#''It looks like Zombies All Up In My Shit Restaurant.'' i NEED to make a post about these dialogues dude | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pickalilywrites · 3 years

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i'm still alive ^^

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How to Be a Good Coworker

Erejean. Zombie Detective AU.

Chapter 4.

11442 words.

Read on Ao3!

For the past week, Eren has been bumming it out at Jean’s house. Every other day, he visits the basement in the bookstore Annie works at so that he and his friends can compare notes, but not much progress has been made in terms of finding his killer. While everyone else’s suspect lists remain empty at every meeting, Annie’s list manages to grow every time they see each other.

(“Are you just writing down the name of everyone in town that you can remember?” Armin asks her at one point after taking a closer look at her list.

“Yes,” Annie replies without blinking.)

Eren’s beginning to think that they’ll never find his murderer, but maybe that’s okay. Maybe his murder was a one-time thing and whoever killed him regretted their actions so much that they vowed never to kill again. Maybe they’re repenting for their sins right now. Maybe there isn’t a killer lurking in the town and turning people into zombies and they’re just doing all this extra work for nothing. Eren knows that the possibility of this is highly unlikely, but he honestly wants to shove all this business about his murderer in the back of his mind now that he has more pressing things to worry about.

After visiting his mother the other day, Eren’s phone has been blowing up every morning and night with texts from his mom. She’s always asking him how he’s doing, if he wants to visit soon, and what he had for breakfast or dinner. His answers are nearly always the same: fine, maybe when he finds the time, and just whatever Jean had gotten from his mom or a nearby restaurant. He always has to take pictures of Jean’s meals to send to his mom and assure her that he’s eating properly, although all the oil and spices make him want to gag. Even being near them makes him feel nauseous. Jean likes to point out that Eren’s choice in food isn’t any much better, but Eren begs to differ. The fact that the meat he eats isn’t loaded with any seasonings or extraneous flavors makes his food superior already, but Jean always rolls his eyes whenever Eren begins his rant on the greatness of raw meat.

Eren shreds into a piece of pork shoulder. It’s not his favorite cut of pork. Although the cut of pork might be more forgiving on Jean’s wallet, it’s tougher than Eren prefers. Maybe Jean doesn’t see a difference because he’s never thought about how different it is once the meat is cooked. Pork shoulder is similar to other cuts when they’re cooked. You could substitute it with pork butt or a pork leg and still get the same tenderness, but only if you braise it. When it’s uncooked, it’s tough as shit, Eren thinks as he gnaws on the meat in dissatisfaction. He’d rather be eating some pork belly right now with meat so fatty that it’s practically melting on his tongue. The thought of it makes Eren drool and the piece of meat in his mouth nearly falls out.

Someone knocks at the door and Eren freezes. Jean is already out for work. He’s too organized to leave anything at home, so there isn’t any reason for him to come back. Jean’s mother is even more organized and knows Jean’s schedule even better than Jean probably does, so it wouldn’t make sense for her to come here either.

Cautiously, Eren gets up from his seat and makes his way to the front door as quietly as possible. He doesn’t even breathe as he peers into the peephole, his cheek pressed against the door. He’s more than surprised when he sees Annie Leonhardt standing on the other side. Or maybe he shouldn’t be.

“Did you forget that I was supposed to pick you up today?” Annie grumbles as soon as Eren opens the door. She doesn’t even bother to say hello. Then again, Annie has never been one to waste time with meaningless greetings. She breezes past Eren and plops down on Jean’s couch, quite comfortable even though this isn’t even her apartment. When she sees Eren staring at her, she raises her eyebrows and gestures towards his half-eaten breakfast. “Don’t just stand there gawking. Finish your disgusting food. We have places to be.”

Eren sniffs and swings the door shut. It’s strong enough to shake the tiny apartment, but Annie doesn’t even flinch. “It’s not disgusting,” Eren mumbles as he shuffles over to the dining table. Hastily, he wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and grimaces when he sees traces of blood smeared across his skin. He really does need to listen to Jean about eating properly. It’s fine if it’s just Jean, but if it's Annie or any of their other friends, it’s embarrassing even if they also know about Eren’s condition.

The TV buzzes in the background as Annie flips through Jean’s Netflix account. Every once in a while she’ll smirk or snort at Jean’s choice in TV shows.

“Aren’t you invading his privacy?” Eren asks through a mouthful of pork shoulder. He nearly chokes trying to swallow it down. It’s as tough as shoe leather.

Annie points at Eren with the remote and gives him an icy stare. “Eren, we all know everything about each other. It’s the curse of being friends with you guys. I know every single anxious thought running through Armin’s mind at any given moment, I know you’re a zombie and all your weird zombie cravings, and I know just how much Reiner loves Bertholdt,” Annie says. “I’m pretty sure Jean doesn’t care that I’m browsing through his Netflix profile right now.”

Eren makes a face. Everything Annie has said is true, but it still feels wrong. It’s not like he can argue against Annie, though, so he shuts up, finishes the rest of his breakfast, and quickly washes his plate and utensils in the sink. Jean has said that he doesn’t mind if Eren just leaves his dirty plates in the sink, but it feels weird to have Jean wash plates smeared with blood that aren’t even his. Once he’s done, he slips into Jean’s room to change while Annie watches The Walking Dead, which feels kind of inconsiderate considering the circumstances.

“I’m ready,” Eren announces, stepping into the living room space. He’s dressed in black slacks and a mossy green turtleneck that covers his neck. Jean had done some quick shopping for Eren after work one day, so these clothes fit much better than the ones Eren had been borrowing from Jean. Eren has a tan peacoat thrown over his ensemble. He looks much nicer than he ever did for any of his internships back in college. Maybe he should let Jean pick his outfits for him more often.

Annie looks him over and frowns. “Aren’t you two awfully domestic?” she asks before clicking the TV off. She leans forward, elbows on her knees with her cheek resting in one hand. “Jean picked out some really nice clothes for you. You actually look better than you ever did when you were alive.”

Eren wrinkles his nose. He doesn’t think he’ll ever appreciate that joke. “How do you know he picked out these clothes?” Eren asks.

“Because you could never pick out clothes that look that good,” Annie replies. She ignores Eren, who’s spluttering and clearly offended, and shrugs on her coat. She wraps a fluffy white scarf (no doubt another one of Armin’s creations) around her neck and looks back at Eren. “Let’s go. I don’t want to have to look after you all day.”

“I told you guys I didn’t need you to walk me to and from work,” Eren mumbles, but he shuffles after Annie as she walks to the door.

“It’s more for the benefit of everyone else in town. You know, so you don’t eat them on accident,” Annie says. She says it casually, but Eren still winces. She gestures for Eren to follow her out the door. “Lock the door, too.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Eren rolls his eyes but does as he’s told. He even gives the handle a little jiggle to make sure he’s locked the door properly. When he slips the keys into the pocket of his slacks, he looks up to see that Annie is already descending the stairs. “Wait for me!” he squawks.

Despite being the smallest out of their group of friends, Annie seems the least afraid of letting her guard down around Eren. Armin, of course, is always anxious and has always been that way since before Eren had become zombified. Reiner, despite his jokes, still visibly tenses around Eren if he gets too close and Jean is always watching Eren with a cautious eye. Annie, however, shows her back freely to Eren. Had it been anyone else, Eren would be touched, but he knows for a fact that Annie is only relaxed because she can easily take Eren down with her eyes closed even in his zombie form. In a way, it makes it a little easier for Eren to be around her than some of their other friends.

The walk to the news building is long and silent. It’s something that should be expected. Annie is not one for conversation even with her friends. Eren knows this quite well considering the fact that they’ve both known each other for nearly their entire lives. Still, it doesn’t stop Eren from trying to make conversation because there’s nothing more than awkward lulls of silence.

“So, do you have any leads?” Eren asks. He shoves his hands into his pockets. He wonders if he should have put on gloves to hide how ugly and boney his fingers are. Maybe he’ll ask Armin to knit him some mittens. “It’s pretty hard for me to investigate myself since we’re trying to limit the amount of time I’m outside, but if you have anything …”

“I have many leads,” Annie replies. She turns her head slightly to face Eren and it makes it a little easier to hear her, although her voice is still muffled by her scarf. Almost the entire lower half of her face is covered by the scarf. Only her icy blue eyes and light blonde hair peeks out. “In fact, it might delight you to know that my list of suspects has only grown longer.”

It takes every ounce of self-restraint that Eren has to not let out a huge sigh. “I thought Armin specifically told you to stop adding names to that list,” Eren says. He reaches up to rub his eyes tiredly. “I think he told you to shorten that list and focus on people that might have actually wanted to kill me. Or turn me into a zombie.” For a brief moment, he wonders if those two things are the same.

Annie shakes her head. “You two are gravely underestimating the number of people in this town that would have wanted to kill you at least once in their lives,” Annie says with a cluck of her tongue. “It would be a disservice to our investigation to shorten that list. Besides, isn’t it better to leave every stone unturned?”

Eren eyes her wearily. He’s far too tired to argue with her. He strongly suspects that Annie isn’t taking this investigation seriously if she’s just writing down anyone’s name that comes to mind. Maybe he should be glad that she’s enjoying this in some sick, twisted way. At least someone’s having fun.

“Annie!” someone calls. It surprises Eren and it seems Annie too by the way she jumps slightly at the voice. When they turn around, they see a young girl with her dark hair in pigtails bundled up in a puffy winter coat that makes her look twice her size. When the girl smiles, she looks just like Reiner. “Are you coming to play?”

“Hi, Gabi!” Annie says. Her tone is much brighter than it usually is. She casually steps in front of Eren so that she’s now between him and the young girl. Crouching down slightly, Annie reaches out to pat Gabi on the head. “Nope. I’m just walking with my friend today. I’ll come visit you and Reiner at school if I have time, though.”

The young girl looks slightly disappointed and sticks her lower lip out in a pout. It’s been a while since Eren has seen Reiner’s niece. She’s grown quite a bit. She’s grown taller since the last time Eren’s seen her and her cheeks are nice and plump. The cold has made them look even rounder and rosier, and Eren thinks about how soft and smooth her skin looks. She reminds him a little bit of a newborn calf with her large eyes and young flesh. If he dug his teeth into her skin, he bet it would be like biting into cream and taste just like …

“Eren …?” the child asks. She’s staring up at him with those large brown eyes of hers.

Even with Annie standing firmly between them, Eren gulps nervously. Before he can open his mouth and say “hello,” a loud voice interrupts from behind.

“Gabi! Come give your Uncle Reiner a hug!” Reiner’s voice booms. It startles Eren, nearly making him fall backward. When the zombie turns to see Reiner, Reiner is holding open his arms for his niece, who gladly jumps into them. Reiner scoops Gabi up easily and spins her around, pressing a kiss against the crown of her head.

“Uncle Reiner!” Gabi squeals, giggling as Reiner gives her more kisses before putting her down behind him. She’s safely behind the wired gate of the kindergarten. She’s too busy smiling and giggling to notice the tense smile on her uncle’s face.

“Go play with the other kids before class starts, Gabi,” Reiner says. He gives her a pat on the head and watches as she runs off. When he turns back to Eren and Annie, he has a stern look on his face. It’s the kind of expression teachers and principals wore whenever Eren had been caught for causing trouble. Seeing it on Reiner’s face is just as bad. “You brought a zombie near my school?”

Unlike Eren, Annie doesn’t seem as ashamed. Maybe it’s because she never frequented the principal’s office as much as Eren had. “It was the closest way to the newspaper company,” Annie says, “and I had it handled. If Eren even started to lunge for Gabi, I was going to kill him.”

Eren squeaks.

“Gee, thanks,” Reiner says with a roll of his eyes. He leans against the gate, his arms crossed firmly across his chest. “I’d appreciate it if you took Eren on a different route on his way to work, though. As much as I know you could kill Eren with a single blow, I don’t want my students to watch you kill him if they happen to be around.”

Annie thinks for a moment, nibbling on her bottom lip, and then nods. “I’ll take him a different way starting tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Reiner sighs. His face relaxes into a bright smile that’s just a little bit apologetic, although Eren is really the one that should be apologizing. Reiner reaches out to clap Eren on the back a little too roughly. “Congrats on the job, Eren. Are you excited for work?”

“Ah, I suppose,” Eren mumbles. He fidgets with the edge of his sleeves. “I mean, I like the idea of earning money so I can stop mooching off Jean.”

“You should mooch off of him,” Reiner says with a grin. “He’s your boyfriend. Shouldn’t you enjoy the fact that he’s spending money on you?”

Eren knows he’s only joking but he can feel his face redden anyway. “It’s not like it’s for real. He only did that so our moms wouldn’t be suspicious about why I’m living with him instead of returning home.”

“Still,” Reiner says with a dreamy sigh, “kind of romantic, don’t you think? It’s like a fake dating trope in real life, and you know how that ends.”

“This is real life, Reiner,” Eren reminds him.

Reiner dismisses Eren with a wave of his hand. “Things that happen in fiction can happen in real life!” Reiner says. “And even if it isn’t real, don’t you think it’s quite touching that Jean would fake date you just to keep people from discovering your secret?” He gestures to all of Eren, which makes the zombie feel dirty somehow.

“It’s just because he’s my friend,” Eren says.

“I would never pretend to date you,” Annie tells Eren, “for any reason.”

“... thanks, Annie.” Eren clears his throat and steers the conversation back to its original topic. “It’s just … impractical to have Jean earn money for both of us, especially since I’ll be living with him for the foreseeable future. It only makes sense that I get a job and this one seems perfect for me, although I don’t know why Jean doesn’t want me to work there.”

“Because he wants to be your sugar daddy,” Reiner says at the same time Annie says, “Because of Mikasa Ackerman.”

Eren shoots Reiner a glare and then turns to Annie, whose frown is deeper than usual. “What’s the deal with Mikasa Ackerman?” he asks. “Did they date or something? I asked Jean the other day, but he was acting funny.” To be honest, the thought of Jean dating Mikasa makes Eren feel weird. On one hand, it makes perfect sense if they dated and that’s why Jean feels awkward about Eren working with her. On the other hand, Eren finds that doesn’t particularly like the idea of Jean dating Mikasa, but he can’t exactly say why.

Both Reiner and Annie shake their heads.

“It’s because she’s the worst,” Annie says, which only gives Eren more questions than answers.

The zombie opens his mouth and then closes it. He points at Annie, waggling his finger around her. “Okay, what’s the deal with you and Mikasa Ackerman?” he asks. Eren raises an eyebrow curiously. “Did you date her?”

“No, God! Don’t be disgusting. It’s nothing!” Annie says, throwing her hands up. “There’s no deal with me and Mikasa. I just don’t like her! Do I need a reason to dislike someone? Can’t I just dislike them for no reason?”

Eren frowns. It’s not that Annie needs a reason to dislike someone. She hates a majority of people she meets for no real reason. Sometimes there are reasons, but they’re often trivial: someone breathing too hard, someone blinking too much, someone smiling too often. Eren would definitely believe in Annie disliking someone for no reason, but the way she vehemently dislikes Mikasa makes it difficult for Eren to believe that it’s for no particular reason.

“It’s because Mikasa called Mina cute once,” Reiner says. He leans with his shoulder against the wired fence and it creaks slightly from his weight. Even as Annie shoots the schoolteacher a glare, Reiner just smiles back with a lopsided grin, clearly amused. “Mina giggled and Annie was furious for the rest of the night. She’s still mad.”

“That’s not it!” Annie splutters, throwing her hands up. It’s comical how she looks when she’s fuming and bundled up so tightly like a fluffy bundle of yarn. Well, it would be funny if Annie were a less terrifying person. “Why do I have to like her just because everyone else does? I just think she’s overrated, she and her stupid sword and bobbed haircut!”

“You know, most people would consider those things very cool,” Reiner says.

“I don’t!” Annie snaps.

“Okay, so I understand why Annie dislikes her, sort of,” Eren says. He’s mostly lying. Like Reiner, he also finds Mikasa’s sword and bobbed hair very cool. In fact, he finds Mikasa similar to Annie because they are both terrifying but very cool, but it’s not something he wants to say out loud. “But what about Jean? As far as I know, Jean doesn’t have an irrational dislike of swords or bobbed hair.” He ignores Annie, who shoots him a death glare that probably would have killed him if he weren’t already dead.

Reiner’s eyes turn skyward as he thinks. “Mmm, I’m not sure if Jean dislikes her. Isn’t it more that he doesn’t want you to get too friendly with Mikasa?” he asks.

“Well, I guess,” Eren says. Now that he thinks of it, there wasn’t any particular malice in Jean’s voice when he spoke about Mikasa. The makeup artist sounded more irritated than angry. “But why wouldn’t he want me to meet Mikasa?”

Reiner thinks some more. He must think of something because his expression brightens and he says, “Maybe it’s because -”

At that moment, Annie coughs loudly. It’s a fake cough, Eren knows, because Annie has never gotten sick in her entire life. When the zombie turns to look at her, she’s shaking her head with a dark expression on her face but she abruptly stops when she sees Eren watching.

“Why did you do that?” Eren asks.

“Do what? I didn’t do anything,” Annie says, feigning innocence. She grabs Eren a little too tightly around the wrist and tugs him towards her. To Reiner, she says, “Okay, we should let you attend to your students now. Let’s go, Eren.”

Reiner looks as if he’s about to say something else but glances down at his watch and notices that he’s about two minutes late. He bids both Eren and Annie goodbye before rushing towards the classroom and ushering his students inside so that they can begin class. Eren and Annie watch until Reiner has rounded every last kindergartner into his room and shuts the door.

“You know, I may not know why you did that, but I will find out,” Eren says, pointing a finger at Annie.

“Well, good luck with that. I’m sure it’ll go well considering how far you’re getting along investigating your own murder,” Annie says, looking down at Eren’s finger amusedly. She turns her back and begins walking down the sidewalk again. She doesn’t wait to see if Eren is following her, but the zombie does pad along after her after a few beats. “I’m sure you will find out about Mikasa eventually, but I will warn you: you won’t like it.”

“Why? Because you don’t like her?” Eren snorts. With his long legs, it’s quite easy to catch up to Annie. “Is it because we’re friends and you expect me to hate everyone you hate? I hope you know how tiring that is considering how many people you hate.”

