Yeah, dad wants to do some forest shoots for his new line, maybe I can convince him to set up near you.”

“Sure. I’d like that. Oh!” Luka dug his hand in his bag and pulled out an SD card. “Here. It’s the recording the school took of my performance for the scholarship. I got it by the way. They told my aunt when she convinced them to send my final exams ahead. You said you wanted to hear it and I wrote it with you in mind.”

Adrien looked honoured as he took the SD card. “I can’t wait to hear it.”

“Train 392 is boarding at gate F.”

“That’s my train. So goodbye?”

“I’ll see you when you get back.” Adrien promised, pressing another kiss onto Luka’s lips.

He might not have wanted to leave but Adrien coming all the way down meant a lot. He wondered if it would be in bad taste to make a few ‘dream of me’ pouches with Adrien in mind.

Then again, maybe no magic around Lila.

#lukadrien june 2021 #jinx au #luka is a witch #luka is related to lila #sass is human and luka's cousin

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lovelivingmydreams · 4 years ago

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A story by heroes and villains

Janus Bullard: Drift away

When you don't let people close, they tend to drift away. Janus seems to struggle to understand that.

Masterlist

When sophomore year started, Janus had few comforts in their lives. One, Virgil and uncle Lo and their parents. Their constant pillars of support and comfort. And two, they were really good at languages. Which boosted their confidence quite a bit. They breezed through the curriculum for Spanish of last year and studied the rest of the material in their free time, because learning it was fun to them. They already knew French, and by the time finals rolled around they got to take a special test that had effectively gotten them a free period where their language elective should be for the rest of high school. The school prided themselves on adjusting the curriculum to the level of the students. And the best performing students even got to go on a weeklong trip after finals were over. The rest of the school had showcase week. Which meant that all the clubs and electives got to show off their stuff. Janus was not particularly interested in the showcase. He didn’t participate in anything and he knew no one who would be showing anything. So he chose to go on the trip. Virgil didn’t come along despite qualifying. He didn’t want to leave his dad by himself for that long. It was very sweet really. Janus would have argued against it, but it occurred to them that maybe if they were away from Virgil for a bit, then the feelings would calm down and they could just come out and get back to normal without Virgil having to learn that they ever were attracted to him in the first place. It didn’t work. They missed Virgil a lot, to start with. Missing makes the heart grow fonder indeed. It really drove home for him how much he couldn’t stand to lose his friend. On top of that the guys that were with them on the trip were… not the best company to keep. It all started out well. Virgil had made him a special shirt to congratulate him with passing his advanced Language exams. It was a black shirt with a yellow print. A minimalistic open snake mouth on their chest with ‘hiss hiss’ above it. Scales scattered along the left side to match their marks. They loved it. It was a reference to Remus’ old nickname for them. ‘Snakeface’. From anyone else it would have been an insult. But Remus meant it as a complement. Their travel companions, from schools all over the city thought it looked bad ass. It was a great ice breaker if nothing else when they wore it on the first day. That didn’t last long though. On the second night they were talking with the other guys in the boys dormitory. One mentioned a cousin of theirs came out not too long ago. “And his folks actually let him stay. My parents cut ties right away. Can’t believe I used to play ball with a twink.” Janus just barely managed to hide how the word hit them. The other guys agreed and, as much as they hated it, so did they. To say that that was the last time they were confronted with the fact that if these guys were to get to know the real them, they’d make their week hell, would be a lie. And as they heard slurs and jokes about the LGBTQ+ community tossed around as if it was nothing, they started to wonder. Would their parents be okay with it? They thought they would. They’d never seemed to be against the community. They recalled hearing their mother gush about the cute pride stuff they’d spotted in the mall a few times. But accepting that other people were queer and accepting that their son was sometimes more like a daughter and also gay and aromantic… That was something entirely different. And Virgil? Saying you don’t care and actually having to live with the knowledge that your best friend was… broken… What kind of freak were they even that they couldn’t pick a gender? Why couldn’t they fall in love like normal teens? Virgil’d had plenty of crushes already. He’d admitted he hadn’t even told them about all of them! So clearly it wasn’t that hard. Except for them. Because they had to be messed up in every way possible. The way they looked, the way they felt, what they were… When they got home Virgil was at their bedroom door almost within ten minutes of them putting their bag down. “You’re back!” he grinned, excited to see them again. “Tell me everything! Was it worth it letting me die of boredom?” he teased, throwing an arm over their shoulder in a sort of sideways hug. Janus flinched away from Virgil’s proximity. Being close to him made them want to be closer. But still not in the way Virgil might understand. If they just kept him on arm’s length, then things would be ok… Right? Virgil let them go. It didn’t look like he found it odd that Janus wanted distance. Janus tried to remember last time he’d initiated a hug or anything of the sort… With anyone… Maybe they had been a little more distant lately as it was. Good, then it wouldn’t be too obvious if they pushed a little more. They had to. To protect Virgil, to keep him in their life. No one could know. They couldn’t risk it. “It was cool. Saw lots of awesome stuff. The guys were dumb though. Guess no one can replace you,” they smiled carefully. “Aw, J. You’re such a sap,” Virgil teased with a playful punch to the arm. Was that bad? Did straight guys say stuff like that to their friends? Were they being obvious? “Shut up,” he retorted with a push. Not mean. Just playful. That was still okay right? “Movie night?” Virgil suggested, holding up his bag with his part of their collection. Janus hesitated. They needed time. “I’m beat. Maybe some other time,” they shrugged. Virgil nodded. “Okay. See you later J!” And just like that Virgil was out the door. They let themselves fall onto their bed. They had to figure themselves out. Again. Summer passed and Janus found a system that worked for them. It wasn’t great, but it would have to do. They had bought a few cute tops they enjoyed on Janice days. So they wore those when they were needed underneath a baggy hoodie or something else that would hide it. If there was a chance of them needing to take off said ‘cover item’ they’d wear a shirt that was too big like the band shirt. In addition they made sure to act plenty masculine on those days. They hated that part the most. But it was needed. When it came to Virgil, since their problem was just physical all they had to do was make sure they weren’t too close. Which was easier said and done. Hugs and pats on the back and the like used to reassure them so much and now they were a risk. Even if they never acted on the thoughts when they appeared, Virgil might notice. So they had a plan. Not the best plan. But to keep Virgil with them. To keep them both safe. They would do it. First day of school came around and Janice found themself alone at the bus stop. Which was odd. Virgil wasn’t usually late… Maybe he accidently took a bus too early again. Was that going to be a first day tradition? Janice couldn’t be too upset by that. It was just so typically Virgil, and they already looked forward to teasing him about it later. What wasn’t typically Virgil however was him not texting Janice to let them know his mix up. Maybe he hadn’t realized he was early yet? Janice wondered if they should ask Virgil where he was… Better not. They’d see Virgil soon enough. And he’d probably feel bad if they made too big a deal out of it. Again, typical for Virgil, making everything his fault or responsibility somehow. When they got to school though, Virgil was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t in their homeroom either. Which Janice wouldn’t have found too odd. There was always a chance of homeroom getting switched around. But then the teacher handed them two schedules. One for themself and one for Virgil. Virgil was late? Was he sick? Janice looked at the schedules. They shared their first two classes and then they had language electives. Which meant Janice would have a free period while Virgil should be in Spanish. They promised themself to call if Virgil hadn’t shown up by then. Two hours late was a reasonable time to get worried right? They checked their phone as they walked to science class and took a seat. Virgil hadn’t texted at all. Was he ill? Should they text anyway? “Mr. Johnson. You may take a seat next to Mr. Bullard. Class will commence soon.” Janice, mentally cringing at the male honorific, glanced at the kid that just entered. Ugh, they remembered him. He’d had a locker not too far from his last year. He always got in their way, the amount of times he’d bumped into them was infuriating. And now he was about to take Virgil’s seat. But not if they could help it. “Ma’am, I was actually saving this seat for…” “No one. This is my class and I say Mr. Johnson sits next to you.” Janice was taken aback. Most teachers at least heard them out if he asked something. And in almost every case he got what he needed even if he didn’t always get what he wanted. This one didn’t even want to listen though. They glared at the boy… Carlton, if they remembered correctly, as he took the seat next to them. The boy shrunk away, he was trembling… Janice supposed they had been pretty rude to him last year. Not that they cared. It just would make being desk mates very annoying. Janice didn’t waste time on wanting others to like them.

“It’s your lucky day Mr. Castile,” the teacher said dryly the second the bell rang. No… Janice looked up, there he was. The school’s golden boy. He looked slightly out of breath, and smiled sheepishly. “Apologies miss,” he replied as he looked around, probably looking for an empty seat. For a moment his eyes found Janice and he was clearly about as happy as they were with Janice being here on the seat right behind the only empty bench. Janice had an extra reason to be upset though. Castile would be sitting next to Virgil. He took the seat next to the window, right in front of Janice. Janice’s thoughts were racing. How were they supposed to function with that idiot around? They hadn’t had to interact with him too often last year. And when they did Janice had made sure he knew that they saw right through the knight in shining armor act he put up for the rest of the school. He only acted like that to impress their classmates. He was in theatre. He lived for the praise. “I hope you like where you are sitting… Ah, so glad you could join us Mr. Anker.” Janice tensed up when they saw the way Castile’s head snapped up, a bright smile on their face. It was such a genuine reaction… Why though? He had enough friends. Why was Virgil so important that he seemed genuinely happy to see him? “Take your seat and spare me your excuses,” the teacher snapped when Virgil opened his mouth to speak. “I was just telling the class that these are your seats for the rest of the year. So I hope you like your neighbor, they are your new lab partner.” Virgil’s face fell and he looked around. His make up was gone and he looked a mess, but other than that he seemed fine. Janice would have to ask him what had happened this morning later. To their annoyance, Virgil’s gaze didn’t even make it to their seat. Once he spotted the empty seat next to Castile, he too, lit up. Why? What did Castile have that was so special? Other than a pretty face? They watched Castile wave at Virgil, getting rewarded with a smile from their best friend.

“Man, talk about a lucky break,” Virgil said as he sat down. That hurt. Didn’t he want to sit with them? They tried to calm themselves. Virgil had simply not noticed them. He wouldn’t have said that if he knew they were in this class too. “I agree,” Castile grinned. That smug piece of… He knew they were here. He was taunting them! Class started, and Janice managed to ignore the pair in front of them. They even calmed down. Found themselves a little amused at their neighbor’s not so subtle glances at the desk in front of them. They’d spotted the pride flag stitched in their assigned lab partner’s pencil case. Maybe they should lay off a little. Poor kid had a crush on Roman Castile. He had enough to deal with. But then the experiment started. They divided the work so Johnson wouldn’t have to talk with them too much. they did their best to focus on their part of the assignment. But it proved difficult. Virgil and Roman were doing every step together and they were having fun. They talked and joked with familiarity that told Janice that somehow, Castile had managed to weasel his way into Virgil’s life, despite their efforts to chase him away. Sure they’d overheard from conversations in the hallways that Virgil was still standing up to bullies and that the Hispanic teen had joined him on occasion. But had that really been all it took? Suddenly Virgil got up, bringing a paper to the front. Damn, they had to focus. They managed to block out their surroundings for a good while. Until Virgil’s laugh pulled them out. He was looking very comfortable, sitting there with the enemy.

“Only you can pull of talking like a Shakespeare character,” Virgil grinned. “Well, only you can pull off dressing like a dark knight and still looking like a lost kitten,” Castile shot back. Janice tensed. How dare he ridicule their best friend like that? Virgil gave Roman a shove. “You take that back!” he demanded “I am dark and mysterious and intimidating!” Janice had to interfere, before Virgil got himself in trouble. they took an empty page from their notebook, crushed it in their fist and tossed it against Castile’s head. Both boys turned to look at them. Their attention was on Castile though. “What gives Bullard?” he hissed. No, it wasn’t attractive when he got that serious and intense look in his eyes. He was annoying and a danger. He was going to hurt Virgil. Or take him away and then hurt him. “You take Smellington next time. Virgil is sitting with me.” It was a good solution. Castile would be unable to resist being a knight in shining armor, so Janice acted as if they were the big bad Johnson had to be saved from. Carlton got to sit next to his crush, and Janice and Virgil could sit together. Like they should have been. Everyone happy. “Excuse me? His name is Carlton.” Just as Janice suspected. There was the hero complex. “And you don’t get to say where I sit J. I’m fine sitting with Roman. Besides you heard the teacher. No switching seats.” That… What? Virgil wanted to sit there? And he was offended that Janice tried to help? “We always sit together!” they reminded him. They were a team right? Them against the world? They’d have each other’s back no matter what… Right? Virgil’s jaw set. “Exactly. The world won’t end because I’m Roman’s lab partner J.” Where was all this coming from? What had Castile been poisoning his mind with? “Am I interrupting?” Janice looked up to the teacher. She still didn’t look like she was in the mood to listen to Janice. But they had to try. “Mr. Bullard,” once again, that stung. “I don’t have you and Mr. Jonson’s assignment yet, which means you can’t be talking with anyone else besides each other right now.” Oh, she really wasn’t in the mood to listen. Against better judgement, Janice gave her their most charming smile. If they knew that they were being perfectly reasonable, people usually followed along with their way of thinking. “Ma’am, I can’t work with him. Virgil and I never had a problem in projects, can’t we…” “No.” Janice nearly flinched at the finality of that word. But the teacher wasn’t done yet. “I put Mr. Jonson next to you because you are much too dependent on Mr. Anker’s presence.” She’d done it on purpose? And dependent? What did she mean? They weren’t that… Had it been so obvious to outsiders? Did she know? “You won’t always be able to hide behind him Mr. Bullard. You better learn that now.” They hadn’t! They’d stopped hiding in middle school. They’d been trying to be the shield! “And if I see any more problems here then all that’ll change is that Mr. Castile and Mr. Anker will be moved to the front of the class so you can’t distract them anymore. Is that understood?” She had it all wrong. She didn’t understand. But Janice knew they couldn’t do anything about it. So they nodded and returned their attention to their assignment.

They finished up the last of their notes when Virgil laughed again. “Charming huh? You certainly have a high opinion of yourself.” Janice’s jaw clenched. They agreed, but Virgil’s tone was too playful. Like it was when he was teasing them. “Oh, my knight, why must you hurt me so?” Castile objected dramatically. Janice did their best to block out the rest of the conversation and focus on finishing the assignment with Johnson. Whatever was said between Castile and Virgil after that, it had him pretty excited.

He dragged Janice to the bathroom where he started to apply foundation and a two second version of his usual eyeshadow. “Where were you?” Janice asked on their way there. Virgil bit his lip. “Dad was home late yesterday and forgot to tell me…” he told them. Oh, now Janice understood. Virgil was the kind of guy who saw you fall and worried if you’d broken something while rushing you to the nurse no matter what you said. He worried a lot. He was a lot like uncle Lo in that way. His father not being his punctual self without warning must’ve been very stressful. “And you didn’t go to bed until you were sure he was safe and sound,” Janice nodded in understanding. “Yeah… I must’ve forgotten to set my alarm or something.” At this point they’d arrived in the bathroom and Virgil took out his foundation and started fixing up his appearance. Needlessly in Janice’s opinion, but they had bigger things to worry about.

“Listen, I’m sorry for being so snappy earlier. I know you worry about me and stuff but Roman is really not as bad as you think. He even invited us to sit with him and his friends during lunch!” he announced excitedly as he put away his make-up. “Then you'll see for yourself…” Lunch with Roman Castile and all his friends? All people who could discover their secrets? One slip up on a Janice day, one lingering look towards Virgil or Castile and they were out.

And being around not one, but two guys they found attractive… they couldn't bear it.

“Absolutely not!” they objected in a panic. “Jan, it’s just lunch,” Virgil argued gently. “If it’s not fun then we can bail on them any time. You are the one who’s so obsessed with our spot on the social ladder. What do we have to lose?” He made good points. And part of Janice wanted the protection a group like that offered. But Virgil didn't have the full picture. Janice cast their eyes to the heavens trying to hide the conflict within, to play off how worried and scared they felt. “I don’t expect you to understand this Virgil. But the offer wasn’t for us. Castile wants something from you. And he’ll have his friends be nice to me around you to get it.”

Virgil was clearly not impressed. “I know I’m not exactly mister sunshine, but that’s overly dramatic and pessimistic. Roman is cool. Like, genuinely. And if you gave him a chance…” “Oh please Virgil! You are not this naïve!” Janice exclaimed. Harsh in their desperation to finish the conversation.

“Why do you want his friendship so badly that you blind yourself like this?” Weren't they enough? What did they do wrong? “He can have anything from anyone he wants! Why would he want to be around some awkward outcasts?” Why did he insist on pursuing the only person Janus cared about at school? “Except to make himself look good? What end does that serve? Everything anyone ever does serves some selfish end Virgil. Even the most noble of deeds are ultimately out of desire to be seen as good.” Just because Janus hadn’t figured out what Roman Castile had to gain from talking to them, didn’t mean that there wasn’t some end goal. “Except for you of course, you only have my best interest at heart!?” Virgil’s statement caught them of guard. He had a point. Part of this was their fear of being alone, being found out and rejected. But it was also for Virgil's own good. They needed Virgil to understand that. To believe them. And so they did something they had been avoiding. They got close. Stepped right into Virgil's personal space. If they wanted, and Virgil hadn’t hidden them behind his foundation, they could’ve counted the freckles on Virgil’s cheeks. But now was no time for those observations. They had to get through to him. No matter what. “You are my only friend Virgil. Of course I want to protect you, even from yourself. Don’t let Roman’s flowery words and cute pet names get to you.” Kitten, knight. The nerve of that guy. “I give him a week before he gets bored of you. And I don’t want to see you hurt by that.” That last part was the most sincere he'd been about how he felt towards Virgil in what felt like forever.

All fight left Virgil’s frame and he nodded. Janice relaxed and led the way to their first CPR training. They made sure to wait for Virgil when he left Spanish. Virgil was quiet all day. He got like that sometimes after a disagreement. Janice tried to give him space. They had been a little harsh. And after Virgil had a rough night already. They knew he needed comfort and support on those days. No wonder he’d gravitated towards Castile this morning. All that positive energy probably drew Virgil in like a moth to a flame. Janice should have been more understanding. Maybe they could have a movie night next weekend. With V's favorite snacks and movies.

They’d make it up to him. And then they could get back to something somewhat normal.

It worked. Virgil seemed in better spirits after they suggested the weekend plans. Janus paid closer attention and ensured that Virgil wouldn't fall for Castile's tricks though.

They stuck together like always. Janus had started chatting with native Spanish speakers, learning more regional words and slang. They were also learning ASL. Virgil laughed when they explained the name signs they made up for him, uncle Lo and their parents.

Things were going well. Until Halloween came around. Virgil loved Halloween. He didn’t show it off at school, considering he put the least possible effort in his school costume the past two years, but when at home, he was a master. Janus had enjoyed watching him and uncle Lo dazzle the trick or treaters. They’d considered asking Virgil to give them a spook up as well, but that would mean close proximity for extended periods of time. And they couldn’t handle that. This year Janus had drawn some scales on their face and assembled a dragon costume. They’d even gotten crafty with the wings. Using a pair of children’s fairy wings as a base. Virgil had complemented them, which had made them feel pretty good about themselves. Virgil was texting with his dad that morning. Apparently he had a thing coming up that weekend and was rather nervous. Janus was happy to hear that their honorary uncle had exciting things happen in his life. They didn’t pry for more information though. Surely Virgil would’ve shared more if there was more to know. And then Castile had walked in. Looking ridiculously handsome even if he was trying to look like a crazed dark prince. Redish circles under his eyes, run out make up. As if he’d recently cried a river. His costume was dark and slightly torn and crumpled. And still he looked good. He made a big show of his entrance and made a tour around the classroom before climbing on his desk and continuing his tale of conquest. Janus, not immune to the boy’s massive charisma, made sure to glare at him so that if the prince would happen to glance their direction he wouldn’t give anything away. Glaring at the dark prince wasn’t hard, considering he also had his neighbor’s attention. Virgil was enjoying the show.

And apparently Castile noticed. He made a grand gesture towards Virgil. “And you, my coldhearted friend, may rule at my side!” Janus’ eyes narrowed. Was this the thing? Was Roman looking for a second in command? It was a good picture they supposed. The nickname ‘Knight’ suddenly made a lot of sense. It would fit. They both stood against the bullies, no doubt earning them both a good image in the public eye. If they were considered a team all the time, Roman’s spot on the social ladder would get even more secure. Was that it? “Is that a fact?” Virgil chuckled, pulling Janus out of his thoughts. Was he… Was he seriously going along with it? “Of course!” Janus hated how excited Castile seemed. “You, dear count, are the only other of noble lineage! No one else is worthy of a throne!” “But ruling sounds like a lot of work,” Virgil whined. Janus held their breath… But the laughter that followed… Wasn’t bad. Castile immediately rolled with Virgil’s contribution. “Then you may feast on my enemies!” To Janus’ great relief, the teacher entered in that moment. Their nerves couldn’t take much more than that. On the way to CPR Janus tried to get Virgil back with his feet on the ground. “You were lucky, but that could have gone so wrong!” they exclaimed. Virgil, surprised them however. “Roman and I are lab partners, and we’re going to talk,” Virgil reminded them. They knew that. But they got on fine with minimal communication with their neighbor. And Virgil had been doing fine too… Or… Well, maybe he hadn’t been happy about it… “And sometimes we’re going to have fun doing so. You have zero right to tell me who I can and can’t spend time with. I’m not your pet.” That hit Janus hard… Was that… Had they been acting that badly? Maybe they’d been too clingy. Overcompensating for the physical distance they’d forced themselves to maintain? They let Virgil walk to Spanish alone and spent their free hour thinking things through. Maybe they were a tad controlling… And Virgil talking to Castile a little during science might not be the end of the world… They could try to live with that right? When they saw Castile drag Virgil to his table during lunch they could barely breathe. Virgil looked so happy about it too. Had they been too late to make adjustments? Was this their life now? The very nightmare they’d tried to prevent? But then, Virgil and Roman made a bow and Virgil walked back to Janus. People watched him walk by the way Janus had seen them do with popular kids. They admired him? Was… Had Virgil become a popular kid without either of them realizing? “Talk about putting yourself on blast! What were you thinking?” they snapped, still reeling with emotions. “Yolo,” Virgil shrugged. And ‘cool’ was the only term Janus could come up with to describe the way he held himself right now. “No one says that anymore,” Janus pointed out, as if to convince themself that Virgil wasn’t that kind of cool. “It’s what I was thinking.” Or maybe he was… Janus tried not to bother Virgil about who he chose to hang out with after that day. It wasn’t easy though. Virgil and Castile were almost flirty with each other and Janus found that very distracting. Add that to everything else that frustrated them and you better hope you didn’t cross Janus on a Janice day after a bad night. They picked a lot of fights. Partly to prove themselves as a cis. Partly to vent these frustrations on something other than Castile. Speaking off. It was nearly always him or Virgil or both who stopped the fight. Roman would stare them down until they left. Virgil would tell them off and drag them away if need be. Both were… possibly… another reason why they picked a fight. Negative attention was still attention after all. On a particular bad day, a senior decided to pick on them. And they were not having it.

Castile and Virgil put a stop to that one. But the principal called them to their office anyway. “He started it,” Janice insisted. They were sitting in the office for a couple of minutes now, with the Principal just looking at them expectantly. “Oh? How’s that?” Janice gestured to their face. They’d gotten good at ignoring the jabs the past few years. Knowing that they couldn’t do anything against an upper classman and having bigger things to worry about. But today… Today it had just been too much. “It’s not the first time you got into a fight Janus. We want to help. But you have to let us. What is bothering you? Really. Why are you so angry?”

Oh, where to start? Janice just shrugged, not comfortable opening that can of worms in front of this adult. They wouldn’t understand. Janus heard they’d been vocal about their sexuality and gender since middle school. All they would do was tell them to just come out already. The principal sighed. “We’ll have to inform your parents of this Janus…” “No you don’t,” Janice stated. He wasn’t even scared. Stokes was a reasonable person. “Why’s that?” They wondered. “I didn’t hit him. And he didn’t hit me. No one got hurt. What’s the point of calling my parents? My grades are good, I never skip. So I don’t let people walk over me… Is that so bad?” they explained. Stokes frowned, but then relaxed. “Fine. But at least consider going to the school counselor. At least once. There are systems here to help you. You just have to ask.” Yeah, they’d get right on that. “Tanks Mx. Stokes,” they muttered as they left. A few weeks later Janus was looking over elective courses with Virgil. Janus had been careful about selecting courses for them. They could pick two courses each year. One every semester. First year, Virgil had made a deep dive into some articles about how messed up the education system was and how useless the curriculum was. So Janus suggested Personal Finances and Home economics. Which was basically the: ‘how to adult’ elective packet. This year they’d picked CPR, which Virgil had enjoyed a lot and Philosophy. They’d suggested it out of personal interest. They’d known it might not be Virgil’s cup of tea, but to their pleasant surprise Virgil had agreed. “Sociology would be a good choice,” Janus suggested, testing the waters. They really hoped Virgil would be okay with it. It seemed very interesting. Virgil only made a vague sound of acknowledgement though. Well, there were other interesting subjects… “I was thinking to take an art elective,” he told Janus after a few moments. Janus was surprised. Virgil never cared about electives before. And art? “Why?” “Because I’d like to actually learn some techniques? I dunno. They say to pick something that fits our interests. I’m interested in art.” Janus had no idea where the annoyed tone came from. Sure Virgil drew and he was good. But… To make it your elective? Virgil knew that those choices would affect their chances at getting accepted into college right? Especially for the next two years. “But we can’t do anything with that in college,” they reminded him, just in case. “I suppose it’s a decent extracurricular,” they admitted, wanting to find a compromise. But saying that reminded them. They should probably pick some good ones for the next two years as well. They looked good on application forms.