Annie rolls her eyes. “Please, I can hate everyone just fine without your help,” she tells him. She walks with her hands held behind her back, her pace slow and relaxed like she’s not in a hurry. Eren wonders if she’s purposely taking her time so that she can come to work late. “I’m just telling you now, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

It sounds ominous and makes Mikasa seem more mysterious than Eren’s first impression of the newcomer. He could ask more questions, but he knows that Annie probably won’t give him a satisfying answer or if she’ll even answer at all. He’s not sure what Annie’s warning is or how helpful it is. What could Mikasa possibly have done to make Eren dislike her when he didn’t even know her prior to becoming a zombie? Maybe if Eren discovered Mikasa was the person responsible for turning him into a zombie, Annie’s warning would make perfect sense but the thought of that just makes Eren snort because there’s just no way. In the end, he decides that it’s just Annie’s dislike of Mikasa that’s causing the blonde to make such negative claims about the journalist.

The two of them end up at the gate of the newspaper building. It feels a little embarrassing for Annie to have walked him the entire way there. It’s like she’s dropped him off at kindergarten, but Eren knows he shouldn’t complain.

“Thanks for walking me here,” Eren mumbles, his feet shuffling on the ground.

“No worries,” Annie says. Her hands are folded across her chest and she looks reluctant to leave him, but Eren doesn’t know if it’s because she’s genuinely concerned about him or because she doesn’t want to go to work. He highly suspects it’s the latter reason. Annie tosses her head so that her bangs are no longer in her eyes and she frowns when she sees the figure standing at the front of the building. “Ugh, your coworker is waiting to greet you, I see. Better not keep her waiting but … just try not to be her friend. Just … be her coworker and keep things professional.”

Weird advice, Eren thinks. “Uhh, okay,” he laughs. He gives Annie an awkward salute and begins to walk towards Mikasa. “I’ll do that. Have a good day, Annie!”

He expects her to leave immediately, but he’s surprised that she watches him until he and Mikasa enter the building.

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Being introduced into his new workplace is … strange, to say the least. It’s strange because Mikasa introduces Eren to people who he’s known his whole life, people who had invited him to work with them after they found out he graduated with a degree in journalism but Eren had turned them down in the hopes that something better would soon come his way. Something better never did, but these people still smile at him and welcome him to the office because it’s easier to do that than hold a grudge against someone in a small town.

Mikasa shows him around the small box of an office, introducing him to everyone and laughing easily with them as if she’s the one that had grown up in this small town her whole life and not Eren. It makes Eren a little jealous and he wonders just how much he had missed while he was gone. Mikasa tells him a little bit about the articles they’ve covered in his absence �� nothing interesting, just more missing visitors, some news about the pasta place on the street corner getting an honorable mention in a reputable food blog, and a cat that got repeatedly stuck in a tree for two weeks straight. There are, however, a few newspaper articles about Eren, but Mikasa quickly glosses over them as if to save Eren some embarrassment.

“And here’s your desk,” Mikasa says, gesturing to the cube next to hers. It’s a tiny thing, just four walls and a desk with a standard computer and a few cabinets to hold his things. It looks exactly like Mikasa’s. The only difference is that she has a few papers here and there, but her desk is strangely barren. Even their coworkers have a few knick-knacks or pictures to personalize their desks, but Mikasa’s is void of anything that would give a stranger a peek into her personal life. She’s either incredibly private, neat, or boring.

“Ah, thanks,” Eren says. He should probably be excited, but he feels a little tired looking at how dull his desk is. Maybe he should buy a plant to liven up his workspace.

“No problem. It’s a pleasure to be working with you, Eren,” Mikasa says cheerfully. “Even if you did lie to me right when we met.”

A huge pang of guilt hits Eren in the chest. It makes him wince. “Sorry,” he mumbles, and he really is. There isn’t really any good explanation he can give to Mikasa for lying, but she hadn’t asked him about it when he had come in this morning either. Maybe Annie is completely wrong about Mikasa and Eren’s new coworker is just a really nice person who doesn’t care about strange falsehoods. “I … I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have lied. I just … was kind of nervous about returning here. It’s not like my current situation is exactly glamorous.”

Her brown eyes are warm when she smiles. They’re kind, understanding. “Hey, don’t worry. We all have our problems. Let’s just hope this is another good beginning for you and hope for the best,” Mikasa says to Eren. She gestures for Eren to follow her and they begin walking to the supply closet they had passed by earlier. Mikasa throws open the door and starts searching through its contents. Unfortunately, the whole thing is a mess. “I hope you don’t mind getting right down to business today. I’ve wanted to write this article forever, and it’s kind of perfect that you’re here now because you know the hills better than I do.”

“Ah, that’s fine,” Eren says absentmindedly. He starts searching the closet alongside Mikasa, although he’s not exactly sure what they’re looking for. He shoves aside boxes of paper clips and sets a bunch of mismatched folders on the top shelf so that he can look through the shelves better. “What do you have in your article so far?” Eren asks mostly to make small talk, but he realizes that Mikasa might have information that could prove useful to Eren and his friends.

“Mmm, nothing substantial. Just what I told you the other day when we met — people are disappearing here, zombies appear, and your town seems to have an upsetting amount of occurrences compared to other locations that report zombie sightings,” Mikasa replies. She pauses for a minute, biting her lip as if she’s deciding if she should continue. After a moment, she says in a lowered voice, “It could be that … someone is creating zombies on purpose and their prime area of operation is this town.”

Eren blinks. It’s the very same hypothesis that Armin had proposed. If Mikasa thinks it’s a possibility too, maybe Eren and his friends are headed in the right direction.

“Oh, here it is,” Mikasa says. She plucks a camera out from behind boxes of pens and highlighters and plops it into Eren’s hands. She grins at him. “Are you ready for your first field investigation?”

Eren gulps and then nods. Working with Mikasa might bring him even closer to discovering the identity of his murderer and their motives. This job may have been a blessing in disguise.

“Ready,” Eren says.

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The trek up the hills is a lot more difficult than Eren remembers. The hills are steeper, the path windier, and the winds chillier. He doesn’t remember it being this tiring walking up the hills even when he had been a child playing in the woods. He thinks it has to do with the fact that he’s lost quite a bit of muscle mass since becoming a zombie, which his many layers of clothing easily disguises. The camera around his neck hangs like a weight that only feels heavier and heavier with every step he takes.

Although Eren seems to be having a difficult time up the mountain, Mikasa seems fine. While Eren drags his feet, Mikasa takes each step as energetically as the last. She’s several steps ahead of him, and Eren’s sure she’ll disappear from view soon if she keeps that same pace. Every once in a while, she’ll turn around and smile at Eren, stopping so that he can catch up a little bit, but then take off again. Clearly, these two-second breaks that she takes are purely for Eren to catch up. Mikasa doesn’t need them to catch her breath at all.

“Have you seen a lot of zombies here since you’ve arrived?” Mikasa asks Eren as they continue up the hill. They’re nearing the top, but Mikasa isn’t the least bit breathless.

I see one every time I look in the mirror, so you could say I see one every day, Eren thinks, but he’s not stupid enough to say it out loud. He watches how Mikasa’s sword dangles from her hip. “I haven’t really … gone out a lot since I’ve come back,” Eren pants. At least he’s not lying. Eren’s been lying to everyone so much lately that he’s always relieved on the few occasions he can tell the truth.

“Mm,” Mikasa hums. For once, she slows her pace and lets Eren catch up to her so that they can walk side-by-side. “Ah, settling in does take time even if you’re returning home. You’ll probably see more zombies soon enough, so it’s probably good you haven’t been out much.”

If she only knew.

Eren wonders if he should put some more distance between himself and Mikasa. It’s always dangerous being around people, and Mikasa is the closest he’s been to a human without his friends around to hold him back. He can’t tell much about her body type — if she’s more lean muscle or if she has a good amount of fat underneath her skin — because he’s only seen her bundled under layers of clothes. He supposes he should be grateful to the chilly fall weather for that. Still, it makes him wonder what he’ll find if he peels back the layers of cotton and wool. Tough muscle like that of a deer? Soft, tender meat like that of a newborn calf? Succulent, juicy flesh like that of a fattened goose? Eren could dream about it all day, but the glimmer of Mikasa’s blade peeking out from its hilt always reminds him that it’s a bad idea.

The top of the hill gives them a decent view of the forest below, but the autumn foliage makes it difficult to see very much. Beyond that lies the town, quiet as it always is. It really is a nice place. If zombies weren’t popping up now and then, Eren would bet people aside from amateur detectives would come here just to experience how charming and quaint it is.

“I think we should go our separate ways here,” Mikasa says to Eren, which surprises him. “You should go and explore one side and take pictures of anything that you find interesting. I’ll let you know if I see anything on the other side. Sound good?”

It doesn’t sound good to Eren. It sounds weird. He thought they would be working on this whole zombie article together, and it makes him nervous that Mikasa would want to work separately. Maybe that’s just how she operates. Maybe she’s an independent collaborator. If so, Eren should just agree and do his best to take pictures. Mikasa doesn’t know him at all, and Eren does not plan on letting her know that he’s a terrible person to have on group projects. He’s going to be a good coworker and do his assigned work even if it means he has to do it alone.

“Sounds good!” Eren says cheerfully.

He had been enthusiastic about getting a job, but the work is a lot less exciting. Yes, Eren wants to find the reason why zombies are somehow drawn to this particular town as much as Mikasa does. Because of his situation, he’s probably even more motivated than Mikasa because finding the reason might also lead him to the person who had killed him and resurrected him as a zombie, but the work is admittedly demoralizing because it’s incredibly difficult to find evidence of zombies.

What is there to capture on camera that hasn’t been seen already? People in this town already know of zombies. They know what zombies do, and they’re hardly threatened. Some people even get dogs to chase zombies off their yard because they can’t be bothered to do it themselves and even a chihuahua does a decent enough job. The things zombies leave behind are even more boring.

Eren doesn’t know what to take pictures of. He takes a few shots of the forest, trying to remember what his professors had said about the rule of thirds and lighting and shutter speed during the few classes he had taken for his photography minor. There’s a picture he takes from a nearby stream that looks rather nice, almost like it can be hung in an office or put on a postcard, but it’s probably not remarkable enough for a local newspaper article about zombies.

Finding photographic evidence of a zombie is pointless though. The few pictures Eren does snap could just be grasping at straws: odd footprints that are dragged out across the dirt path, pieces of fabric caught on the branches of shrubbery, smears of blood against the trunk of a tree. There’s a possible non-zombie explanation for all of this though. The footprints could be from a tired hiker and not from a zombie. Both tend to drag their feet across the ground. The fabric could also be a hiker or maybe even a hunter whose clothes got stuck in a bush. The blood smear is a little more exciting, but it’s possible that it came from an injured animal or someone who fell during a hike. These photographs are so pathetic that Eren would rather lie and say he didn’t capture anything at all than show them to Mikasa.

Eren does entertain the thought of telling Mikasa he had managed to take no photographs. It would just be another small lie piled up on his ever-growing pile. Considering how many lies he’s told so far, adding another one shouldn’t be that big of a deal, but it still makes him feel bad.

What makes things worse is that Mikasa has been nothing but nice to him. He still has no idea why Jean and Annie want him to stay away from Mikasa so much. From what he can tell, Mikasa is a decent person. She gave him his first job, didn’t say very much about him lying to her, and entrusted him to work with her on a project she’s excited about. Telling her that he didn’t get any work done wouldn’t feel bad just because he’d be lying to her again, but Eren would also feel like he let her down by helping her progress her work.

Eren frowns as he flips through the photos on his camera. He wonders if he should delete them. It’s probably what Jean and Annie would do since they’re so opposed to Mikasa, but what would Armin do?

Armin is a worrywart, first and foremost. Getting too involved with Mikasa and risking her knowing that Eren is actually a zombie is definitely something to avoid. Mikasa probably won’t hesitate to kill Eren if the sword swinging from her hip is anything to go by. But then again … Mikasa seems quite smart and driven from what Eren has seen of her. If she’s out to find the reason for the zombies cropping up in this town, then he does not doubt that she’ll find something and any information could prove useful in his own investigation into the matter. After careful consideration, Eren is quite certain that Armin would willingly work with Mikasa and only withhold the necessary details, like the fact that Eren is actually a zombie, but anything that helps Mikasa helps the greater good.

Eren turns his head and opens his mouth to call for Mikasa, but he hears her call his name first.

“Eren!” Mikasa’s voice rings loudly through the forest. It’s enough to make the birds take flight from the trees where they had previously rested, their wings fluttering as the trees shake and leaves rustle. “Eren, come here!”

“Coming!” Eren calls back. He follows her voice, which leads him off the path towards the other side of the hill. Eren wonders what she could have seen. He hopes it’s not another zombie. He doesn’t know what he would do if he came face-to-face with another one of his kind in his current state. For a brief moment, he thinks she might have seen the carcass of an unfortunate hiker that had stumbled across a zombie. The thought horrifies Eren, but the fact that his stomach growls from just the idea horrifies him even more.

As he gets closer, Eren’s steps become a little slower, a little more cautious. He really doesn’t want to see what Mikasa had stumbled upon. He closes his eyes. The zombie takes another tentative step, sniffing the air for anything unusual. The stench of rotting flesh doesn’t fill the air. The smell of sweet blood doesn’t waft to his nostrils. It really just smells like … the crisp fall air.

Eyes open now, Eren takes a few more steps and sees Mikasa with her back turned towards him. She’s looking at something, and Eren’s eyes slowly follow her gaze to … a large hole in the ground. It’s a very familiar hole, Eren realizes, because it’s the same one he dug when he had crawled out of the ground.

“It’s quite deep,” Mikasa murmurs. She drops down to inspect it closer, reaching down to touch the dirt. She gathers some in her hand and lets it fall from her fingers. “I would say .. six feet deep. That’s deep enough to bury a body.”

“Ah, do you really think so?” Eren asks. He kicks at the ground, knocking some dirt into the hole as if doing so would undo what he did. “It looks a little bit shallower than that. Maybe like … five feet and … six … inches?” He sounds like an idiot and he knows it, but he can’t help. He’s afraid that Mikasa will somehow figure out the truth: that this hole isn’t just any hole, but an Eren-shaped hole that he had popped out of when he had come back from the dead. Granted, the shape isn’t anything like him. It’s all in his head. In reality, the hole is kind of a blob shape because he hadn’t been very neat when he had dug himself out.

“No, it’s deep deep,” Mikasa says. She stands up and brushes her hands off. The reporter takes a moment to observe the curious hole and then gestures at it. “Take a few pictures of this at different angles. We should probably report this, whatever this is.”

“Er, okay,” Eren says as he fumbles for his camera. It takes him far too long to focus the lens and find the right button to snap the pictures. “What do you think … what do you think this is?” he asks nervously.

Mikasa gives him a smile. “Are you sure you want to hear? Fair warning: I’m going to sound like a conspiracy theorist,” Mikasa says.

“N-no,” Eren stammers. “I want to know.” It’s not really that he wants to know. He’s afraid of just what Mikasa knows, but he also needs to know what thoughts are floating around her head.

“I think this is where zombies come from,” Mikasa says simply. She kicks a little bit towards the hole. “I’ve been doing some research … I believe this is part of the process of turning people into zombies. I know people here don’t really think about it but … the pattern between missing persons and zombies that appear are striking. It’s not just the fact that zombies oftentimes wear the same clothing that was last seen on people who were reported missing, but the time frame between when people go missing to when they’re … zombies, I guess you could call them, is pretty consistent. It’s about a year.”

“A-a year?” Eren gulps. He hopes Mikasa doesn’t put two and two together. He hopes she hadn’t read the papers about him going missing in the local newspaper archives. He hopes she believes his lie about taking off suddenly without letting anybody in town know. He hopes she doesn’t remember the fact that he was gone for approximately a year.

“Mmm, yeah. A year,” Mikasa says with a nod. “I think these holes are … well, this is the first one I’ve seen, but maybe there are more like it.”

“You think there are more?” Eren asks. The thought makes sense. He doesn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to him sooner.

“I think if we dig around we’ll find out, but I doubt the townspeople would be happy about digging up the hills just to find out if zombies pop out of the ground,” Mikasa laughs. She looks thoughtful again, her head slightly tilted as she continues to piece together points Eren can’t quite see yet. “I think maybe … the process of becoming a zombie requires that a person dies, be buried in the ground, and be reanimated. Maybe the reanimation steps are a bit more complicated. Maybe it’s something that happens before the body is buried and takes place while the … body is buried underground.”

It’s sounding awfully familiar. Eren should be thrilled. Some of these things Mikasa is bringing forth are the same things Armin had also said during their meetings. The one-year gap between missing persons reports and their corresponding zombie appearance is new, though. It’s definitely something he should mention at the next meeting or even bring up in the group chat, but Eren can’t help thinking that the more information Mikasa gathers about zombies, the closer she is to figuring out that Eren is a zombie too.

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

Thankfully, Eren and Mikasa don’t run into anything else interesting in the hills. It’s disappointing for Mikasa, but it’s a relief to Eren. It’s difficult to hide just how happy he is about how the day ended up. He was able to take some compelling (at least to Mikasa) pictures without giving himself away, and his zombie grave was interesting enough that he didn’t have to show Mikasa the other pathetic pictures he took earlier. Maybe the standards he has for himself are low, but Eren would say that he’s currently killing it at his new job.

“I honestly expect this piece to be rejected,” Mikasa confesses as they’re walking back to the office. “I think the evidence is compelling, but it does sound like a piece that belongs to one of those fake science newspapers.”

As dangerous as it is to have Mikasa discovering more about zombies and potentially finding out the truth about him, Eren knows discouraging her work only slows his own investigation so he gives her a small smile and says, “It’s zombies. Reanimated corpses that don’t have any business walking the earth. Anything you propose is going to sound ridiculous, but you have a better hypothesis than most people. I think it’s worth a shot to put it out there.”

Mikasa looks surprised for a second and then smiles. “Thanks, Eren. That’s very kind of you.”