“But…” Virgil objected interrupting Janus’ musings on the pro and cons of joining a sports team. “I really want to do art. The new teacher is a pretty awesome artist I’ve been kind of following for a while. This might be my only chance to learn from him.” The arts program was heavily volunteer based, which allowed the school to offer many different electives and even more extracurricular. The teachers largely donated their time and switched around semester to semester. If this artist was indeed someone of note, they might be gone after Christmas. So on some level Janus understood. But why would Virgil need to spend a perfectly good elective on something he was already good at? He could probably teach the class himself. “Don’t be dramatic V. It’s not like you can make a career out of drawings,” they pointed out dismissively. Maybe they were a little crass. But Virgil couldn’t afford to live in a fantasy. Art was personal and showing it gave other people a weapon against you. And Janus really felt they should start picking electives based more on what they wanted their career to be. Janus was thinking journalist or lawyer for themselves. They weren’t sure what Virgil would pick. Last time they’d talked about such things was… Back when they still thought they were cis and straight. And they’d been joking about going into hero business. Daydreaming about opening a specialized store or becoming heroes themselves. But maybe Virgil would be a lawyer too. He’d probably like defending the little guy in the courtroom. He was already doing that in the hallways. Or some other function in law enforcement. Janus couldn’t imagine Virgil not trying to make the world a better place. “It makes me happy,” Virgil pointed out, though barely audible. Good, he was realizing there was no point to that class. “A career isn’t about what makes you happy, it’s about what gets you ahead in life.” And with that, Janus returned their attention to the electives. Not aware of the mistake they’d just made.

Mistakes

@cirishere @hestianerd1 @moonlightshow00 @naturallyunstablegamer @alias290 @meowthefluffy @frida0043 @angelic-cali @selenechris @theblackveilinreverse

#sanders sides #ts sides #janus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #background prinxiety #tw homofobia #tw seldepriciation #tw internalized homofobia #janus makes bad choices #angsty

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alexiessan · 5 years ago

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Never alone - Chapter Two - Soulmate AU

AO3

Previous - Here - Next

Master List

Hello! Faster than ever before, I present you the second chapter of Never Alone!

I chose to not describe Marinette with her clothes or hairstyle so that you can imagine her as you want! In my mind, since she's a fashion designer, I imagine her always changing her clothes and very fashionable. I don't see her with her pigtails either. But it's up to you as to how you see her!

Also, I'm French, so if there are any grammatical mistakes, do not hesitate to tell me so I can come back and correct them!

Two months in the new school year, and Marinette was already exhausted. While she had a very calm summer filled with outings with her friends, she was now drowning in work. Jagged wanted her to design his newest album cover, and Clara Nightingale has asked for a new outfit for a music video.

At school, Alya and Marinette were doing their best to find a good trip for the end of the year. The school had a decent amount of money that was set aside specifically for their class trip, but they would need to organize an event or two if they wanted to go somewhere outside of Europe. They were lucky enough that their class’ trip was set for their first year of high school: Mrs. Mendelieiv’s class’ trip was set for the next year, right before the first set of exams for the baccalaureat.

Along with all that, there was also her duty as Ladybug. Hawkmoth has been relatively calm during the summer, but as soon as school started again in September, he released his akumas again.

Except, now, they were more brutal than ever before.

Ladybug cursed as the Akuma managed to deeply cut her on her left side. She watched as Chat jumped in as she collapsed on the roof they were battling. True to his promise, Chat took his job more seriously and only joked during patrols now. He also stopped to jump mindlessly in front of her to save her from a hit and actually tried to get both of them out of the way.

The Akuma they were fighting was a dangerous one. His arm has been transformed into two big shears, and they hurt like hell.

Ladybug watched with fascination as her hand was tainted with her own blood. She couldn’t remember if an Akuma had hurt her that much before… She knew for sure that she was bleeding too heavily and she was getting a bit dizzy. They would need to end the fight very soon.

Standing up, she took advantage of the distraction Chat provided to trip the Akuma with her yoyo, succeeding in tripping him. Quickly, Chat snatched the man’s bow and used cataclysm on it.

As she cleansed the Akuma and watched the light heal Paris and herself as she cast the cure, the red-clothed superhero couldn’t help but think it was time to contact the Justice League again.

Back when they got their miraculous, she and Chat had contacted the Justice League of Europe to ask for help. They were just teenagers without any training entrusted to protect a whole city as big as Paris, and it was clear to them they couldn’t possibly do that alone.

The person they had talked to at the moment had listened to them, took note and told them they would come back to them after informing the heroes of the issue in Paris. It was a month later that one of the heroes contacted them, informing them they would not intervene in Paris, as they have been doing a good job up until now and the miraculous cure healed everyone and repaired everything. They then give them words of encouragement before they cut the connection.

Ladybug had then wanted to contact the Justice League of America before remembering they wouldn’t be able to do anything as France was certainly not under their jurisdiction.

And thus, there they were, still two untrained teenagers, acting on instinct against people with magic powers.

Great.

She let Chat take care of the victim, still feeling the pain on her left side, even though it was healed and there was not a trace of blood left on her person.

“Are you ok?”

Ladybug watched as the victim was taken care of by some policemen and turned her attention to her partner.

“I’m fine Chat. Sorry I had to let you handle everything.”

“Hey, you were hurt and losing a lot of blood. It’s a wonder you could even stand up afterward.”

The girl smiled. “Should we try to contact the JLE again?”

Chat Noir sighed. “Even though they won’t intervene, they are watching closely what’s happening here. If they haven’t decided to step in yet, contacting them won’t change anything LB.”

Ladybug sighed. “You’re right. Of course. I should go Chat, I’m about to transform back.”

“Sure thing. I’ll see you later, then.”

Back in her room, Marinette winced as she sat down on her bed.

“Are you really ok Marinette?”

Tikki was looking at her with her big, wide blue eyes. She was obviously worried.

“I’m fine, just a bit sore. I’m lucky that the cure healed me, but I think I’ll still feel the pain for a few days.”

While the cure healed her, the pain stayed for some time after, varying on the severity of the injury. Since her latest injure was pretty severe, it would hurt for a little while.

“Alright, I still have some homework to do for tomorrow. You should eat something and go to sleep Tikki, you must be tired after today. There should be a cookie or two on my desk.”

The kwami looked at her for a moment before flying over her desk, knowing it was useless to insist and there wasn’t anything she could do anyway. Even if she wished she could take Marinette’s pain away.

“Alright girl, you said you found something for the trip?”

It was early December now, and Marinette had asked Alya to join her in the school library to discuss the trip. The fashion designer took the laptop out of her bag and opened it to show her what she found.

“So, you know how the trip also has to be educational? This is the Wayne Career Program. It’s designed for high school students. Each one of us would shadow someone in the firm as a sort of internship to learn about different professions.”

“Putain, girl! That’s amazing. Wayne Enterprises have a lot of different sectors. I could totally work with the PR team if we can manage to secure a trip there. Plus it’s in Gotham, in America!”

Alya literally squealed at the idea of traveling overseas.

“Yeah, I’m a bit worried about that actually. You know it’s not really the safest place on Earth.”

And what an understatement that was. Gotham was probably the city with the most crimes in the world. It would be a miracle if the school allowed them to go. But then again, the school board would do anything to up their reputation and a class winning an internship at WE… The principal would boast about it years after they had all graduated.

“There is an essay we have to write to apply. I suggest we write it before we present the idea to Ms. Bustier. We also need to prepare arguments for her and the school board.”

“No problem girl, I already have tons of arguments there.” The reporter showed her her notebook where there were two pages filled with arguments. The class president nodded, those were really good. She could really rely on her friend.

“Well, that was quick. Those should be enough to convince them. On to the essay, then. ‘How do you think you can change the world?’”

They spent hours after that, taking notes and making several drafts of the essay. It took them a week to have the actual final product and when they handed it to Ms. Bustier, she was delighted. It was decided they wouldn’t announce the destination of the trip to the class until they were sure it could be a possibility.

Alya and Marinette had dropped hints about the destination though, to see if the class would actually like to go to Gotham.

After a week or so, they knew they had chosen well.

On Marinette’s birthday, on the 16th of December, after lunch where the whole class sang Happy birthday to her, the class president and the class deputy had a meeting with the principal and the board of the school.

It was tough to convince them, and the meeting actually lasted the whole afternoon, but at the end of the day, they had all signed the papers that confirmed that the trip would happen in Gotham, should the two girls won the contest. They even agreed to unfreeze some more funds for it. This program would really look good on the school’s record.

It was with a bright smile that they returned to class ten minutes before the end of the day bell and announced to everyone that the trip to Gotham has been confirmed. Using the classroom’s computer, the whole class witness as the two girls applied to the Wayne Career Program.

Now, all they had to do was wait for an answer.

Life after that was a bit calmer for Marinette, if you didn’t count the Akumas. She worried that they were more and more violent, and more often than not, she had lingering pain from injuries she got at Ladybug.

But life was good. Lila had even stopped lying and was herself. Even if it means that she wasn’t very kind to anyone, even mocking all of them at times, the class would just scoff and roll their eyes at her antics. The designer still wouldn’t talk to her, but the atmosphere in the class was lighter than the previous year, and for that Marinette was grateful.

They were all at an outdoor ice rink at the end of January when Marinette’s phone beeped with a notification.

“Oh fucking shit, guys!”

It caught everyone’s attention as the tiny Dupain-Cheng was not one to curse like that.

“I just got an email for Mr. Wayne’s secretary! Our class is among the nine others to have won the contest! We are going to Gotham in May!”

Everyone cheered at that, hugging each other and even going as far as carrying Marinette and Alya around, as it was their doing.

“America, here we come!” shouted Kim.

“You do realize that you will have to work extra hard on your English, right?” teased Max.

“Oh, shit.”

Everyone laughed at that, but it was agreed among themselves and their English teacher that they would all stay for an hour and a half after school to learn the language, up until their trip.

“I can’t wait to see Gotham’s heroes in action!” squealed Alya.

“Aren’t they vigilantes?” asked Mylène.

“Same thing!”

“Not quite, babe.” grinned Nino.

Even Lila was smiling with them, and it was huge progress in their book.

Marinette smiled, “We’ll be there for two weeks. The first week, we’ll be visiting around, and the second week will be dedicated to our internships. I will have to send a list of all our careers of interest to Mr. Wayne’s secretary, so they can organize who we will be shadowing. So, I’ll need you to send me those pieces of information this weekend, so I can send it on Monday, okay?”

“Roger that, boss.”

As Alya took her hand to skate with her around the rink, the baker’s daughter couldn’t help the huge smile on her lips. A year ago, there was a lot of tension in the class, and here they were, all laughing together and talking excitedly about the upcoming trip that their class president and deputy won them.

She could hear Rose talking excitedly about the things she wanted to see in Gotham. She watched as Kim challenged Alix on God knows what and laughed as Max stated that he had a two-percent chance of winning that bet. She smiled as Adrien, with them at an outing for once, fell on his butt and Nino laughed as he helped him up. She even grinned as she watched Lila having a conversation with Nathaniel without being mean or mocking him once.

She had thought a year before that Lila would never change, but she was wrong. And she was happy that she had been, because even though Lila wasn’t very nice, well, all her classmates were kind enough to make up for it.

Yeah, Marinette thought with a smile, life was good. And she had a feeling that it would be even better.

Tag list:

@bigpicklebananatree @animegirlweeb @crazylittlemunchkin @northernbluetongue @cutechip @justafanwarrior @iloontjeboontje @resignedcatservant

#ml x dc #miraculous x dc #maribat #daminette #maridami #damian x marinette

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captainscanadian · 5 years ago

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Reputation | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 2)

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Summary: The first few weeks of classes had certainly hit you like a freight train. But thankfully, Bucky was there to help you get through it all.

Word Count: 3336

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Peggy Carter, Natasha Romanoff,

Warnings: No Smut, Only Fluff, Exam Stress

A/N: Reputation was heavily inspired by Taylor Swift’s iconic album of the same name and her song Delicate off of that album. This is my entry for @buckysmischief‘s 1K Writing Challenge. I’d like to thank my boo @baezen once again for being a good beta and for the constant love. Lastly, the reason why this whole fic (and my blog itself) exists in the first place was because I was reading @i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend‘s College AUs and wanted to write one of my own. GO READ IT, IT’S THE BEST COLLEGE AU EVER READ! This fic is an unofficial AU of my own fic, Better, but you don’t have to have read it to read this fic. Same characters, but they meet in a completely different time of their lives, under completely different circumstances. I DON’T OWN THE GIFS. CREDITS TO THE OWNERS. I DON’T DO TAGLISTS.

The sun was shining bright against the parted curtains as you awoke the next day, the sapphire-like eyes of Bucky Barnes gleaming against the light as they landed on yours.

A gasp as your eyes met his; you stared up at him with your brows raised. “James, have you been watching me sleep?”

He gave you a tight-lipped smile before leaning over to kiss your forehead. “Not my fault that you look so gorgeous when you’re asleep...”

“Creep.” You giggled, climbing out of his bed and grabbing your clothes from the floor.

“Leaving so soon?” Bucky asked you, his lips curling into a pout.

You sat on the edge of his bed as you slipped into your undergarments. “I was hoping to get a head start on some readings before my new roommate gets in at noon.”

“Studious much, doll?” He remarked. “Do I need to remind you that classes haven’t even started yet? You don’t have to go at full speed so early on in the semester. You’ll burn out.”

“But I’ve got a 4.0 to maintain and MCATs to prepare for. I’m sure you know that this year’s not a joke, James.” You clarified once you got dressed. “I have no time for distractions.”

“Is that all I am to you? A distraction?”

“I didn’t say that you were.” You giggled, crawling over to straddle his lap. “But you did keep me from studying last night so... yeah, I guess that does make you a distraction.”

“I really don’t want to distract you from doing well in school, so I’ll make you a deal. How about that?” He suggested, wrapping his arms around you and looking up at you with a genuine smile. “I’ll tutor you again this year... free of charge, of course. That way you don’t have to worry about that GPA of yours and you can have some fun without beating yourself up over it – which, I’ve noticed is something that you seem to do a lot.”

“If you wanted me to sleep with you again, all you had to do was ask instead of beating around the bush, James.” You told him with a cheeky grin, neither of them wanting to deny the attraction that you had been feeling for years. “But since you’re offering, I don’t think I could turn down a good tutor. You’re pretty much the reason why I made the Dean’s List my freshman year.”

You were well aware that Bucky Barnes’ reputation included not sleeping with someone more than once. The untold truth around campus included that he gives you your best night but he doesn't call you back. For some odd reason, you felt that your ordeal with James was more than just a one time thing. There was something about the look in his eyes that said he’d wanted more to do with you, and deep down you did too. For now though, you could definitely accept the sex and the tutoring sessions combined.

“Yes, we can be study buddies!” A triumphant smile was on his face as he hugged you tight, making you fall off of his lap and onto the bed as you laughed.

“It’s going to be freshman year all over again, isn’t it? But with the sex this time.” You pointed out as you climbed off of his bed. “I should really get going though. I do have some errands to run and I don’t want to get stuck in traffic.”

“I’ll walk you out.” He told you, climbing out of bed and pulling on his briefs. Grabbing his t-shirt from the floor, he pulled it over his head before turning back to you.“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for breakfast, Y/N? I think Steve should be up and making breakfast right now. His French toast is to die for.”

You shook your head. “James, you’re really taking the ‘shame’ out of my walk of shame.” You giggled, throwing your arms over his neck. “How about some other time?”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of.” He grabbed onto your waist and leaned in for a quick kiss. “I had a wonderful time last night.”

“Do you say that to all your other one night stands?” You asked him with a smirk, though you couldn’t deny that you had a wonderful time as well. Bucky Barnes sure did live up to his reputation.

“No, just the ones who are so beautiful, intelligent and hardworking.”

You couldn’t help but blush at that comment. “Flattery will get you everywhere, James.”

A hearty laugh escaped his lips as he tilted his head back, and you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes lit up at that moment. You had never seen him like this before.

Up until then, the James you knew only ever let you see his eyes when they were filled with lust. But after last night, he seemed a lot less rigid. You couldn’t deny that there was a certain sense of comfort that came with the physical intimacy that you had shared.

It was a strange feeling to say the least, but you were unable to describe it. For someone with a hell of a lot of trust issues, thanks to Margaret Sykes, you found yourself believing that you could put all of your trust in someone else on campus – let alone New York University’s resident Casanova.

“I always wondered why you chose to stay behind at NYU when you could have gone to Columbia with me.” Steve Rogers pointed out to his best friend who barged into the kitchen after bidding farewell to his recent one night stand, who happened to be someone he knew very well. “And now I know the answer to that.”

Bucky could not help but roll his eyes as he walked up to the kitchen island. A part of him was eager to let him know how right he was, but he knew better than to give Steve that kind of satisfaction. Confirming that you had something to do with him going to NYU Med would mean that he would not hear the end of it. The Casanova of NYU staying behind for medical school for a girl he had once tutored? Oh, the horror!

Sitting up on the stool next to his best friend’s girlfriend, he looked down at his plate of a full English breakfast before raising his eyebrow. “Good morning, you punk.” He chuckled before turning over to look at Peggy. “Good morning, Peggy. I hope I didn’t cause the two of you any disturbance last night.”

“Oh no, I passed out quite early last night. I’m still running on London time.” The woman pointed out as she took a bite of her breakfast. As she had spent the summer months across the pond with her brother, she was quite jet lagged. “And I’m sure that Steve’s gotten used to your wild nights while I’ve been away. Haven’t you, darling?”

“It’s your place, Buck. You can do whatever you want.” Steve fixed himself a plate of breakfast before walking around the kitchen island to take a seat next to Peggy. “But you and Y/N... I’ll be honest, Bucky. I never would have seen it coming.”

“Yeah, but you live here too. I just wanted to give you that respect and courtesy.” Chuckling softly as he picked up his fork to eat, Bucky nodded his head in agreement. “Believe me, I didn’t see it coming either. Y/N was not like the others, Steve. She wouldn’t sleep with me just because everyone else was sleeping with me and that actually made her stand out.”

“But now that you’ve slept with her-”

“Steve, there’s absolutely no need for you to be jumping into conclusions right now.” He cut him off. “I know that you’re concerned because she’s someone you know. But I promise you, there’s nothing else going on between Y/N and I.” He clarified. “We just slept together and I offered to tutor her for this semester because she’s thinking of taking the MCATs.”

But the blonde haired man could not get himself to believe his best friend that easily. “It’s not that I know her, Bucky. I know you. I know that emotional availability... Not your cup of tea. And Y/N seems like someone who wants something like that and I’d hate to see you ruin her.”

“Come on, Steve! It’s not like I would have had the time for my shenanigans once classes start back up again. Can’t a guy have a little fun before his first week of med school, pal?” He asked with a shrug of his shoulders, finally taking a bite of his food. “Besides, it’s not like I forced her into it either. She said she wanted it and I did too.”

“Consent is extremely important.” Peggy gave him a pat on the shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, mate.”

Bucky gave her a smile before turning back to his best friend. “I know I have a reputation, Steve, and I’m not always proud of it. But I’m trying my best to change my ways. I can’t keep going on like this and I do know that. You have nothing to worry about.”

“If you say so.” Steve nodded, smiling. “To be honest, I am kind of glad that she’s having a little fun. I’ve never met someone who had so much time on her hands until I met her. That poor girl used to sign up for eight hour blocks when volunteering for UNICEF while everyone else did one of two hours a week. Her commitment to the club was truly concerning.”

Bucky could not help but let out a genuine laugh at that. As he was well aware that you had sworn against having a social life after the Margaret incident, he understood why you would have spent so much time volunteering when you weren’t studying.

But he was also grateful to be able to get you to change your mind about having a little fun. After all, college was all about change and growth. And as it turns out, the two of you would get to grow up together.

Once you got back to your dorm, you had found the time to clean up your room and have a quick shower before your new roommate was due to arrive. But if first impressions were the best impressions, then Natasha Romanoff seemed to be one of the sweetest human beings you could have ever met. A few years older than you, she was a master’s student studying Global Journalism at Gallatin after completing her undergrad at UCLA.

One thing you knew about the Gallatin students: they were all about the self-study so you need not worry that your academic goals would be any different from your roommate’s.

“I’m taking a few classes here in the fall and finalizing my research proposal in the winter. Hopefully, I can land an internship with the UN for the summer months.” She explained. “I’ve always wanted to work for the UN, so the internship would be a great start to that.”

“If you’re interested in working for the UN, may I interest you in an executive position with the UNICEF chapter on campus? I am the current president of the club, because our last one graduated and went off to Columbia Med School. I could definitely use someone who’s a lot more... familiar with the organization being on the executive committee.” You suggested, laughing softly as you finally started warming up to her. “If you have the time, of course... I do know that master’s classes may be time consuming.”

“Oh no, I’m down for it. I was actually going to look into the club myself.” The redhead admitted, grinning widely. “I can certainly offer a few hours a week to help you out. Would you need me to apply for the executive position or is it free for all around here?”

“First off, I would have to put up an application on the clubs page and then promote the hell out of it during Clubs Week, which is the second week of school. I have so much to do and I’m getting ahead of myself here.” You clarified with a laugh. “But it’s yours if you want it. You’re certainly qualified for it.”

Laughing softly at your over-enthusiasm with running the club, something that she certainly seemed to identify with, she nodded in agreement. “Well, if you need me to help you out with anything, you know where I live.” She winked.

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” You smiled back at her, certainly relieved that you were getting along with your new roommate.

The first few weeks of classes had certainly hit you like a freight train. But juggling a full-time course load had become a lot easier than you had expected after a while; thanks to James Barnes and his genuine commitment to being anything but a distraction for you. Your weekends off had been spent studying together at the library – sharing an entire table in one of the quiet spaces, your textbooks and notepads spread out, along with highlighters and felt pens in primary colors.

Perks of his photographic memory, Bucky did not take as much time to retain the information as you did. So, once he had reviewed the study notes that he had already memorized, a majority of his time was spent helping you create your colour-coded flash cards. Your study dates were always productive, neither of you mentioning the other half of your ordeal until you had covered all of the material you needed to cover.

It was only when the two of you decided to call it a night and stepped out of the library did the man look over at you with a smirk on his lips. “Feelin’ tired yet, doll?”

You would shake your head as you walked along the sidewalk. “I think I’ve had a productive day. I think I deserve a little fun.” You would say with a blush, and the two of you would head back to your dorm, leaving Natasha to be sexiled to the common room. She never seemed to mind it though, since at least one of you was getting some action.

But even though the sex was good, school always came first to the both of you.

Following your biochemistry mid-term that morning, you found yourself trotting across campus to the Student Life office to begin your afternoon shift. Dried up leaves crunching under your converse as you skipped along the sidewalk, you let out a hearty breath to see the condensation rise to the air.

The sunny weather disappeared weeks ago, taken over by the chilly autumn winds. Halloween was coming up soon and the UNICEF chapter on campus had managed to run a successful food drive as the first campaign for the semester. You had been planning to drive the donations down to your nearest Feeding America facility that weekend. But for now, you needed sleep... or maybe a cup of coffee to get you through your shift.

As you entered the office, you quickly removed your denim jacket and hung it up on one of the hooks. Taking in the warmth of being indoors for a moment, you walked around the desk and sat down on the empty seat next to your co-worker whom you had been frequently scheduled to work with. “Hey, Wanda.”

“You look dead.” The woman pointed out in the midst of chewing a bite of her lunch, her eyes glued to the screen in front of her as she read through an email.

“I feel dead.” You admitted, laughing softly. A few days had passed since the last time you’d had a good night’s sleep, and now that midterms were over you were longing to finish off your shift and get some well-deserved rest. “And I’m so hungry. I haven’t eaten anything since this morning.”

“Want a bite?”

The familiar aroma of paprika drifted up your nostrils as she held her Tupperware container towards you, making your stomach growl. Your lips curl into a smirk as you before you shook your head. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine... I take it your boyfriend cooked for you again?”

She nodded, grinning widely. “It may have taken him a few tries but he’s finally mastered how to make chicken paprikash.”

“I think you’ve pretty much won if you’ve found a man who makes sure you’re well-fed.” You agreed, laughing softly before you the sound of the door opening made you turn your head.

You blinked your eyes to be rid of your exhaustion as you saw James Barnes enter the office. The smile on your lips growing wider as he approached you, you looked over at him with your eyebrows raised. But what caught your eyes wasn’t just the fatigue that was evident in his eyes. You also noticed that he was holding a brown paper bag and a coffee cup.

“Hello, beautiful.” He set down the cup and the bag on the counter in front of you as he came to a stop, his eyes not leaving yours as he spoke. “How’d it go this morning?”

“Pretty good...” You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up slightly before you let out a yawn. “I think Fury’s being a little easy on us this semester.”

“That’s good.” He smiled at you before turning over to look at Wanda. “Hello, Maximoff.”

“Hey, Bucky.” The woman greeted him, her gaze returning to the screen in front of her as she took another bite of her lunch.

As it turns out, Bucky and Wanda had known each other through his sister. A brother from another mother, she’d called him when he had first stopped by the office to see you a few weeks ago. But he had been popping by every now and then, sometimes to drop off some study notes that you had forgotten and other times to bring you some food if you had mentioned that you had no time to eat between classes and your shift.

“What brings you here, James?”

“I just finished my last midterm for Anatomy this morning and I knew that you had your last one too. I thought you could use a little something to celebrate, maybe a little pick-me-up to help you get through the shift.” He replied, motioning towards the bag. “They’re the cannoli’s that you liked from that little Italian place in Brooklyn.”

A tired smile on your lips as you looked up at him; you reached over the counter to grab the bag. “Thank you. You’re the best.”

A soft grin on his face as he ran his hand through his hair, he gave you a nod. “I should get going. I have to pick Steve up from his exam. Text me when you get home, yeah?”

You nodded, your cheeks heating up as you watched him step away from the counter. “Yeah... bye.”

Once he turned around and walked out of the office, you reached into the bag to grab a cannoli for yourself. You could feel Wanda’s prying eyes staring down at you and you turned to face her. “Want a bite?”

Her eyebrow raised as she looked over at you, she let out a sigh of disbelief. “That was like the third or fourth time this month.” She noted. “If you’re really going to tell me that there’s nothing going on between the two of you, I’d say you should find someone who’s dumb enough to believe it, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes as you swallowed your bite. “Oh come on, Wanda, it’s nothing!”

“I think you’ve pretty much won if you’ve found a man who makes sure you’re well-fed... Yeah, that doesn’t look like nothing to me, darling.” She told you with a rather mocking tone in her voice, and you could not help but let out a laugh at that.

#gabs1kwritingchallenge #aj writes #reputation #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes series #college!bucky #college au

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kerice · 4 years ago

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Painful Memories...

I came across some old photos. Some of my wedding. I can look at these pictures now with less emotion. There is sadness but I really can’t identify with that person in the photo anymore. Does this mean I have detached myself? I remember being there. Have I healed from the wounds that are still painful to mention? This day, more than 17 years ago, was a start of a major trial in my life. Having the courage to work through the pain of recovery has helped give me the drive and tenacity to overcome financial debt and to succeed in school.

My academic journey started back in 1996, academic achievement did not come easy to me in high school, but I wanted to get a good job, so a few years after high school I started classes at Seattle Central College, in Seattle Washington. I then had a child at age 25 and I became a single mom. I am always inspired by women who say that without hesitation, trepidation or feeling less than women who have a partner. When my son was about three years old, I transferred to Bellevue College. They had a work study program where I could work at the school daycare (where my son was) and also work on my career goals, while having my son close. Due to the early birth of my second son on Nov. 27th, I was unable to finish my last two weeks of course work in the fall of 2003. As a result, I received a failed grade in my personal enrichment courses of French 201 and Algebra II. However my GPA for my science classes were within the range they needed to be. But, even so, I had to quit my job and dropped out of college since my son was born two weeks before the final exams.

On the day of the wedding, It was a beautiful, warm day in September 2004, I remember, the kids were dancing and laughing, the lakeside property was gorgeous. I remember my family and friends being around me, it felt like a different life. I don’t like going back in my thoughts. The pain of those memories has become less as time’s gone on. To go from such a happy day celebrating with the person I wanted to live my life with to days later, almost losing my life to this person. This is a story, no one wants to tell. Four days after my wedding, I was a victim of a road rage incident, where I was physically assaulted and (along with my infant son) nearly killed. My husband of four days was charged with reckless endangerment and assault and then arrested. A passerby had seen the incident and called 911. I still can’t believe this happened to me. He never apologized for what he had put us through, we never saw him again except at a distance. I then started therapy for the physical pain that was inflicted on me, the emotional pain would be a much longer process of healing.

When you go through the family court system and testify in front of everyone, what you go through, it is very difficult. After the shock wears off, the shame sets in, it’s hard to talk about. They (the court advocates) encourage you to talk, saying that it saves lives. I felt lost and defeated. I was forced to go through court ordered therapy, which I knew, any invasive findings would be broadcast in court. I had to acknowledge other incidences of abuse that led up to the escalation to the road rage. I was faced with the reality of my own denial of what was happening to me. The excuses I would make to myself. He was just stressed out. Maybe it was a psychotic break? I couldn’t be objective or logical enough to begin to imagine why someone would do such things to a person they profess to love. I didn’t want a stomach ulcer on top of everything else. I was able to get a pro bono attorney for the first trial. But after my ex-husband went to domestic violence treatment, there was a new trial. This was because, where there is “abusive use of conflict,” the courts don’t allow mediation to settle parenting plans. This put me in financial peril, and I have struggled financially ever since.

It’s been many years since the assault and arrest. I was vilified and blamed for what caused our separation to our community and friends. According to his account, it was all an exaggeration, a misunderstanding. I heard him say in court that I was crazy, emotionally unbalanced. Especially during the child custody proceedings. I was so afraid of him and what he would do to me. I couldn’t even comprehend fully what he was doing, who he even was. Was he my enemy now? He blamed me for getting him arrested, even though I had not been the one who called the police, but an anonymous stranger did! I felt alone, scared, traumatized. I hated having to go through the court hearings and hear the venomous words coming from him and his attorney. It made me feel crazy, out of my mind. I had to get away, I saw him everywhere, I was always looking over my shoulder. Sudden movements would make me jump. Flashes of the trauma would enter my mind. While driving my car, when I would see brake lights I would tense up and my heart would skip a beat. How could I even co-parent with this person? My Post Traumatic Stress was keeping me from moving beyond what happened to me, keeping me from moving forward. But I knew I had to somehow keep it together and be strong for my children.

After the divorce, I was given permission to move out of state. In 2007, my brother, who lived in Northern Kentucky, offered me a job. Because of this, I was able to move out of state with my children. I am so grateful to my brother for his help in this transition. During this time, my father had entered retirement from the military out on the west coast. He and my mother were planning on moving to Cincinnati to help my brother with his business. The timing of the move was good since we would be able to have the support of my family, during this time of healing and transition. Upon my move, my ex was continuing to file motions at the Seattle court house. I had to hire an attorney, from out of state, to represent me and to respond to every motion filed. Within 5 years, he filed 12 motions that were all dismissed for lack of credibility. Even though he was ordered to pay my attorney’s fees, these orders were not enforced, therefore leading me to incur much debt over the years. With the two divorce trials costing $40,000 and the additional $10,000, my finances were in trouble. I had to ask my parents for help with these huge costs. Two years after the divorce, he stopped paying child support and my daycare costs exceeded $6,000. I had to ask my parents for help with the kids, which allowed me to work more hours to pay my debts. I have been used to working two or sometimes three jobs to get a handle on my finances. In 2015 I was able to receive vocational training so I could earn more per hour.

I am a single parent living in the Cincinnati area for almost 14 years now. After much healing and hard work, I am anxious to continue my academic career goals. I am the proud parent of two well-adjusted young adults and I’ve had much experience juggling work, school and parenting. I also became the caretaker of my grandmother the last year of her life. In which I moved her into my home with my two children. During this time, as I partnered with the hospice care staff, I assisted in many nursing responsibilities. Reflecting back on this now, I feel that nursing is the field I belong in. During my time in Cosmetology school, I took on another caretaking job. I did this while managing my other full-time job. Then in 2018, I enrolled in an accelerated program at the Cincinnati School of Medical Massage. Where we had rigorous course work in A&P and Pathology. I also became a personal care assistant in 2018. I also currently work as a licensed Cosmetologist and LMT, as well as an STNA.

I am happy to say that my domestic partner and fiancé is supportive of my desire to finish my nursing education. Over time I had developed a tougher exterior, not able to readily identify with my feelings. I was so guarded, out of necessity. An armor of survival. I find it more difficult to make friends, especially deep friendships that take invested time and effort. Letting people in feels too high of a risk at times, as the emotional scars surface. Where I attended massage school, they taught us what it means to be “semi-permeable.” The idea of boundary lines that define your personal space and the space for the client. If you are too closed off, then you won’t be able to tune into anyone else’s needs. This was a wonderful exercise for me in many ways. It’s helped me in my relationship with my children as well. In the past, I’ve heard awful comments directed towards me, anywhere from saying that I am a bad mother, to questions like, why didn’t I just get an abortion. Being on the other end of the parenthood journey, with my kids entering the adult world, I would say it was worth the pain, the struggle. We persevered, we are all tough as nails, I can see it from the work ethic my kids have. Even in the most ideal circumstances, children can still have issues. But seeing the love for me in their eyes is very moving. Watching them run around, playing and laughing is like watching my heart dancing outside of me. I wish that some things had been different for them. But through the struggle, we established a strong bond, which I believe will last for years to come. I don’t know who made this quote but it sums up so much. “A son makes love stronger, days shorter, bankroll smaller, home happier, clothes shabbier, the past forgotten and the future worth living for.”

This trial has taught me to not be too quick to dismiss the notion that real love does heal our wounds. In my younger years I would have thought of that notion too trite. Having my children with me in my life has given me profound purpose and meaning. As small children, they looked to me as their constant, their calming force. They were my purpose for staying strong, stoic, steady. When they were little and even now, I give them my continued support. Also, it took me years of being single to allow myself to fall in love again. I feel thankful to my family and to my God that I have another chance at a lifetime partnership. So much healing has taken place but the memories in the emotions are still there. The muscle memories within the physical scars, are still there.

I see what those court advocate where talking about, all those years ago. I have come through the pain of a trial that allows me to empathize with the profound pain of others. Sharing my pain can save lives, or at least meeting others at their depths, so they feel less alone. Not that I have the answers, only the experience in the struggle to survive. I believe now, as a nurse (or soon to be) I can come along side someone and show them I understand what it’s like to be in pain. I can better understand where they’re at because of what I’ve been through. Not everyone is ready to hear a story like mine. A lot of times i get the, “ wide eyed, gaping mouth” reaction. But sometimes I meet someone who says, that it was what they needed to hear. It gives them the courage to set out on their own journey of survival. To start fresh, to start over if that’s what is necessary to start the healing process. As a massage therapist I deal with people and their physical pain all the time. I build care plans around strategies to begin the healing process. Many times, the physical pain is locked up with emotional pain underneath. I understand this, as I am there with them, letting them cry through their trauma. It’s a process that I feel privileged using my skills and abilities to aid in the healing.

#dv survivor #studyblr #nursingschool #healing from trauma #health and wellbeing #self care #battlescars #essay writing #kindness #be gentle with yourself

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grasslandgirl · 4 years ago

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oooo i sent it more as a fix prompt but also from one adhdhead to another i’m glad we agree!! thinking about sam and peter study dates

ahhhh fvbjsjvkbjf im so dumb i’m sorry i saw “adhd sam” and my brain just yelled YEAH. RADICAL. and that was it kjdvskfj

that being said i’ve been haunted by ricky montgomery’s Line Without a Hook + eldonado since yesterday so........ hmmm.... (oh no this got wildly out of hand)

-----------

Peter threw himself wholeheartedly into anything he worked on. It was just how he was built. Peter was either on or he was off, and it was hard to get him to change course once he was en route. Head down, eyes narrowed, his whole body angled down at his computer like if he got his face close enough to the screen, it would start streaming information right to and from his brain. His hair would flop, unnoticed, into his eyes and he would shove his glasses so far up his nose that Sam would worry he was going to bruise his nose.

All this to say, of course, that study dates were something of an occupational hazard when you were best friends with Peter Maldonado.

And also secretly in love with him.

Well, mostly-secretly. Secretly to Peter, and probably only Peter, because Sam was 90% sure everyone else was in on the secret and knew how hopelessly gone Sam was for his oblivious best friend. Gabi was the only one who ever said anything to him about it, though. So, little victories.

Finals were looming over their heads like a dark storm cloud. Looming on the horizon, fucking with barometric pressure just enough to make everyone jumpy and nervous. Peter worked well under pressure- which was a good thing, because Sam knew Peter put more pressure on himself than anyone else did- but he would always show up the night before a big exam and demand that Sam help him study. It was so commonplace after seven years of friendship that Sam didn’t question it anymore. Mostly.

There was always that small, hopeful, and nervous voice in the back of his head asking why Peter always studied with Sam when he studied just as well on his own. The only answer he could think of was that Peter knew Sam studied better with him there. But that wasn’t- that couldn’t- Sam always shut that annoying little voice down before it spiraled any further.

It didn’t do anyone any good to overcomplicate things that were objectively very simple. Peter liked routine, they were best friends, Sam was the only one who could talk Peter down from an academics-induced panic attack at 2 in the morning the night before a final exam. 2 + 2 = 4. Simple math.

Sam was slumped on his back, halfway falling off his bed with his head and shoulders draped over the side of his mattress. The notebook he was supposed to be reviewing was abandoned, sitting on his stomach. Peter was sitting at Sam’s desk, leaned over and scowling at his laptop.

It was unfair, really, how pretty Peter looked illuminated by the blue-white light of his notes document. Sam had the perfect view of Peter’s upside down profile, all furrowed eyebrows and clenched jaw and dark hair that’d had hands run through it too many times. It was late and Sam’s brain was wrung out and exhausted, only able to focus on Peter’s expression as he mouthed whatever obsolete moment in history he was trying to commit to memory, and the looping chorus of a Carly Rae Jepsen song he’d had stuck in his head for the last two hours.

A big part of being friends with Peter Maldonado was knowing when to draw the line.

“Pete, dude.” Peter looked up, blinking away the lines of notes Sam could almost see in his eyes. “It’s the middle of the night. Either we know it or we don’t at this point.”

“You think we should cut our losses?”

“I know you can survive on three hours of sleep and five cups of coffee, dude, but I can’t.” Sam tapped himself on the forehead. “This baby needs r&r or I can’t fucking function.”

“Right, right. What time is it?”

Sam sat up- an impressive showcase of his abs that Peter didn’t notice, of course- and dug around in his rumpled comforter for his phone. “12:30.”

Peter sighed heavily, tipping his head back against the headrest of Sam’s computer chair. “I should go home.”

“Dude. Just-” Sam was his own worst enemy sometimes- “just spend the night.”

“Yeah? Your moms won’t mind?”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure they assumed that’s what was happening when you showed up after dinner.”

It was probably just a weird reflection from the computer light on one of Sam’s posters onto Peter’s face. There was no way that Peter was blushing.

“Anyway,” he continued, shoving his textbook and notes off of his bed instead of looking at Peter, “I’m gonna drive you tomorrow anyway, right? Saves me a trip.”

Peter closed his laptop with a soft click. “Yeah, sure, if it’s not-”

“It’s cool, dude, don’t be weird. Just two bros-”

“Chilling in a hot tub?”

Sam prayed Peter couldn’t see the hot blush he felt rising to his cheeks. Five feet apart cause they’re not gay. “Whatever you want, dude.”

Peter knew Sam was gay. He was the first person Sam had come out to- followed closely by Gabi and his moms. But there was a difference, Sam was sure, to having your best friend be gay versus having your best friend be gay and in love with you. An invisible line in the sand that would shift their relationship forever. Sam didn’t want to test how that shift would happen. Didn’t want to risk losing his best friend on the off chance that he wasn’t alone.

“Right.” Peter repeated.

They went to bed in pieces: Sam pulling on an old pair of sweatpants and throwing one to Peter, Peter neatly stacking all his notes on one corner of Sam’s desk, Sam kicking all his schoolwork to the edges of his bedroom floor as opposed to the middle of it, Peter brushing his teeth with the same toothbrush he’d kept in the Ecklund house since they were ten, Sam turning off all the lights, Peter wandering back into his bedroom, Peter’s hair turning to gold and ink in the faint streetlight coming in from the window, the two of them curling up back to back in Sam’s bed just like they always did.

And then it was dark and quiet and all Sam could hear was the faint sound of Peter’s breathing beside him. The warmth from Peter’s back mere inches from Sam’s. They’d fallen asleep next to each other a million times, but Sam still felt electric with the proximity. How easy it would be to just- stretch his legs out and wind his feet with Peter’s, to flip over and press his nose into the soft place where his hairline met the back of his neck, to whisper something hopeful and mortifying into the still night air and hear Peter’s breath catch in silent response.

Sam stayed still, held himself perfectly motionless lest he finally show his hand. And eventually, they both fell asleep.

-------------------------

Peter woke up surrounded by Sam. The pillow he’d pressed his face into smelled like Sam’s hair and the sheets on his bed were the same tacky Star Wars ones he’d been so proud of in the seventh grade and the bed was warm with Sam’s body next to him. For an instant, Peter let himself consider it: waking up next to Sam like this every day. Falling asleep with his arms wrapped around Sam and waking up with his head on his chest.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the glaring dawn light, and against the daydream that quickly threatened to spin out of control. He could still hear Sam’s sleep heavy breathing behind him.

Slowly, Peter sat up in bed, pushing his hair out of his face and scrounging the nightstand as quietly as he could for his glasses. He allowed himself a single glance at Sam- sleep soft and sprawled out on the bed, his hand inches from where Peter’s shoulder had been, like he’d been reaching out in his sleep- before standing up and grabbing his phone from where he’d left it charging on the desk.

“Sam.” Peter poked his shoulder. “Sam.”

He groaned incoherently, but rolled over, which was a good sign.

“You have to get up, dude.”

“Breakfast?” Sam mumbled.

“Yeah,” Peter laughed a little, “I’m sure your mom’s making breakfast.”

“Urrgghhh.”

Peter grabbed the clothes he’d left in the corner the night before and pulled an old t shirt out of Sam’s closet. “I’m stealing a shirt.”

“Oh,” Sam said, half sitting up and blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “Yeah- good, okay.”

“I’m gonna go-” Peter gestured weakly towards the door, and beyond it, the bathroom. Sam peered up at him, the light from the window hitting his face in a single pane, like something out of a sun-soaked French movie. Like this was the moment where one of them broke the uncertainty, the silence. Peter could see the scene unfolding in his mind’s eye, like he’d seen it a hundred times. He’d say something like, did you sleep well? And Sam would answer, better with you here, and Peter would oh-so-slowly close the distance and drop his jeans to the floor and Sam would arch up and meet him halfway and the camera would pan away, leaving them both washed in the golden early-morning light. “Bathroom. I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” Peter said, and closed the bedroom door behind him.

He splashed water on his face and combed through his hair with his fingers, throwing on yesterday’s jeans and Sam’s t shirt under his sweatshirt and hoping it wasn’t obvious to anyone else how badly Peter wished every morning could be like this.

He left the bathroom quickly and perched on the edge of Sam’s bed, scrolling through twitter while Sam did his hair in the bathroom.

Breakfast was quiet and normal and filled with the usual mini-dramas in the Ecklund house. Kara didn’t want PB&J for lunch and one of Sam’s moms left the flat iron on in their bathroom and Leah almost burned the eggs and Sam spent half of breakfast finishing the math homework he’d almost forgotten he had.

Sam drove them both to school early for the Morning Show, laughing and singing along to his “perfectly composed drive to school playlist,” and the rest of the day went on normally. He took his history test and saw Sam in math class and they sat with Ming and Randall and Phil at lunch.

But all the while, Peter couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. He’d had... feelings for Sam for a while, unquantifiable and nebulous. He’d categorized them all: the way his stomach twisted when Sam smiled at him crookedly, the skipped beat of his heart when Sam slung his arm around Peter’s shoulders, how his hands got clammy when he caught Sam watching him out of the corner of his eye, how he always found ways to hangout during and after school. But he’d never dared to name the feeling. Defining it meant- meant he should do something about it. Made it real.

But that morning, waking up next to Sam, borrowing his t shirt to wear to school, falling asleep next to each other- they were all things they’d done a million times before. Peter’s chest ached with the normalcy, the domesticity of it.

Peter’s fingers itched to try and piece it all together, his feelings and Sam’s and their history together. String it all together on a corkboard until it made sense. But Peter knew it wouldn’t work. Not without Sam there to see the bigger picture in the first place. It’s why they worked so well together; Peter would gather and organize all the information, but Sam was the one that knew how to put it together, knew how to see the forest from the trees in a way Peter never could on his own. Even if he tried to map out the snarl of feelings in his chest, Peter knew he’d be left with a labyrinth of post-its and red string without Sam there to untangle it for him.

Dramatic irony, he supposed.

Peter caught the bus home, Sam had something for theatre after school, and spent the entire ride with his music turned as high as it would go, trying not to think about Sam as he stared out the window.

The problem, Peter realized, with being a self-professed movie lover, is that your brain starts to treat life like a movie. He could imagine a dozen different ways his life could spiral out from this moment, a dozen different movie time-lines he could find himself in. The tragedy, where he never tells Sam and lives his entire life in uncertainty. The drama, where he tells Sam and it tears their friendship apart. The tragic love story, where he and Sam are together and happy until they’re not. The comedy, where Sam laughs him off and they go back to their friendship with a tiny crack between them, spackled over with laughter that’s just a little strained.

The romantic comedy, where everything goes perfect and they ride out into the sunset.

Life wasn’t like the movies, though, nothing ever went as simple or as straightforward or as cinematic. There isn’t a director behind the camera who can call cut and change the scene halfway through. There aren’t any sweeping cinematic shots with atmospheric indie pop playing in the background.

It was just Peter, and Sam, and the creeping uncertainty hanging between them.

Right before dinner that night, Peter got a text from Sam.

sam: thanks for the study help last night, felt good about the test today

sam: don’t stress i know youre freaking out about it too

sam: you did great on the test pete i know it

Peter blinked at his phone, at the unspoken I know you hidden inbetween the lines. Sam knew him better than anyone, knew his habits and his worries and his annoying little tendencies. And he was still there.

And that, Peter realized, said more than anything else.

Love wasn’t a panoramic of a passionate kiss at sunset. It was knowing someone, learning them backwards and forwards, all the good and the bad pieces of them. It was staying, not despite everything, but because of it.

Peter loved him. It was as simple and as complicated as that.

--------------------

The doorbell rang at the end of dinner. Sam rushed to get to the door before his sisters- if he was lucky, it was their batty old neighbor Mrs Gorschtt and she would prattle on for fifteen minutes about her cat, shove a cake into Sam’s hands, and get him out of having to help clean the kitchen.

But when he opened the door, it wasn’t Mrs Gorschtt standing on the front porch, it was Peter.

“Hey, dude, what’s up? We don’t have like a math test tomorrow I blanked on, do we?”

“Huh?” Peter blinked at him, “No, no.”

“So, what’s up?” Sam stepped out onto the porch beside Peter, closing the front door behind him. Maybe he could still get out of washing the dinner dishes.

“Uh- so, the thing is-” Peter muttered, twisting one of the strings from his hoodie between his fingers. Sam’s stomach dropped; something was wrong. Peter was nervous, uncertain about something. He wasn’t looking Sam in the eye, and he had one arm wrapped around his stomach like a shield. His head started spinning with a million different things Peter could be upset about, but the thing Sam kept coming back to- he knew.

Somehow, Peter had finally figured him out. And he was coming to tell Sam- what? That they couldn’t be friends anymore? That Sam had made it weird?

“Pete-” Sam started, trying to cover his bases, trying to fix this before his best friendship in the world went up in flames.

“You’re the only one who calls me that.” Peter interrupted, finally looking at Sam.

“What?”

“Pete. You’re the only one.”

“I- we’re friends, dude, I’m allowed to have nicknames.” Sam tried to laugh, but it sounded forced, even to his ears.

“I- I know,” Peter’s eyebrows were furrowed, and he was staring at Sam like he was a page of history notes he was trying to memorize. “I got your text.”

“Oh, uh okay.”

“Sammy, I uh, I have to say something, and I want you to promise you’ll let me finish.”

Sam’s stomach dropped even further. Here it was. The end of everything. “Right,” he tried to smile at Peter, “sure dude, whatever you need.”

Peter nodded. “You’ve been my best friend since the fifth grade. You know all of my secrets, all the bad things that I don’t tell anyone else. You know that I don’t like orange-flavored things because I had too much orange-flavored medicine as a child and that I stay up too late studying the night before a test and I panic after I finish taking it. You watch movies I recommend, even though you think High School Musical 2 is the best movie ever made, you- god-” Peter scrubs his hands through his hair, clenching his eyes closed briefly- “this would be so much easier if I could just- you can see the big picture. Like with this you could just- take the words, the discrete pieces of data and put them together. Make it cohesive, coherent. I’m not making sense,” he muttered.

“Pete-”

“I don’t want to just spend the night after study dates.” Peter blurted out abruptly. His face froze, like he wasn’t sure what he just said, like he was terrified Sam was going to misunderstand. “I- I mean. I want to do real dates. With you. And spend the night and wear your clothes and have my hoodies smell like you and watch you spin around in the morning show chairs without having to worry about you catching me and I want to see you without gel in your hair and I want to lean against you when we have movie nights and-”

“Pete.”

“Sammy,” Peter said, kind of breathless. “Go on a date with me.”

“Like a study date?” Sam said, also kind of breathless.

“Like a date-date. Please.”

“Yeah. Yeah, just- come here-” and then Sam’s hands were on either side of Peter’s face and his fingers were in his hair and Peter’s hands were caught in Sam’s sweater and then-

Peter kissed like he didn’t know all the answers, for once, and he was okay with it. Peter kissed like he was memorizing everything about the moment. Peter kissed like he was planning on replaying it like an old video tape, over and over until the tape wore thin and tore. Peter kissed like he could hear the orchestra playing behind them, like they were in some cheesy made for tv rom com and were about to get their happy ending.

Peter kissed like Sam was his happy ending.

Finally, they broke apart- more to catch their breath than anything else.

“Hell of a study date,” Sam breathed, unable to stop smiling.

“Shut up.” Peter was smiling, too.

And, leaning back in, Sam did.

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omoi-no-hoka · 5 years ago

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Hey! I saw your blog today and I love it very much!! I see you're an open person so, I also have a question: HOW does one survive studying japanese at uni?? I'm in my first year and only my second (online haha) semester and we started out with Minna no nihongo 1 but we're supposed to finish Minna 2 by the end of this semester, same with Basic Kanji book 1 in the first sem and now Basic Kanji Book 2, all while also learning mostly of Japan's history and others in this semester. Exams will kill me

Hello! I’m glad you’re enjoying my blog! I am open to a fault lol. Let me recount my meandering journey through uni, illustrating my feelings through gifs of Noel Fielding because he is my celebrity crush.

Uni is such a difficult time for so many people, trying to figure out who you are now and who you want to be later. It wasn’t until my senior year that I realized what I wanted to do. I started writing out my university experience and it got super long, so allow me to just summarize my “Lessons Learned” here and you can read the rest if you want to know all the dirty deets lol. I double-majored in Japanese and English, so I think that my experience can perhaps be useful to people who are majoring in things other than Japanese as well.

Hard-Learned Lessons from Uni

Do not choose a course of study because it is “practical.” Choose it because it is something you love. Seriously. Nothing is more important than this point. Do not choose a major because “I’ll make a lot of money” or “My parents are telling me this is good for me.”

If you are learning multiple languages at once, you must give your brain time to organize what you learned from one language lesson before moving on to the next. You can do this by waiting a couple hours between lessons, getting up and walking around, studying one language in different space from the other, etc. Otherwise, it all becomes a terrible mess in your head.

It’s okay not to know what you want your career to be. It’s okay not to have a specific plan. Life works out one way or the other.

I know how expensive uni can be. (It’s been six years since I graduated and I’m still making hefty loan payments.) But don’t feel like you have to take a full courseload every single semester and graduated asap, particularly if the classes are hard and/or you are working. I took the maximum credit hours allowed every semester on top of working RIDICULOUS hours and it nearly killed me at one point. I’m not kidding.

It is not unusual to have an identity crisis and/or mental breakdown. Take care of yourself. Know when you are nearing breaking point. Seek out the help of professionals. Most universities have psychiatrists and therapists that will see you very cheaply.

Surround yourself with good people and look out for each other.

Do not rely on substances to ease your suffering because sometimes the remedy becomes the malady. Not saying you should avoid all parties or anything square like that, but just don’t be one of those people that parties every night and gets in over their head.