The two walk together in silence, crisp autumn leaves crunching beneath the soles of their boots. Mikasa doesn’t say much else as they return to the office. Occasionally, she’ll comment about the town — about a shop she finds particularly charming or a townsperson she bumped into the other day — and Eren will respond with an anecdote of his.

“I hope you had a good first day,” Mikasa says once they return to the office. She’s putting away her things, hiding them in the cabinets in her cubicle. Her desk is just as spotless as it was this morning. “I certainly had a good time working with you, Eren.”

“Ah, thank you,” Eren says. He feels relieved that he’s gone through his first day without anything happening. He can’t wait to come home and rub it in Jean’s face. “It was nice working with you too.” He wonders if he should put the camera away for tonight and think about editing the pictures tomorrow. He could just do it tonight. He probably won’t get overtime, but it might be good to do a little extra work these first few weeks to show Mikasa he’s serious about this job. Then again, he doesn’t want to seem too eager in case his coworkers take advantage of him in the future. With a frown, Eren tucks the camera in the cabinet underneath his desk. When he looks up, he sees Mikasa looking at him.

“Hey,” she says. The reporter is leaning against the walls that separate their cubes. “Do you want to grab dinner together tonight? My treat.”

“Er.” Eren squirms, uncomfortable. He doesn’t want to say no, but saying yes would just be … stupid even for him. It’s not like he can waltz into any restaurant and devour the same foods everyone else can. He’s about to shake his head and politely decline, but Mikasa is flipping through her phone.

“Is Korean barbecue good?” she asks. She raises her head, tilting it slightly as she awaits Eren’s answer. “There’s a place … well, I guess you know. If you’d rather go somewhere else, I’m open to it.”

“N-no,” Eren says, surprised. Korean barbecue sounds good. Perfect, even. “That sounds … I’d like to go. Let me just … I need to tell my friend. Boyfriend. He’s picking me up.” At that moment, his phone buzzes and he winces. He knows without looking that it’s Jean. They did agree to Jean picking him up, but he didn’t think Jean would be so … punctual.

Mikasa grins as Eren pulls out his phone. “Is he here already?” Mikasa asks. “You should invite him. I’ll invite my girlfriend too. She just happens to be in town this week.”

“Ah, it’s okay,” Eren says hurriedly. He knows Jean would never agree to this. Not only is it a dinner with someone unaware of his true condition, but it’s a dinner with Mikasa of all people. Jean, for whatever reason, would absolutely hate this. “I’ll just tell him to, ah, go home without me. He probably wouldn’t want to eat with us -”

The doors to the office burst open and Jean storms in, the tail of his trench coat flapping behind him. The makeup artist pays no attention to the stares of Eren’s coworkers. He pauses for just a moment to scan the room and, upon spotting Eren, marches right up to the zombie’s cubicle.

“Eren, come on,” he says through gritted teeth. He sounds angry, but Eren can tell from Jean’s rigid stance and folded arms that the makeup artist is anxious. “I thought you said you would be out by now.”

“Ah, I invited him out to dinner,” Mikasa says from behind Jean. Jean turns to look at her, surprised, and Mikasa gives him a friendly wave that Jean doesn’t return. Jean might dislike Mikasa, but it seems like the feeling is one-sided. Mikasa taps Jean on the shoulder. “You can come with us if you’d like. It’s really my way of thanking Eren for joining the team and being such a good coworker on his first day. He’s really great. I’m looking forward to working with him long-term.”

“Y-you do?” Eren stammers. He didn’t think he did a very good job. To have Mikasa tell him that he did well makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside. He looks eagerly at Jean. “It’s fine if I have dinner with her just this once, right? Mikasa invited me and I did a good job today so …” His voice trails off. He expects Jean to say no. After all, he had warned Eren to avoid Mikasa as much as possible.

“Fine,” Jean finally says. When Eren looks at him, Jean’s shoulders are slumped in defeat. His eyebrows are still knit together and Eren can tell that Jean doesn’t like the idea one bit, but it doesn’t matter. Jean said he could go, so Eren is going to that dinner. “But I’m coming with you,” Jean says firmly.

Eren begins to whine. “You don’t have to babysit me,” he begins, but Jean isn’t listening.

“Yes, I do,” Jean replies. There’s something authoritative in his voice. It makes Eren’s toes curl and his cheeks flush, but it might be because Jean’s busily rewrapping the zombie’s scarf around his neck.

“Cute,” Mikasa says as she distractedly checks her phone. She taps something on it before tucking it back into the pocket of her coat. “Let’s head over then. My girlfriend said she’d meet us there.”

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

The meat at the barbecue house is much better than Eren remembers. It’s strange, but becoming a zombie has given him a much more refined palate when it comes to eating meat. He can tell if poultry is free-range with just a taste, if cows were fed more than just corn for their diet before they were slaughtered, and if pigs were allowed to roam and scavenge for food instead of just eating feed before they were turned to bacon. He tries to explain this to his friends at times, but they never really get it. To them, meat is just meat. Sometimes, Eren can’t believe he had once lived as ignorantly as them.

Mikasa sits across the table and observes as Jean feeds Eren another piece of barely cooked meat. She looks at him curiously. “You like your meat rare, Eren?” Her tone isn’t judgemental in the least, but it still makes Eren nervous.

“Y-yeah.” Eren forgets to chew the last piece of beef and accidentally swallows it too early. It gets stuck in his throat halfway and he starts to choke. He begins to pound on his chest to free his windpipe but a glass of water appears in front of him. Eren takes it and eagerly drinks it until the beef goes down.

“It’s a taste he acquired when he was traveling,” Jean says. Unlike Eren, he hasn’t eaten much. He’s eaten a few well-cooked pieces here and there, but he’s mostly been feeding Eren and ordering more food from the menu when their plates begin to empty.

“Ah, interesting,” Mikasa says as she nibbles on a piece of Hawaiian pork belly. Even though the meat glistens with fat, Eren can’t stand the sweet marinade that coats it and the pineapples that come with the slices of pork belly. It’s just too … sacrilegious to ruin a piece of meat like that. Eren doesn’t know how Mikasa is able to continuously eat piece after piece of that tainted pork belly.

Eren laughs nervously and puts his hands in his lap. He fiddles with the buttons on his coat. As much as he wants to shove the beef tongue that had just arrived into his mouth, he knows he shouldn’t. He needs to appear normal. He clears his throat. “When is your girlfriend coming?” Eren asks with a slight wince. He shouldn’t have eaten so much when Mikasa’s girlfriend hasn’t even arrived yet.

“Should be any minute,” Mikasa says. She puts a piece of meat on Jean’s plate and gestures for him to eat too. Jean, however, doesn’t even bother to crack a smile. “You guys should just eat up. She really won’t mind.”

Jean pushes the pork belly around his plate with his chopsticks. He doesn’t make any move to pick it up or eat it. “We might head out soon if you don’t mind. I have to be out early tomorrow and Eren likes to prep at night,” Jean says. He doesn’t make any eye contact with Mikasa. “We’ve had more than enough to eat already.”

A whine begins at the back of Eren’s throat but Jean subtly stomps on the zombie’s toes and the sound dies midway.

“Yeah, we should get going,” Eren squeaks as he hunches over in pain.

“Ah, alright then,” Mikasa says with a frown. She doesn’t notice that someone is walking up behind her and doesn’t notice until the person has thrown their arms around her waist. Mikasa looks up in surprise. “Historia!”

The name makes the blood freeze in Eren’s veins. He takes a better look at the woman who has thrown her arms around his new coworker and finds that it is indeed his ex-girlfriend. She still has the same large blue eyes and heart-shaped face, same petite frame and golden blonde hair, same pale pink lips and a cupid’s bow that looks as if it were sculpted by a god. There are things that are different about her since Eren had seen her last: her hair falls down to her shoulder blades instead of at her shoulders, her face is a bit thinner, and she wears an ensemble suited to that of a strict businesswoman when previously her wardrobe was hyper-feminine. It’s so … strange to bump into her like this.

Eren stumbles up from his seat in surprise. “Historia,” he says even as Jean is tugging at his sleeve and hissing at him to sit down. “What are you doing here?” He knows that his friends have mentioned Historia had given up on him after he had disappeared for a year, but he still feels the need to run a hand through his hair. He hopes his makeup hasn’t smudged and that he doesn’t look too unkempt.

Historia’s arms fall away from Mikasa’s waist and she looks at Eren. She doesn’t seem to recognize him at first, eyes narrowing at him as she tries to place exactly where she had seen him, and then her eyes widen in recognition. “Eren?” Her head turns towards Mikasa so quickly that Eren’s surprised that her neck hasn’t snapped. “You didn’t tell me Eren was your new coworker. Or that he came back to town.”

“I thought it would be a nice surprise,” Mikasa says. She pulls out the chair beside her and gestures for Historia to take a seat. Once Historia sits down, Mikasa rubs gentle circles on the blonde’s lower back. “Aren’t you glad he’s alive?”

Eren falls back in his seat in shock, too stunned to pay attention to the conversation Mikasa is having with Historia. He lowers his head and mumbles to Jean, “What the fuck is Historia doing here?”

“I tried to warn you not to hang around Mikasa,” Jean says in a low voice so that only Eren can hear. His teeth are gritted together in a pained smile. “In case you haven’t connected the dots … Historia is the girlfriend Mikasa has been talking about.”

It all makes sense now, Eren thinks, why Jean had wanted Eren to avoid the field reporter so desperately. Whenever Eren had asked if Jean had dated Mikasa or had any romantic interest in her, Jean and his friends had vehemently denied it. Eren had thought they were lying to him but he realizes now that it was because they were telling the truth — and also hiding a more shocking secret about Mikasa from him. Eren would be angry, but he’s too stunned to feel anything but numb.

“Well, it’s good to see you, Eren. I’m relieved to see that you’re alright,” Historia says, but it’s as if she’s talking underwater. Eren can barely register what she’s saying.

“He went on a spontaneous trip, he said,” Mikasa explains as she begins to feed Historia a strip of pork belly that was still sizzling from the grill.

“Oh?” Historia sits closer to the edge of her seat. It looks as if she’s about to ask for details, but Jean is standing up and ushering Eren out of his seat.

“We’ll fill you up on the details another night, Historia. We have to head out right now, but it was nice meeting you.” Jean wraps an arm firmly around Eren’s waist and subtly guides him towards the exit. “Lovely seeing you as always. Let’s do this again sometime.” He doesn’t wait for the couple to respond before he hurries Eren out the door.

The only sound as they walk is the clomp of their boots against the sidewalk. Eren can’t begin to ask the questions running through his head. He knows that even if he did, Jean would be in no mood to answer them. This entire scenario is what Jean had been trying to avoid in the first place. Eren knows that Jean is just waiting for them to return home so the first thing that comes out of his mouth is “I told you so.” It comes as a total surprise when those aren’t the first words Jean says to him.

“Are you okay?” Jean asks as they make their way back.

“I’m … fine,” Eren says even though he isn’t remotely okay. He knows that his tone is far from convincing, but he doesn’t want to dive into this tonight. “Can we stop by the office? I want to grab my camera and edit some of my pictures tonight.”

“You don’t want to rest?” Jean asks. He leans forward and tries to get a better look at Eren’s face, but the zombie pulls his scarf over his face.

“I’m not that tired,” Eren mumbles into his scarf. That isn’t a lie, not really. He could sleep if he wanted, but he’d rather stare at the screen and click mindlessly, making minuscule edits to his photos that people will barely notice. It would help distract him from all the thoughts swirling through his head at least.

It’s been rough returning here. Everyone Eren runs into is a reminder of everything he’s missed since he disappeared. His friends seem perfectly content with living in their small town even though all Eren had ever talked about after college was finding a job in the big city and moving away. His mother looks older and smaller than he remembers even though she had stayed the same all his life. Even Historia had changed, moved on with someone else while Eren was buried in the ground. How had everyone continued to live while he was frozen six feet under?

“It’s not like I expected everyone to wait for me while I was gone. I know it’s not anyone’s fault,” Eren says when they reach the gates of the newspaper building. His hands are balled up in frustration. “But … you don’t know what it’s like to lose everything so suddenly and come back to see that everything has changed.”

Jean stops in his tracks and when Eren looks back he sees the makeup artist with a stunned expression on his face. “Eren,” Jean says. He almost seems … hurt. “We lost you. For an entire year.”

Eren doesn’t have a response to that. He fiddles with the end of his scarf uncomfortably and then ducks his head before hurrying into the office. Thankfully, Jean doesn’t follow him.

The office is empty when Eren flicks the lights on. He mumbles to himself as he walks down the row of cubicles, muttering about what a terrible night this has been. Just when he was feeling normal, Historia showed up and reminded him that he’s not normal and that he can never return to where he once was. He doesn’t even want to think about everything that could have been if he hadn’t gotten murdered that night: if he could have found a job outside of this town, if he could have moved into the city, if he and Historia could have still been together. It’s useless anyway.

Eren finds his empty cube and pulls open one of the drawers, riffling around its contents with one hand. Oddly, there are papers he doesn’t remember placing in his cabinet. He takes another look and realizes that it’s not his cube, but Mikasa’s that he’s wandered into. Their cubicles really look too similar because Eren’s is practically empty and Mikasa has no personal items on her desk to differentiate it from Eren’s.

The zombie is about to shut the drawer and grab his camera at his desk, but something in the back corner of the drawer catches his attention. Curious, Eren reaches for it and pulls out a cell phone. He thinks it’s strange because he distinctly remembers Mikasa using her phone at the restaurant earlier that night. He turns the phone in his hand and the thought that this phone is somehow familiar to him flashes through his mind. He glances at the screen and sees a crack on it that looks exactly like the one on his old phone. The phone he had lost when he had been murdered in the forest.

But how would Mikasa have my phone? Eren thinks. The idea is so bizarre that Eren is about to put the phone back where he had seen it, but then … Mikasa is new in town. She’s only been here for a year at most. Even if everyone else knows her … how well do they really know someone who has only been here a year?

Eren’s hands hover over the power button and, hands shaking, presses it down with his thumb. The screen lights up as it powers on and a few seconds later the lock screen appears. It’s a forest that looks exactly like a picture Eren took hiking once. That has to be a coincidence though. All forests look the same … right?

The phone asks for his fingerprint. Eren’s almost too scared to scan his finger. If it does turn out to be his phone, this only implies that his murderer is … But that’s impossible, Eren thinks. He hadn’t known Mikasa when he died. She would have no reason to kill him. He’s just being paranoid and he can prove that he’s just overthinking all of this strange coincidence with Mikasa and her phone that looks exactly like his old one if he just presses his index finger to the scanner and ...

It unlocks, much to Eren’s surprise. It has all of his old apps on there including Angry Birds which he stopped playing in high school and only kept installed for nostalgia. It’s his phone. And Mikasa had it. And there really isn’t any explanation for it except one.

“Eren?”

Eren drops the phone back into the drawer and slams it shut. When he turns around, he sees Mikasa walking towards him with a confused smile on her face.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

Eren stands up and stumbles out of her cubicle. “Er, n-nothing!” Eren quickly goes to his cube and pretends to rifle through his few belongings before pulling his camera out of his drawer. “I just … changed my mind and wanted to work on some of my photos tonight. Just wanted to … be productive.”

“Oh, you’re so hardworking. I actually left some papers I wanted to look over tonight too,” Mikasa laughs as she goes into her own cubicle and pulls open the cabinet that Eren had gone through only a few minutes before. She frowns when she sees the phone out of place, but she shoves it back into the drawer and pulls out some papers instead. Mikasa shoves the papers into her bag and smiles at Eren. She doesn’t seem to see the perspiration forming on his forehead or his nervous, rigid stance. “Well, we should head home so we can rest. Don’t work too hard.”

“Haha, yeah,” Eren laughs, but it sounds so forced.

The two walk out together and Eren finds Jean chatting politely with Historia. While it might have bothered him earlier, Eren is too preoccupied with his new finding to pay any attention to his ex-girlfriend right now. He’ll worry about it later. Right now, he has to tell Jean something.

He hardly bids the two women goodbye, instead tugging his fake boyfriend by the sleeve and walking hastily towards their apartment.

“Eren, I know you’re upset, but that was really rude,” Jean hisses, but he allows Eren to pull at his sleeve and doesn’t pry the zombie’s hand off. Jean had attempted to wave goodbye, but it wasn’t enough to ward away the amused glances that Historia and Mikasa shot each other as the zombie and makeup artist hurried home.

“This is important!” Eren insists, still pulling Jean. “But I can’t tell you here.”

Jean only sighs and allows Eren to lead him to their apartment. At their quick pace, it only takes them a few minutes to get there and Jean sighs tiredly as soon as they’re inside.

The makeup artist shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the coat rack. He begins to unbutton Eren’s coat too, but Eren doesn’t even move his shoulders back to make it easier for Jean to peel the coat off. “Can you …? Ugh,” Jean huffs as he moves Eren’s arms himself and pulls the coat off. “What is it that you wanted to tell me anyway?”

“I think,” Eren says, tugging at the end of his scarf nervously. He takes a deep breath and tries again. Jean is busy trying to unwind the scarf around Eren’s neck but the zombie puts his hands firmly on Jean’s shoulders so that he has all of the makeup artist’s attention. “I think … I think Mikasa killed me.”

#erejean #zombie detective au #eren jaeger #jean kirstein #snk #htbaz series #how to be a zombie series

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lunarastrobabe · 4 years

Text

Leon Kennedy x F!Reader: A Much Needed Relaxation

(Fluff, no warnings.)

You and Leon had just finished a mission in New York, again with another deadly virus but luckily nothing like what you had both witnessed in Raccoon City 19 years prior. He thought he had witnessed everything, he thought this was it, the end of fighting horrible monsters that plagued his mind like a parasite, a parasite that wouldn’t leave.

This wasn’t the first mission you had both been assigned to, although this time, you had to beg him to let you go with him. You had both returned to your shared apartment back home, covered in dirt and all sorts of goo and blood from the creature you had to defeat, including zombie dogs and multiple zombies that roamed the city looking for something to chew on.

Leon shoved the key into the door and pushed it open, dumping his duffel bag next to the staircase and dragged his feet inside, you followed behind throwing your backpack onto the recliner on the other side of the room. You pushed your hair out of your face and exhaled. You were both exhausted, tired of chasing after multiple monsters and people who desperately wanted you killed. You flicked on the light switch, your eyes adjusting to the bright lights before you entered the kitchen. Leon immediately took a bottle of whiskey from the shelf of the cupboards, a small glass and sat down at the counter on the bar stool. He didn’t say a word.

You knew a man like him is difficult to read, you had been together since the day you met in Raccoon City, watching him evolve from a rookie cop to his first job as an agent and to the man he is today. He had you to thank for it, if it wasn’t for you, he would’ve poured his life and himself down the drain.

You stared at him, your eyes flickering to the glass in his dirty blood-covered gloved hand back to his face. He had bags under his eyes and his hair was a mess. You didn’t like it when he resorted to alcohol to drink away his problems and fears but you understood as you grew with him and saw how his life changed in just an instant.

He noticed you staring, his cheeks burning a rosy-red colour. He took a swig of his drink and set the glass down on a coaster. He looked over to you and then back to his glass and pushed it away from him, he hated letting you see him like this, especially after a difficult mission.

“Leon?” you asked as you approached him and sat beside him on another stool.

“Yes my dear?” He turned to face you and he put a hand on your knee.

The only light that was on was the one coming from the living room, it wasn’t too dark but light enough to see his face. You studied every inch, you stroked your thumb across his stubbly cheek and he leaned into your hand, his chest had this burst of warmth and comfort and his stomach fluttered at every touch you gave him.

“How are you feeling? I know it was a difficult one this time, I just hope I didn’t hold you back.” You stated, avoiding eye contact at first before eventually looking into those grey-blue coloured eyes, it reminded you of peace and tranquility, a bit like the ocean. The waters seemed calm but inside they were stormy and angry, full of fear and pain.

“I’m fine sweetheart,” He smiled a small smile and sat up properly, getting out of his slouched position. “And you should know by now, you’d never hold me back, if it wasn’t for you, I’d probably make a few mistakes or bad decisions.” A small chuckle left his lips which made you let out a giggle.

“That’s true, you are very reckless sometimes.” You removed your hand from his cheek and pushed his hair out of his face and tucked it behind his ears. You set your elbow on the counter and rested your chin on your hand. You stared at his beautiful face, you loved to admire him every second of everyday.

He stood up, holding out his hand for you to take.

“What?” You asked looking at his hand then at him.

“Come with me.” He wiggled his fingers trying to encourage you to follow him.

“Where are we going?” You stood up and took his hand, you were a little shorter than him which he found extremely adorable.

“I’m going to run a bubble bath and order some food, it seems like we both need a little relaxation after the shit that just happened over the past few days.” He bent down and left a kiss to your cheek, his stubble tickling your soft skin. It made you smile.

“You do know how to charm me, Kennedy.” You giggled, as he pulled you along the hallway, switching off the lights before heading up the stairs. “I have my moments” He shrugged with a smirk creeping on his lips.

He sat you in the bedroom as he went into the bathroom to apparently ‘set things up’. Leon isn’t the restaurant, fancy date type. He was more of the romantic type whenever he was at home with you. He ran the bathtub and laid a few lit scented candles around the tub and pulled a single rose from the bouquet that sat next to the bathroom window. He came back into the bedroom, sliding off his black leather jacket and slung it over the door before grabbing some comfortable clothes from his side of the closet.

“It’s ready for you now.” He walked over and took your hand and you both entered the bathroom, the cool tiles against your feet made it all the more relaxing. The walls were a light blue and there was a fluffy white bathmat on the floor.

“Leon you charmer!” You stood on your tiptoes and gave him a soft kiss to his lips, his hand was on your waist and he held it tightly against his body. You pulled back and he kissed your forehead.

He didn’t need to try so hard to please you, but he felt happy and confident whenever he did which always made him forget about his fears and worries, even just for a short while. Making you happy was the one and only priority on his mind.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #imagine #resident evil #vendetta

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wendystales · 3 years

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Memories - lrh (Chapter Fourteen)

Memories (also on Wattpad)

Chapter Thirteen ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ Chapter Fifteen

We stopped in front of the new location of The Art of Taste, where a group of people were waiting to enter. The entire facade was lit with small bulbs wrapped around the bushes, which framed the outside.

My mom is the first out of the car, excited, barely expecting Luke and me. She takes the lead, going straight to security and showing us our invitations.

“She's very excited”. Hemmo comments from beside me, offering me his arm.

“You have no idea.” I open a smile.

We followed my mother as she led the way, looking for Mr. Marshall. I appreciate the decor of the place and fall in love with the small wooden bridge that leads into the restaurant, passing by a pond with koi.

"Debra! You came!” Mr. Marshall approaches as excited as my mother. “You’re stunning.” her cheeks blush.

“Oh, not that much. It's an old little dress I had in the back of the closet.” she lowers her head shyly.

"Didn't she say she bought the dress today?" Luke whispered confusedly to me, almost making me laugh. I watch the two lovebirds praising and flirting like two teenagers.

"Marnie! I'm happy for your presence too.” he hugs me. “You must be Luke! Debra talks about you a lot.” he opens a sympathetic smile.

Subtly, I widen my eyes at my mom, wanting to scold her, but she just shrugged, ignoring me. Luke smiles sympathetically and handles the situation perfectly.

Mr. Marshall takes us to a more private table and away from the window for more privacy. I sit next to Luke, having a full view of whoever enters the restaurant.

“I'm going to have the menu degustations served, and if you don't mind, I'm going to steal Debra for a while.” he smiles at my mother.

“Be my guest!” I open a tight smile, very happy for them.

"Is there something I should know?" Luke asks me after the two walk away arm in arm.

“They're in love, but they don't know what to do.” Summary, still watching the them.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me about it." Luke repeats the same thing I said yesterday. I let out a laugh, disbelieving his audacity.

“Sorry, there was no time.” I raise my eyebrows, like he does.

Yesterday was a special night with Luke. After Urban Light, we went to Santa Monica, to sit on the sand and watch the sea, illuminated by the lights from the pier. It was fun to have this time with him without anyone looking at us like fools for whatever move we made.

It was nice to meet him and know everything he likes and dislikes, as well as getting to know the band's history better. For moments like this, just the two of us, I could let him get closer, totally letting my guard down and creating a better relationship.

Of course because of this endless conversation we had and cause we got super late back home, today I woke up looking like a zombie and only managed to get out of bed by a miracle. But even tired, I would do everything exactly the same, just to be able to spend this time with him.

"Should we wait for the girls?" I question, seeing a board of small toast and various types of sauces and pates being served to us.

“I believe not!” he's the first to take the toast and dip it in a red sauce.

I follow him, quickly taking two and sinking into the same sauce. Tomato and basil. I let out an exclamation when I taste it. I start to eat more, after all, I didn't even have time to have lunch today and I didn't even want to, because I knew I would eat here.

I had invited everyone to come to the opening today, but only Luke, Leah, and Kyleen agreed right away. Calum, Ash and Noah had other commitments and Michael also tried to use this one, but Ashton soon revealed the lie, saying that he was actually going on a date, with that Sophie.

"You didn't have lunch today, did you?" I stop the toast in the air, mouth open, watching Luke look me curious.

“I didn’t have time.” I answer a little embarrassed.

“Well, if we run out of those toast, just ask for more.” he takes one more, sinking now into a green pate. I watch his face, trying to guess what that would be.

“Pesto?” I ask, looking at the pot. Luke denies it. I smell the content not identifying much.

"A bitter taste." he make a face. “No! It's a good bitter.” he adds quickly.

When I least notice, Hemmings and I are playing russian roulette with sauce and pates. We just don't know how to just eat quietly, we have to play.

"Bad?" I ask, watching him close his eyes and wrinkle his nose. Luke nodded, swallowing and eating another toast with the tuna pate, which was what we liked best.

"A taste of… I can't explain it. Eats!” he offers me the toast with the white pate and small green bits.

“No! Don't you know what it is and want to push it to me?” I drop the toast on my plate, wanting distance.

Interrupting our little discussion, Leah and Kyleen arrive.

“Sorry we’re late. There was an accident on the expressway. Have you started eating yet?” Leah glances across the table sulkily.

"M&Ms didn't have lunch." Luke hands it to me. I slap his arm.

“Great, there are two of us.” Kiki smiles, already eating some toast. "What is this one?" she points to the weird pate.

“We haven't eaten yet, but try it there.” Hemmings encourages, surprising me with his performance. I stare at him laughing.

Like Luke, Kiki grimaces, disapproving of the pate. I offer my glass of juice to her, which she drinks in one gulp.

“This is horrible. What is that?” she whispers disgustedly.

Luke steals the menu from the next table, looking for the pate. I squint at the ingredients: ricotta, gorgonzola and pickles. I understand why it's horrible.

It doesn't take long and more stuff arrives at our table. Once again, we started our russian roulette, trying everything out and grading, as if we were at MasterChef. We really don't have maturity for anything.

Looking at the restaurant entrance, I start nudging Luke, flustered, discreetly asking him and the girls to look too. Surprised and excited, we watched Michael approach our table, hand in hand with a girl shorter than him.

“Is it her?” I try to contain my excited voice.

“It's her!” Hemmo confirms.

“Okay! But who is she?” Kyleen asks, lost.

“They met at a game match and now Michael is in love.” I almost run over my words, trying to deliver the information before they arrived.

"I didn't tell you." Luke already takes his off the line.

“Hey!” Michael sighs standing next to the table.

“Hey!” aside from Luke, the girls and I were all smiles.

“This is Sophie! My friend.” Mike introduces. The girl with dark hair and two streaks white, like Narcissa in Harry Potter, smiles shyly.

“Sorry for the delay, we got lost.” her voice is low.

“Actually, I didn't want to come.” Michael doesn't even bother to lie. If it wasn't a public place, I'd throw a shoe on him.

Sophie excuses herself and heads to the bathroom as we pull another table for them. Michael sits across from Luke, leaving Sophie in mine and Leah beside her.

“Please, I'll pay you whatever you want, but don't embarrass me.” Mike begs. “I like her a lot.” he admits it quietly.

"Awn!" me and the girls hold hands, dying of love.

“I hate you.” he declares.

“To show that we are willing to help, do not eat the white pate. It’s not from this world. And not in the good way.” Leah warns him.

Sophie returns to the table, taking a seat across from me. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice how Michael's posture becomes tense. He's so into her. Without needing much, we start a conversation and Sophie slowly walks in, forming a group.

“This gaming field must be shit, right? I mean, for who is a woman, isn't it?” Kyleen asks.

“Yea! No man likes to lose to a woman. They never accept that I play better than they do. Cause of this, when Michael called me, I thought he was going to argue with me.” she gives a shy smile.

"Actually, I was going to ask for my shield back." he gives an ashamed laugh.

"And complain to me how you lost." she completes, making him laugh. The way they look at each other makes my heart melt.

The four of them get carried away on a subject as I approach Luke.

“They're really cute.” I whisper.

"I think we're both a lot cuter." he snaps, smiling. I open a smile, denying the way he's sassy.

“You were not like this.” I comment with a smile. I take my gaze to the hall, finding my mother walking with Mr. Marshall, still arm in arm. "I think they're cuter than us." Luke follows my gaze.

“All right! She's your mother, I'll give you my arm. Do you think they'll be together?”

“I hope!”

“Are you gossiping about Debra?” I am startled by Kyleen approaching me and joining in our conversation.

"What's the gossip with Debra?" Leah already turns her attention to us.

"Is there gossip about Debra?" Michael leans against the table, moving closer.

I look at the curious faces trying to identify how my mom became the subject of the table. If she knows this, she will kill me!

"Don't let her know that." I declare before I lean against the table and tell her about my mother and Mr. Marshall.

Friday

I feel terrible, not only for the cramps and indisposition, but mainly for having to cancel with Luke. I've waited so long for this date and now I'm here, lying on the couch, suffering for being born a woman.

“Here.” Leah hands me a pain killer and a hot water bottle. I lay my head on her lap, wanting to cry. “It's OK.” she repeats calmly as she cuddles me. She knows why. “You can go out next week, he won't change his mind until then.”

“I know he won’t, but…” I catch my throat, not wanting to accept that I would cry about this, but I can't control it, letting a few tears fall. Damn hormones. “I don't know if I can make it another week, I was so excited.” my voice crack it. “Stop laughing!” I scream when I feel her body move.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! But you look so funny like this. Sorry.” she hugs me, holding back her laughter.

Before I can complain, the doorbell rings and I'm grateful that Kiki has finally arrived with food and a lap where I can cry more. Leah runs to open the door and I feel my heartbeat stop for seconds when his voice reaches me. I lift my head, seeing him come in full of bags and a Petunia on a leash.

“What are you doing here?” I quickly dry my face and try to fix my hair. I look awful. Luke looks at me confused and opens his arms, as if the answer is wide open there.

“I came to take care of you, of course.” he laughs. Leah is behind him, smiling like hell.

I sink my face into the pillow, wanting to cry more. I don't deserve him. I don’t deserve. Luke lets go of Petunia, who runs off to try to climb onto the couch and lick me. Leah helps Luke empty the bags in the kitchen.

While they straighten everything out in the kitchen, I go back to tidying up my appearance, trying to look at least presentable.

"I brought some soup that Calum made. Pain killers, sweets and some facial masks, This always helps you relax and get better.” he comes closer and I just want to bury myself. I look awful.

“I can't believe you came here and still brought all this.” my heart melts at the attitude and smile he gives.

"I'm sorry if you thought you were going to get rid of me." he sits beside me with a bowl of soup, pleasant smell by the way. I move closer, almost getting under his arms and snuggling into his chest. However, I still keep a safe distance and control my urges to cling to him.

“Well, since you’re very well cared for and accompanied. I think I'm on my way.” Leah still has the smile. “Get well.” she kisses my cheek. "Anything, call me. And you, take good care of her.” she orders Luke.

“Promise!” he raises his right hand.

Leah left, leaving us alone. Petunia lying on my lap, curious about the hot water bottle. Luke beside me, holding the bowl and spoonful of broth toward me.

"You know you don't have to spoon-feed me, don't you?" I ask before opening my mouth.

"Can you let me take care of you?" he counters, falsely sulking.

“You can, just don't need…”

“Sh-sh! Eat the soup.” he advances another spoonful into my mouth. I roll my eyes, silent.

"Calum who did it?" I ask impressed, after a few spoonfuls.

“He's been taking some cooking lessons, especially now that he's turned vegetarian.”

"You should do it too, to stop making eggs in the microwave." I let a fake smile in the end.

"Worried about me?" he asks smiling.

"Shut up and give me the soup." I ignored him, taking a deep breath and not smiling under his amused gaze.

Between spoonfuls, I play with Petunia, already feeling much better. At least the urge to cry has passed.

"You said you brought candy." I knelt on the couch, watching him carry the bowl of soup to the sink. Luke laughs, grabbing some white and pink boxes from the fridge.

“Yes, I believe sugar can help.” he puts the boxes on the table and pulls Petunia onto the rug. “You don’t!” she barks. “You can’t!” she barks louder. “Hey! Come! I'll give you your food.” I watch her follow him into the kitchen.

I open the first white box seeing a generous piece of Red Velvet. I pick up the fork he brought and already steal a piece. In the second box, I find four cupcakes and four donuts. My eyes widen as I open the third box.

"Did you go to Mr. Marshall's restaurant?" I question shocked.

“Yea! You said you liked his chocolate cake. He made this one especially for you.” I look at the smaller size cake.

“I don't remember him decorating with M&Ms.” I comment, stealing a piece already.

“Oh, I asked him to do it.”

I close my eyes, letting my body react to that information any way it wants to. He asked them to put M&Ms on my cake because he knows I like it.

Luke returns to sit beside me, picking up a white chocolate cupcake. I hold the box of Red Velvet in my lap, recklessly eating the cake.

"Argh! I feel so guilty. I'm going to get fat like this.” I complain, but without stopping eating.

“You are indisposed, you can eat what you want. Tomorrow we worry about our weight.” Luke speaks with his mouth full.

"I thought you didn't like red desserts." I comment, watching him take a full fork of my cake.

“How do you know that?” he looks at me curiously. Then I realize I've been cornered.

“In an interview last year.” then I fill my mouth, making it impossible for me to continue the conversation.

"Are you still googling me?" he puts again that amused/satisfied smile on his face.

“Of course, you were my boyfriend. I need to know what kind of people I'm getting involved with.” I shrug.

“I understood. Well, I really don't like it. I don't understand the need to make it red.”

“It's to be more aesthetically beautiful. It's like wearing makeup. You use it and looks more beautiful, it enhances your beauty.” Luke stares at me, holding back his laughter. I've seen this same expression when I defended my M&M’s organizer.

“Well, I know you're crazy about this cake, so I brought it.” he shrugs, like it's no big deal. But for me it's something. If Luke still has any intentions of winning me back, he's doing great.

“Thanks.” I advance toward him, kissing his cheek in shyly. I notice Luke is ashamed too, but maintains his pose.

After we stuff ourselves with candy. Luke and I were in the bathroom, trying to put on those face masks. At first I thought he brought it just for me, but when I saw him putting it on, I understood that he would participate body and soul in that night with me.

“This isn't right.” he comments still struggling with that piece of material.

"You didn't put it upside down, did you?" I approach trying to help.

“No! The eyes are here. So why don't stay?” I see the mask slip off his face. I hold back a laugh, taking the material from his hands.

"If you take the cape off, it stays." I pull out the plastic that holds the oils and put it on his face.

“Makes more sense.” he comments, watching me massage his face. “I need to shave.” he says as I massage his cheeks.

“No!” the answer comes out faster than I can think.

Luke stares at me in surprise at the revelation. With my hands still on his face, I notice the mood and walk away, drying my hands.

“And now?” I stare at him behind me in the mirror. Luke just raises his hands and shakes his fingers, demonstrating that we're going to get our nails done. The scene itself is so funny it makes me laugh. He's the best boyfriend anyone could have. "I think we'd better wait the twenty minutes for the mask, so as not to blur our work."

“Truth. Let's get back to the series then.” he turns around, his back to me, crouching down a little. I grab his shoulders and push off, climbing on his back. And like this, we go back to the room, on piggyback.