Let me preface this by stating that I’m an American, and our universities are stupid because they force us to take a ton of “general education” courses that are irrelevant to our majors, and many students spend their first couple years taking only a couple courses related to their majors and minors, and try to focus on getting those stupid gen eds out of the way.

Year 1: Oh Shit, This Is Harder Than I Thought It Would Be

I come from a town of less than 2600 people. Our high school prepared its students for the following career paths:

joining the military (boys only)

becoming a farmer (boys only)

welding, carpentry, or other practical jobs (boys only)

becoming a housewife (girls only)

So basically I coasted through high school never having to study anything because it was one great big joke, only I thought I was like super duper smart because I was in the top five of my graduating class of 48. LOLLLLLLLLL

I entered university as a German major, Japanese minor. (Japanese was not offered as a major at my uni). I had never studied German previously, but I studied Spanish and French in high school and I just had this feeling that German and Japanese were the languages for me.

The first semester, I had Japanese 101 and German 101 back to back, in the EXACT SAME CLASSROOM. I can’t stress enough how much of a mindfuck it was to go from thinking about Japanese for 50 minutes, having a 10 minute break, and then trying to switch your brain to German. IN THE SAME ROOM. It actually gave me headaches to try and make that mental jump. Managed to pull through the year with A’s in both, but German was much more of a challenge to me than Japanese. Which was really unexpected.

I also flunked several gen eds because I didn’t give a shit about them and skipped them and got placed on academic probation and was nearly kicked out of uni because of my poor grades

Basically, I was such a weeb that I had watched enough anime with subtitles and sung along to enough anime songs that I had absorbed about 90% of the first year’s worth of Japanese vocab and grammar through osmosis. I really did have the power of God and anime on my side.

Year 2: The Year of the Mid-Midlife Crisis and Mental Breakdown

There really is no gif that will encapsulate the level of turmoil I went through that year. I looked really hard for one, trust me.

It became apparent very quickly that I could not keep up with German. I ended up dropping it early in the first semester, which meant I had to choose a new major. Thinking of what would be practical to pair with a Japanese minor, I went for International Business for a semester, took Accounting, and realized that I HATE The Man, corporate bullshit, and also numbers as a concept.

All I knew at this point was that I liked Japanese but couldn’t make it a major. I also knew I didn’t want to transfer universities. So I kept taking gen eds, just barely passing them because to this day I cannot bring myself to put effort into something I do not care about, and also taking more classes related to my Japanese minor. It was the Japanese classes that saved my GPA and kept me from getting kicked out of uni.

At the same time, I took a creative writing course because that’s been a hobby of mine since elementary school, and I kinda thought about an English major, but then was like, “Eww I don’t wanna be forced to read books I don’t give a shit about. And also, what will I do with that degree?”

Also, at the same time, I was working full time, and often getting stuck working from 2 pm to 7 am (Yes, 15-hour shifts, because the overnight dude would call in sick last minute and I’d be begged to cover his shift), and then dragging myself to classes and drooling on the desks because I’d fall asleep.

Also also, I started to have possible hallucinations? To this day I don’t know what was going on, but either I was legitimately going crazy, or there was a demon following me around and being quite rude to me, making light fixtures fall and shatter inches from my head, throwing papers around my room, opening and closing doors, turning lights off and on, coming to me in dreams and doing some really, really traumatic things to me in them, and just standing in corners staring at me at all hours of the night. Had me so scared that towards the end of the school year I was waiting to sleep until sunrise, when it would go away. And no, I was not using any mind-altering substances of any sort. Not even going out and getting drunk.

So, yeah. Year Two was a hard one that I can’t believe I pushed through. Probably the darkest year of my life, I’d say. What got me through it? An unhealthy amount of energy drinks, friends, and my love of Japanese. Also Aerosmith.

Do I still see that demon? No. He vanished when the school year ended and I moved out of the dorms. Do I believe in the supernatural? Yes, to an extent. Do I think that what I was seeing was actually a demon? I honestly don’t know. I have had actual supernatural experiences verified by multiple witnesses, and a few years before Year 2, several friends and myself had seen an entity similar to what was following me around. But this one in Year 2 only did things when I was alone. So it could have all been in my head, and I will never know.

Since then, I have been diagnosed with general anxiety and also a form of insomnia that keeps me from sleeping through the night, and I know that my anxiety manifests itself in psychosomatic ways. In other words, my mind will take my anxiety and turn it into a physical symptom that feels real in every way, but is actually not occurring. So far it’s manifested as: sensitivity to sunlight, the symptoms of a stroke or heart attack, half of my face going numb, and headaches in my left eye. Once I realize that the symptom is just my anxiety, I can force myself to ignore and overcome it. But then my anxiety finds a new form to manifest, and the cycle repeats a few months later. It could be that my stress caused me to see this demon for a while.

Should I have consulted a psychiatrist and gotten help? YEP. If you find yourself struggling like that, seek help please. 💕

Year 3: Adrift But Afloat

I moved out of the dorms and into an apartment with my best friend, a Japanese girl I met in the dorms freshman year. I will call her Setsuko. Setsuko is basically the reason I graduated uni. She memorized my class schedules and took copies of exam dates, woke me up, forced me to go classes instead of skipping, forced me to go to the library and study with her, and cooked me dinner most days since she didn’t have to work like I did. I can’t express enough how much she did to improve my life outside of school and work, and how much that improved my mental health. She also acclimated me to lots of subtle things about Japanese culture just by living with her, and this helped me later when I moved to Japan. Thank you, Setsuko. 一生の恩人。

I was still doing those bullshit 15-hour overnight shifts way more than I should have, and also had the maximum courseload.

The Japanese classes got a lot more difficult in Year 3. But I loved them. They were the only classes I never skipped. I took more classes towards the minor like Buddhist Philosophy and Japanese History, which I really enjoyed. While polishing off more gen eds, I thought over what to do with my major.

My family and friends all told me that I should become an English teacher. I had always been good at words and at explaining things. But I didn’t really like the idea of being a high school teacher. I became an English major, though, because I knew that I didn’t hate English. Took grammar classes and HOLY SHIT did I hit my stride.

I realized that I didn’t like English lit. I liked linguistics. So I focused heavily on all grammar and linguistics courses, taking the bare minimum of literature courses required for the major. My GPA improved substantially.

Yet I still was consumed with this nagging fear. It was Year 3 and I still had no fucking idea what I wanted to do when I graduated.

Year 4: Clarity At The 11th Hour

Urged on by my “Don’t you dare get one of those stupid arts degrees that won’t get you a paycheck” parents, I decided that the most “practical” degree would not be “English,” but “English Education.” I began taking the English Ed classes with linguistics, grammar, and second language acquisition classes. The goal was to become a qualified English high school teacher who could also do ESL (since I had Spanish and Japanese under my belt more or less).

At the same time, I entered into Independent Study for Japanese with two other students. We were tasked with reading Izu no Odoriko, a classic short story. Independent study was its own beast. It required a lot more concentration and work on my part, obviously. But because Japanese was my first and foremost passion, I centered my efforts on those courses, and then on the others.

The process of getting certified to be an English teacher was lengthy and expensive in my state. This meant my graduation would be further prolonged, and I was worried about money, because I was already about $50,000 in debt at the time, despite working those fucking overnight shifts all the time that were eating me alive.

Then, during the summer vacation when my 4th year ended, I got a scholarship and went to Japan to study abroad. Education majors had the option to study abroad in several countries, and as luck would have it, one of them was Japan, and it was Setsuko’s HOMETOWN! The study abroad program itself was the first month of summer vacation, and Setsuko said, “Okay, just come stay at my house for the rest of summer vacation!”

Never have I said “yes” quicker in my entire life.

On the train headed from Sapporo to the town where I would be actually staying during my studies, I looked at the lush rice paddies and mountains in the distance and my entire heart just hummed with this “This is where you’re meant to be.” I knew then and there that I would move to Japan upon graduation.

What would I do there? Well, teach English, obviously.

My three months in Japan effectively aligned my entire life. My path had materialized before me. It was a roughly hacked, hard-to-see path through thick underbrush, but I could see it nonetheless.

Year 5: Let’s Hurry It Up, I’m Ready To Live

Come Year 5, all of my Japanese classmates that had been with me since freshman year were gone and I was alone. My professor taught me Classical Japanese through independent study, and it was the must grueling course I took my entire five years there. But I found it invaluable and am eternally grateful to him for teaching me, because you see Classical Japanese a lot more than you’d think you would in everyday life. Particularly in formal settings.

I still wanted to get certified to teach English in American high schools, because while I knew I wanted to go to Japan for now, I didn’t know if I wanted to spend my entire life there and I wanted a solid job opportunity when I came back to the states at some point.

However, the more education courses I took, the more I saw that the American education system was just as full of red-tape and The Man’s bullshit as corporate America, something else I rebuke with every fiber of my being. I also realized I’d need to take a 6th year of university, and that just wasn’t financially feasible for me. So I switched to a plain old English major with a heavy focus on linguistics and second language acquisition, and continued classical Japanese.

I took the remaining 3 gen eds online in the summer, graduated, popped up to Chicago to do a month-long intensive course to get the CELTA (Certificate in Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages issued by Cambridge.) It’s the most widely accepted and revered certification for teaching English as a foreign language.

So in the span of five years, I graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree in English with a focus in linguistics and SLA, and what is technically a major in Japanese Studies. 40 credit hours were required for a major, and I completed 42 credit hours tied to my minor, so while it isn’t listed on my diploma as a major, I did the coursework. I also got a CELTA Pass B, which only 20% of applicants achieve and never expires. The grand total for all of this was roughly $100,000 USD in loans.

Post-Graduation

The week I came back to my hometown from Chicago with my CELTA in hand, I packed my suitcases, threw a going-away party, and then flew to Sapporo, where I began my first job after uni, teaching English to children aged 0-18 at a private English conversation school. I did that for three years before changing careers and becoming a Japanese-English translator/interpreter for a global company.

So how useful have my choices during university proven to be?

I’m sure I don’t have to explain that studying Japanese helps me tons with translating Japanese to English or living in Japan lol

Studying English grammar, linguistics, sociolinguistics, and second language acquisition has allowed me to recognize minute nuances that can make the difference between a successful and unsuccessful business negotiation when interpretation is necessary.

My background in education also means that I know how to present information clearly, concisely, and in a way that engages the audience. I am known as “The PowerPoint Pro” at work lol.

I also have a keen eye for performance evaluation, behavior analysis, and improvement action plans.

I offered English conversation lessons to coworkers for over a year, and now that is being done in other branches across the company! (Well, they were before COVID haha.)

I DO NOT RECOMMEND WORKING THE HOURS I WORKED WHILE IN SCHOOL. My grades suffered and I wish I had worked less and focused more on classes. However, by working 15-hour shifts and doing full days of classes, I developed a very good tolerance for overtime, which comes in handy in the Japanese workplace. Just last month I had three 15 hour days in the same week. Sweet, sweet overtime pay.

All of these facets have culminated in me earning a pretty nice promotion to 正社員 seishain back in February, which means I get nice benefits and basically my job is guaranteed until I die or the company goes under.

Should I decide to return to America someday, I will probably not go into the education field. Too much red tape. I will likely continue translation/interpretation for companies, because it isn’t too difficult and pays well. Though ideally I’d love to just make a living sharing cool information about Japanese and stuff, and maybe writing those stories that are bouncing around in my head when I should be working haha.

Do I think the debt is worth it?

Well, I don’t think I had any other option than to take out those loans. I didn’t have the means to learn the things I wanted to learn unless I went to university.

Unless Japanese work visa requirements have changed, you are required to have a bachelor’s degree in order to obtain my sub-type of work-visa, so I needed a degree of some kind no matter what.

Frankly, if I hadn’t gone to that university and met my best friend Setsuko, I don’t think I’d be where I am right now, living the life I am now. So just having met her is worth any price to me.

Paying off all the loans is daunting, especially when yen is weak to the dollar. There were months I had to ask my parents for help, especially early on. But now I’ve got multiple loans paid off, my salary has increased, and the “omg i have money and no supervision so I can buy whatever I want” idiocy has mostly gone away. But I did get a super sweet pair of blindingly silver Converses a couple days ago that I definitely didn’t need

Do I have any regrets regarding my time at university?

I still regret dropping Old English for a stupid English Ed class. Seriously, how cool would that have been? But I still have the textbook, workbook, and I contacted the professor last week and she was kind enough to send me a syllabus. God bless her. So now I’m working on that bit by bit, which is fun.

I wish I hadn’t been such a cocky, naive idiot my first year. Thinking I could just “show up for tests” was the stupidest thing. It messed up my GPA, and my parents forbade me from retaking classes so I couldn’t go back and fix my mistakes. I think I graduated with a 3.4 overall GPA out of 4, but my English major GPA was 3.9 and my Japanese GPA was 4.0. So it’s pretty frustrating to have those gen eds and my dumbfuckery mar my transcript like that.

I really didn’t party at all. Most all of my friends were straight-laced Japanese exchange students, and I was also working ridiculous hours so I just didn’t really have the time. A part of me feels like I missed out on that part of the college experience.

Recently I’ve been putting more effort into improving my creative writing by reading a lot of books on the subject. Not a small part of me wishes that I had gone with a Creative Writing major instead of English major, because I still would have studied all the grammar and linguistics. Then again, I do believe that creative writing can be self-taught.

I wish I hadn’t worked as much as I did. There were a lot of times I couldn’t complete assignments or I missed lectures because I was just so drained. It wasn’t even good money.

Well...I did not intend for this post to become as long as it has. I’ve been cooped up in my apartment with nothing but two goldfish for company for over a month now and I think I’m a bit stir-crazy. Thank you to anyone and everyone who bothered to read all of this and become my therapist for a bit haha. Love you all. Stay safe and well. 💖

#study japanese #learn japanese #university #college #study tips #mental health #love you all #asks are open #stay well #noodle-of-sunshine #noel fielding #studyblr #college study tips #university struggles #college struggles #study english #study english education #study linguistics

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ilovereadingandilovebreathing · 5 years ago

Note

I wish you would write a fic where peter has some trouble sleeping and he goes to tony for help (irondad is best and I love how you write them)

A/N: I added a Read More break in this; I’m so sorry if it isn’t working on your Dash or in mobile.

---

((WOW as per usual this took forever; I’m so sorry, and thank you for your patience!!!))

I can do that. As many of my IronDad fics are these days, this is set in a Post-Endgame Universe that ends the way we deserved it to. (Also thank you?? So much????) As per usual, I don’t know if this is what you envisioned, but here it is anyway. I hope you like it!

—

A Week in the Life of an Overly Anxious Insomniac (a.k.a. Post-Finals Week)

Friday

Peter Parker crawls in through his bedroom window after the fullest week of his whole life. He’s just finished his Junior year of high school, meaning that his end-of-year finals are the roughest and toughest, and he’s barely made it through them unscathed. Peter’s an above average student for above average students, much less the general population, so he keeps up with his studies well, especially after Tony and May teamed up to implement some Big Brother-level safe guards to make sure he was held accountable for his allotted homework and Spider-Man hours.

The teenager pulls himself upright and runs a hand through his hair, a deep sigh emanating from his chest as he pulls off his Spider-Man suit. He glances at the clock; 1:30AM shines back silently at him, the one-time extended patrol hours Tony and May had allowed him in light of the end of the school year and successful exams.

Once he’s free of his enhanced spandex, Peter pulls on a t-shirt and sweatpants and collapses onto his bed, his nose buried in his covers, but his eyes remain open. He stares languidly at a spot on his wall, likely food from his and Ned’s last sleepover.

The seconds tick past, soon turning into minutes, and then an hour has gone by, and somehow he’s still wide awake. He’s tried to drop off multiple times, but a prickling sensation across his back, like’s he’s being watched, keeps him from relaxing into sleep.

Peter sighs in frustration and takes out his phone, scrolling through countless ridiculous news articles until his body shuts itself off around 5AM.

Saturday

Peter awakes at 9:30AM and groans. At least it’s Saturday, so he can sleep more. He rolls over just in time for his phone to go wild where he’d discarded it beneath his bed earlier that morning. He gropes blindly for the device and clicks it on, sleepily scrolling through the barrage of messages in his group chat with Ned and MJ.

Ned: Expo day!

MJ: Expo day.

Ned: Peter!! EXPO DAY!

Ned: P

Ned: E

Ned: T

Ned: E

Ned: R

Ned: WAKE UP

Peter rolls his eyes but can’t suppress a grin as he types out his response.

Peter: I’m awake geez

It’s not even until 4PM

Ned: Yeah, but still. We have to make sure we have our itinerary down and the layout of the place just in case something ya know crazy happens.

Peter: Right yeah sure

MJ: I’m not wearing the matching t-shirts

Ned: Pleeeeeaaassse MJ!!!!!!!!

MJ: …..without something else over it

Ned: *peace fingers emoji*

MJ: why didn’t you just send the actual emoji

Ned: You have an IPhone. The emojis always show up differently.

MJ: Not that one, idiot

Ned: Oh whatEVER

Peter nearly drops his phone on his face, so he rolls to his side and types out a final message.

Peter: I’m hitting snooze. See you guys this afternoon.

Peter switches his phone to silent mode and lays an arm over his face. After a week of multiple all-nighters on top of a full patrol and 4 ½ hours of sleep last night (this morning, he corrects himself with a grunt), he just wants to sleep until he absolutely has to be up. He sends a quick wake-up call request to May before pulling his covers back over his head.

Peter, Ned, and MJ crash at Ned’s apartment around 12:30AM. The Expo (an invitation courtesy of Tony Stark, of course) had been incredible, showcasing the latest and greatest technology on the market and coming to the market, from Stark Industries to OsCorp and everything in between.

The trio reclines on the Leeds’ comfy sectional, Ned passing out as soon as his body hits the cushions. MJ is curled in a half doze in the crook of the couch, and Peter spreads along the unoccupied middle section, propped sidelong against the back. He stares at his crossed ankles as the TV plays quietly in the background. His vision swims in and out of focus, trying to let him fall into sleep, but something keeps pulling him back just as he’s on the brink, like fingers trailing across his back.

Peter knows no one else is in the room with him. He hears Ned and MJ’s separate, steady breathing on either side of him, but something about their presences, how strongly he can sense them, keeps him from falling out of consciousness. Their presence should be a comforting tether, but he finds it more restrictive now. He shakes his head minutely at the thought.

After about fifteen minutes, Peter sighs in defeat and positions himself to watch Nickelodeon’s late night programming, finally dropping off around 4AM.

Sunday

Sadly for Peter, Ned and MJ are both early risers; they stir around 7:30 but lay poking at their phones until 8. Peter tries to fall back to sleep, but MJ’s accusatory “faker” has him popping his eyes open to defend himself.

“I think I deserve it.” Peter grumbles while rubbing an eye. “My longest night of sleep all week was like 5 ½ hours. Maybe.”

“That’s unhealthy.”

“That’s finals week.”

“I wish you’d told us, Peter.” Ned chimes in with a yawn. “We could have come home way earlier last night.”

“It’s fine.” Peter sighs and pushes himself up. “It was totally worth it. I’ll probably pass out tonight, so it’s fine.”

As if the universe loves proving him wrong, that evening once again finds Peter restless. He can’t seem to get comfortable in any position.

Left side.

Right side.

Back.

Stomach.

He even swaps his head to the foot of the bed and tries a diagonal position.

No dice.

He tenses up every muscle in his body and releases.

He keeps his eyes open for as long as he can without blinking.

He tries to force his breathing to become heavy and even.

Nothing.

His mind and body are exhausted, he can feel it, but they just refuse to shut off.

Peter pulls his pillow over his face and groans loudly.

Monday

Peter gets about 3 hours of sleep before May pokes her head in to ask for his help; she’s been on a minimalist kick lately and wants Peter to help her carry her donations to her car.

He smiles bitterly when he sees the black Sharpie scribbles on the outsides of the boxes:

Ben’s Clothes

Peter’s Toys

Wedding Pictures

Kitchen

Labels marked over and re-named Donations.

Peter’s eyes are suddenly watery, and he quickly deposits the boxes in May’s car before running a hand over his face.

May shoots him an inquisitive look but drops the issue, giving him a quick squeeze of a hug before thanking him and getting in her car. Peter waves as she leaves and sighs.

He could text Ned or MJ to go get coffee, but the walking distance just seems to far today.

He goes back upstairs and spends the day watching lame TV on the couch.

He doesn’t sleep at all that night.

Tuesday

Peter spends the whole day keeping busy. He organizes and cleans the apartment. He volunteers to walk his neighbors’ dogs. He goes for lunch with MJ and Ned and even sets out early as Spider-Man.

The evening hours come around, and he settles in with May on the couch watching Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy. They keep score, Peter easily beating all of the contestants, and he begs May to stay with him and play with his hair as he puts on the most boring documentary he can find.

May acquiesces after studying him briefly, but she nods off after about half an hour, her hand resting in his hair.

Peter puts his hands over his face and swallows a sob, painfully, fully awake.

Wednesday

It’s starting to get to him, the lack of sleep.

He ignores May that morning when she calls to him to join her for french toast and fruit.

He tells Ned and MJ he can’t swing lunch that day though he has nothing planned.

He nearly cries when his phone lights up with his reminder that Tony Stark is back from his business trip, and again when said man sends him a message.

Tony: Hey, squirt. I’m back stateside. You free to come to the Lakehouse for a few days? Mo misses you.

Peter actually takes a few moments to consider before he catches himself. Not a good sign.

Peter: Yeah, I’m free. I’ll come tomorrow.

Thursday

Peter kisses May goodbye that morning with a promise of letting her know when he gets to the Cabin.

Happy comes for him around 10:30, and it’s after noon by the time they pull up to Tony Stark’s home away from home.

Morgan is on the porch the moment their car doors slam and is tackling Peter nearly to the ground before he can reach the trunk to get his bag. She squeezes the air from his lungs as she babbles excitedly about how they’re going to spend the next few days, her first days of summer vacation, together.

“Let him breathe, Monkey.”

Peter looks up to find Tony on the porch, metal arm on a post and flesh arm waving lightly. Peter ushers up a smile and a small wave in return before hoisting Morgan up into his arms. The teenager crosses to the porch stops before his mentor.

“Made it through another finals week, huh?”

“Barely.” Peter’s tone is more biting than he wants, and he hopes Tony didn’t notice. He’s definitely giving Peter a once-over now.

“Hap? Take Morgan inside, please?”

“Sure. Come here, Princess.”

“Uncle Happy, can I have cookies?”

“Don’t let her fool you, Hap; she’s already had her post-lunch snack.”

Morgan folds her arms and pouts as Happy chuckles and takes her inside.

“He didn’t say anything about juice pops-”

“Traitor.” Tony mumbles as Happy shuts the door behind them.

It’s quiet for a moment, the lake lapping at the shoreline barely audible as they look out and then at each other. Tony’s gaze stays on Peter, and the boy can’t help but look away.

“What’s up, kid?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your eyes are bloodshot. And last time I checked, Pep didn’t pop out a ten ton toddler, so Morgan shouldn’t be able to knock you over like that.”

“I was just playing with her.”

“Uh huh. Well,” Tony is clearly a bit peeved with Peter, but he drops the issue. “I assume you haven’t had lunch yet, so maybe some food in you will make you more talkative.”

“Thanks.”

“Turkey?”

“Perfect.”

Peter passes the afternoon between Tony and Morgan, the former occupying him with projects in his small workshop and the latter demanding to be occupied by him all over the property.

For all intents and purposes, he should be exhausted.

And yet 2:30AM finds him wide awake and near to breaking.

He’s laying on his side facing his clock, the red letters displaying “2:31AM.” He stares and stares and stares until he feels like the letters are bored into his brain. He closes his eyes, and they pop back open again like they’re on a spring.

Peter rolls into his back and stares at the dark patches on his ceiling, remnants of the knotholes that used to be, tensing and relaxing his gaze, squinting and releasing, rolling his eyes around in vain hopes of exhausting his eyes to closing with no luck.

He flips onto his left side with a huff and curls into the fetal position, hoping somehow he can trick his anxiety-ridden brain into believing he is safe and can sleep soundly. He’s in the middle of the woods of New York in what is likely the safest cabin in the entire world, and yet his body refuses to relax and let him sleep.

Peter slaps his comforter in frustration and bolts upright, his heartbeat drumming painfully in his chest and blood pumping in his ears. He swings his feet over the side of the bed, grabs his Midtown hoodie, and slides open the window; he sits on the edge for a moment or two before dropping silently to the ground. Slipping his hands into his hoodie pocket, Peter quietly follows the moonlit path to the dock; he stands there for a little while, tracing every shape and shadow the reflected glow will let him see, listening to every scuttle and shuffle in the trees and on the ground.

He wouldn’t pick out the light footsteps in any other circumstance, but their contrast to those he’s more familiar with sets him at ease.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up.” Peter chokes out as Pepper comes to stand beside him.

The woman is hugging her bathrobe to herself despite the warmth of the season, but she doesn’t seem agitated from what Peter can tell.

“You didn’t.” There’s an undercurrent of a scoff in her tone. “Overseas conference call. We had to meet on their terms.”

“That’s not fair.”

“We trade off.”

“Oh.”

They stand in silence for a few beats before Pepper sighs.

“He struggles with insomnia, too, you know.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Afghanistan. His heart. New York. That crazy Russian. Hammer. Ultron. Thanos. St-….Everything. I’d be amazed if he went through everything he has while maintaining a decent sleep schedule.” Pepper’s tone is a little hard, but Peter knows she doesn’t mean ill will toward him. She’s been with Tony through far longer than he has. She’s quiet for a few seconds before quietly adding, her tone lighter, “He called an Iron Man suit on me once.”

Peter sucks in a breath.

“I don’t think he meant to, but he had so much going on that he wasn’t dealing with already, and…we were going through a rough patch…The anxiety was eating him alive. Don’t tell him I told you all of that.” Her tone is more conspiratorial than regretful. “He’s never forgiven himself for it, but you should know. He deals with it, too. The anxiety. Feeling unsettled all the time.”

“There’s just…always something. I feel like can’t really rest.”

Pepper nods. “I don’t know the full scope of your abilities, but May’s told me about your…Peter Tingle?”

Peter cringes. “Spider Sense is what I prefer, but yeah. Maybe that’s related to all of this.”

“Probably.” Pepper is quiet for a moment. “You know…he would do whatever he needs to help. All you have to do is ask.”