I go back under the covers, grateful that I'm sitting down because my legs are killing me. How can something that stays in the womb fuck my entire body? I shift uncomfortably, not finding a position that would make my legs stop hurting.

“Is it everything OK?” he asks, hitting play on The Office.

“My legs.” I answer softly, lying down on the couch with my head next to him.

“Turn. Put your legs here.” he pats his lap. I roll over on the couch, leaving my legs in his lap, where within seconds Luke starts massaging my legs.

I roll my eyes, feeling my body soften. A moan wants to escape, but I hold it with all the strength in the world, along with the treacherous declaration that explodes in my chest. They were three dangerous words that could mess with him more than anything else.

“You are incredible!” I exchange the words, feeling more secure in that expression. The blonde chuckles, shaking his head as he squeezes my foot.

I can't focus for a minute on TV. The feel of him touching my skin so gently and stiffly steals all my attention. I shift my gaze between him and the screen so I don't get so in the face that I'm staring at him.

After twenty minutes of the mask, we went back to the bathroom, washing our faces and then starting to do our nails. I'm sitting, glued to Luke, my hand propped up on a pillow in his lap as he applies the black nail polish. Once again I shift my gaze between him and the new episode, but I don't care if he catches me staring in the meantime.

"Did we do that a lot?" I inquire softly. Luke doesn't answer me with words, too focused on his work, just nodding his head positively.

“Especially when you were feeling bad, or when I was really tired and stressed out.” he complements after finishing a hand. “Tv shows, candies, beauty treatments and massage. Once you wanted to invent climbing on my back, massaging me with your feet.” he starts to smile, still focused.

“I'm sorry.” I lay my head against his shoulder. Let out a low laugh, focused on him.

“It wasn't one of our best ideas. But I can't deny that it wasn't good.”

"Were you happy with me? I mean, we had a good relationship, didn't we?” I question after a while.

Luke stops and stares at the wall, maybe thinking. I analyze your profile apprehensive about the delay. Then his eyes connect to mine. It's like a screen, I don't need the answer anymore, it's there, explicit in the glow of his eyes.

“Yes. I believe we had a great relationship.” he goes back to painting my nails, putting the last coat on.

“Itn't was those weird, honeyed types, was it?” curiosity takes me more every second. Luke holds back a laugh, denying it.

“No! I tried once, but you hit me with the pillow. But that's not our style either. It's like wanting Leah to be cute.” he shrugs. "Don't let her know that." he looked at me in alarm.

“I won’t! Honestly, I'm glad it's you here.” he stops and looks at me curiously. “You know…not that she's not amazing. Even because she was taking really good care of me, but…” I swallow with his gaze so fixed on me. Oh Lord, where are the words?! “You are you!” I shrug. "Don't let her know that." I ask in an alarmed way, as well as he.

“I'm me?” he turns more to me.

“Yeah!” I take a deep breath, trying to find myself in the mess I decided to make. “You seem to know how to handle this whole situation and cause…" Why is it so hard for me to say that I enjoy his company? “You know…I like being with you.” I whisper, wanting to crumble into thin air and disappear.

I lower my gaze, not holding that moment. I've known Luke for a month. I know that he only has size and age in his identity, that inside he is as child and silly as the guys. But there's something about him, so subtle and unobtrusive, that intimidates me so much.

“I like being with you too… but something tells me you already know.” the playful tone breaks the pit of shame I was in. I open a shy smile, going back to watching him finish painting my nails.

“Can I ask you something?” I question fearfully, after he finishes. Luke nodded. "How was that day? The one from the accident.”

He just stops. His jaw locks and that glint in his eyes fades. He leans back against the sofa, snorting. I feel bad for causing this discomfort. I'm even thinking about withdrawing the question, however, Luke is already starting to speak.

“You had gone to rehearse for Vogue and then we were supposed to go to lunch cause I turned off your alarm, and then you were late and we can't have breakfast together.” he narrates quietly and with a lost look.

"Why did you turned off my alarm?" I frown, confused.

"Cause I thought that way you'd stay home with me." I pick up my lips, pressing them together so I don't laugh at his pout. “Well, I was at the restaurant when it happened. The manager came to me and told me what happened, apparently was already on the news.” he takes a deep breath before continuing. “I was the first to arrive, but you were already in attendance, so I only saw you in your room a couple hours later.”

"The nurse said you slept there." I comment quietly, letting my mind wander to that day. Your cheeks are easily pink.

"I wasn't leaving your side." he answers in the same tone.

“Sorry I got you into this. And for being stupid the first time we met…again.” I add.

“It's OK! I mean, it was kind of good.” I widen my eyes, not understanding. “By making you fall in love with me again, I also ended up falling in love with you all over again.”

My heart races. The revelation takes me by surprise, not giving me time to hide the stupid grin gaping at my face. I roll my eyes, looking at the TV, which is currently playing with Jim asking Pam on a date. Ironically, she had the same stupid smile as mine.

"I never said I'm in love with you." I try to maintain my dignity, or whatever I'm supposed to maintain at a time like this.

“It's just a matter of time.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see him shrug. “You've already admitted that you like being with me. For those who hated me in that hospital, enjoying my presence is already a big step forward.”

I bite my lip, closing my eyes. He can’t be serious.

"I never said I hated you." I look at him, who was focused on the TV.

"And you never said you're not in love with me either." he blinks, smiling in amusement.

“I hate you!” I say loud enough.

“In seventh grade, when a girl said she hated a boy, it's because she liked him.” Luke comments, leaving me speechless, my mouth hanging open. "I will take your silence as a yes."

I kneel down on the couch, taking the pillow from my lap and hitting it. Hemmings starts to laugh as he shields himself from the flurry of beatings I give him. My God, how I hate him.

I return to sit on the couch more relieved, but still with my heart pounding. It's a mixture of very random feelings. I want to hit him at the same time I want to kiss him as I sink his head into the coffee table, telling him how much I like him.

The desire to let these feelings take over me fascinates me. But that's not how I wanted everything to happen between us. Expected to be a little more romantic, with me more tidy and less messy.

"You made me smudge my nail." Finally, I accuse him, sulking.

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skinnyziamlove · 4 years

Text

i've always wanted to make a fic rec but i never got the chance, but yesterday some friends (@introvertedbitch2302 and @liamislife) asked if i could recommend them some of my favorite fics and i got all excited and here i'm !!!!

these fics are my precious babies and i love them all so they are not in a specific order (and please be aware of the trigger warnings in the tags before you read them):

Just the two of us and a cute little cup of cyanide

Or an I-accidentally-married-my-best-mate-in-Vegas fic, where Liam's completely oblivious, Zayn's completely in love, Harry's had enough, Louis plays mediator and Niall just wants his best friends to be with each other.

The Underdogs

Zayn Malik hates everything about winter. He hates the snow, he hates scraping the ice from his car, he hates freezing every time he steps outside, he hates wearing hats and heavy jackets. In fact, the only thing he doesn't hate about it are his hockey player buddies and his childhood best friend, Liam Payne, the teenage star hockey player and captain of their small town team.

Good Thing At a Bad Time

Zayn prefers to be on his own. It's easier to survive when you don't have to worry about anyone else. Liam leads a large group of people that have taken residence in an abandoned prison. When Zayn wakes up in a prison cell, all he can think about is finding a way out. Liam makes him want to stay.

I See You Babe, But We Are Both Blind

Zayn's fairly certain the world actually hates him. He's got the shittiest luck, and fate seems to want to fuck with him. But maybe that's exactly what he needs.

One Direction returns to London for a break from their Take Me Home Tour in August 2013, and after an unfortunate run-in at a coffee shop, Liam and Zayn find themselves in a fake relationship. Except, it ends up not feeling fake at all.

through the summertime, winter, spring, and fall

They change with the seasons, burning bright during the summer and biting cold during the winter, but that feeling of being in love Zayn found in the summer clings to him through it all.

Angel of Mine

"I'm Zayn, a third year english student, it's my first time here and," he swallows, throat thick with nervousness, "I guess I'm here ‘cause I'm an alcoholic."

Zayn is a recovering alcoholic and Liam is his sponsor.

Die Young, Stay Pretty

Zayn is happy being a hairdresser who minds his own business; that is, until someone called "Liam" has to come in, dragging his friend on the back of a bet. And, really, Zayn didn't stand a chance.

It's Always Darkest Before The Dawn

At a time in his life when Zayn thinks he has forgotten what genuine happiness feels like, Liam comes into the picture and changes everything.

Mad About the Boys

Or: Five times Zayn and Liam cheat Death and then one more time for good measure.

But You Held the Ice

Every time Zayn gets hurt, Liam is there.

Everything On You Intoxicates

Where Zayn maybe stalks that fit guy from his Intro to Lit class on Instagram.

Tangled Up in You

It turns out Zayn’s flatmate is essentially a disney prince. Zayn wonders how this became his life.

kill monsters in the rain

A story where Liam can't get over how great Zayn is at singing and drawing and pretty much everything, how just being near Zayn is enough to make Liam's life a hundred times better, how lucky Liam is to have a best friend just as dedicated to pretending to be a superhero as he is.

it keeps my veins hot (the fire's found a home in me)

or the one where zayn survives a fire and falls in love with the firefighter that saved him.

This Swirling Storm Inside

Or Frozen AU in which Zayn is the heir to the kingdom of Arendelle. He's also trans, and his lifelong dysphoria is finally reaching a breaking point.

I'll Be Strong For You

When Zayn breaks his leg attempting to skateboard over Harry's car, he ends up stuck in the hospital for two weeks. The only thing he doesn't hate about the hospital is the gorgeous volunteer, Liam, who is almost annoyingly sunny and happy. But Liam's got a secret a secret hidden behind his impossibly bright smile.

And You Know For Me, It's Always You

The Gilmore Girls AU I thought would be a good idea and it turns out, it was.

Beautiful Monster

Or, Zayn is a homeless vampire who, unbeknownst to Liam, has been routinely breaking into Liam's van for a warm place to sleep. When Liam catches him in the act things end up going in a direction no one expected. And then shit gets weirder. Because Liam might also be hiding some secrets of his own...

Z.A.Y.N

For six years, international R&B star Liam Payne has topped the charts with his unique, upbeat songs. Even though he’s proud of where he’s gotten himself, he knows he can’t take all the credit; there’s one particular songwriter that goes by the name ‘Icarus Kalim’ that’s played a huge part in his success. Because of the writer’s ability to craft thought provoking tracks that touch Liam in a way he didn’t even know was possible from afar, the celebrity makes a musical exception for ‘Icarus’, buying the man’s songs for himself, even though he swore he would never put his name on something he had no help in creating. But what happens when Liam finally tricks the soulful poet into meeting him after years of not even knowing what the man looks like? Is ‘Icarus’ really all Liam’s made him out to be in his head or will he be unlike anything the singer could’ve ever dreamt up…

I'm Almost Me Again, He's Almost You

(Or, where Liam searches across time and space for the answer to the question: Who the fuck is Zayn?)

A Full Course Meal

Liam had been dreaming about having his own restaurant for a few years. Money was always an issue, though, so when he heard the Food Network was recording a few episodes of Chopped in his city, he let his best friend talk him into participating.

Many things could go wrong along the way; from ruthless rivals to impossible ingredients, from unforgiving judges to his own mind getting in the way.

He spent long nights fretting about the possibilities and still, he never could have guessed what Chopped really had in store for him.

My Lungs and Your Lilac Eyes

This is a love story. It’s an accident, mostly. Nearly all of them are.

You're My Favorite Story

A zombie outbreak leaves Liam teamed up with Zayn, a stranger with a motorcycle who saves Liam's life. Their world has been turned upside down, and all they really have is each other.

Let's Be Alone Together

After getting his heart broken, Liam escapes his life in London by boarding a plane to Amsterdam. Along the way, he finds someone just as lost as him. Together they might just be able to find themselves.

Money Moves

~Fake Engagement AU with Boss!Liam and Secretary!Zayn ~

in the sun

"This man might wander into my dreams, too, some night. Wouldn’t it be nice, if I could pretend we’d met before? I’ve waited a long time, for such a lord.”

Be cruel to me ('cause I'm a fool for you)

Or the one where Zayn is a stressed out single dad, Liam might just be what he needs, Louis and Niall are always happy to babysit and Harry's a loud snorer.

powerless (and i don't care it's obvious)

"Or the one where Zayn and Liam are in love, Liam has another bro female pal that might have been his beard in high school, Zayn has heartbroken sorta past, Liam is a superhero, Louis and Harry are disgustingly in love as Liam and Zayn are and Liam's friends just want him to not-be-a-virgin anymore.)

#ziam fic rec #my ziam fic rec #ziamfanfiction

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hailing-stars · 4 years

Text

@febuwhump day 9: buried alive

BURIED ALIVE

“So, while we’re just hanging out in the bathroom,” says Tony. Peter’s head hangs over the toilet, and he shuts his eyes tight, willing Tony to stop talking. “I thought we could chat.”

“Maybe that can wait,” says Peter, dryly, and miserably. “Until, I dunno, I’m done puking my guts out.”

“It’s waited long enough. Besides, you never call me back, and you won’t talk to your aunt.”

Peter's guilt over a recent run in with Mysterio literally makes him sick.

BURIED ALIVE flashes in neon letters across the screen, the techno theme music plays, and Peter’s eyes glaze over. He’s officially entered The Zone, and there’s no pulling him out of it until his character dies or he achieves the highest honor, a score enormous enough to knock MQB off the hall of fame.

His hand clutches the joystick, and his fingers glide across the buttons, and he can feel Ned staring at him, but it doesn’t distract him from the current mission.

It doesn’t help him, either.

This game ends exactly the same way every game before it had, on level five, when he’s only points away from taking first place away from MQB.

He sighs, and reaches a hand in his pocket, searching for more tokens but finding it empty.

“Shit,” says Peter. “I’m out of tokens.”

“Again?” asks Ned. “How many times have you played this? Exactly?”

“I dunno, not that much.”

Ned doesn’t look like he believes him. He looks worried, and Peter tries to shove the annoyance he feels deep, deep down.

He wishes people would stop looking at him that way. Like he’s just one fall away from breaking and shattering in a way that’d leave his pieces uneven and unfit to be put back together the correct way, the uniquely Peter-way.

“Maybe we should do something else,” says Ned. “Go to a movie, or pick up that limited edition Star Wars set?”

It’s tempting, and Peter wants to go, wants to be anyplace but this arcade, going to war with himself over a some stupid high score on some arcade machine. An environment without all the flashing lights, screaming children, and annoying game music would be a nice change in pace, but he can’t.

He has to stay. Until he’s won. Until he wipes that name off the charts and replaces it with his own.

“I need more tokens,” says Peter, as a way of answer. He hopes the way his voice sounds like a zombie will go ignored.

He walks past Ned, and heads towards the token machine, dodging running, shouting kids on his way. He fumbles around with his wallet, until he finds the credit card Tony had given him for emergencies. Not for the first time, he swipes it at the token machine and receives a hundred new chances to defeat his enemy.

If that isn’t an emergency, Peter doesn’t know what’s supposed to make that list.

When he turns, he comes face to face with Ned.

“Dude,” he says. “Maybe you should take a break. Have you even eaten dinner yet?”

His stomach growls at the mention of food, and his eyes automatically drift towards the restaurant installed into the arcade. He supposes Ned has a point. He can afford to stop his gaming long enough to scarf down some pizza.

“Yeah, okay, good idea.”

Relief washes through Ned’s features, and Peter’s stabbed with guilt. It attacks him from all angles.

He’s guilty for worrying his friends, and his family, and guilty because he doesn’t know how to stop. He’s guilty of the wave of crime overtaking Queens now that Spider-Man has abandoned it, in favor of standing still at an arcade game.

Guilty for that thing he doesn’t allow himself to think about.

Most of all, he’s guilty, because instead of working towards wiping away the current charts on BURIED ALIVE, he’s sitting at a table eating pizza, wasting time.

Drops of sweat trickle down his forehead, and a shiver runs through his body.

And he tries ignoring it, the way his stomach is heavy, and cramping, and the way his body is just begging him to take a seat, close his eyes, or more pressing, run to the bathroom and shove his head in a toilet.

But he doesn’t, because he can’t. Because he’s just so damn close.

When game over flashes across the screen, he slams his fist down. He considers what might happen if he didn’t hold back his strength, if he just destroyed the machine right then and there.

“Peter?”

He stared at the screen., refusing to look away.

“You’re not looking so great, kid.” Tony’s hand comes up from behind him, and presses down on his sweaty forehead. “Yep, that’s a fever.”

“Mr. Stark,” says Peter. “What are you doing here?”

“Ned called me,” he tells him. “He was really worried, and so am I.”

Tony wipes the sweat off his hand and into the insides of his suit jacket.

It’s the first time in awhile Peter takes his eyes away from the screen, and the room blurs. All the flashing, neon lights merge together. All the kids, teens, parents combine into one collective shout that threatens to make his ears bleed. The arcade tilts, and the knot in his stomach is pulled tighter.

“I need to get outta here,” says Peter, a shake in his voice.

“Then come on,” says Tony.

He grabs him by the arm, and leads him through the jungle of prize hungry children, beeping game machines, and parents trying to ignore it all.

Fresh, cold air hits Peter’s face when they step outside the door, and he breaths it in, then he bends over and pukes in the on the sidewalk while strangers watch in disgust, while Tony rubs his back, and while the paparazzi snaps photos of Iron Man comforting some poor, sick kid.

“So, while we’re just hanging out in the bathroom,” says Tony. Peter’s head hangs over the toilet, and he shuts his eyes tight, willing Tony to stop talking. “I thought we could chat.”

“Maybe that can wait,” says Peter, dryly, and miserably. “Until, I dunno, I’m done puking my guts out.”

“It’s waited long enough. Besides, you never call me back, and you won’t talk to your aunt.”

It just figures. That there’s so avoiding it now. That there’s not even a proper distraction to keep him from the things he’s not trying to think about.

That day comes back to him and hits him with full force, as if were angry Peter had been suppressing it.