“Okay.” Peter turns just a bit and gives her a tired smile. “Thanks, Pepper.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Pepper holds out an arm for him, and he gladly steps in to it.

Peter will always be secretly, selfishly thankful for how Morgan softened the Starks while he was gone, allowing him to fall in their never-ending streams of comfort that didn’t exist before he disappeared.

Peter feels a pull where Pepper’s hand rests on his shoulder, and he allows her to guide them back inside. He falls asleep an hour later.

Tony has multiple business calls the next day, so it’s mid-afternoon when Peter finally gets some alone time with his mentor-turned-father-figure. They’re sitting on a small pier Tony built over the lake, swinging on a bench swing Morgan insisted they needed after Pepper had one installed on the front porch months earlier. They’re seated on opposite ends of the swing, Peter’s feet propped between them as they gaze out over the water, each lost in their respective thoughts.

Peter taps Tony’s arm with his toes after a while, and the man scrunches up his nose in false disgust.

“The last thing I want on my arm, even lower on the totem pole than Morgan’s boogers, is stinky teenager feet.”

“I will have you know that I clean my feet quite well and quite regularly, my good sir.” Peter falls into a vaguely British accent, accentuating each of the last three words with its own individual toe tap to Tony’s arm.

“Disgusting. I’m tainted.” Tony rests his arm over the back of the swing. “So, I hear you and Pepper had a little late night stroll to the dock.”

“She told you?”

“FRIDAY did. She’s a bit of a tattletale.”

“She really is.”

“Woke me up and everything, and I was finally getting a good night’s sleep.”

Peter feels heat rise to his cheeks. “Sorry. Uh, and sorry you haven’t been sleeping well.”

Tony shrugs. “It happens. Especially when I go from being in the city, as we were in Bangladesh, to being back out here in the quiet. Hard to adjust sometimes. To relax fully.”

“Yeah.” Peter stares resolutely out at the lake.

“So, what were you and my wife chatting about at such an hour?”

“Just…business?”

“So you got up and took Pepper out to the dock to ask her about her business call?”

“Not exactly. I mean, it came up, but…I was out there first.”

“Oh, really? So she came out as a recon. mission, then?”

“I guess so.”

“Why were you out there in the middle of the night, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“….I couldn’t sleep.”

“Yeah? Why not?”

Peter inhales through his nose. “Not sure. But it’s not a big deal.”

“If you say so.”

Peter looks through the corners of his eyes and finds Tony studying him before the man decides to stand, stretching and popping his back as he does so.

“Care for a walk around the lake?”

Peter collapses onto the couch when they return, staring through the windows to the side porch and watching Tony and Pepper prepare dinner together on the outside grill.

Morgan is hunched over at his feet, scribbling furiously in her current favorite coloring book.

“Whatchya doodling, Moomoo?”

“A cat.” Morgan holds up a good-sized image of what is now an orange tabby.

“Looks good.”

“Thanks.” The little one goes back to her coloring, more quietly this time, and Peter settles back against the arm of the couch. He stares at the ceiling, willing himself to relax if it means he can even get a nap in before dinner, but his body just won’t have it. He can hear his heartbeat. Morgan’s heartbeat. Every mechanical and electrical noise in the house goes in and out of focus as he just lays there, trying not to show his frustration and upset Morgan.

“Hey, Pete.” Tony pokes his head in and nearly makes the teen jump. “Can you grab the meat out of the fridge?”

“Yeah.” Peter sits up slowly and stands, feeling Tony’s eyes on him as he crosses to the kitchen. “Sh-oot.” Peter catches himself just in time after his toe has a gnarly collision with a dining table leg. “Missed that somehow…” He grumbles as he pulls the food out of the freezer and brings it back to Tony. Peter just catches the man’s critical gaze before it snaps into easy speculation.

“Thanks, bud.” Tony claps a hand on Peter’s shoulder, and they go out together, Peter’s hopes of relief forgotten as the afternoon melts into evening.

It’s the same old story, and one he is so tired of re-living.

Peter full on glares at the ceiling as his heart pounds in his chest, refusing to slow down no matter how he tries to force out slow, even breaths. He clenches his eyes shut but the frustrated tears have already bloomed there and spilled over his cheeks, drawing twin lines down over his temples and pooling on his pillow. He swipes a hand over his face and sniffs hard, rolling onto his side to glare at the clock now.

3:33am.

The witching hour. Or at least that’s what MJ calls it. It definitely feels like he’s being hexed right now as his eyes seem to remain open of their own accord, in spite of all of his efforts to get them to comply with the exhaustion in his limbs, his bones.

“Why the hell can’t I sleep?” He mouths silently at the glowing numbers, the frustration spilling over again, but he doesn’t bother to wipe them away this time. He doesn’t cry all that often, really, not when he’s mad, at least, but night after night of not sleeping enough, especially after exerting himself so much, has worn him thin, and crying is all he can do to keep from screaming, stomping, hurling and throwing things. He’s past the point of being upset with his insomnia and reached the point of searing anger, at himself for not being able to overcome this obstacle and whatever power has placed this plague on him. He grits his teeth until his jaw aches, and he nearly cracks a tooth when an owl sees fit to chime in on his thoughts from outside his window.

Peter pushes himself up and gazes toward his window, the scene from last night playing through his mind in a strange 3rd person point-of-view, as if he is FRIDAY watching him from the house instead of himself experiencing it. Something Pepper said pokes at his consciousness, and he frowns.

You know…he would do whatever he needs to help. All you have to do is ask.

All you have to do is ask.

Peter stares intently at the window for a moment, contemplating before he finally sighs deeply and throws his covers off. As much as he hates to put anything else on the man’s plate, Peter knows that Tony will understand his plight; plus, he’s been eyeing Peter ever since he arrived, so the teen figures it’s more merciful to put the man out of his miserable curiosity.

Peter stops outside of Tony and Pepper’s door, listening for a moment and frowning when he only hears one person breathing and snoring softly. Definitely not Tony. He quietly pads to Morgan’s door and listens, only hearing the even lighter breathing of the little girl, and his brows crease.

Peter heads toward the stairs and picks up the faint light shining from downstairs; he quietly mounts them and steps down to the ground floor, absorbing Tony sitting on the couch with a book in one hand, a cup of tea in the other. It’s so domestic that it brings the tears back to Peter’s eyes, the idea of Tony finally being this relaxed and at home somewhere pulling at something deep in Peter’s core.

“I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Tony’s voice startles Peter, the silence Peter hadn’t realized he’d settled in to shattered, and now the air holds an expectation of being filled with vibrating waves that Peter isn’t sure he’s ready to relinquish. The idea of finally confiding in Tony had seemed palpable when he was upstairs, alone and breaking anyway, but now that he’s here and sees Tony, thinks back to everything he’s been through, Peter suddenly feels selfish and silly.

“Quit overthinking. Come sit with me.”

Peter’s gaze snaps from the window to which it’s wandered and back to his mentor. Tony has put down the book and tea by now and is watching him intently but not oppressively; there’s no scrutiny in his eyes or demand in his body language, just an open invitation.

Peter crosses the room stiffly and sits beside Tony, staring ahead and body refusing to relax right away.

“Geez, you’re wound up tight. Come here.” Tony beckons Peter toward him, and the teen stares.

“What?”

“I’m gonna rub your shoulders, kid. Don’t make it weird.” Tony rolls his eyes. “Unless you’re genuinely uncomfortable with it, then I won’t.”

“No, it’s okay….I’m just….getting used to it.”

“To what?”

“To you being all…”

“Domestic?”

“Exactly.”

Tony snorts.

“That’s like, the one benefit of disappearing for five years.”

Tony clenches his jaw, and Peter sighs through his nose. It’s always too soon for Tony.

“Sorry…I just mean…You had a kid while I was gone. You got all paternal and stuff, and now I get to reap the benefits of that, I guess.”

“Yeah, we’re definitely more touchy feely than before, huh?”

“I just figured that was because you missed me.” Peter smiles a bit, mischief tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I did, kid. So much.”

Peter’s smile falls to neutrality. “I know. I….I guess I missed you, too. I don’t remember much.”

“Hopefully we’ll keep it that way.” Tony mumbles. “So, shoulder rub?”

Peter considers for a moment. “Sure, why not.” He scoots closer to Tony, and the man’s warm hand on his tense neck and shoulder muscles immediately help him relax just a fraction.

“Geez, kid; you been working out these muscle groups or have you been that tense over finals?”

Peter blinks. “You know, now that you mention it, I guess I have been pretty tense over the last couple of weeks.”

“Yeah? You think that’s causing your sleeping problems?”

“How did you know about that?”

“This is the second night in a row that you’re awake with a Stark parent in the dead of night in one of the safest places in the world. Call it a hunch.”

Peter lets out an involuntary snort. “Yeah…It’s been a solid two weeks since I got a good night of sleep.”

“Two Fridays ago?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? Did you procrastinate? Too many Spidey hours?”

“No, no, I was ready just…nervous I guess. Not sure why. I guess because I had a lot of tough academic classes this semester. There’s just kind of an air of tension, you know? Even if I feel okay, if everyone else is stressed out, I just kind of pick up on that. I guess it’s my senses.”

“That makes sense.”

“And sometimes I tend to just….hang on to that tension even after the school year is over, you know? After I took my first AP Exam, I had three separate dreams that I was taking the exam over again. It’s like a high that I can’t come down from or something.”

“Mmm.” Tony hums his attention while giving special care to a particularly tough knot near the base of Peter’s neck. “Geez, kid, we really have to work on your posture. No more studying in bed.”

“Oh, yeah, May told me not to do that.”

“Wait, did you actually study in bed?”

“…..Yeah.”

“Pete. Kid. You’re too smart for this. Seriously, you should only sleep in your bed. Anything else encourages you to be awake in that space.”

“When did you become an expert on this stuff?”

“When I became a workaholic and was doing work in the comfort of my bed that I couldn’t ever sleep in because my mind was always buzzing with work to be done.”

“Oh….ah!” Peter flinches as Tony pushes his metal thumb against the aforementioned knot.

“Sorry, bud. This one’s a booger.”

Peter squirms uncomfortably as Tony presses on the tough spot in his back, sucking in a harsh breath when the man ups the pressure but sagging in relief when he eases off.

“Anything else bothering you?” Tony prompts quietly as he places his flesh hand over the base of Peter’s neck to massage the top of his spine.

Peter nearly groans as Tony works at the new spot of tension he’s found. “….No, not really.”

“You hesitated.”

“So?” There’s more discomfort than bite in Peter’s tone.

“You’re not exactly one to choose your words carefully, Pete.” Tony’s lowers his voice and evens out his tone as much as he can. “You speed through every conversation like that ugly blue hedgehog thing.”

“Sonic.”

“Sure,” Tony shrugs. “But we were talking about you hesitating.”

“You were, really.”

“Sure, I was, but it really is one of your tells for when you’re not being totally honest with me.”

“Since when do you pay so much attention to me?” Peter’s nostrils flare just a bit after the fact.

“Ooo so that’s it, then? Feeling neglected by your mentor-slash-idol?” Tony has laced jest into his tone to compensate for the pinched brows Peter cannot see. He knows Peter looks up to him as a father figure, especially considering all they’ve been through together, and icy guilt stabs through him as he thinks of Peter missing him and longing for his re-assurance in these last days of the semester. “You know I’m always a video call away, buddy.”

“I know….” Peter winces, and Tony apologizes quietly. “…but you’re busy.”

“I’m retired, kid. Not a superhero anymore, remember? And Pepper and her people run Stark Industries.”

“You were just in Wakanda for two weeks.”

“That was…a friendly visit, we’ll call it.” Tony pats Peter’s back lightly and reclines against the couch cushions. “That’s all I can do for now, kiddo. Hand’s too tired.”

“Thanks.” Peter rolls his shoulders and settles back, too, distanced from Tony at the other end of the couch.

“Seriously, though.” Tony levels Peter with a gaze, and the teen can’t look away. “Anything you need, any time, Peter. I’m here for you. I didn’t invent time travel to get you back and pawn you off on May again.”

Peter nods, his face unreadable as he continues to stare at Tony like an animal deciding if he’s trustworthy or not.

“C’mere, squirt.” Tony holds out an arm and blinks when Peter hesitates before crawling into his partial embrace. The man sighs and leans his head back, tracing the barely visible grooves in the wood paneled ceiling. “Do you remember the last time we sat like this?”

“Yesterday?”

“Yes, smartass, but I was thinking more about the hour. The last time we were both up at 3am.”

Peter considers for a moment, following Tony’s gaze before realization seems to strike him; his eyes widen a fraction before falling to the coffee table.

“Oh, yeah.”

Tony squeezes Peter’s shoulder.

“We didn’t do a lot this year. We were both too busy on the day of to go to his grave.”

“Does that bother you?”

“A little…but it’s not like he knows. And…I don’t know if we really wanted to this year, you know? With everything that’s happened, death is just such a weird thing to think about right now.”

“That makes sense.”

Peter’s breath catches just a bit. “She gave some of his stuff away the other day. She asked me to help her carry it out to her car, and she didn’t even…acknowledge it or whatever.”

Tony is quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry, buddy.”

Peter is lost in thought for a few moments. “Well, I think so, anyway. She had donation boxes, and they were taped up, but the side was marked, ‘Ben’s Clothes’ and ‘Wedding Pictures.’ I never saw inside, so I don’t know for sure. And like I said, she didn’t say anything, which is weird for her, honestly, so maybe she was just using the boxes.”

“You could ask her.”

“I don’t think so. That would probably upset her…Besides, I doubt she actually did get rid of them, but something about loading all of that stuff into her car just…it felt like the day I first came to them, or when we moved after the blip. So much transition, and the thought of transitioning past Ben on top of how much I haven’t been sleeping was just…”

“The straw that broke the camel’s back.”

“Exactly.” Peter’s voice is thin and quiet, wispy like a passing breeze, strained like a taut muscle, and weighted with meaning like a fierce whisper.

Tony is rubbing his hand over Peter’s shoulder and pretends not to notice when Peter rubs his hand over his eyes. He does notice the second time, though, and laughs a bit when Peter lets out a loud yawn. “You sleepy now?”

“Yeah. I could sleep for days.”

“Do that. I’ll keep Momo occupied tomorrow-” Tony snorts. “Today. Sleep as long as you need to.”

“Thanks, Tony.” Peter smiles tiredly and leans his head against Tony’s shoulder; he stares blankly at the fireplace until his eyelids begin to droop.

“Oh, no. I can’t sleep here tonight; my back is too bad for that.” Tony roughly rubs Peter’s shoulder before shifting to get up.

Peter grunts and pouts, slouching into the couch.

“You can’t, either. Morgan won’t let you sleep if you’re down here.”

“True…” Peter rises with him.

“Hey, if this sleepless stuff persists, I’ll get some of the stuff we gave Steve when he was fighting insomnia after-….some stuff happened.”

“Yeah, okay. Thank you.”

“No problem at all, bud.”

They climb the stairs in silence, pad down the hall and turn to face each other when they reach their respective doors.

“Night, Pete.” Tony whispers, hand on his doorknob.

“Night, Tony.” Peter lingers for just a moment as Tony goes into his room.

The man turns to close his door but stops when he catches Peter still waiting. His brows crease, and he moves to come back out, but Peter shakes his head and looks at the floor shyly, before waving for Tony to go. Tony considers Peter for a moment, squinting at the kid before he sighs silently and nods, closing the door all the way.

Peter sighs and goes into his own room, closing the door silently behind him before he crawls into bed and falls into a dead sleep until that afternoon.

(Tony only slightly regrets promising to entertain Morgan on 4 hours of sleep.)

#irondad #irondadfic #irondadfanfic #spiderson #spidersonfic #mine #spiderbabyfanfics #mcufic

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pickalilywrites · 4 years ago

Text

taking a break from my usual angst to update this erejean~ happy new year everyone ^^

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How To Come Out as a Zombie

EreJean. Zombie Detective AU.

How to Be a Zombie Series

15422 words.

Read on AO3!

Of all the places they have to meet Armin, of course, it has to be a coffee shop. Not just any coffee shop either, but the Cornerstone Coffee Shop. It’s the café that pretty much defined Eren’s teenage years. It’s where Annie stress-ate jelly-filled powdered donuts after every exam, where Jean and Eren worked until midnight trying to finish their calculus homework because Armin wouldn’t let them copy off his, and where Reiner gathered his friends to inform them of his twelve-step plan to ask Bertholdt to be his boyfriend. (Reiner only got to step three before he couldn’t stand it anymore and asked Bertholdt out. The two were inseparable even after they went to separate colleges, so Eren wouldn’t be surprised to hear if they were still together.) Once upon a time, Eren had once wished this little family-owned establishment would be replaced by something like Starbucks, if only so he wouldn’t feel like he lived in the middle of nowhere. After living in the city for so long, he’s come to appreciate the family businesses that populate his town, and even now it feels like he’s finally come home. Eren just wishes that there weren’t so many people around.

He slouches down in the leather booth, keeping his hood pulled down over his head. “Did we have to go somewhere so crowded?” he whispers, keeping his voice low so that people don’t overhear. His words are barely audible over the sound of Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On,” which Eren swears has been playing in this café ever since the 1997 James Cameron film was released.

“‘Cause if you try to attack me, I’ll have, like, twenty other people here to beat you to a pulp,” Jean replies, not looking up from scrolling in his phone. He takes a sip of his long black coffee; it’s already half-finished while Eren’s iced Americano (with a straw, Jean said, so as to not mess up his makeup) remains untouched. “Besides, I thought I didn’t have to worry about you trying to eat people because you’re a vegetarian.”

“A vegetarian zombie and a vegetarian are two totally different things,” Eren hisses.

God, he wants to kill Jean right now. Eren has wanted to kill Jean (i.e. devour him whole) the entire trip here, so eating him now would be kind of a waste. He should wait for Armin to come first before contemplating eating Jean because he needs at least one person to help him. But it’s not like he’s seriously considering eating Jean. No, not at all. Not even as he sits in front of Eren looking positively delectable, like a human burrito bundled up in his coat and wrapped up in his scarf. Not even as Jean scrolls through his phone, his long and slender fingers swiping across the screen. Not even as Jean jostles his leg up and down, the muscles of his thick thighs flexing against the fabric of his khakis. Eren has to keep reminding himself that, although the thought of chomping down on Jean’s firm thighs might be tempting right now, nothing will ever help him get over the trauma of eating his childhood friend. Also, looking at the baseball bat next to Jean’s knee also reminds Eren that his head is going to get bashed in if he even tries to so much as lick Jean.

“I still think this is a bad idea,” Eren says. It would have been better if they planned this out more, maybe come up with a game plan and find a way to break the news to Armin slowly. “Do you even have a plan?”

“No,” Jean replies. He doesn’t seem stressed out about this at all, which stresses Eren out a lot. “I figured it would just be best if we told it to him straight.”

For some reason, Eren remembers Jean being a lot smarter than this. Jean was never booksmart, at least not in the way that Armin was, but he was smarter than Eren. Annie always said that between Eren and Jean, they only had two brain cells and Jean held both of them. It seems that Jean has somehow lost both brain cells over the past year that Eren’s been gone.

“Full offense,” Eren says, “but that seems like the worst idea ever.”

“Okay, let’s hear your idea then,” Jean says, finally putting down his phone. He sits back in his seat, arms crossed against his chest as he looks down at Eren expectantly.

“... Maybe make him a pamphlet or something?” Eren suggests weakly.

“Really? You have zero graphic design skills,” Jean snorts.

What Jean says is, unfortunately, very true. Even designing a Powerpoint slide was difficult for Eren, who somehow always managed to put in unnecessary transitions between each slide which only made it more painful for him and every poor soul that had to sit through his presentations. His professors hated his presentations, and for good reason. Even though a pamphlet seems easier, Eren would probably fuck that up too.

“I just don’t want him to run away in terror,” Eren mumbles, poking the ice Americano sitting in front of him. The condensation has made it to the surface of the table, making the coffee spin in tiny circles.

“Just don’t try to eat him,” Jean says very unhelpfully. The little bell on the café’s front entrance chimes and Jean glances up. “Ah, Armin’s here.” He waves at the barista at the front — some high school kid that Eren hasn’t seen before — and says, “Light cappuccino please and another long black.” He gives a brief nod once the barista indicates that they’ve taken his order.

Eren wants to look back at Armin. It’ll be the first glance he’s had of his best friend in a year, but he doesn’t want Armin to die of shock at his sudden reappearance. He’s also not sure how well Jean’s makeup disguises what he really is. Sure, Eren’s managed to walk through town undetected, but he’s mostly kept his head down and avoided eye contact with the townspeople. How Armin reacts to seeing Eren will be the true test of Jean’s ability.

As Armin slides in beside Jean, Eren does his best to keep his head down and hide behind the napkin dispenser. Eyes fixed on the table’s surface, he takes in Armin’s reflection as best as he can. As far as he can tell, not much has changed aside from the fact that Armin has gotten his hair cut. Armin’s bob was cute back when they were in elementary school, but his undercut is a lot more mature and suits his job as a councilman. His face is a little skinnier, making Armin seem a little less boyish than he looked back in high school and college. Eren wonders if he’s been eating right.

“I have a bunch of meetings today, so we kind of have to make this quick,” Armin says as he shrugs off his coat and lets it fall around his waist. He doesn’t seem to notice Eren at first. To Jean, he continues, “It must be really important if you took your morning shift off. What’s so important that you couldn’t wait until tonight?”

Jean gestures at Eren, who timidly lifts his head but only so he can make brief eye contact with Armin.

“Ah, I didn’t notice you. Sorry about that. It’s kind of hectic at work right now, so I’m a bit out of it,” Armin says. He extends his hand, waiting for Eren to take it. “I’m Armin.”

Eren doesn’t take Armin’s hand. He just stares at it miserably, hating how he’s already analyzing the size and shape of it and wondering just how much meat is on it. Armin’s fingers are nowhere near as graceful and slender as Jean’s, but Eren still wants to pop them off and chomp on them like french fries.

Wrenching his eyes away from Armin’s hand, Eren stares at the table and gazes down at his reflection. “I know,” he whispers raggedly.

“Oh?” Armin raises an eyebrow and retracts his hand once it’s clear that Eren isn’t going to shake it. He glances at Jean and then back at Eren again. His lips quirk upwards in a confused smile. “So we’ve met before? I apologize, but I don’t seem to remember you …”

“It’s … Armin, it’s me,” Eren says. He feels absolutely horrible for having to break the news to Armin this way, but Jean gestures for him to continue. He can’t really run from it now. Clearing his throat, he sits up straighter and, making eye contact with Armin, says, “It’s Eren.”

“Eren?” His voice comes out in a hushed whisper and he begins to stand up only for Jean to yank him down by the arm. Armin's eyes are widened in disbelief and he blinks a few times, mouth wide open but no words coming out. “Oh my god,” he finally says, slumping against the leather booth.

“I know. It’s a lot to take in,” Jean says, rubbing Armin’s back soothingly.

“How long has he been back?” Armin asks before turning to Eren and asking again. “How long have you been back?”

“Um, just since early this morning,” Eren says, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. He’s not sure he should proceed with the rest of his announcement. If Armin is this upset about Eren’s sudden return, hearing about Eren’s new undead status probably won’t make the blond feel any better.

“Eren, you’ve been gone for an entire year,” Armin says. He’s sitting up now, thick eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed as he assumes his lecturing pose reserved for when he’s absolutely pissed because either Jean or Eren (or both) have done something stupid. Eren prepares himself. “Does your mother even know you’re home? You left without any kind of note. We didn’t hear from you for a whole year, Eren! Everyone thought you were dead!”

Some people glance over as Armin raises his voice, but quickly go back to their own conversations. Eren and Jean only glance at Armin, sitting there silently as Armin seethes. Eren can’t remember the last time seeing Armin so angry. He sits there staring at the table, picking at his fingernails nervously. A waiter comes by and places Jean’s order of long black and cappuccino on the table and Jean says a polite “thank you.” After a moment, Armin rests with his back against the leather seat and, eyes closed, takes a deep breath. As he breathes, his lips move wordlessly, counting seconds. Finally, he opens his eyes and looks at both Eren and Jean for an explanation.

Jean cups his hands around his warm mug of coffee. He blows on it, the silence between the three of them so loud it’s almost deafening, and he takes a long sip. Jean sets his mug down and puts an arm around Armin, looks him in the eye, and says, “Well, we weren’t wrong about him being dead.”

Armin blinks. “What?”

“I mean … Eren died the night he went missing,” Jean says. He’s completely focused on Armin right now, so he can’t see the way Eren is currently sinking down in the booth, so low that he’s almost under the table. “He’s a …” Here, Jean eyes dart quickly around the little coffee shop to make sure nobody’s eavesdropping and, for good measure, lowers his voice as he whispers, “Zombie.”

“He’s a what?” Armin practically screeches.

Jean clamps a hand over Armin’s mouth and puts a finger to his lips. “Calm down. People are going to kill Eren if they find out, so keep your voice down.” He keeps his hand over Armin’s mouth until Armin, looking at Jean and then Eren, gives him a nod. Jean gestures at Armin’s coffee. “Come on. Drink up. It’ll make you feel better.”

“Caffeine isn’t actually good for stress,” Armin mumbles, but he still picks up his mug and takes a disgruntled sip of his coffee, practically glaring at Eren and Jean. He’s drunk half of his coffee by the time he sets down the mug. Gesturing at the two troublemakers, he says, “Okay. You two, explain.”

“Um. Well, there isn’t really that much to it,” Eren says, still slumped in his seat. He pulls his hood over so it covers his eyes and tugs nervously on the strings. “It’s just … I went hiking that night I went missing. Someone … knocked me out? And, like, strangled me or something. I must have died because when I woke up I was just … like this.” He sits up a little bit, pulling at his sleeves so that he can show Armin his hands. Jean had made sure to cover most of Eren’s skin with makeup, but the palms of his hands are still deathly pale with prominent veins of purple and blue running underneath.

“Jesus Christ,” Armin says. On the bright side, he doesn’t look as mad as he was at the beginning of this conversation, but he does look very tired. Turning to Jean, he asks, “And he came to you? And you guys decided to tell me?”

“That’s pretty much the gist of it,” Jean nods. He notices Armin hurriedly tapping away at his phone. Jean raises an eyebrow. “... What are you doing?”