His memories are pulled backwards to Mysterio’s twisted game. That dull, grey day the fishbowl guy taunted him with a devastating choice, save May fall from a skyscraper, or save a stranger from suffocating six feet under the earth.

His failure flashes across his mind.

He’d thought he could save both, but he’d still made the decision to go after May first. Once she was safe on the ground, he had bolted to the burial site, only to dig up a man who was already dead.

He’s selfish, and he’s sad. All this bad will stirs his stomach enough to force his head back in the toilet to throw up some more.

Tony rubs his back until he’s finished with his gagging. He puts the toilet lid down, and flushes, and he leans against the toilet, weak and wanting the pain in his stomach to ease so he can sleep and not exist for awhile.

So he can continue avoiding the conversation Tony keeps trying to force him to have.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” says Tony. “That fucking psychopath created that situation to fuck with your head.”

“But I’m Spider-Man,” says Peter. “I should’ve been able to deal with it, without - someone dying.”

“Can’t save them all, kid. No matter how hard you try.”

It’s as if Tony’s words bounce off him. He hears them, but he doesn’t. They don’t sink in. He won’t allow them to, and it’s as if Tony hadn’t spoken at all.

“Suppose I deserve this,” says Peter. “Feeling this way.”

He isn’t sure if he means the stomach cramps, or the guilt, or both, but the alarm that flashes across Tony’s face only makes the stabbing pains worse.

“You only deserve good things, Pete,” he says. “I don’t know how to convince you to believe it.”

When he opens his eyes the next morning, his stomach is peaceful, but his memories are hazy. They exist, just vaguely.

And it’s better that way, really. Puking and crying on the bathroom floor while Tony held him and told him it would be okay weren’t exactly his finest hours. Peak teenage embarrassment that he hopes will go forgotten, or at least unmentioned, in future conversation.

He’s ready to crawl and hide under the covers when the guest room door creaks open, but he stays visible when he sees it’s just his Aunt May walking through the doorway, carrying crackers and a mini bottle of Sprite.

“I hear you had a rough night,” she tells him. She puts the sick people snacks on the nightstand. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better.”

May’s face folds into disbelief, and Peter releases a breath, realizing there’s no avoiding it anymore. Not after last night.

“I’m sorry, May.”

“About what?”

“About Mysterio.”

She sits on his bed, and takes his hand. “From what Tony’s told me, you’re tired of hearing it, but I’m going to stress again that that wasn’t your fault and you will not accept responsibility for what some demented man cooked up in his free time, okay?”

“But May -”

“If someone asked me to choose between my own life and somebody else’s,” she starts. “You know I would choose theirs. We’re Parkers, and that’s what we do, for better or for worse, but if someone forced me to choose between a stranger’s life and yours? Peter, that’s not even a choice, it’s an instinct.”

“But May I should’ve -”

She squeezes his hand, and cuts him off, a second time. “You have to let this go. You weren’t being selfish, and you did everything you could’ve done. It’s not your fault. You didn’t kill anybody.”

Her tone leaves no room for argument, so he doesn’t try. He lets her hug him, and even hugs her back. He even feels a little lighter now that he’s been ordered to move on.

Tony’s idea of helping is to throw money at it. He goes to the arcade and pays them a ridiculously large sum of money for the BURIED ALIVE game machine.

It’s sitting in the workshop when Peter arrives for their lab hours, along with giant hammers and other tools of destruction.

“I think they do this in therapy,” says Tony. “Something about getting it all out. Healthy destruction. All that.”

“They let you break things in therapy?” asks Peter, apprehensively taking the hammer from Tony.

He’s gotta admit, he’s warming up to the idea of letting Tony pay for a therapist, even if he knows he only said it for that very reason.

“Sure,” says Tony. “Why not?”

Peter stares at the game. The thing he’d been using to distract himself from his misery. The thing he’d become obsessed with as a way to relive the past, take some control. Of course, getting the highest score would’ve never brought back the man Mysterio killed, but obsessions weren’t exactly rational.

“I have a better idea,” says Peter.

They spent the next few hours taking the game apart, piece by piece, and then, and until late in the night, they use the parts to build a new, better game. Something that Ned has to come over and help them program. Something with a less morbid topic.

And Peter starts to think better, feel better.

There’s something cathartic about taking apart the horrible things and turning them into something new. It’s a breath of fresh air. It’s a sense of hope, for himself, that eventually he’ll be able to take May and Tony’s reassuring words and believe them.

#febuwhumpday9 #irondad #irondad fic #Tony and peter #sick Peter parker #vomiting

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sometimes-i-write-4-you · 4 years

Text

Drunk words are sober thoughts - John B x reader.

request by @classygirlything : Can I have a request for John b, and prompt 33 from random and 14 from fluff?

33: “Welcome back. Now fucking help me.”

14: They’re so cute when they’re asleep.”

a\n: this took so long but i think it was worth it

triggers: underage drinking, reader gets kinda drunk, some cursing (the occesional fucking, fuck and shit).

word count: 3277

-----

"guys, I have something to tell you" I said. We were hanging out at John B's house. John B JJ, Kie and Pope looked at me, waiting to hear what I have to say. "my dad got a job in Georgia, so we're moving" I finally gave them the news. "shit" JJ said, and I looked at him with eyes wide open. "don't worry, (y\n), I'll put money in the curse jar at home" JJ joked. "when are you leaving?" Kie asked. "next week, they want my dad to start as fast as possible or they'll take someone else" I replied. John was quiet, which was unusual for him. "John? Is everything okay?" I asked, and he nodded. "yeah, just… surprised. Do you have to go?" he asked, clearly sad. "yes" I laughed, "I don't have a choice. If I could I'd never leave you guys".

I got off the boat, and for the first time in the past year, my foot has stepped on the Outer Banks docks. John, JJ and Pope were all waiting for me there, holding up a sign with my name. I recognized them easily, they've barely changed. John B got taller, and his features became sharper. He was just as beautiful, but 15-year-old me never understood she like-liked him until I got to our new house. We were all still in touch via text, voice calls and video calls, but nothing compared to seeing them in real life. JJ and Pope wrapped their arms around me, and John B hugged us all from behind. "hey, guys, where's Kie?" I asked, sad to see my best friend is not here. We break the hug and start making our way toward John's van. "she's, uh, busy" John said. "too busy to come see me?" I ask. "John B kissed her and now she feels awkward to be around him. it was my bad, I told him to" JJ explains, and John B doesn't look too happy about JJ sharing his secret. "you did what?" I say, covering up my crushed hopes by laughing. "no, I think her dad just won't let her. He paid my bail money and wants nothing more to do with me" John says.

"bail money?!" I called, "John, what the fuck? I thought JJ is the law-breaker". "it's- look, with this whole thing going on with my dad-" he started as he opened the van's door like a gentleman. We all stepped inside, and he filled me in about the watch and Redfield, how he thought it was the watchtower, but the guy refused to talk, and then he accidently hurt the guy's arm. "and then Kie and I ran, and I gave her the watch-" "and a kiss" JJ contributed. "Then they brought us to the station, her dad bailed me, she gave me back the watch and I think we might never see her again" John finished the story as he pulled up by his house, or at least so I thought. "so then i'm making my way back home, and two guys that broke into my house-" "and tried to kill us" Pope reminds John, even though I heard these two stories over the phone, "-started chasing me and wanted the watch-" he said, and a few minitus later when we finally sat down in his house, he finished the story. "-so I gave her the watch, it's the safest, and I think I have to let this whole thing go. It's a good thing you just arrived, we can move on and it's gonna be like old times". "this- this is crazy" I sigh, "I mean… wow". "so, how's your new school?" Pope asks, taking step one towards forgetting this mess.

"weird" I reply, "it's like a teen age movie, the cheerleader is dating the quarterback, the nerdy girl turned cool suddenly and starts dating the charming jock. feels like I'm in a stupid Netflix movie, but as the best friend who's only personality trait is listening to the hero's problems". JJ smirks. "are you dating anyone?" John asks. I feel the blush covering my face, even though he's just making conversation. The year of not seeing him didn't cancel my stupid crush. "I was, but we broke up" I say, without any intention to reveal the reason. "oh, sorry to hear" John says, but JJ laughs and says "no, you're not". John glares at him, so I just leave it. "guys, I think I'll go see Kie" I finally say, "this place is way too messy, plus I'm supposed to stay with her for this week". "sure, yeah" John says, "do you want a ride?". "I'm going to her area to do some deliveries for my dad" Pope says, "so you can come with, I'll drop you by her house". "yeah, thanks Pope I said, taking his offer over John's. I wanted to look and see if he looks jealous, but that's childish.

I got to Kiara's house, and Pope helped me to carry my bags to her room. We cached up in her room, but I kept feeling like something is missing. "shit, I forgot my phone at John B's" I say. "oh" Kiara says, "well, I gotta go help my dad at the restaurant, but I believe my mom can give you a ride, she has some businesses down at the docks" Kie says, and in did, 30 minutes later I'm at John's. Anna dropped me close enough, and when I came closer, I noticed John throwing things out.

"welcome back" he smiles at me, "now fucking help me". And so I did. We cleaned up the house. After a few moments, John decided to throw the board with the watch's history on it into the pile as well. When he pulled out a lighter, I was surprised, but as everything started burning, I noticed something. "John, what was engraved on the watch?" I ask. "Redfield" he replies, "but-" "no buts, look!" I say and point at the burning board. "my great-great grandma" he says, light laugh of excitement escaping his lips. "oh, (y\n), that's amazing!" he says, pulling me into a hug. "yeah, maybe you'd like to save it from burning" I laugh. "oh, yeah, right" he says, grabbing a metal stick and pulling it out of the fire.

Soon enough, we were all in The Twinkie. Well. All of us expect Kie. "I'll go talk to her" John says, and a few minutes later he comes back with her. I don't ask, because I feel like they probably talked about the kiss, and about how they're going to date behind our backs.

We arrive at the graveyard as John explains to the rest how Redfield is not a place, but a person: Olivia Redfield. "help me with the door, come on" John breaks the silence before it gets awkward. "all right" Pope says, stepping forward and I do the same. The three of us trying to posh the door, but with no success. JJ jumps in and take my place, but it makes no difference.

"this door is like 700 ponds, it's not gonna budge" Pope says, but his hands stay pushing the door. "we didn't come this far to get this far, all right?" JJ says, "we got this-" a hissing cuts him off. The boys all back off from the door in unison. "that's a moccasin-" JJ says, "ye old cottonmouth, death in tall grass" he says, and start barking. "JJ shut up" Kie says, "shut up!". "you're gonna wake the dead" Pope says as JJ finally shuts up. "they're afraid of dogs, everybody knows that" JJ says.

"yeah, cause they're bigger and noisier. You know who else is bigger and noisier?" I say, "a group of teens, that's right. If only we had one of those…" the sarcasm in my tone makes John smirk, but he quickly shakes I off and asks us to stop bickering. "wait hold on" JJ says. "what?" the three of us ask in unison – Kie, John and me. "if there's one, there are probably dozens" he says.

"cottonmouths don't form nests or colonies or whatever, they're solitary" I say, calming down the group, since JJ started "barking at the snakes" again. "now, are we breaking into this grave or what?" I ask. "we're not going to get in there, alright? It's not budging" Pope reminds us, "we should probably just go". His voice is slightly shaking, clearly filled with a bit of fear.

"I can get through" I say. "what?" John B says, and he does not sound happy. "no, no, no, no. you think you can fit through the hole? That hole?". "look, it's about your dad. That man has done so much for me back when I was still living here, plus, I can't let you live with this question following you around, I know what's that like and it's not fun" I say. Sure, my question mark is "what could have been if I told John B I like him back when I was living here?", but still. "I'll do it" I say, and with that the subject is sealed. JJ is offering his services as a ladder. "3,2,1" he counts down and I pull myself through the hole. Pope passes me the flashlight through the hole, and I finally get to look around.

"you alive? Like, you have a- a heartbeat and everything?" I hear John B asking. I smile at the worry, "yeah, so far" I reply. The flashlight is barely enough. So I ask for more light. John puts the lantern up, close to the hole and soon enough I can see clearer. The grave is muddy and covered by weeds. Not the fun kind though, the scary kind that makes you feel like a Zombie is about to jump out and eat your brain. "do you need some help? I can join" Kie offers, but I spot a white envelope. "no need" I say, "found it".

I pass John the white envelope. "To bird" I say as I'm making my way put of the grave, "that's what your dad called you, right?". "yea" John replies, a smile on his face. Before we get the chance to open the envelope, we hear footsteps, and a flashlight shines at our direction. "shit, so you think it's Harry and Marv?" I say. "who?" JJ asks, confused, as we hide between the trees and the grave. "the burglars from 'home alone' " Pope explains. "oh" JJ says, but the realization doesn't hit. "oh!" he repeats, louder, meaning he got the joke. Kie shushes him. "right, yeah, sorry" JJ says.

We end up running away and make it to John's house and the only collateral is Pope's pants. I think it's a win – at least we all have our heartbeat. JJ's making himself a peanut butter mold sandwich, and we all sit together to open the envelope. JJ is off to throw the sandwich after one bite. "it's good for you, natural organism" I quote him. "shut up" JJ sigh as John opens the folded paper he pulled out from the envelope.

"holy shit" John says, looking down at the white and black map. "oh, X marks the spot" Pope says. "longitude, latitude" John mumbles, finger" going over the lines. "wait, there's something else here" John says all of a sudden, and pulls what looks like a recorder from the envelope. "what's that?" JJ asks. "it's a tape recorder, dumbass" Kie and I answer him. "jinx!" I say before she gets too. "shush" JJ shuts us up. John presses play, and his father's voice fills the room.

John's eyes glisten, and I can tell his about to cry. He gets up at the moment the voice message is over, going over to the door frame to hide his tears from us. "holy shit, he did it!" JJ calls, but me and Kie glare at him to hint it's not the time. "big John, he found the Merchant-" JJ keeps going, but Kie cuts him off while I make my way toward John B, resting a hand on his shoulder to turn him around. He hugs me tight, "(y\n)…". "it'll be okay" I promise.

We sit outside, at the dock, with beer and Kie's ukulele. She plays a few notes and I hum along. When we were little, we always wanted to start a band together. "how much was it again?" JJ asks, throwing a rock into the water. "four hundred mil" John replies. "all right, let's talk the split" JJ offers, "now, before you say 'evenly', may I remind you that I am the only one that can properly defend us from those.. Harry and Marv, was it? You know, the groupers who were after us" as he talks, he pulls out a gun I was never aware he had in his possession. "protection? not cheap, okay" JJ keeps going. "you haven't trained Pope disagrees, and I think that we all agree. "400 divided by 5.." John thinks out loud. "80 million dollars" Kie says, "what would you do with it, Pope?" she askes. "pay for college in advance" Pope answers, and I can't say I was surprised. "and also textbooks, those are expensive" he adds. "what about you, kie?" JJ asks. "yeah, what does a socialist do when she's rich?" Pope asks, already guessing her answer. "just wanna make a double album" Kie replies, "about OBX, the pogues... you know, the way 'catch a fire' was about Kingstone. Recorded it at Marley Studios, Peter Tosh producing". She sounded so happy talking about it, it was truly heartwarming, so of course Pope had to ruin the moment and pop the fantasy with his facts. "Peter Tosh is dead".

"Peter Tosh is dead, I know" Kie talks over him, spirit of Peter Tosh will never die" she raises her beer can. "I know what I'll do" JJ says, "I'm gonna get a big ass house on figure 8 and go full Kook". "you're gonna go full Kook?" I ask him, highlighting the "you're", like he can pull off being a Kook. "yup, gonna get a marble statue of myself and then I'm gonna get a koi pond" JJ said, causing us all to laugh, "put a bunch of those fish". "I'm never visiting" Kie says. "what are you gonna do?" Pope asks, looking at me. "I don't know, maybe I'll get my family to come back here. 80 mil dollars, who needs my dad job in Georgia? or we can make the company open a store or a factory here, and my dad can run it. I miss you guys" I say, "and you, JB?" I ask, looking at John, he looked perfect in the dim light, but I think he looks good in every lighting. "to going full Kook" he says, referring to JJ's answer. "to going full Kook" we repeat his words, raising our beers.

We started walking back to John B. I think I drank too much beer, because I could barley walk. I don't usually drink that much, but seeing John looking at Kie and knowing they kissed really ate me, so I wanted to blur that emotion. "hey, hey, carful there" John laughed, and hurried to grab my waist before I fall. I leaned onto him, letting him help me. It was nice. "I can't bring her home like this, my parents see her, and I'm never allowed to see you" Kie sighed. "well, she can just stay at John's" JJ offered. "yeah, sure" John said. "tell your parents she wanted to stay with us a bit longer and didn't want them to be mad at you so she stayed and you left" Pope helped, and it was settled. We got to his place, and John and I went inside, saying goodbye to our friends.

The first thing I did was run to the bathroom. "shit" John sighed and hurried after me. He held my hair back so that I can throw up without ruining it. "you want to take a shower?" he offered, "I'll get you a shirt to sleep in". "thanks" I whispered, and he was about to leave the room when I started puking again. "hey, easy, buddy" he said, reaching his hand out to pull my hair off of my face. "what happened? I never thought you'd be the type to drink like that" he asked. "I didn't like seeing you looking at Kiara all heart eyed" I confessed, too drunk to stop myself. "what are you-?"

"well, I know you kissed her, and you like her, but I like you and I planned to tell you but then when I heard-" I puke once again. "well, I think that's it" I say, getting up. I opened the tab and grained some water, passing the taste. "I'll get you some cookies" John said. "are they gonna be moldy?" I call after him. whatever. I take off my shirt and pants, leaving my swimsuit on since the bathroom door is still open. "okay, so here's the cookies, shirt and towel-" John starts, moving them away from his face and right back to blocking his sight. "relax, I have a swimsuit on" I laugh. "oh" he says, putting down the things. "well, shower, and we'll talk about this later" he smiles at me. "okay" I whisper, and his hand grab my forearm to pull me closer and kiss my forehead.

I enter John B's room. He's sitting on his bed, looking at the map we found earlier. "hey" he smiles at me and taps the open space next to him. I sit down. "I took a toothbrush from under the sink, I hope that's oka-" I say, and as I talk his hand grab my chin and pulls me to his face, crushing his lips against mine. I return the kiss, confused but happy. "good thing you did that" he laughs, breaking the kiss. I laugh. "uh, listen, I don't like Kie. She's cool, but just not that way. JJ convinced me to shoot my shot. Think about it, who was sitting next to Kiara?" he ends his speech with a question. "me, it was me" I say. "right. So who was I looking at?" he asks.

"me? Were you looking at me?" I ask, confused. "yes. Yeah, I was" he laughs, "in case it wasn't clear from the fact I kissed you, I like you".

The sun shined through the window. "oh, they’re so cute when they’re asleep" I hear who I'm guessing is Kiara say. "yeah… let's wake 'em up". Now, that was definitely JJ. "no need, we're awake" I say before Pope gets to scream. he calls it singing, but that's just an insult to music. "yeah" John agrees with me, stretching as he gets up and breaks the cuddle we fall asleep in.

"so, you two were all cuddled up" Kie says once the boys leave the room, "that means what I think it means?". "yeah, I hope so" I reply, getting up. "well, please, don't spare any detail" she says, sitting down on the bed. I sit back down. "well, so I was drunk-"

Meanwhile in the kitchen

"so what, you and (y\n) are a thing now?" Pope asks, "I'm just saying, you two were like. really close". "yeah, JB, you are such a player. Getting all the hot ones, first Kie, and now-" "shut up, JJ" John cuts him off, "I only kissed Kie cause you kept bugging me, and it almost ruined my chances with (y\n)". "so what, you actually like her?" JJ asks, "that's dope man".

#outer banks #outer banks imagines #outer banks X reader #outer banks netflix #john b X reader #john b #john b imagine #john b imagines

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mizumelona · 4 years

Text

set me up | atsumu x reader

SYNOPSIS: You’re an ambitious career woman, who’s got everything…except a significant other. Your mom, sick of you showing up to family functions alone, sets you up on a series of (terrible) blind dates. You make these dates meet you at your favorite restaurant, Onigiri Miya, but for some reason the owner’s jerk of a twin brother always happens to be there exactly when things crash and burn.

NOTE: This chapter is dedicated to my lovely friend Sharon who encouraged me to start this blog and helps me with my writing. @Sharon I kept my promise hehe.

MASTERLIST

PREV | WFH 1 - THE TRUCE | NEXT

TAGLIST: @awkwardali6106 @kasandrafaye @veggytaled @svtbitch @stinkyobeymerat @hollypastl @differentballooncollection @o51oc @sunboikyo00 @justxanotherxshipper @kaisemieita @rizamendoza808 @tomo-uwu @sugardaddykenma

You tossed Atsumu’s sweater into the washer with your other juice covered clothes and made your way to your bedroom. You picked up your phone to text your mom.

Lovely Daughter:

I think I need to take a break from these dates

You still wanted to find a boyfriend and flex on your cousin, but this blind dating thing wasn’t exactly working out. You cringed remembering that your favorite cream shorts might be ruined for good. Taking a step back seemed like a good choice for now. Maybe you’d spontaneously run into someone worth your time. Blonde hair and a cheeky smirk flashed in your mind.

Huh. What was that? You shook your head. That was definitely not happening.

As you finished sending the message you got another notification.

Boss:

Reminder that our team is working from home this week while they replace the carpets in the office. Can you send me the updated prototype of your project by Friday morning?

Ugh. Working from home was bad news for you. Despite being an overachiever, your home was a safe oasis that was completely separated from your work life. When it came to trying to work while your favorite blanket and TV were 2 feet away, you had no self-control. You tried to look on the bright side. Who knows? Maybe this is the week you learned a little self-control.

Onigiri Miya. Thursday 6:27 PM

It wasn’t.

You had plenty of inspiration on Monday but took a break to watch one episode of your favorite sports anime and ended up binging the next two seasons. Tuesday you’d pulled up the files you needed to work on but you saw a manga spoiler while browsing Instagram and decided to binge the manga too. Yesterday you were shook about the most recent cliffhanger and got carried away reading fan fiction. It wasn’t until 5 PM that you realized that the prototype was due in a day but by then you were already fucked.

Cut to you grinding like crazy for the past 24 hours. You’d pulled an all-nighter last night except for 20 minutes at 5 in the morning when you crashed and knocked out on your keyboard. When you woke up there was an imprint of the spacebar on your chin. Finally you had most of the prototype completed, so you were crawling out of your cave for some food.

Sweats, glasses, hair messily pulled away from your face. You haggardly stumbled toward the restaurant. You’d exhausted your instant noodle supplies and had been so focused on finishing the damn prototype that you didn’t stop to eat today. You were pretty sure you were going to pass out if you didn’t get some food in your body ASAP.

You pushed the door to the restaurant open.

“Welcom- woah [Y/N]…you doing okay?”, Osamu paused mid rice ball roll and looked you up and down.

“Holy shit ya look like a zombie!”, Atsumu exclaimed from his usual seat at the bar.

You ignored Atsumu’s comment. You had no energy left for making snarky comebacks. “Osamu. Three Minced tuna onigiri and an iced Calpico please and thank you.”

“Sure…”, Osamu gave you a concerned look before turning to get started on your order.

You dumped your things onto an open table and sunk into the seat. You flipped open the laptop that you’d brought with you and started tapping on the keys. There was a big fat error alert on the screen. Great. You tried to edit the file. Another error. Ugh you were so close it was frustrating. You typed a few more edits in. Success! Loading…

Finally. You leaned back into the chair, staring at the ceiling. You heard some familiar footsteps approaching you. Here he comes.

On cue, Atsumu slid into the seat across from you. “Yo what happened?”

“I’m an idiot. That’s what happened.” You closed your eyes and massaged your temples. Your head was aching from staring at the screen for so long.

He snorted. “I know a lotta idiots but you aren’t one of them” He peeked over at your screen. “What’s with the laptop? This isn’t a coffeeshop sweetheart”

“Work.” You bluntly replied. You scrunched up your face. Sure his voice was smooth as ever, but right now anything but complete silence was making your head pound.

“You’re in a good mood aintcha?” He smirked. You glowered in his direction, your dark circles making you look extra ominous.

“Stop irritating my customers ‘Tsumu” Osamu smoothly shut Atsumu down. He placed a tray of food on the table. “I got three minced tuna onigiri and an iced Calpico”

“Bring me a drink too ‘Samu”

“Get it yourself ’Tsumu”

An upbeat ringtone started playing from Osamu’s pocket. He pulled his phone out and took the call. “Hey babe…I’m just at the restaurant…no, it’s not that busy…wait…what!” Osamu raised his eyebrows.”…Okay yeah I’ll be right there.” He turned to Atsumu. “‘Tsumu close the restaurant. I need to go help Sharon”

“Huh? Ya can’t just-“, Atsumu tried to protest, but Osamu took his Onigiri Miya hat off and shoved it on Atsumu’s head. Osamu scrawled a note about closing early and taped it to the door on his way out. Atsumu stood there looking irritated as he watched his brother run off through the window.

He turned to you. “Well ya heard him. You’re gonna hafta take your rice balls and work home sweetheart”

Wait. You checked your screen. 15%. Rip. Starting the process while you ate dinner probably wasn’t the best idea, but you needed this to finish loading and couldn’t risk it getting messed up on the trip back up to your apartment. You turned to Atsumu, “I’m sorry about earlier. Please let me stay a little longer. I really need this thing to finish loading”

“No way”

“It’ll only take a second” You pleaded with him. He turned to walk away. “Please. Atsumu”

He paused. Wait, was that the first time you’d called him by his real name? He turned back to you with that devious smile he got whenever he had one of his “brilliant” ideas.

“How ‘bout this? You help me clean, I’ll letcha stay here even though I really should be closing up”

“Deal”

Onigiri Miya. 45 Minutes Later.

“I’m pretty sure when we made our deal you said it would take ‘just a second’”. The bashful smile from earlier had long been wiped off his face replaced with the current impatient scowl. You’d finished eating your onigiri shortly after Osamu left, and you two had been sitting at the same table sipping Calpico and watching the loading bar for the last 45 minutes.

“It’s really almost done now.” You were running out of excuses to stall for time.

“Hurry it up. I got things to do sweetheart”, he said and took a noisy sip of his drink.

Okay [y/n] we need to think of a way to stall. You went through your options. Hm. Actually, complimenting people usually works pretty well, especially when that person has as big of an ego as this blondie. Okay you decided on your plan of attack.

“Hey” You smiled innocently at Atsumu. “Thanks again for waiting with me. You’re a lot nicer than I thought”

“How many times do I hafta tell ya that that creepy smile isn’t fooling me?” Atsumu set his drink back on the table. “And was that supposta be a compliment? When did I ever do anythin’ to piss you off?” He leaned back, crossing his arms.

“Says the guy who crashed not one but two of my dates”

“I didn’t do nothin’”

“You were the reason the strawberry juice was on the table to begin with”

“I’m also the reason why you’re still here even though I could’ve kicked you out an hour ago.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

“Touche” You leaned forward. “How about we call a truce then.” You held out your hand.

He looked at your hand skeptically. “Truce? That implies we were fightin’ in the first place”

“You gonna take it or not?”, You smiled slyly and waved your hand. “Let me tell you now. I’m not someone you want as an enemy”

“Jeez that’s pretty scary sweetheart.” He leaned forward with his trademark cheeky grin…and was he blushing a bit? “Fine. Truce.” He reached out to shake your hand.

“I know the perfect way to celebrate” He said, rising from his seat. He walked behind the counter and rustled around in the fridge. You heard him mutter, “Where did ‘Samu put it”, as he continued digging around. “Aha. Here it is!”, he declared, finding whatever he was looking for. Atsumu walked back and plopped down in his seat, setting two cups of pudding on the table.

“Haha. Nice.” You picked up one of the pudding cups but noticed a little note stuck to it. “Huh. What’s this?” You pulled off the note to read it. Osamu’s pudding: DO NOT EAT. “Wait a second we can’t-“

Atsumu took the container out of your hands, broke the seal on the cover, and handed it back.

“Atsumu!”, you exclaimed.

“You’re welcome.” He opened his pudding cup and shoveled a spoonful in his mouth. “Mmm”

Well it’s not like you could put it back now that it was opened. You scooped a spoonful into your mouth. Your face lit up. Osamu’s pudding preferences were on point.

“I have a question”, Atsumu asked. “Why were ya tryin’ so hard on those dates anyways? Those guys were obviously trash, and ya don’t really seem like the type that’s desperate for romance.”

What he said wasn’t wrong, and you two were kind of having a moment here. You figured it’d be fine to tell him about it.

“Ugh the thing is” You gulped down another spoon of pudding. “I’m trying to prove something to my family”

“Huh?”

“They don’t think I’m capable of romance, and my shitty cousin loves to rub it in my face. I’m trying to find a guy so I can flex on them”

He smirked. “Hah, that’s real petty”

You pointed your spoon at him. “I don’t wanna hear that from you.”

“Fair point”

Your computer chimed. You both turned to look at the screen. 100% Loaded.

“Yes!” You pumped your fists.

“Finally” Atsumu sighed, scraping the last of his pudding out of the cup. “So, ya gonna help me clean?”

“A deals a deal. Where should I start?”, you said combing your hair out of your face.

“I’ll take the tables. You’re on dish duty”

Atsumu went into the supply closet and came back with a rag. You caught yourself staring as he pushed his sleeves up. Okay the man had beautiful forearms, so what? You quickly looked away.

“You okay [y/n]?”, Atsumu interrupted your thoughts, cocking his head. Shit. You hoped he hadn’t noticed your little slip-up.

“Uh yeah! I got the dishes!”

You’d emailed the final prototype and you two were almost done tidying up. The only thing left to do was mopping the floor.

“[Y/N], How about we have a lil challenge”

You raised an eyebrow.

Atsumu brought two mops out of the supply closet, tossing one to you. “I’ll race ya. Last one to mop to the other side loses”

This was stupid there was no way you were about to have a dumb mopping ra-

“Unless you’re too scared”

You gripped your weapon. “Hah, You’re on”

You both stood at one end of the restaurant. Mops in hand.

“Ready” Atsumu clenched his mop. “Go!”

You realized that challenging a pro-athlete to a fair race was stupid. That’s why you didn’t intend to play fair. As soon as Atsumu motioned to take his first step you swiped your dripping mop in front of his foot. He lost his balance.

“Fuck!”

“Haha Loser!”, you turned to laugh at him. Thwack!

Atsumu collided with you knocking you backward. You hit the ground with a thud, securely pinned under him. Shit. He hauled himself onto his hands and knees, looking down at you.

“You cheated!”, he shouted.

“That doesn’t give you the right to tackle me!”, you shot back.

“I wasn’t tryin’ to tackle you!”

“So what!”, you grabbed his collar pulling him back so your foreheads were touching. You both paused. Shit. Did you just do something weird?

You were suddenly very aware of the nice smell wafting off his hair. You gulped. There was a pink blush creeping over Atsumu’s nose. He looked dumbstruck at first but soon a cheeky grin spread across his face.

“Wow [y/n], you’re pretty bold huh.”

“Shut up!”

The chimes jingled and the door opened. You both jumped and turned to the sound.

“Oolala”, the girl who came with Osamu was snickering.

“…is that my pudding?”

After that, you’d both apologized to Osamu, properly mopped the floor. You were getting ready to go home now. Luckily neither of you had been seriously injured in your little incident, but any time your eyes met Atsumu would shoot you an infuriating smirk.

As you were about to leave, Atsumu called out to you. “Hey [y/n] I’m gonna need my sweater back soon”

“Oh right! I forgot it at my apartment but I washed it so I’ll bring it by tomorrow”

“Sounds good. Good night [y/n].” As he turned to walk away, he looked back over his shoulder and smiled at you. It was a sincere smile like the one he gave you as he handed you his sweater the other day. You couldn’t help but smile back. This guy.

Your phone buzzed as you started walking back toward your apartment. You pulled it out.

Jerk Cousin:

Family brunch two Sundays from now. Don’t forget you’re in charge of fruit. My mom told me to remind you. She also said to tell you that you can bring a plus one, not that you’d need it lol

Onigiri Miya. Friday 11:15 AM

You’d slept like a baby that night, and woke up more refreshed than ever. It was like your 24 hours of hell never happened. You pulled open the door to the restaurant.

“Hey Osamu is Atsumu here? I have the sweater I kept forgetting in my apartment” You rustled through your bag pulling the sweater out. Looking up, you suddenly noticed that the restaurant was more packed than usual, and most of the occupants were looking at you.

“Oya?”

“Oya oya?”

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #atsumu #atsumu x reader #set me up

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 4 years

Text

Whumptober 2020 Day 21 - Infection

Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne Summary: Damian didn’t mention he was infected. A/N: mumble-mumble disease/virus that is a mix of the dceased virus and being a zombie or whatever, or just kills you painfully but you remain incredibly infectious. Tim noticed because Damian stretched his arms and his shirt rode up. they’re not their hero personas at this moment. everyone else is probably already dead. plotholes I don’t care. They do as Damian ask. Dick does not recover, not that I think any of them do.

Ao3

Tim noticed it first.

“You bastard.” He hissed, stomping across the room towards Damian. They were in an abandoned diner, one cleared out by the military already. “You…you fucking piece of shit.”

“Tim…” Dick started with a sigh as he saw Damian flinch and back away. “Look, hate each other later, when we get the virus under control.”

Tim ignored him, stalking towards Damian until he cornered him against a wall. “Show them.”

“Fuck off.” Damian hissed, but there was a nervousness in his voice.

Tim let his hand curl into a fist. “Show. Them.”

“No.” Damian whispered.

“Tim, leave him alone.” Dick snapped. “We’re not going to get any rest if you two are…”

He trailed off as Tim grabbed Damian’s arm and yanked him forward. Jason got to his feet to pull them apart, but froze as Tim lifted the edge of Damian’s shirt.

It revealed a large, oozing lump. Purple veins crossed across greenish skin. Damian winced as Tim’s movement jostled his body.

“Damian…” Dick gasped, eyes going wide and almost instantly watery. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he turned away, running his fingers through his hair. “Fuck!”

“When.” Jason demanded.

Damian shook Tim off of him with a glare, then sighed. “Three hours ago. In the street fight.” Damian admitted. “I…I knew I was dead the second I noticed. But I was hoping I could hold out another day or two, be a distraction to anyone who might come after us to give you time to get away.”

“You…little fuck.” Tim sighed sourly. Sadly. “You could have infected us too!”

“You could have let us help you.” Dick countered.

“Help how? There’s no cure to this.” Damian gestured to his side. “And…I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Well, what the fuck do you think we’re doing now?” Jason spat.

“And dying in battle protecting those I love is better than dying in fear.” Damian snapped right back. “I…was trying to be your last line of defense.”

“And it’s appreciated. I guess.” Jason sighed. He paused a second, didn’t look at Dick. Then closed his eyes and slowly reached for his holster. “…You know what we have to do now.”

Dick’s head whipped up, Tim’s eyes went wide and Damian merely nodded. “I know.”

“No. No…fucking way, Jason.” Dick ordered, stomping across the diner and putting himself squarely in front of Damian. “We can fix this.”

“No we can’t, Dick.” Jason said quietly, pulling the gun into his grip. “You know we can’t.”

“You’re not…” Dick’s voice cracked. “You’re not shooting him.”

Damian smirked. “He has before.”

“Shut up.” Dick spun around and stuck his finger in Damian’s face. “Shut your fucking mouth, Damian. Okay?”

“…Grayson.” Damian returned calmly.

“Shut it.” Dick repeated, spinning back around. He kept his finger pointed, at Jason now. “You’re not shooting anyone.”

“Dick.” Jason lowered his gaze. “You know I don’t want to do this. You know that.” He closed his eyes again. “And I…I’m not.” A pause. “I’m not going to make you do it.”

“No one is doing anything.” Dick countered, voice trembling. “We’re going to fix this.”

“Grayson.” Damian repeated. “He’s right.”

“Don’t.” Dick spun back around. He crouched in front of Damian, grabbing his arms. “Don’t, okay? We’re going to figure it out. We’re going to get you help.”