“Cancelling all my meetings for today,” Armin mutters. He looks up at Eren through his lashes. “This is more important than dealing with tourists stealing money from the fountain in the square.”

Eren wrinkles his nose. “They’re still doing that? Assholes. I thought you guys were having a sign put in that told people they can’t do that.”

“Yeah, well apparently they don’t know how to fucking read,” Armin replies, tucking his phone back into the pocket of his trousers. He takes another sip of his coffee, slower this time so he doesn’t down the rest of it immediately. His brow is furrowed in a way that makes little wrinkles appear on his forehead, which means he’s thinking of a plan. It makes Eren regret not going to Armin first instead of Jean. After a moment, Armin taps on the table and then points at Eren and Jean. “Alright, we’re going to talk to Annie.”

“Wait, right now?” Eren asks, alarmed. He was all for letting Annie know when he first talked to Jean about it, but he was thinking about letting her know a little down the line, maybe in a week or two. Now just seems like … a bad idea.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Jean frowns. It’s clear he’s still against it. “What if she …?” He makes a slice motion across his neck with a finger, tilting his head a bit.

Eren knows that the gesture is supposed to mimic Annie cutting his head off, but he can’t help thinking about how Jean’s neck looks so delectable when it’s stretched out like he’s inviting Eren to take a bite. God, he really needs to stop. He forces himself to look at Armin so that he’s not tempted to suck on Jean’s Adam’s apple.

“Why haven’t you killed him yet?” Armin asks Jean.

“Well, because … Eren’s my friend?” Jean says, but his voice goes up at the end.

Eren looks at Jean suspiciously. “Why did you say it like that?”

“Annie’s his friend too. Have more faith in her,” Armin says, ignoring Eren.

“Okay, fine, but we shouldn’t go without proper preparation first,” Jean says. Eren thinks Jean is getting up to reach for a napkin and maybe scribble out some semblance of a plan, but he just waves Armin out of the way and, after Armin gets up, gets out of the booth and goes over to the counter to order something, leaving Armin and Eren alone for the first time.

Eren fidgets in his seat, avoiding eye contact with Armin. He can see from Armin’s reflection in the table’s surface that the blond is staring at him with arms folded across his chest. He hadn’t really thought about how Armin would feel about all of this ― learning Eren died, that he came back to life, that he was afraid of telling Armin everything. When was the last time he had ever kept anything from Armin? Aside from the obligatory surprises hidden from Armin like Christmas gifts or unexpected parties to celebrate the little blond genius’ latest academic achievements, Eren always told Armin everything and vice versa. Eren had been so worried about keeping his new identity a secret, he didn’t think about how it would affect Armin. Of course, Armin would be shocked, but he would always accept Eren in the end. He doesn’t know why he thought Armin’s reaction would be any different.

“Sorry!” Eren suddenly blurts out. He digs his nails into the denim of his jeans, still unable to meet Armin’s eyes. “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you first. I just … panicked. I didn’t want you to freak out or … be disgusted by me.”

“Eren, I would never …” Armin’s voice grows soft and he reaches out, holding his palm upward as he invites Eren to place his hand in his. When Eren looks up, Armin’s looking at him with the most sympathetic eyes. “I’ll get over it. It’s not really about me anyway. I can’t imagine everything you’ve been through, especially since you had to deal with so much of this on your own up until recently. You know you can always tell me anything. No matter what happens, I’ll always be here for you.”

Eren places his hand in Armin’s. His skin is so rough and cold compared to Armin’s smooth and warm hands. His hand is so disgusting in comparison that he’s afraid that Armin might pull away, but Armin just holds onto him tightly and Eren thinks he’s about to cry.

“I really missed talking to you. Dealing with this all by myself … it was almost unbearable.” It’s embarrassing how choked up it’s getting, but Eren can’t help the tears that are beginning to sting at the corner of his eyes. When Armin offers him a napkin to wipe them away, Eren hastily accepts and dabs at the corners of his eyes before his makeup can be ruined. “I’m really sorry. I should have told you first. I don’t know why I didn’t.”

“You were scared,” Armin says gently. He hands Eren a few more napkins and motions for Eren to blow his nose, which the zombie does obediently. Armin politely waits for Eren to finish before continuing. “Honestly, going to Jean was a good idea. He’s good under pressure.”

“You are, too,” Eren insists, but Armin shakes his head with a smile. Eren clutches the used napkins in his fist. “I mean, you handled this a lot better than I thought you would. I honestly thought you would faint if you found out and I’d … I’d eat you if you were lying unconscious in front of me.”

He expects Armin to be horrified, but Armin only shrugs. “I’ve been going to therapy after you, you know, disappeared. It helps a lot,” Armin explains. His hands cup the mug of coffee on the table, his index fingers tapping against the speckled ceramic. “I used to go twice a week, but now I only go once every other week. It helps me manage my anxiety and stress. Not just with you but everything in general.”

“Ah,” Eren nods, a little dazed. He does notice that Armin is a little different from before. Armin used to always look at his watch, anxious about upcoming deadlines even if they were hours away. It was normal for Armin to always be moving. Maybe it was him jiggling his leg or tapping his fingers, the movements always jittery like he was a ticking clock. Now, he sits in front of Eren, a little concerned but a lot calmer than he used to be. “Has a lot changed since I’ve been gone?” Eren wonders aloud.

“Hmm? Not that I can think of,” Armin replies with a shake of his head. His shoulder slump a bit as he tries to think of any news worth sharing. “I’m sure Jean must have told you most of it already. Annie still works at the bookstore with Hanji. Reiner still teaches kindergarten. He and Bertholdt are still very much in love, by the way. Ah, Historia …” His voice trails off and he looks cautiously at Eren.

“I know already,” Eren says, casually waving away any concern Armin might have about bringing up the topic even though thinking about Historia still stings. “Don’t worry about it. Jean told me. It’s fine. It would have been selfish to expect her to wait for me for an entire year.”

“Sorry,” Armin says. He takes a sip of his coffee, finishing up the rest of it. “If it’s any consolation, she was really distraught when you went missing. She took it pretty hard. Maybe if this all works out we could tell her …?”

Eren only shrugs. He’s not sure how it would work out, him being a zombie and Historia being a human, but he appreciates Armin’s optimism. “It’s fine. My current condition doesn’t really leave me any room to think about any romantic entanglements.”

Someone dangles a bag of donuts in their faces and the two friends look up to see Jean.

“You’re right. Focus on not getting killed by Annie first,” Jean says. He gestures for the two to get up and follow him out the coffee shop. After generously tipping the barista, Jean leads Armin and Eren towards the bookstore Annie works at, donuts in one hand and his baseball bat dangling in the other.

“Do you really think that donuts are going to be enough to get Annie to not kill me?” Eren asks nervously.

Jean shrugs. “We’re just going to have to wait and see.”

--------------------------------

When they open the door, Eren is hit with the nostalgic scent of musty books and cinnamon candles. Hanji always described it as the scent of autumn, replacing the cinnamon candles with peppermint-, lilac-, and peach-scented candles in the winter, spring, and summer, respectively. Eren keeps his head down and his hood pulled over his face as ordered by Jean, but he can see that the bookstore has the same creaky floorboards and faded-red “Welcome!” mat.

“Hey, what are you fellows doing here so early in the morning?” asks a voice, chipper and bright. It’s definitely Hanji, Eren thinks. “You guys don’t have work today? No important council meetings, Armin?”

“We took work off today,” Armin replies quickly. He links his arm around Eren, trying to tug the zombie behind him even though Armin’s far too small to hide Eren. “Annie and Reiner’s old classmate came to visit and Reiner asked us to show him around since he has work. We thought he’d like to come see Annie for a bit before we show him the rest of the town.”

“Oh, really? You’re from the city then?” Hanji asks, getting dangerously close. They almost succeed in peering into Eren’s hood, but Jean quickly yanks Eren behind him, standing in between them. Unfortunately, this means Eren is pressed up against Jean and while Jean’s thick coat hides most of Jean’s shape, it can’t hide Jean’s broad shoulders and Eren almost whimpers because not being able to take even one bite into Jean’s shoulder is killing him.

“Yeah, but he’s, ah, shy around people. He has a bit of social anxiety when he meets new people,” Jean says, glancing at Eren.

Normally, Eren would scoff. He’s the least shy person he knows aside from maybe Reiner, but right now he’s busy trying to hold his breath so that he doesn’t breathe in Jean’s earthy scent. One sniff and Eren knows he’ll be a goner, tackling Jean to the ground and nibbling on his ears. Hanji spends so much time staring suspiciously at Eren that the zombie thinks he might lose consciousness.

“Ah, my apologies then,” Hanji says, convinced after seeing how Eren is beginning to sway unsteadily just trying to stand up. They take a few steps back and smile cheerfully at the trio. “Annie’s in the basement doing some inventory. Please feel free to come back up and browse if you’re curious. I’ll be sure to give you guys enough breathing space.”

“Thanks, Hanji,” Jean says, already shoving Armin and Eren towards the basement.

They shuffle down the stairs, nearly tripping over each other in their haste. It’s dark in the basement aside from the flickering light overhead. Eren’s only been here a few times; he’s never been an avid reader, but there were times where Annie or Armin would call a meeting at the basement of the bookstore because not many people visited and Hanji didn’t mind if Annie took the space for herself. Right now, Annie is sitting at the table in the center of the basement, glasses perched on her nose as she checks an order for a pickup. It’s only when Jean stops in front of the table and coughs that she looks up, bored.

“Kirstein,” she says curtly. Annie raises an eyebrow. “You don’t have work?”

“I had to take work off,” Jean says with a shrug. He glances at her and then at the open door behind them. “Do you mind if we talk here for a moment? Preferably with some … privacy.”

“Without Reiner?” she asks.

“It’s not something we can talk about with him,” says Jean.

“But we can talk about it with … whoever that is?” Annie says, craning her neck to take a better look at Eren.

Jean stands in front of Eren, blocking him from Annie’s view. “We’ll explain it in a bit just … if you could close the door.”

Annie looks suspiciously at Jean, not budging an inch.

“Annie … please,” Armin pleads timidly.

Annie looks from Jean to Armin. It’s not that she has a soft spot for Armin, but she trusts him the most because, as she said once, “He’s the only one who has any sense in this stupid group.” There have been times where she’s disagreed with Armin, arguing with him because she couldn’t understand his thought process, but she always follows him in the end even if she does so grudgingly. It’s no surprise when she finally stands up from her chair, letting it screech across the wooden floor as she gets up, and stomps over to the door, glaring at the three of them the entire time.

“Hey, Hanji! I’m going to need this room for a bit. Knock if you need anything,” Annie calls, sticking her head out the door. She waits for an acknowledgement from her boss before slamming the door shut behind her. Annie stomps down the stairs and stands in front of the trio, foot tapping impatiently and arms crossed against her chest. Even though she stands at a very short five feet, she’s still incredibly intimidating.

“Um, so,” Jean mumbles, looking at the floor. He glances back at Eren and Armin for help.

“Just spit it out,” Annie says.

Jean stands there frozen for a minute before saying suddenly, “Eren’s back and he’s a zombie.”

Annie blinks. Once. Twice. She looks at Eren, takes him in. He can see her analyzing him, piecing together all the pieces ― his height, the way he slouches, the way Jean’s clothes don’t quite fit him ― and he closes his eyes as she widens her, awaiting the inevitable smack that’ll knock him to the floor and crack his head open like an egg. It never comes.

Someone moves swiftly in front of him and Eren hears Jean grunt and what he’s almost certain is Annie growling. Reluctantly, Eren opens his eyes to see Jean grabbing Annie by the wrist. In her hand is a hefty book that she must have grabbed from one of the shelves behind her. Annie’s glaring up at Jean, her eyes blazing a fiery blue, while the makeup artist struggles to keep her from bludgeoning Eren with a six-inch piece of literature.

“Annie,” Jean grunts through gritted teeth. His hand trembles and it’s clear that he can’t hold Annie back much longer. “Hear us out first.”

“Don’t need to,” Annie growls. Her eyes flicker towards Eren and he flinches under her gaze. “I’ll kill him anyway, so I might as well just kill him sooner than later.”

“Annie, he’s not like a normal zombie,” Jean says. He stumbles back a little bit, Annie beginning to overpower him, but regains his footing. “If he were, Armin and I would be eaten by now.”

“Stop getting attached to a zombie just because he used to be our friend,” Annie snarls. She tries to yank herself free from Jean’s grip, but he doesn’t let go. “Jean, I can kill you and the zombie. Let go!”

Armin stands in front of Eren, arms trembling as he holds them out protectively. “Annie, please,” the blond begs, bottom lip quivering. “I know it looks bad but just … you can’t kill him. I know he’s a zombie now but … he’s still our friend. He’s still Eren.”

Annie’s hand is still up, the book raised as a weapon, but her eyes are softer now as she looks at Armin. After a moment, her grip on the book relaxes and she finally lowers her arm, and Jean lets out a sigh of relief. Her stance is still defensive, back stiff as she stands with her feet apart as if ready to attack if Eren shows any sign that he wants to eat them.

“I hate all of you guys,” she grumbles, glowering at Eren.

“We know.” Jean sighs and rubs his face. He picks up the bag he had dropped on the floor in his haste to protect Eren and shoves it at Annie. “Here. They’re your favorite.”

Annie raises an eyebrow but accepts the bag. Peering inside, she asks, “Donuts?”

“They’re the powdered ones,” Eren says, remembering out loud. His voice is shaking, still terrified that Annie might beat him to death with a dictionary or nearby textbook, but he thinks this might serve as proof that he remembers her. That he’s not like the other zombies that just go around eating people and groaning unintelligibly. “The ones with the jelly inside.”

She looks up at him and he freezes, but then she sighs and walks over to the table, slumping back into her chair. When she gestures at the rest of them to take a seat, Eren thinks that he might just survive this meeting.

“So, our childhood friend has managed to come back after going missing for a year, but now he’s a zombie.” Annie clasps her hands together in front of her and looks at everyone at the table, and the group nods at her in confirmation. She keeps the six-inch novel within reach beside her. Unlike most people, Annie doesn’t carry around a weapon to fight off zombies. She doesn’t need one. Jean has a baseball bat and Armin, who isn’t as strong as either of them, has a hefty wrench that dangles from his belt loop. Annie is one of the rare people who can fight off zombies with her bare hands. One kick from her and zombies get knocked down easily, brains spilling from their skulls like spaghetti spilled from a pan. It’s what happens when your dad owns the martial arts studio down the streets. Of course, Annie doesn’t usually fistfight with zombies, choosing to just take whatever object is nearby and bludgeoning them to death with it. Less blood gets on her clothes that way.

“That’s … the gist,” Armin says. He chuckles to ease the atmosphere, but it comes out sounding forced. He clears his throat and says, “He really isn’t dangerous though. Jean’s been with him since last night and I met him this morning.”

“He says he’s a vegetarian,” Jean offers.

“I said kind of like a vegetarian,” Eren says, glaring at Jean. To Annie, he explains, “I’m not a cannibal or anything. I haven’t … I’ve never eaten anyone.”

“Even if you did eat someone, you wouldn’t be a cannibal,” Armin says absentmindedly. He has a habit of correcting people without thinking about it. “You’d have to eat other zombies to be considered a cannibal because humans and zombies aren’t exactly the same species.”

Eren blinks. He hadn’t really thought about that before. The thought of digging his teeth into another zombie, someone with half-rotted flesh like him, sagging skin over an emaciated body. He almost gags. Shaking his head profusely, he hurriedly says, “I don’t want to eat any of them. I don’t want to eat zombies or humans.”

Annie doesn’t look convinced. “First time for everything,” she says dismissively. She rests her cheek in her hand and looks at Armin. “Look, I know you’re attached to Eren because we all grew up with him, but it’s in a zombie’s nature to eat people. He could give in to his urges at any moment.”

“No, he’s different. I mean it, Annie!” Armin says as Annie rolls her eyes. He scoots up to the edge of his seat, hands beginning to gesture wildly the way they usually do when Armin is about to give a long explanation. “I’m not just saying this because it’s Eren. He’s fully conscious of what he is. He speaks, he thinks, he … he’s nothing like the other zombies we’ve seen before.”

Annie slouches in her seat and folds her arms against her chest. Grudgingly, she says, “Go on.”

“With Eren, we have a zombie that can listen and … and work with us! We’ve had zombies before. In fact, our small town has far more cases of zombie appearances than the city, but we’ve never looked into it because we’re too busy killing them!” Armin says. He’s bringing up a lot of good points that Eren has never thought about before. Letting Armin know about his zombie situation was definitely a good decision.

“And he can help us how?” Annie snorts. “Is he gonna tell the other zombies to fuck off?”

“No, nothing like that,” Armin says with a shake of his head. “In fact, we should probably keep the fact that he’s alive ― or at least that he’s a zombie ― from everyone, especially if we want to find out who killed him.”

Annie does a double-take. “Wait, someone murdered you?” she asks Eren. She looks at Jean. “Why didn’t any of you guys mention this to me before?”

“Ah.” Eren can only blink. He had honestly forgotten that detail between all his plans to reintegrate himself into his hometown and telling his friends he’s a zombie. It hadn’t occurred to him that his murderer still might be running around killing other people.

“It … slipped our minds,” Jean says sheepishly, ducking his head.

Armin rubs at his arm awkwardly. “We kind of forgot to tell you because we were a little busy preventing you from murdering Eren,” Armin mumbles as Annie glares at them like they’re the biggest group of idiots she’s ever met. “If someone killed Eren and he turned into a zombie, then maybe someone is actively killing people and turning them into zombies.”

“Hm.” Annie plays with the silver hoop that dangles from her earlobe, rubbing the metal between her thumb and index finger. “It would explain all of the tourists that went missing only to come back as zombies.”

It is a well-known fact in the town that an alarming number of zombies that appear often wear the clothes and share the same physical (although somewhat decayed) characteristics of tourists that have gone missing. Not many people batted an eyelash though. The townspeople figured that the tourists just didn’t heed warnings about hiking in the mountains late at night; only people who have lived in the town their whole lives went into the mountains at night because the paths could be confusing and difficult to navigate in the dark, and even then it was dangerous. Of course, the tourists never listened and most went up there anyway. Some never came back, but the most townspeople suspected that those that returned as zombies were doing some stupid satanic ritual or trying out some urban legend.

“Wait, you think someone’s out there killing people and turning them into zombies?” Jean asks, wrinkling his nose. “Why would anyone do that? They always turn out horrific.”

“Most of them, maybe,” Armin says. “But maybe they aren’t supposed to. Maybe they’re supposed to be more like … Eren.” He casts a side glance at the zombie.

“Me?” He’s flattered that Armin believes him to be the highest quality of zombie, but he’s not sure he’s following everything the councilman’s saying. There’s nothing impressive about him. He’s lost most of his muscle mass, his eyes are wet and watery, and his breath always smells rotten. What would anyone want to do with him?

“What’s the advantage of an Eren zombie versus other zombies?” Jean asks. “I mean, they’re not that much different.”

Eren makes a squeak of indignation, but Armin ignores him.

“You could essentially have, if you wanted, an undead army,” Armin explains patiently. “Eren doesn’t move the same he did when he was alive, but he’s a lot faster than other zombies. Also, as I’ve said before, he knows he’s a zombie. He knows his own weaknesses. He can dodge attacks that come at his head. We could probably stab him anywhere else and he’d be fine. As long as he keeps his head safe, he’s pretty much immortal.”

Annie looks contemplatively at Eren, like she’s trying to decide whether or not to stab Eren in the thigh with her hairpin just to test Armin’s theory.

“This doesn’t seem very well thought-out,” Jean murmurs. “There must be easier ways to take over the world.”

Armin shrugs. “This is just a theory. We’d have to catch the culprit to find out their real motive. We should do some research first though.” He’s already pushing himself out of his seat and glancing at the shelves. “Of course, we should keep this all between ourselves. No need to cause panic right now, especially without solid evidence. No letting this slip to our parents or friends or … potential significant others.” He subtly glances at Annie.

“I’m not going to tell anyone, so don’t worry,” she snaps with a roll of her eyes, but her cheeks are flushing a bright shade of pink.

“You’re still not with Mina yet?” Eren asks incredulously. “I can’t believe you haven’t made any moves since I died, and it’s been an entire year.”

“Maybe I want to make sure everything’s perfect before I ask her,” Annie glares. With a sigh she says, “Even if we were dating, I wouldn’t tell her any of this. It’d probably just scare her away.”

“You never know,” Jean says in a sing-song voice, but he shuts up immediately when Annie snarls at him. He gets up from his chair, pushing it in, and re-wraps his scarf around his neck. “I should get going. Good luck with research!”

“What!” Eren squawks. “You’re not going to help us?”

“Nope,” Jean replies cheerfully, tossing his apartment keys to Eren who almost doesn’t catch them. He’s already walking up the steps, waving goodbye to Armin and Annie who hardly pay him any attention. “I only took the morning off today, so I can’t spend all day with you. I’ll see you at the apartment though. Take care of him, Armin.”

“See you,” Armin says without looking up. He’s nibbling on his bottom lip, brows furrowed as he brainstorms his next move. Eren tries to keep his attention on Armin because looking at Annie, who’s currently looking at him like she’s waiting for an opportunity to kill him, is stressful. After a moment, Armin says, “I’m going to collect all the newspapers of the missing tourists, the ones that showed up later as zombies and the ones that were never found. Maybe they all have something in common. Annie, can you and Eren look at examples of zombies? It can be in humans or animals. It might be helpful to understand Eren’s condition more.”

“I’m on it,” Annie says, already getting up to peruse the books on the basement shelves.

“Okay, I’ll get the newspapers from upstairs,” Armin says, getting up from his chair. He’s about to leave when a panicked Eren grabs his arm and yanks him back. “Ah, is there something you need, Eren?”

“Um.” Eren glances back at Annie, who’s staring at him amusedly from behind a bookshelf. He swallows nervously. “I … you’re leaving me alone,” he says stupidly.

Armin blinks. “Annie’s here,” he points out, not making the connection between Eren’s knocking knees and Annie’s presence.

“I … I know,” Eren stammers. He wants to get on his knees and beg Armin not to leave him alone with Annie, but he’s pretty sure Armin would insist that it was fine. Also, he doesn’t want Annie to see him looking so pathetic. Even if she does want to kill him, they’re still technically friends and he doesn’t want her to hold this moment over him if he does somehow manage to last five minutes alone with her in the same room.

“Just go. He’s being stupid,” Annie says with a roll of her eyes.

“Alright. I’ll only be a minute.” Armin gives Eren a reassuring smile, pries himself from the zombie’s grip, and disappears up the steps, making sure to shut the door after him as he greets Hanji upstairs.

Eren turns around, arms held up in order to protect himself from whatever projectile Annie plans to hurl at him. The blow never comes and Eren, though still on his guard, slowly lowers his arms. He’s surprised when he spots Annie still flipping through books between the shelves, a few books clamped beneath her arm.

“You’re really … doing research?” Eren asks, dumbfounded.

Annie looks up, eyebrow raised. “Of course. I’m not crazy about the idea of letting a zombie walk around town, but I trust Armin,” she replies. She finishes flipping through the book she’s currently scanning through and puts it on the shelf with a shake of her head. Walking towards the table, she sets them down and shoves them in Eren’s direction. “And I know I did try to kill you a few minutes ago but … Armin’s right. You’re not like the other zombies. You’re … you. And we’re friends, so I should help you out if I can.” Annie pauses and then adds, “But I won’t hesitate to kill you if you eat anyone.”

Eren feels oddly touched. He thinks it’s the most Annie’s ever spoken about their friendship. “Thanks,” he says. He approaches the table and reaches for one of the books that Annie had pushed towards him, frowning when he reads the cover. Wrinkling his nose, he asks, “Why do you want me to read about Haitian Vodou?”

“Because it’s relevant,” Annie replies in a tired tone that’s oddly reminiscent of the one she’d use whenever he asked her for help on projects for school. She takes a seat and picks a book from her pile, checking the table of contents before flipping to a certain page. “They had a practice of resurrecting the dead.”

“Like necromancy?” Eren asks. He also flips through his own book but all he sees are chapters on Haitian Vodou beliefs about the soul, which he finds somewhat interesting. His eyes wander across the page, distracted until Annie slams a hand down on the pages and forces him to look up.

“Not exactly like necromancy,” Annie says with a shake of her head. She pushes her book towards Eren. It’s opened to a section about something called a bòkò. Apparently, they’re individuals that deal with the supernatural, although that’s the incredibly oversimplified definition Eren takes away from the lengthy paragraphs of text. Annie continues, “Necromancy comes from the practice of divination; it deals more with the spirits of the dead than resurrecting someone. A bokor actually revives someone after death.”

“Ah,” Eren nods with a frown. He’s not sure how Annie got all that. The words in front of him are just swimming around, none of them making any sense. Eren’s never been that good at doing research. He just takes Annie’s word for it. “You know an awful lot about zombies already.”

Annie shrugs, pulling the book back so that she can look through it. “I know some stuff. It’s good to know a little bit of everything when you’re working at a bookstore,” she replies, flipping a page. “Sometimes tourists come by asking for things on zombies. I haven’t done much research on it. Figured there wasn’t really a point until now.”

“Hmm.” Eren flips through the book, stopping when his eye catches on the word “zombie.” Apparently, the process of turning someone into a zombie includes giving an individual a certain concoction and, after the person has passed on, revive them with another drug. Eren’s not sure if any of this happened to him. If it had, he can’t remember. “So you think this is what happened to me?”

Annie wrinkles her nose. “Not really, no, but it might be helpful to know. It’s possible that, if someone did turn you into a zombie, they use a similar method,” she replies. Annie peruses through the book. Eren’s not sure how she’s able to take in any information looking if she’s looking through the book so quickly, but Annie’s always been better at research papers than Eren was. “Do you mind looking at these? I’m going to start looking for examples of zombie-like behavior in animals.”

“Ah, okay,” Eren says. He feels a little overwhelmed when Annie shoves her stack of Haitian vodou books at him, but he doesn’t want to complain, especially when Annie and Armin are going above and beyond with researching for him.

They don’t do very much talking after that. Annie goes in and out of the basement, piling more and more books onto the table. Some books are about animals — deer, carpenter ants, different parasites — while others are specifically about diseases �� rabies and the African sleeping sickness. Eren’s relieved that Annie doesn’t ask him to take any new books; he feels like looking at vodou is going to take him all night, although he does feel bad about Annie looking at a dozen different topics. He’d offer to take one or two more topics just to lighten her load, but he feels like she’d just brush him off. This scenario is awfully reminiscent of when they’d be paired for school projects and Annie would end up doing all of it because she said Eren was just going to “ruin everything.” (To be fair, she wasn’t exactly wrong in saying that. The one time she had allowed him to help during a chemistry lab, he set off the fire alarm and they got an F. He can understand why Annie doesn’t let him do anything.)

As Eren is reading about the role of bokors in Haitian vodou, Armin bursts through the door, a pile of newspapers in his arms. The basement door falls shut behind him as the blond walks down the stairs. When he gets to the table, he lets the papers fall from his arms with a loud thud.

“The good news is that I managed to obtain newspapers about missing tourists and every zombie sighting over the past five years,” Armin says, his mouth set in a grim line. “The bad news is -”

“That’s a shitton of papers,” Annie finishes for him.

“It is,” Armin agrees with a nod. He glances at the pile of books between Annie and Eren. “There’s probably more out there from previous years that the newspapers might have missed, but this is a good start. I’d suggest we’d split these up, but it looks like you guys have your hands full already …”

“Ah,” Eren says, sitting up a bit. He motions to the pile of books in front of him. It’s considerably smaller than Annie’s pile. “Annie only gave me these. If you want, I could -”

“No!”

The combined voices of both Annie and Armin shouting at him make the zombie flinch in surprise.

“I mean,” Armin coughs, clearing his throat. “That won’t be necessary. It’ll probably be easier if we all stick to a topic.” He smiles politely at Eren.

Eren sulks for a little bit in his seat. Neither Annie nor Armin’s reactions are unexpected. Like Annie, Armin also knows how bad Eren is at schoolwork and doing research in general. However, Armin always let Eren do a fair share of the work, preferring to have Eren learn alongside him even if it meant lowering their overall grade to a B (and, on some occasions, a C). It makes sense that Armin wouldn’t allow Eren to take more work than he can handle.

Eren slumps, knocking his back against the chair, and lets out a loud sigh. Both Annie and Armin ignore him, leaving the disgruntled zombie no choice but to do the work assigned to him.

--------------------------------

They decide to give it a rest by noon because none of the words Eren is reading make sense anymore and his constant finger-tapping on the table is so distracting that Annie makes it clear that she will absolutely kill Eren regardless of whether or not he’s a zombie. Although Eren insists on coming back after a small lunch break, Armin and Annie (mostly Armin) assure him that he doesn’t need to return; everyone (re: Annie and Armin) might work better if they do research on their own, Armin suggests, so Eren packs up the Haitian vodou books that he feels are most useful. Annie stays behind, but Armin also packs his things to walk Eren back to Jean’s apartment.

The two of them say their goodbyes to Annie and head up the stairs. Armin does most of the talking with Hanji, thanking them for not disturbing the quartet’s basement meeting, and Hanji seems to accept Eren’s mumbled thank you as well as the zombie and councilman hurry out the door.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to buy something for you from the market?” Armin asks Eren once they’ve left the bookstore. It’s a bit difficult to hear Armin because he’s mumbling in his scarf, but Eren figures that Armin’s only doing that to prevent people from overhearing their conversation or reading their lips. “I could even grab something from the butcher if you prefer something fresh.”

Something fresh — freshly slaughtered, the smell of the farm still lingering on it, blood dripping from a chunk of thick, juicy, meat. It sounds better than anything Jean might have in his fridge, but Eren doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want Armin seeing him salivate over raw meat. He doesn’t want to risk Armin watching him eating it, shoving raw beef hide into his mouth and nearly choking on it because he’s so desperate to gorge on any kind of flesh. No, Eren thinks with a shake of his head. Armin might be fine with it, but Eren certainly won’t allow his friend to see him acting so monstrously.

“It’s fine. Jean says he still has some pork in his freezer that I could eat,” Eren says with a forced smile. It’s probably all dried out by now. Even if he does defrost it, the meat will probably have lost all its flavor. Still, it’s not as if he can be picky with his food.

“Well, if you’re sure okay with that,” Armin says, sounding unconvinced. They walk a few paces forward, passing by the ramen shop and electronics store. “You’re fine with living with Jean, too?”

Eren shrugs. It’s not like he has many options here. He doesn’t have money to rent a place of his own and he’s not sure how he’d go about getting an apartment without alerting someone’s attention about his presence. “I don’t have any other place to go.”

“You could live at my place for a while,” Armin suggests.

“You live with your parents. Even if they don’t recognize me as I am right now, it’s going to be difficult to explain why you have to buy so much raw meat or why I never eat in front of people,” Eren points out with a shake of his head. Out of the corner of his eye, Eren sees Armin open his mouth, but Eren knows the blond is going to suggest living with Annie, which is an even worse option than Jean. Holding a hand up to stop Armin from even letting Annie’s name leave his mouth, Eren says, “Don’t. Annie’s going to kill me if I even breathe wrong. Besides, Mina might get the wrong idea if she finds out a mysterious man is living in Annie’s apartment and then MinAni will never happen.”

Armin kicks at a pebble, grimacing. “I guess you’re right.” He looks at Eren through his eyelashes, barely lifting his head. “You’re really alright though? You’ll tell me if you need anything, right? I really meant it when I said we were friends. Nothing has to change just because you’re … you know.” He gestures at Eren.

Obviously, some things have to change, but Eren’s still touched by Armin’s words. “Thanks. I’m managing just fine now, but I’ll let you know if I need anything. You guys are all doing more than enough.” Eren takes a deep breath and sighs through his nose. “I mean, I always knew I could count on you guys but I never thought I’d find out like this.”

“Right?” Armin laughs. He runs a hand through his blond hair, letting the locks fall into his face messily. “It’s not a situation anyone would want to be stuck in, but at least you’re not alone.” He pauses for a moment, thinking. “Reiner would have your back too, you know.”

“I know,” Eren sighs. “It’s just that Reiner can be a bit …”

“A bit what?” a voice says as hands suddenly cling to the chain fence surrounding the local elementary school.

Eren’s frozen in surprise, but Armin lets out a loud yelp and nearly falls over backward at the sight of Reiner behind the fence. Hastily, Eren yanks Armin upward and shoves the small blond in front of him, trying to make himself as small as possible even though there’s no way that Armin’s tiny form can hide him. He takes a peek at Reiner from behind Armin’s shoulder and sees his old childhood friend looking curiously at him, craning his neck to get a good look at Eren.

“O-oh, h-hey! I d-didn’t know you were d-done with your morning shift already, R-Reiner,” Armin stammers, blinking rapidly. He backs up, stepping on Eren’s toes.

“Yeah, it’s noon. I was going to go out for my lunch break before the afternoon group comes in an hour,” Reiner replies. He tilts his head, a lopsided grin on his face. “Maybe your friend wants to join us?”

Panicked, Eren shakes his head.

“No!” Armin shouts, holding his hands up. “He’s in a … hurry. I was really just going to walk him to the station -”

“Then I’ll walk with you guys!” Reiner says eagerly. “I love meeting new people.” Before either Armin or Eren can protest, Reiner starts to jog towards the gate to join them.

“What do we do?” Armin panic-whispers to Eren, keeping a strained smile on his face. He looks at the zombie, blue eyes wide and terrified. “Eren, I think you should run.”

“No way! I couldn’t outrun him when I was human and I definitely can’t outrun him now,” Eren says. He doesn’t mention that his knees are shaking way too much for him to even take a step.

“Oh my god, I can’t do this,” Armin says through gritted teeth. He looks as if he’s about to cry even as he’s waving to Reiner. “I can’t lie to him. I don’t remember the last time I lied to any of you. He’s going to see right through me.”

“God, Jean never should have left us,” Eren mutters, casting his eyes downward as Reiner stops in front of them. A hand appears in front of him — strong, sturdy, meaty — and Eren thinks it’s only a matter of time before either he or Armin blow his cover.

“Reiner Bruan. I’m the kindergarten teacher here,” Reiner says in his deep rumbling voice. He still holds his hand out, waiting for Eren to take it. “I take it you’re here on a visit. It’s a shame you’re leaving before we can really get to know each other.”

“Reiner, he’s really in a hurry so if you don’t mind -” Armin begins, trying to push Reiner back.

“Wait a second,” Reiner says, easily sidestepping Armin and getting even closer to Eren. There’s something in his voice, something so close to recognition, and it makes Eren’s unbeating heart drop to his stomach. A rough hand clamps onto Eren’s shoulder, forcing the zombie to look up and stare at Reiner’s beaming face. “Eren Jaeger? Jesus, we all thought you were dead!” He’s opening his arms, ready to crush Eren and his delicate zombie body in a bone-crushing hug. Eren’s closing his eyes, preparing himself for the end, but he hears a grunt and the thud of someone’s body hitting the ground.

“Oh my god, oh my god, I’m so sorry!” he hears Armin saying, voice shaking like he’s about to cry.

Eren cracks open his eye to see Reiner sprawled out on the sidewalk holding his side. “Jesus, Armin, what the fuck was that for?”

“You were about to hug him,” Armin says, shrinking where he stands. His head is beginning to disappear into his scarf like he’s some kind of turtle.

“Yeah, because I haven’t seen him in literally a year,” Reiner replies, sitting up and brushing the pebbles sticking to the sleeve of his coat. He frowns up at Armin. “I don’t know why you’re trying to hide him. We held a vigil for him and everything.”

Armin stares at Eren who only looks back at him. Armin blinks his big blue eyes at Eren and his mouth begins to open. Eren knows what Armin is about to say before he says it. He closes his eyes, bracing himself as Armin blurts out, “Because Eren’s a zombie.”

Reiner doesn’t say anything for a moment. He just sits on the sidewalk, his head turning slowly to Eren and taking him in. The schoolteacher looks the zombie up and down and opens his mouth. “You guys are serious?” He looks from Eren to Armin and then back to Eren. When neither of them replies, he gets up with a sigh, brushing the rest of his clothes off. “Well, seeing as how both of you guys aren’t replying, it looks like you guys are dead serious.” He cracks a smile and Eren just wants to groan. This is precisely why he didn’t want to talk to Reiner.

“Okay, since you found out anyway do you mind if we … move somewhere more private?” Armin asks anxiously.

“Alright, let’s go into my classroom then,” Reiner says, gesturing for them to follow him. He’s taking the news far better than anyone else had.

“Really?” Eren says, hesitant to follow. “You’re not afraid I’ll eat anyone or anything?”

“Nah, it’s empty right now,” Reiner says with a shake of his head. “And even if someone wanders in, I can just lock you in the crib.” The crib that Reiner is referring to is a wooden cage with an open top that Reiner’s students often liked to play in because it was at least a foot off the ground but, at least when you’re a five-year-old, feels as if you’re at least ten feet taller. Eren doubts that will be enough to hold him back if he happens to go on a hungry rampage, but Reiner seems pretty confident.

“So, first things first,” Armin says nervously as the door shuts behind them. His fingers rub at the fabric of his scarf just to have something to do. “You can’t tell anyone.”

Reiner raises an eyebrow. “Not even Bertholdt?”

“Especially not Bertholdt,” Armin stresses. It’s not because telling Bertholdt will be more dangerous than telling anyone else but because Bertholdt is the person that Reiner is most likely to tell. The two keep no secrets between them.

The schoolteacher clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “You know I tell him everything. He’s going to know something’s up sooner or later. Not keeping things from each other is one of the reasons why our relationship has lasted so long,” Reiner says. He huffs and leans against one of the classroom bookshelves. “One of the reasons why Annie and Mina haven’t even begun yet is because Annie just hides everything. She can’t even tell Mina how she really feels. I bet she’s keeping this whole zombie thing a secret too, right?” Reiner looks expectantly at Eren.

“Well, yeah but -”

“You and Historia were like that too,” Reiner continues, not realizing that he’s now diverting from the original topic. He pauses and then gives Eren a frown. “Do you know about Historia yet?”

“Jean told me,” Eren says, somewhat flustered. He doesn’t know how his zombie confession is somehow turning into a conversation about his (now dead) love life. “But what do you mean Historia and I were ‘like that’?”

“Oh, you know,” Reiner says with a dismissive shrug. When Eren looks at him with a puzzled expression because he doesn’t know, Reiner sighs exasperatedly and waves his hand around. “I’m just saying that if you had told Historia you were going to disappear a year ago, maybe she’d still be waiting for you.”

“Why does everyone always say I should have given them a heads up?” Eren says, wanting to tear his hair out in frustration. “I couldn’t! I died, Reiner, someone killed me!”

For once, Reiner is speechless and, not knowing what to say, just blinks at Eren with a blank expression. “I’m sorry,” Reiner says, still gawking at the zombie. “Did you just say someone killed you? Eren, were you murdered?” He looks to Armin, scandalized. “Why didn’t you say something about this earlier?”

“I was about to, but someone started running off on a tangent,” Armin grumbles, loosening his scarf. He walks over and pulls out one of the plastic chairs the kids use and sits in it, hunching over with his elbows on his knees. He looks comically huge sitting there with such a glum face. “Look, it’s important that we keep this under wraps because we still don’t know who killed Eren. They could still be running around waiting for someone else to kill. If they find out Eren’s still alive, they might try to come for him again.”

Reiner lets out a low whistle. “I figured you just got lost in the mountains and died of hypothermia.”

Eren glares at him, offended. “Why would I get lost in the mountains? I’ve lived here my entire life! I’m not some dumb tourist,” he huffs.

“Not a tourist, but still dumb,” Reiner teases, always managing to find humor in even the worst situations. His smile fades when he sees neither Eren nor Armin are smiling back at him. Expression now sober, Reiner pushes himself off the bookshelf and continues, “So who have you told aside from me? I assume Annie.”

Armin nods. “We’ve told Annie.”

“She’s reliable. Not like me. I’m a bit …” Reiner cocks his head to look at Eren, voice trailing off to let Eren finish what he had been saying earlier to Armin.

Eren hangs his head, biting his lip in embarrassment. “Sorry.”

“I’m only teasing,” Reiner laughs. He was never one to hold a grudge. He folds his arms across his chest. “I assume you told Jean, too. So everyone in the old gang?”

Eren nods. “I told Jean first, actually. He did my makeup.” He kind of wants to rub his cheek sheepishly, but Jean will probably kill him if he comes home with smudged makeup.

“Wow, you told Jean first? That’s interesting. You guys used to be at each other’s throats all the time,” Reiner hums. He leans over to inspect Eren’s face, turning his head this way and that to look at the zombie’s makeup from different angles. Satisfied after taking a good look, Reiner leans back with a grin on his face. “He made you look better than you did when you were alive.”

“Fuck you,” Eren replies as Reiner cackles. Reiner’s not wrong though.

“Okay, so we all know and we’re all agreeing to keep it a secret for Eren’s safety, right?” Armin asks, clasping his hands together. He looks at both Eren and Reiner, but his stern gaze lingers on the schoolteacher as he waits for an answer. “Right, Reiner?”

Reiner stares back at Armin, his mouth set in a thin line. They stay like that for a minute or two before Reiner breaks his gaze, breathing out a large sigh. “Fine, fine, I’ll keep it a secret. I won’t even tell Bertholdt, who is the love of my life and who I have told all of my life’s secret until now.”

“Great!” Armin chirps, shrugging the messenger bag off his shoulder and throwing the flap open. He sifts through the contents of his bag and pulls out a handful of books from his bag, all of which he passes to Reiner. “I want you to read these.”

Reiner’s face is one of pure revulsion. “You’re asking way too much of me, Armin. I’m your friend, but I don’t love you guys that much.” He looks curiously down at the book stack he’s holding, squinting to read the cover. “Why do you want me to read about carpenter ants?”

“Zombie research. Annie’s doing mammals. I’m covering diseases,” Armin explains easily. “I’ll buy you lunch after I walk Eren home.”

Reiner visibly perks up at the mention of free lunch. Unlike Eren, Reiner is actually good at studying. He wasn’t as smart as Armin nor as studious as Annie, but he was always one of the top students in class. There were definitely subjects that he excelled in over others; Reiner always preferred classes like literature over history and math, not understanding why he’d have to memorize the names of men who died centuries ago or what application calculus formulas would have in the real world. He never did homework for subjects he didn’t care for but would somehow score top marks when the exams rolled around. He just needed a good motivation to work hard. Since report cards and college entrance exams are no longer an incentive, food works just as well.

“Only if we go to the barbeque house,” Reiner says, adding, “and you have to let me order as much as I want.”

Armin purses his lips, not wanting to give in but wanting the man’s valuable research skills. He breathes out, blowing his bangs out of his face. “Fine, fine! But have a conscience, will you? I don’t make much money even working for town hall,” Armin huffs. He closes the clasp of his canvas bag with a click and sighs. “Come on, Eren. Let’s get you home. Reiner, I’ll meet you back here in a little bit.”

“Don’t take too long,” Reiner says in a sing-song voice, walking out after them. He leans against the doorframe, smiling even as Armin scowls at him. “I’m looking forward to our date, Arlert.”

“He’s going to burn a hole in my wallet,” Armin mutters as they walk away from the elementary school.

“Sorry.” Eren can’t help feeling guilty. They wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for him. “Still, I’m a little glad we ended up telling Reiner even if it was unintentional.”

“Yeah,” Armin agrees.

The two walk in silence together.

“You know he’s going to tell Bertholdt though, right?” Armin asks.

“Oh, absolutely.”

--------------------------------

There really isn’t very much to do at Jean’s apartment, Eren finds. After eating a very sad lunch of hamburger meat he found in the freezer, Eren tries hard to look through the books on vodou that Annie had assigned him. He can’t find any highlighters in Jean’s apartment, so he ends up improvising by using different colored eyeliner pens in one of Jean’s makeup kits to underline sections he thinks are important. Unfortunately, Eren was never good at deciding what information is important and soon has whole pages underlined and eyeliner all over his hands. The words he reads don’t stick in his head even after he’s read a chapter over and over again, somehow making less sense with each read through, and Eren gives up after he runs out of blue eyeliner.

Jean finally comes home after the sun sets and finds Eren sprawled on his couch staring at the ceiling. He raises an eyebrow, setting a grocery bag on the kitchen countertop, and unbuttons his coat. “Have you just been doing this all day?”

“You don’t have anything in your apartment,” Eren replies, not getting up. “You don’t even have a Switch.”

“Sorry I’m not accommodating your every need,” Jean snorts as he hangs his coat on the coat rack. He unravels his scarf from his neck and hangs it on the rack as well. “I bought you some meat by the way -”

At the word “meat,” Eren immediately sits up and dashes towards the kitchen, grasping for the grocery and pulling it open to reveal a succulent cut of tenderloin beef, blood still fresh. The zombie licks his lips, hands reaching to pull the tenderloin from the bag, only to be sprayed with water.

“Ugh! Stop, stop!” the zombie yelps, hands raised to shield his face. When he opens his eyes, Jean is standing in front of him with a very disappointed look on his face.

“Don’t eat food like you’re some kind of animal,” Jean tsks. He puts the squirt bottle down and gestures at his face. “Wipe the makeup off your face too. It’s starting to run. The makeup wipes are in the top left cabinet in the bathroom.”

“It’s your fault it’s running in the first place,” Eren mumbles, but he shuffles off to the bathroom anyway. He tries to avoid looking at his reflection in the bathroom. He does happen to catch a glance and winces; it looks like his entire face is melting. It takes about fifteen makeup wipes to get it all off. His bare face isn’t much of an improvement from his melting makeup, Eren thinks, and he kind of wishes that Jean taught him how to apply his own makeup so he doesn’t have to go out there bare-faced. Reluctantly, he goes out to meet Jean, making sure to pull his hood over his head so that Jean doesn’t have to look at him too well.

The table is set for two. One side has a bowl of instant ramen topped with strips of honeyed ham, green onion, and a fried egg. Another just has a plate of tenderloin, blood pooling at the bottom of it. Eren salivates just looking at it and walks over, hypnotized. He sits down at the table, dropping into his seat with a thud and reaches out with his hand when he’s suddenly sprayed in the face with water.

“Ugh!” Eren spits wiping the water off his face with a hand. He scowls at Jean. “Would you stop doing that?”

“As soon as you pick up your utensils and eat your food like a normal human being,” Jean says, gesturing towards the knife and fork he had thoughtfully set out for Eren. He doesn’t flinch when the zombie growls at him, instead giving him a pointed look. “It was part of our list of agreements.”

Among the agreements they had agreed upon for Jean to help Eren was that Eren would sit down at the dining table and eat with proper eating utensils. Eren thought it was strange at the time, but he agreed to it. He stares down unhappily at the fork in front of him and picks it up, stabbing the cut of tenderloin. The zombie raises the bleeding piece of meat to his lips, ready to take a bite out of it but he’s sprayed once more with water.

“Uck! What the fuck was that one for?” Eren splutters. He’s so surprised that he drops his fork and his meat along with it, the tenderloin sending blood splattering out of his plate and onto the table.

Jean doesn’t look disgusted, only minorly inconvenienced. “Use your knife too,” he tells Eren.

“Fine,” Eren grumbles, taking the knife in his right hand and picking up his fork again. He cuts through the tenderloin (which is a little bit more difficult to do given that the meat is uncooked) and raises the piece to his lips but stops once he realizes that Jean is still sitting in front of him.

It’s one thing to have your friend know you’re a zombie and eat raw meat. It’s another thing entirely to eat a bleeding piece of beef right in front of him. It’s not even steak, which would be a lot less embarrassing. It’s just uncooked meat: pink and bloody and raw. Jean doesn’t seem to have any qualms about it. He’s just sitting across from Eren and eating his ramen like this is a normal meal. Eren thinks Jean should feel a little bit weird about this whole thing.

“Um,” Eren says as Jean slurps up a mouthful of noodles. “Could you maybe look away while I’m eating?”

Jean looks up from his ramen, raising an eyebrow. With his mouth still full, he replies, “I’m still eating.” Even though Eren sits there not touching his food, Jean continues eating. When he realizes that the zombie hasn’t eaten yet, Jean sighs and motions for Eren to just eat. “Come on. You’re going to make it weird. We can talk about how our days went while we eat if it’ll make you feel less uncomfortable.”

“Er, okay,” Eren says, sucking on his bottom lip. He looks at Jean again, but his friend has already returned to his noodles. The zombie stares at the little cube of meat on his fork and wonders if it’s really alright. He brings it to his lips, nibbling on it. The taste of meat on his tongue is so rich and savory that he almost moans. With less hesitation, Eren puts the tenderloin in his mouth, his whole body relaxing as he chews into the tender meat. It’s not as good as the livestock he’d eat when he lived near the farm, but it beats frozen hamburger meat any day. As soon as he swallows it down, Eren begins cutting away for another piece before he remembers Jean’s still there. He looks at Jean, but the makeup artist is still eating his ramen as if this is normal.

He’s a few more bites into the tenderloin when Jean says, “I heard that you guys told Reiner.”

“Armin told you already?” Eren asks, swallowing his beef down hastily. Jean might be fine with eating across a zombie, but Eren doesn’t want his friend to see him with a mouth full of raw meat. This experience is probably traumatizing enough already.

“Yeah. Reiner made a group chat this afternoon so we could talk about what to do next,” Jean says, to which Eren rolls his eyes. It’s a very unsurprisingly Reiner thing to do.

“Right, a group chat,” Eren says, pushing a cube of meat across his plate so that it soaks up more blood. “That’s probably convenient.” He has no idea where his phone went. It wasn’t in his pocket when he woke up in the mountains. He assumed that it had either been taken by his murderer or it had fallen out of his pocket and was somewhere in the woods. It might be for the best though. It’d be hard to explain why his phone was still active a year after he had gone MIA.

“Right, you don’t have a phone,” Jean mumbles. His mouth twists into a frown as he twirls his chopsticks in his bowl. He spoons another ramen into his mouth and hums. Leaning back, he wonders aloud, “Maybe we could get you one? It might take a while, but it’d be more convenient to have you in the group chat, too.”

Eren perks up. It’s kind of embarrassing to feel so excited about being included in a group chat when he’s been friends with everyone for years, but he’s been out of touch with them for a year so maybe his feelings are justified. “I mean, you don’t have to, but it would be great.”

“I’ll look into it then,” Jean says as he prepares another spoonful of ramen for himself. He’s always so methodical about eating ramen, making sure to have a little bit of everything in each spoon. “And Armin mentioned that we were starting research.”

“Ah, yeah,” Eren says with a frown as he thinks about the stack of books he still has yet to get through. “Did he give you anything to read?” If he’s lucky, maybe Jean will agree to trade with him. Eren doesn’t think he’ll ever understand this vodou stuff.

“Mmm, Armin handed me the newspaper articles about missing tourists and zombie sightings. I might have to get a corkboard or something to work out a timeline on these,” Jean says as he chews thoughtfully.

Jean follows by filling Eren in on the rest of the group chat conversation — with a roll of his eyes, he explains that most of the messages are just Reiner complaining about how it’s killing him to keep such a big secret from Bertholdt, the love of his life — and future plans that Armin has about dealing with their … situation. (“It’s really just about research and looking into anyone suspicious that might have wanted to kill you, although Annie said that the description was too broad because ‘who didn’t want to kill Eren at some point in their lives?’” Jean said.) It’s not long before dinner is finished and Jean is collecting the dishes to wash them in the sink.

“I can’t believe I just have to sit in your apartment all day while you guys do all the work,” Eren sighs. He’s never felt so useless in his life.

“Yeah, it must be killing you to let us help you so much,” Jean snorts as he pulls on his rubber gloves and turns on the faucet. His voice is teasing, but his words remind Eren of something Reiner said earlier that day.

“Do you think I keep stuff from people too much?” Eren asks. “Reiner said something about that earlier, something about how it led to the demise of my relationship with Historia.” He attempts to say it lightheartedly, rolling his eyes, but he does not like the way Jean freezes up upon hearing the question.

“Hmm,” Jean hums, pretending to be occupied with the dishes.

“You’re not answering the question,” Eren points out, straightening his back. He glares at the back of Jean’s head, staring daggers so that Jean knows that his nonanswer is not appreciated. “I know I tend to keep things to myself, but I just don’t like sharing every little detail of my life with people. It’s not like it caused problems or anything.”

Jean sighs and turns off the faucet, letting the dishes soak in the sink. He turns around, leaning back against the counter with a frown on his face. “Eren, you’re just bad at asking for help. Everyone knows this,” Jean finally replies. “It’s not like it’s the worst flaw in the world to have, but it has made being friends with you incredibly stressful at times.”

“That’s stupid! I’ve never been a burden to anyone!” Eren protests. “Name one time I caused you guys unnecessary stress.”

Jean doesn’t wait around to answer. “Once, you were sick and locked yourself in your room with a fuckton of Emergen-C and water because you were convinced you could get better by yourself and we eventually had to break down your door and drag you to the hospital because you got pneumonia.” It’s insulting how quickly Jean pulled that example from memory. It’s even more insulting how Jean can prattle off more examples without hesitation. “You got lost on a trip with Historia for two hours because you were too stubborn to ask for directions or call anyone for help. Eren, you would have failed all of our high school classes if Armin hadn’t insisted on group study sessions and convinced you that they helped him more than they helped you.”

The last one is news to him. “But he said he studied better in a group!” Eren splutters. Then again, it makes more sense now that Jean is pointing it out to him. Armin made way too many study notes for Eren and Eren only in those study sessions. He doesn’t know why he wasn’t more suspicious about them then. Eren sinks down in his chair, pulling the hood over his eyes. “Is it a crime to not want to be a bother to people?” he mumbles.

Jean doesn’t respond for a moment and Eren thinks the makeup artist has ignored him until the zombie feels the slightest touch on the top of his head. He looks up and sees Jean patting his head gently. It’s comforting. Eren closes his eyes and allows Jean to keep petting him.

“You’re never a bother, Eren. You’re our friend,” Jean says with the warmest smile. He lets his head rest on Eren’s head for a moment before removing it, returning to his dishes. “I have to say, though, it’s pretty funny to have you rely on us so much because you have no other choice.”

Eren opens his eyes and scowls at Jean. “Funny for you, maybe,” Eren mutters.

Jean snickers. He tends to the dishes for a bit, shaking excess water out of a bowl before placing it on the drying rack, and says to Eren, “Why don’t you take a shower while I finish these up? It might help you relax.” He pauses and Eren thinks for a moment that Jean might point out that a shower might help because Eren’s a zombie and perpetually gross, but he thankfully doesn’t. “Just grab some clothes out of my drawer or something.”

Eren wants to grumble and resist, but he does feel grimy and gross. A shower might not help him feel completely cleansed of his filth, but it might help. “Alright,” Eren mumbles, shuffling to Jean’s bedroom and pulling open the drawer of Jean’s pajamas. It’s filled with plain cotton shirts and sweatpants. Not one to be picky, Eren ends up picking a long-sleeved shirt in a dark olive green and some black sweats, feeling more comfortable in more muted colors. Jean doesn’t say anything when Eren emerges with his clothes, so the zombie continues to the bathroom, avoiding his reflection as usual while he strips down to his skin.

Eren shivers when his foot touches the cold ceramic of the shower and hurriedly turns the faucet to the hot water. The shower sputters on before a rush of water spills out and Eren gasps at how hot it is, but he doesn’t step away nor does he attempt to adjust the temperature. He sighs as the steam surrounds him and the hot water burns across his skin, almost like it’s erasing all the dirt and grime that had covered him while he was buried for the past year. Jeez, Eren realizes. It’s been an entire year since he’s had a hot shower.

He begins to reach for the soap so that he can scrub away at his skin, but hesitates. It’s the same soap that Jean uses. Is that weird? He hadn’t asked Jean beforehand if he had extra soap and shampoo. Using the same shampoo is a little less weird, but the thought of having the same scent as Jean makes Eren’s stomach flip. It’s a little too late to ask Jean now though, so Eren reaches for the soap. It smells a little bit like pine, but the scent isn’t usually as harsh as it usually is. Jean doesn’t smell that much like pine, Eren thinks, but he does have a kind of forest-y aroma to him. Maybe the fragrance isn’t that strong once he steps out of the shower. Eren imagines Jean using the same bar of soap, running it over his firm biceps as bubbles run down his tanned skin.

No, that’s weird, Eren thinks, shaking his head like a dog. Water splatters across the shower curtain. Stop thinking about Jean like that. Don’t think about him showering. Just don’t think about him at all right now. But it’s nearly impossible when Eren’s washing his body with the same bar of soap Jean probably runs over his body in the same shower. Why did it have to have a scent anyway? Why couldn’t that stupid makeup artist just use scentless soap?

Eren hurriedly rubs at the rest of his body, trying to make sure he gets most of the dirt in between his fingers and behind his neck and other hard to reach places. He’s in a hurry, so he probably hasn’t gotten all of it, but he’s confident he’s got most of it. He doesn’t want to take too long lest he have more strange ideas about Jean.

The shampoo is a little less troublesome. Now that Eren has less hair, it doesn’t take as long to wash it all. He kind of wishes he had gotten a haircut back when he was alive. Getting a trim to maintain a shorter cut was annoying, but long hair always got greasy so quickly and washing it was a pain. Also, he doesn’t think he’d be able to hold his breath while washing his hair without passing out if he had long hair. Holding his breath is a necessary precaution while showering now, Eren thinks, if only to prevent any unnecessary thoughts about Jean.

It’s a relief when he’s finally finished, stepping out of the shower and drying himself before pulling on Jean’s clothes. Like the jeans and hoodie that Eren had borrowed earlier, the shirt and sweats are a bit shirt, but they feel nice and warm against his skin. And they smell like Jean, Eren can’t help but think. He wipes at the saliva at the side of his mouth with the back of his hand. Somehow, drooling always seems to accompany Jean, like some kind of weird Pavlovian response. Eren needs to find a way to stop doing that.

When he opens the door, Jean is sitting hunched over on the couch pouring over an open newspaper spread out on the coffee table, reading glasses perched on his nose.

“Hey, Jean, I’m done with the shower,” Eren calls.

“Alright.” Jean stretches and then yawns without bothering to cover his mouth. He removes his reading glasses and rubs at his eyes before setting his spectacles down on the table. He gets up and is about to say something when his eyes settle on Eren, mouth agape. Slowly, the brunet raises a hand and points. “Eren, what the fuck happened to your neck?”

“My … neck?” Eren looks down before he realizes that he can’t see his neck. He raises a hand to his throat. “What’s wrong with it?”

“There are, like, marks or something,” Jean says, stumbling over to get a closer look. He reaches out and pulls down at the collar of Eren’s shirt, exposing more skin. “Jesus, what the fuck? Why didn’t you show me this earlier?”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Eren yelps, pulling away from Jean before his friend stretches out the collar. He rubs at his throat with a frown. “It’s not like I spend a lot of time looking at myself in the mirror. Not after …”

“Right …” Jean’s voice trails off as his eyes drift downward. He clears his throat and grabs Eren by the wrist. “Here, let me just show you.” He walks Eren back into the bathroom and forces him in front of the mirror that’s still foggy from all the steam. Jean wipes at it with his hand so that Eren can see himself.

Eren doesn’t look, not immediately. He chooses to look at his feet instead, preferring to look at his bony feet and ridged toenails than his face. He probably looks worse without all his makeup on.

Jean doesn’t force him to look up. He just puts his hands gently on Eren’s shoulders. “Hey, Eren. It’s fine. You don’t look as bad as you think you do,” he tells Eren, rubbing against the zombie’s shoulders soothingly. “

“You’re just being nice,” Eren mutters.

“I’m not,” Jean says firmly. “It’s really not that bad. You look fine. Kind of like how you did in college during finals week, actually. So not your best, but you don’t look like a monster.”

Eren sighs frustratedly. “Fine,” he says and he lifts his eyes slowly, He doesn’t look bad, he thinks as his eyes look up from his waist to his chest. The shirt hangs off his body a little too much, as if he’s a skeleton rather than a person, but that makes sense. It’s only when he looks at his neck that Eren realizes what Jean is talking about and he’s too distracted by the sight of it to look up at his face.

Purple bruises decorate his throat, prominent against his sickly pale skin. They’re all around his neck like a collar, but they also look like something: hands around his neck, the very same that choked him to death the night he died.

Eren raises his hand to his neck once more, touching at the purple marks lightly. “Jesus Christ,” he breathes. “What the fuck?”

“Must have been from when that guy killed you,” Jean murmurs. He reaches out to touch them too, encircling his own hands to mimic the place the killer had wrapped their hands around Eren’s neck. His fingers are cool against Eren’s skin, making the zombie shiver.

“W-what?” Eren stutters, backing away from Jean and accidentally bumping his hip against the granite counter. He clutches at his throat, trying his best to remember how to breathe. “What are you doing?”

“Comparing,” Jean replies, somehow completely unaffected. He holds out his hand, but he doesn’t curl his fingers around Eren’s throat. A part of Eren kind of wishes Jean would. “Whoever did it has big hands. Not too much bigger than mine, but their fingers are a lot larger.”

“What, so we’re just going to ask potential suspects to come over and put their hands around my neck?” Eren mumbles, rubbing at his throat. He hadn’t noticed his neck before. He had always avoided looking at himself and his bundle of clothes had always covered his neck until now. Now that Jean has pointed out the marks on his neck, it feels strange, like a light pressure squeezing around his neck even though there’s nothing there.

“Nope, but it might be helpful,” Jean says. He reaches around in his back pocket, fishing out his phone. The brunet points it at Eren. “Hold still, I’m taking a picture.”

“What? Why?” Eren yelps. He covers his neck with his hands, embarrassed for some reason even though it’s just his throat.

“Come on, all of us have seen you shirtless at least once. I’m just going to send this in the group chat,” Jean tells Eren, swatting the zombie’s hands away from his neck. Reluctantly, Eren lets his hands fall from his throat and Jean takes a few pictures to send to their friends. It only takes a few moments before they send their replies:

Zombie Investigation Squad

Reiner: kinky lol 🥵😩💦

Annie: never send anything like this to me again

But it’s Armin who sends the most hopeful message:

Armin: Thanks for your dead-ication! Looks like we’re making progress! 😃

#erejean #how to be a zombie series #zombie detective au #eren jaeger #jean kirstein #snk

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imagine-loki · 5 years ago

Text

Gifted

Title: Gifted (Sequel to Giftless)

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 38/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE:

Imagine that you are Stark’s niece and you secretly share a strong relationship with Loki since he entered the crew. One day you get hurt so bad during a mission that you are about to die. Loki knows a spell that will save you and share his immortality with you but you and he will be linked forever sharing thoughts, pain, emotions…

RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 click here

Early the next morning, you and Loki had to make the portal to send Thor back home. He was livid when he found out about your 3:30am healing, but there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t stay here any longer, either. He had duties back home and had only been able to leave for your birthday. “We will find a cure, little sister,” he promised you before he stepped through the portal. You watched as it snapped closed behind him with a twinge of sorrow as you would miss him. He was a great friend and adopted older brother. He promised they would call you home to Asgard as soon as they found a cure. You smiled, glad that he thought enough of you to consider Asgard as your home as well.

You dragged Loki up to the infirmary after Thor had left so you could check on Veronica. You wanted to make sure all of your 3am healing took. Thankfully it had, she was asleep when you arrived, but the other healers assured you that she and the baby were both doing just fine. They shooed you from the infirmary as soon as they’d given you the update. Julia was terrified that Fury or Tony would find you there. Apparently you were forbidden the infirmary anymore that day after the huge healing you had done the previous night. They really were keeping track of how much time and power you spent there.

“When is your first class?” Loki asked as you wandered to the kitchen to get breakfast. You got the biggest mug of coffee Helene had to offer. She gave you a disapproving look, but you flashed her a big reassuring smile and she let you have your coffee, as well as a huge plate of pancakes. You nodded your thanks and took your plate of pancakes to your usual table. You grinned when Loki sat across from you.

/Just like old times/ you thought at him. You had breakfast just like that almost every morning for the year you had both lived in the Tower together.

“Why are you two awake?” Tony asked when he joined you, pulling up a chair to sit at your two-person table.

[I have class] you signed at him. [I can’t miss any more classes this semester] you had only gotten out of the classes you had missed because Fury had told the school you were on an urgent mission for the Avengers. He wouldn’t help you skip classes for anything less than an emergency. Tony glared at you. [I just have two classes today. We’ll be back by 1]

“Fine. Just be careful,” Tony replied.

You rolled your eyes. [It’s going to suck] you signed, finally betraying some of your emotions to him.

“You like school,” Tony reminded you. He was wrong, of course, but he was a moronic genius who tried to hard

[I want to be a qualified doctor] you corrected. [I doubt anyone there signs, and I’m already weird and a celebrity]

“Darling, it will be fine. I will be there to translate, and keep you company, and Mother is looking for a cure. She will find one soon, I am sure. Thor said that she was on the right track. He would not lie,” Loki added. You gave him a small smile, but you were still worried. “When is your first class?” he asked again.

[Sorry!] you signed. You had forgotten he had asked. [It’s at 9] you glanced at the clock and shoved your pancakes into your mouth faster. You didn’t have a whole lot of time. You stood and vanished your plate back to the kitchen. You used more magic to change your clothes from pajamas to your jeans, converse, and a hoodie stolen from Loki’s closet. Loki gave you a disapproving look at how grungy you looked, especially in his oversized hoodie.

“You are going out like that?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes. /I’m a college student, Lo. This is how we dress/ you thought at him as you summoned your school bag, which had your laptop.

He sighed. “I can summon you something nicer,” he offered. You could tell he missed the dresses of Asgard. You sighed and held out your hand.

/Fine, but nothing too fancy. This is school/ you told him. You couldn’t help smiling when his expression lit up. /Nothing fancy!/ you reminded him. /No dresses/ you added for safe measure. He summoned a perfectly tailored pair of jeans instead of the fwumpy old ones you had been wearing and a soft green sweater that fit equally as well. At least he left you your converse. You reached up to braid your hair out of your way, but he spun you around quickly so he could do it himself. You just laughed while Tony rolled his eyes and made fake retching sounds. You flipped him off for his effort. You touched Loki’s cheek and used magic to give him an outfit too, a pair of jeans, a white button-down shirt, and a black tie and suit jacket. He looked at you confused, expecting that you would pick something more casual. You did his hair in a quick manbun, as that was the American standard for what to do with long hair on men. /It’s appropriate since you’re technically working as a translator/ you explained. /Plus you look nice in a suit/

“Only nice? My lady wounds me.” He held his hand to his heart with a mock-expression of pain.

You laughed at him. /Fine. You’re hot and the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes on. Does that please you, peacock?/ you replied with more laughter.

“Whatever you two are talking about, knock it off before I puke,” Tony grumbled.

You laughed and bent down to kiss his cheek. [See you after school] you signed at him.

“You’re staying here?” he asked.

[For now] you had your own apartment off campus, but you felt better right now staying in your suite here in the compound.

“See you later then, imp, other imp,” he directed the last to Loki, who nodded and offered you his hand in formal escort. You laughed and placed your hand on his. After the first step we took, he teleported you to the coffeeshop on campus.

/You’re a genius/ you told him as you stepped inside the coffeeshop. You could use more coffee. You walked up to the counter and found that your order was already being made. You weren’t terribly surprised. You ordered the same thing every time you went there.

“What did you order for me last time?” Loki asked you when you had reached the counter. You signed back the reply and he placed the order with the barista. You paid for both of your drinks and you waited by the other counter.

“Sigyn, your order is ready!” the barista told you. You smiled and took your cup from her with a nod of thanks. You never placed your orders under your superhero name, but they always gave it to you that way anyway. “Loki, yours will be right up,” she added. Loki thanked her. It was only a minute more before he had his drink as well. You grabbed his tie and pulled him from the coffeeshop by it when he pretended to flirt too hard with the barista. Everyone laughed at your antics.

You led the way to your first class. /I’m going to have so much homework/ you whined at Loki. You’d been gone for two weeks.

Loki just laughed. “No, you will not,” he replied with a grin.

/You did it?/ you accused. He tried to look innocent. You just laughed. /You’re so bad at the innocent look, but thank you/

“You are welcome, darling,”

You took seats together in the small classroom your first class was in. This was the class you were afraid of. The professor didn’t like you already because you was a celebrity, and in a stupidly accelerated program. You didn’t think he’d take the fact that you couldn’t talk well.

“I don’t allow visitors in my class,” the professor announced when he walked into the room.

[This is Loki. He’s my interpreter. You can’t deny my right to have him here] you signed quickly. Loki translated flawlessly, getting your tone in the words. The professor looked like he was going to argue. [This has already been approved by the dean] you added. Even he couldn’t fight with the dean.

/What is a dean?/ Loki asked you after he had translated your words.

/The leader of the school/ you replied. The professor couldn’t argue that, especially in front of all of the other kids. They all loved you and would fight for your rights if you wouldn’t do it youself. You was just glad this class was graded entirely by multiple guess exams. You could get out of here with your A in a couple months. The professor kept asking you questions throughout the class, as if trying to trip you or Loki up. It was a useless endeavor on his part. He didn’t realize you could just tell Loki your answers telepathically if he couldn’t read the signs. He had no trouble, though and it just frustrated the professor even more. It would have been comical if it weren’t so annoying.

You were glad when class was over and you strolled to the student center with Loki to kill time until your next class. /Are you hungry?/ you asked on the way. It wasn’t quite late enough for lunch, but you knew his metabolism, especially after the magic he had gone through yesterday.

“I could eat,” he answered, which you took to mean that he was hungry. So you stopped by a little hamburger stand on the way to the student center. You thought Loki would hate the place on principle, since it was a greasy delicious college hamburger stand, but he surprised you by actually enjoying the burger.

/I love this place. Best greasy hamburgers in town/ you explained. He raised an eyebrow as you shoved a handful of the best french fries in the city in your mouth. /What? Surely the women on Asgard crave junk food too/

He sighed. “Next you will be demanding chocolate,” he said with a mock whine. You just smiled at him.

/Like you wouldn’t summon all of the chocolate in the city if I asked for it/ you replied.

“You are right, of course,” he conceded with a smile.

You hung out in the student center where Loki got to watch all of the college students while you caught up on social media and emails. You had missed a lot while you was in Asgard. you should have been doing homework, but social media was way more important. You would do the homework later. You had pictures to tag yourself in on social media, friends to catch up with, and school emails to make sure you read.

You second class of the day was much better than the first. Loki was welcomed by the professor, who absolutely adored you. She was a fan of the Avengers and knew Loki as well as you. He was a celebrity too, after all. She asked you a couple of questions, but you thought that she just wanted to watch you sign than actually do anything malicious.

You were still glad when classes ended and you could teleport home. The second you were safely back, you set your schoolbag next to your spot on your usual couch in the common room and magically changed your clothes back to pajamas.

You settled yourself in your spot on the couch and pulled out your laptop to do homework. Loki summoned a book to read. He was also in pajama pants and a t-shirt. You could get him to wear casual clothes around the tower, even if he wouldn’t wear them outside.

The commonroom soon got crowded when the kids and teens started coming home from school and the older supers were coming back from patrol. You looked over at Loki with a grin. /Want to have a little fun?/ you asked with a mischievous smile.

/Always/ he replied, not bothering to look up from his book. You gave him your plan quickly, without bothering to explain why it would be fun. /I hope this is as good at you are suggesting/ he told me.

He stood up on the seat of the couch, drawing everyone’s attention before he announced: “The floor is lava!” you tucked your feet up on the couch and laughed along with Loki as you watched all of the supers leap onto the nearest piece of furniture, or their neighbors and friends. Some used their powers to fly, teleport, or stick to the walls. Four people ended up on one small coffee table, all clinging to each other so they didn’t fall off. You laughed when they all toppled over and had overly dramatic ‘deaths’ in the lava.

Nat calmly walked over to one of the couches. “I’m a fire demon. I’m immune to lava,” she announced. You and Loki laughed, allowing it since she was Nat.

The game ended and everyone went back to what they were doing. “Does everyone know this game?” Loki asked in delight after it was over.

You shrugged. /I think every American kid does/ you replied, already planning the next game, and silently apologizing to Loki because he was going to lose.

You got up to put a movie in the DVD player, and placed one finger to your ear as you were walking back to the couch. Someone saw you and mimicked your movement. Soon the entire room had their finger against their ear, as if we were all getting a message in an earbud. You grinned at Loki who was busy with his book and hadn’t noticed your antic until he caught your mood shift. He looked up just in time to get tackled to the floor. “Get down, Mr. President!” the supers yelled as everyone leapt on top of him, pinning him to the ground. You laughed and kissed his cheek while you were both pinned. You had been the first one to tackle him, and ended up on the bottom of the pile.

“What’s going on in here?” one of the older supers asked, seeing your dogpile.

“Mr. President was in danger,” one of the kids replied as our pile slowly dispersed.

“Of course. Who was the unlucky President today?” he asked warmly.

“Loki,”

“Well that’s hardly fair. Poor guy probably doesn’t even know the game.”

“Kat started it!” the kids protested. You all started laughing while you helped Loki back to his feet and gave him a proper kiss in apology.

“Silly Trickster,” he whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

/I learned from the best/ you replied. He gave you an elegant bow, accepting the praise. You laughed and explained the rules of the game to him, so he would be prepared next time.

“What are you guys up to?” Tony asked, seeing the room in chaos as everyone tried to get back to their places from our latest game.

“The floor was lava, and then I was the President,” Loki answered calmly as you finally got to settle back in our places on the couch. Tony roared in laughter.

“I would have paid to see you get tackled by the entire group, Mr. President,” Tony chuckled. He didn’t notice until he saw you make the movement, that everyone had put a finger to their ear and he was the last one. He tried to run, but it was too late.

“GET DOWN MR. PRESIDENT!” Roared the crowd as Tony was tackled to the floor.

“I am going to kill you for starting this, imp,” Tony grumbled at you. You held up your hands innocently.

[I didn’t say anything] you signed indignantly once everyone had removed themselves from Tony. You also healed someone’s nose that had gotten smashed in the excitement. Mr. President was not the safest game ever.

“Kat, we need you and Loki to go out on patrol tonight. Freeza and Nebula caught that stupid flu that’s going around,” Fury greeted you at dinner that evening. You and Loki nodded and agreed to go on the patrol. Loki was always your patrol partner when he was in town. You worked well together and had fairly complimentary powers, plus a stupid amount of healing power between the two of you. Fury gave you your patrol route and left. He didn’t socialize…ever.

As soon as you were done eating, you put your dishes away and changed into your armor. You made sure your dagger sheath was in place, then took Loki’s hand so you could teleport to the start of your patrol route.

You spent most of the evening just walking the streets of the warehouse district in uniform. Of course there were absolutely no illicit kisses during patrol. None whatsoever. You would never do such a thing.

You did come across some robbers trying to rob a bank. You just smiled at Loki. /Shield/ You told him before the robbers noticed you. He smiled and you saw the flicker of green light around him. You stepped into the bank and the robbers turned to face you.

“Hello boys,” you greeted them. Before the second word was out, they were all on the ground unconscious. Loki made the call in to the cops, not knowing if the curse from Balder would work across the phone line. Neither of you wanted to take the chance. The cops picked up the robbers, who were still unconscious. This curse from Balder sucked, but it did make patrol a bit easier in this one case.

The next fight you came across was a lot harder, since there were too many civilians around for you to use that particular power. There was a trio of bad guys, including a firestarter. You and Loki took out the firestarter easily. He wasn’t the problem. The super strength guy got his hands on you and threw you into a nearby wall hard enough to break bones through your shielding. You cursed under your breath, throwing fireballs and daggers with your unbroken arm. The third one was throwing lightning at Loki and all of Loki’s illusions and clones. You cursed again silently and threw up walls of flames around the two remaining villains, buying you a little time. The civilians were busy taking pictures and video. Just what you needed when you were both bleeding and bruised, and your arm was hanging limp at your side.

You speed dialed the cops and summoned a bunch of heavy chain. You let the flame die around the super strength man and used your telekinesis to wrap the chains around him as quickly as you could, using fireballs aimed at him to keep him from being able to fight the chains. He couldn’t fight both at the same time. Loki had the lightning super disabled at the same time. It didn’t take the cops long to arrive to collect the villains. You and Loki waved to the crowd and he teleported you out of there and back to your suite in the compound.

“Did you forget to shield?” Loki asked you as he helped you sit on your couch.

You shook your head. /This was damage done through my shields/ you replied.

“Damn, he was strong,” he commented as he looked over your wounds. He hesitated. “I need to see your arm to heal it,” he finally said. You nodded and vanished the top of your armor, leaving you in just your bra. He had seen you in less yesterday, plus this was for healing. Tony rushed into the room while Loki was looking over your side and arm, seeing how bad the damage was.

“Kat? Fury said you were back from patrol. I didn’t see you come in. Is everything ok? What the hell?” Tony demanded. “Why aren’t you in the infirmary and where the hell is your shirt?” he added more loudly when he saw that you were injured. You gestured to Loki with your good arm. You rolled your eyes and sat quietly while Loki got to work healing your injuries.

“We found a couple of villains with powers. One of them hurt Kat through her shielding. I can heal her just as easily, if not more so, than the healers downstairs, and she does not have to step foot in the infirmary. I needed to see her injury, and had you knocked, you would not have to see your niece in nothing but her bra,” Loki answered calmly, but grumpily while he worked. It didn’t take him long to fix the damage. You gave him a kiss when he was done. He pulled the throw blanket off of the couch and wrapped it around your shoulders to cover you.

[I’m fine, Tony] you signed at him tiredly. [We caught some robbers and some supervillains. It’s late and I just went through a healing. Yell at us tomorrow if you insist on yelling]

“Sorry, Kat. I just worry about you. I hate when you get attacked on patrol. You know that,” Tony said, coming over to give you a hug. “I’m glad you’re ok. Go get some rest before your eyes do that creepy black thing again.” You rolled your eyes at him, but got up from the couch and shoved him from your sittingroom, closing and locking the door firmly behind him. You looked Loki over to make sure he wasn’t injured. He only had a couple scrapes and bruises, which only took a pinch of power to fix. You summoned some pajamas and smirked when you realized in your exhaustion that you had summoned one of his Asgardian tunics to wear to bed. It had apparently become a habit. He grinned at you too when he realized what you had done.

“You are adorable, darling,” he told you, when he realized what you wereYwearing. you blushed at the unexpected compliment, but kissed him again before you both fell into bed. You was tired of the long days already and you hadn’t been home very long at all.

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #submission #gifted #Chapter 38 #nekoamamori

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