“You can’t.” Damian said. “We all know this.” He turned his head towards Tim. “Don’t we, Drake?”

“No. No way.” Tim shook his head, stepping away. “You’re not getting me to agree that you need to be shot.”

“So what, you both would rather I kill you instead?” Damian demanded, jerking himself out of Dick’s hands and stepping back. “Why do you think I’ve been keeping my distance from you three?!”

“Dick, just.” Jason paused. “You and Tim stay in here. I’ll…we’ll go out back.”

Dick jumped to his feet. “You’re not taking him ‘out back’ like he’s a fucking dog, Jason!”

“Then what do you want, Dick, for me to shoot him right in fucking front of you?!” Jason screamed back. “We don’t have a choice!”

“We do.” Dick whimpered. “We…we have to…”

Damian stepped up to Dick’s side. “We don’t, Grayson.”

Dick looked down at him, tears already dripping down his cheeks. Damian gave him a small smile and hugged him, hiding his face in Dick’s shirt. Dick fell back to his knees and held him back, but couldn’t hold him as tight as he wanted, not with the infection growing on his torso.

“Thank you.” Damian whispered. “For…everything.”

“…I love you.” Dick sobbed. “I love you so much, kiddo. I. Please don’t do this.”

“There isn’t another way. I can’t keep traveling with you, on the chance I infect you, now that you know and won’t keep your distance.” Damian explained. “And you can’t leave me behind, in case I drop dead and someone else finds me. I can’t allow myself to infect anyone else.” He squeezed Dick’s shoulders. “Kill me and burn the body.”

Dick just wailed.

“Promise.” Damian demanded. Dick couldn’t answer, so he looked to Tim. “Promise me.”

Tim’s lip trembled, and he angrily wiped away his own tears as he nodded.

“Good. Thank you.” He smiled. “Thank you for putting up with me, Timothy. Please take care of Grayson.”

Tim couldn’t look at him anymore. He nodded again, but turned away, covering his face with his hands.

“Good.” Damian sighed in relief, reluctantly pulling himself out of Dick’s arms. Dick tried to follow after him, but when Damian was out of his grasp, Dick could do nothing but double over himself, and hide his face against knees.

“Thank you.” Damian repeated, looking between Dick and Tim. Then to Jason as he approached him. “…Thank you.”

“…Don’t.” Jason whispered, a single tear of his own crawling down his face. “Don’t you fucking thank me.”

Damian smiled, and followed Jason out of the restaurant.

Dick’s sobs almost drowned out the sound of the single gunshot.

#dick grayson #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #whumptober2020

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threeletterslife · 4 years

Text

07 | Illegirl

→ previous | next

→ summary: Excelling in every school subject, acing every math test and conquering the academic world is something you do as easily as breathing. As your residential social outcast nerd, you live rather as a recluse, talking to almost no one except for your dear ol’ cousin and that sweet boy in a few of your classes—Jungkook? was that his name? Befriending your ʰᵒᵗ AP stats teacher was the last thing on your high school senior agenda…

→ genre: 90% fluff, 8% crack, 2% angst | teacher!au & f2l!au

→ warnings: profanity, kissing/making out, (kinda??) sexual fantasies

→ wordcount: 6.2k

You need to get rid of all the memories you've had with Jimin.

It's quite simple, actually. You've broken it down into four rules.

1. Don't call him Jimin. He's merely your teacher, not friend

2. You've never ever kissed him before. In fact, let's just say you don't even meet him outside of school for whatever reason

3. You don't know anything about him except his age, name and profession. You certainly don't know anything he hides behind his pretty face

4. Lastly, you weren't his friend, you never were

Ever since the mistaken incident, all fun was stripped away from your life. Essentially, whenever Jin was away, you had Jimin to rely on, but even he was distancing himself from you. You knew it was for the better.

You see a bland pattern these days. During class, Jimin still calls on you (to ensure normal behavior), but both of you avoid eye contact. After class, you silently walk into his classroom and walk out when Jimin's ready to leave. You don't ever exchange words, even when he drops you off.

If you're absolutely forced to talk to him, you don't call him Jimin, you call him Mr. Park, because that's what he really is to you. Only friends call each other by their first names, and Jimin's just a teacher to you.

And you're just a student to him.

You count off the long days until your cousin will come back home. Every day seems to drag on and you constantly can't wait to go to bed for a short while but only to wake up again and start the shitty cycle once more.

But finally, finally, fucking finally, the day comes when your cousin will be back. You're a bit reluctant to accompany your teacher to the airport, but you don't have a car, much less a driver's license.

The car ride is awkward, just as you expected. You manage to sit still, looking out the window the whole time to avoid any chance of eye contact, running math equations in your head to distract yourself.

Of course, in the end, the uncomfortable ride was worth it.

It's Seokjin, after all.

"My baby cousin, best friend! Still alive, I see!" your cousin practically screams as he bull-runs towards you and Jimin, his suitcase basically flying behind him. That earns a few strange looks from passers.

When Jin reaches you, he embraces you in a warm hug.

"I've been living off instant ramen," you whine. "It's not fair that you don't let me get out of the house alone!"

Your cousin cocks his head as he looks between you and Jimin. "Hey, don't you two usually eat together after school?"

"We were both busy," Jimin quickly says, glancing your way awkwardly.

"For a month?" Jin questions.

"Yeah... a lot of homework," you trail off. "Mr. Park still made sure I got into the house safely every time though," you add for some good measure.

"Mr. Park?" your cousin says suspiciously, raising his eyebrows. "Since when did you call Jimin, that?"

Busted.

"Hm... did you two fight?" Jin asks, putting a warm hand on your shoulder. He looks at you meaningfully, as if trying to compel you to tell the full truth. You're not falling for that.

"Oh, of course not," you say giggle unconvincingly. "Why would we fight?"

Jimin laughs nervously. "Y/N's right. We didn't fight."

Jin looks like he doesn't believe both of you. But thankfully, he knows not to push it. "Yeah, I expect it was something like Y/N accidentally got a B on one of your tests, Jimin," he jokes, rolling his eyes. "Anyways, I missed you two," he announces joyfully, bringing in you and your teacher for a hug. "I'll treat you two to a nice dinner."

You perk up, face suddenly glowing as you smile—it felt nice to smile, actually. You haven't done it in a while. "Oh thank god," you say. "No more ramen!"

You haven't really had your fair share of awkward dinners, but goddamn, if you had a list, this dinner would be on the very top of it.

Jin is the only one who's trying to strike up a lively conversation as you and Jimin act like brain-dead zombies. You're half-expecting your cousin to give up on his attempts to crack corny jokes, but no, Jin continues on. You guess you're thankful to have him to make the dinner not a complete shitty event.

Halfway through the meal, Jimin checks his phone, his face feigning surprise. "Oh!" he says rather loudly. "Um, something came up... Er, teacher stuff. I've got to go," he says quickly, standing up. "I'll pay."

"Excuse me, Jimin, I said this is my treat. Go on ahead to your... supposed teacher meeting," Jin says, ushering his friend out with the flip of his hand.

Anyone could tell Jimin was just faking this to get the hell out of here, but none of you were actually going to mention it.

Your teacher just looks gratefully at your cousin and practically dashes out of the nice restaurant.

An awkward silence fills the air for a while.

"So... even if the two of you didn't fight, something still happened," Jin says, turning to face you fully.

"It's nothing, really."

"Nothing? Then do you care to explain why you've lost so much weight? You haven't been eating," your cousin lectures. He points at the dark bags under your weary eyes. "And you haven't been sleeping. You're slipping back to your old habits, Y/N. What happened?"

"It doesn't hurt to do some extra studying..." you mutter. "I've got all the time in the world now," you say sarcastically.

Jin sighs, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Y/N," he says sternly. "How many minutes of sleep are you getting a night?"

"Forty-five," you say nonchalantly. "Don't, Jin. It used to be thirty minutes a night so you better not bring out that huge lecture again."

"I thought it was getting better..." your cousin sighs. "You can't keep doing this to yourself, and you know that."

You nod. "I know. But you're here now, right?"

Your cousin looks at you so sadly, you feel like you just might burst into tears. "Y/N, I won't always be here with you. I know I call you my baby cousin, but honestly, you've got to grow up."

His words hit you hard, only because you know he's right.

"I can't always be there to baby you, okay?" Jin says, massaging his forehead with the palm of his hand. "As of now, you're only in high school—in less than a year you'll be going to college. Life is so much more than studying. Stop using that, that shit to distract yourself from things that should mean a lot to you!" your cousin practically yells. He buries his face into his hands.

Your mouth is agape. Jin never cussed. He must be so mad. You fucked up—you've been fucking up for a while, actually.

"Jin," you say, softly shaking your cousin's shoulder. "Jin. I'm sorry."

When he looks up, you're shocked to see smudged tears dwelling on the smooth surfaces of his skin. You've never seen Jin cry—only on stage when it was scripted.

At that moment, you want to tell him everything—you've never actually hidden things from your cousin until Jimin rolled around. You want to tell him about that night Jimin was drunk and kissed you, about your crush on your teacher, how he helped you become the happiest you could be, how a month ago both of you made a huge mistake and kissed... You want to tell your cousin that you've been slipping back to your own habits because you wanted to distract yourself from thinking about him.

But you don't tell him.

"Y/N, I try, okay? I really try to make you happy. Yeah, sometimes it makes me want to rip my hair out, because god, you are such a brat at times!" he chuckles through his tears. "But Y/N, I love you. And I know, whatever has been going on between you and Jimin has been making you happier than ever. It's something I couldn't do for you, and I still beat myself up over that. But something happened between the two of you, and the happiness is gone now. You don't have to tell me anything, but just... don't go studying for hours when you face some sort of problem in your life, okay?"

Fuck, now I'm crying.

You nod, making your tears flow down your face. "Okay. I'm sorry," you manage to say. "I'm so sorry. I've been so selfish—"

Jin wipes your tears away with his soft sweater, pulling you into a tight hug right after. "It's okay. You're still learning, you're only 17. Besides, my outlet is theater. While you were practically starving yourself for a month, I was literally having the time of my life with the drama crew. Don't worry about me too much. I'm not the one who still needs to figure out what to do in life."

All you can do is nod into Jin's chest, sniffling slightly. You love him so much you can't even explain in words.

"Fix things up with Jimin, try, okay? I don't care if you end your senior year having a B, or seven F's—what matters is your happiness. Try to consider that the next time you try to starve and sleep deprive yourself," Jin says softly, his fingers sifting daintily through your hair, caressing it in a way you think a mother would do.

You hum in agreement, your head still resting against your cousin's warm chest. You want to stay like this forever.

But after a few minutes, your cousin tugs you back, smiling brightly at you. "Now, we've put on quite a show in this restaurant, haven't we?" he whispers in a giggly voice.

Whut.

It's only then when you realize this whole episode had happened at the restaurant. In public. You can feel the judging gazes of people.

Oh fuck no.

"Oh my god, this is so embarrassing!" you hiss, gripping your cousin's sweater, face colored bright red as you can't bear to look up again.

Jin laughs heartily. "But what's life without a little public embarrassment?"

He looks up to you as much as you look up to him. As your older cousin, Seokjin always feels the need to take care of you, to make sure you're doing okay. At times, he forgets that he should put himself before others. At times, he forgets that he has a life outside of taking care of you and several grubby high schoolers. At times he forgets who he even is.

But on the days that he forgets, he thinks back to what you always tell him. You, the bratty, but amazing sunshine of his life.

"Jin, you're the goofiest guy I've ever fuc—I mean, freaking met. You'd think such a goofy guy would be empty-headed. But to think that I'm wrong... You're an amazing actor. It's scary to see you on stage sometimes because you're not Jin anymore. Like I swear to fu—flopping god that you change into a completely different person!"

"Y/N, are you complimenting me, or roasting me?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm doing both. One shouldn't take too many compliments at once. It makes them big-headed."

"Well, I can't argue with you, I know that. But you really think I can act?"

"Okay, Jin, I know you can act, alright? I've seen you. Honestly, you should try pursuing it. Oh my god, if you ever get famous, write a play about me!"

Jin chuckles at the memory. He never ever liked letting you see his weak side. To you, he was always some superhero who would always crack up jokes to lighten up any dark mood, his specialty was saving awkward dinners from spiraling out of control.

But since you were deprived of the details of Jin's darker part of his life, he needed someone else to vent to: Jimin.

"Jin, you should start to worry more about yourself than Y/N. Seriously, all you do is talk about her—is she that worrisome?"

"Jimin, bro, you don't even know. She's just... different and I'm so worried about her and how's she's gonna handle you know, life."

"You know what you need to do?"

"What?"

"Take a fucking chill pill. Let the girl be. She's 17, isn't she? You've been babying her too much, you know that? The more you worry about her, the more restricted she'll feel. She'll learn by herself. Life is trial and error—you should know that."

"I—"

"Okay, and in the meantime, holy shit, man, take care of yourself. All you do is teach, take care of Y/N, teach, take care of Y/N, teach, take care of—"

"I think I get the point."

"Yeah? Well, doesn't look like you get it. Jin, do something for yourself for once. What do you like to do?"

"You know, the usual. Sleep... Look in the mirror..."

"If you're not gonna be serious, I'm going to leave—"

"Fine! I like acting okay? I love it. Every year the drama team is invited for competitions and I'm never able to go, so we've been losing every time."

"I presume you can't go to take care of Y/N?"

"Yeah.. uh—"

"I'll take care of her then, buddy. You go fulfill your dream, bro; you deserve it."

"Wait, actually? For real? You'd do that? This better not be one of your jokes."

"Do I look like I'm joking? You deserve to be doing what you want, Jin. Everyone does."

Jin feels so warm inside as he recalls that memory. It was thanks to Jimin that he was able to experience the time of his life at the competition, doing the thing he loved. It had also been thanks to Jimin that you had been happy for quite the longest time.

If Seokjin didn't know any better, he'd say there was just a bit of chemistry between the two of you—it was either that or a solid friendship. But for some reason whatever was there is now gone.

You were colder, more distant than before and even Jimin had stopped laughing so often.

"I know I'm asking you this a lot these days, but are you happy, Y/N? You don't look like it..."

"That's because I'm not. But don't you dare worry about me, it makes me feel selfish. I'm going to find things out when the time comes. You know, I care about you too. And honestly, I want you to stop worrying about me because it's stunting your happiness. I'm 17, I can figure things out myself."

"Can you figure things out by yourself? For real?"

"What did I just say? Yes, I can! I'm telling you, I'm starting to get life, alright?"

Jin shakes his head, sighing. He could always see through your lies. It was painfully obvious you were just saying the things he wanted to hear. He could see the confusion in your eyes whenever you stared at Jimin, he could see how blank your stare was when you were looking at anything else.

So. Obvious.

"Y/N, are you sure there's nothing going on between you and Jimin?"

"I'm absolutely sure."

Jin wasn't so sure you were sure.

The young teacher really hadn't meant to kiss you. Things had just taken an unexpected turn, and judging from your reaction, it had been an enormous mistake. It physically hurt to have lost his other best friend, but he tried hard to not let it affect his life.

He could see it affected you though.

Of course, he had noticed you had lost weight—he also noticed the growing dark circles under your usually sparkling eyes. He could see how much duller you were. He also noticed he was smiling less without you.

Jimin sighs out loud as he makes his way into his car. He really missed having you around, with your unique, spunky personality, beautiful smile and hilarious side comments.

As he's driving, he can't stop thinking about you. Your face, your laugh, god, even your handwriting—sometimes he just spends long minutes admiring your neat penmanship on your tests. He knows every single one of your writing quirks—how you take your time to put a cute little dash over your 7's, or how beautiful your 4's look compared to everyone else's.

Stop it, Park Jimin. You'll crash your car if you don't stop thinking about her.

It takes five minutes longer than it should've, but Jimin finally arrives at the local market, clutching his clear shopping bag. He painfully looks down at it. It reminds him of you.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Um... clear."

"That's not a color, Y/N!"

"Do I fucking look like I care?"

"But that's like saying your favorite fruit is a carrot."

"Wait, my favorite fruit is a carrot! Damn, how'd you guess??"

He can't help but chuckle at the memory, but he abruptly stops, remembering you two won't be able to share memories like this anymore. Sighing, Jimin trudges into the supermarket.

He's been going here a lot these days. Ever since he found out you had not just one sweet tooth, but 28 sweet teeth, he'd been trying to learn how to bake pastries, buying all sorts of ingredients to create saccharine dishes. Just for you.

It wasn't much of a miracle that the last time you had baked together didn't turn out to be a disaster. Jimin had practiced.

He loves cooking with you. You always look ethereal, hair a bit frizzy from the heat and tied back from your face with stray strands brushing against your face. Your cheeks are always flushed and somehow frosting always gets on your forehead. Even thinking about you makes all his sadness and hurt disappear into thin air.

Except, Jimin wasn't going to the store to buy ingredients to bake. He was going to buy some beer. He hadn't gotten drunk ever since he'd accidentally kissed you—the first time, that is. But he figured today, he needed it. He needs to get his mind off of things. He needs to get his mind off of you.

Jimin walks through the aisles, blank-minded, stopping only at the alcohol section. He randomly picks at a pack of beers, knowing he'll probably end up drinking it all today. He grabs it, hand hovering to place the pack in his clear bag.

But again, it reminds him of you.

"I don't know why the fuck you would ever drink. Like, does it taste good? What's the fucking point?"

"I dunno. I just kinda drink it when I want to alleviate stress, I guess."

"Well, that's stupid. You should try ice cream. That stuff makes you feel better right away and it doesn't make you go wack and do hilarious shit you'll end up regretting."

"Are you actually shading me, right now?"

"So what if I am??"

Jimin smiles at the memory. The first mistaken kiss between the two of you was such a joke—you two would always make fun of it. Why couldn't the second one be treated the same?

He sighs, clutching the pack of beer as he puts it back on the shelf. Chuckling to himself, he starts to make his way to the ice cream aisle.

Jimin scans the series of ice cream flavors to choose from. Immediately, the mint chocolate chip ice cream catches his eye, and without hesitation, he takes the tub and places it whole in his shopper.

Y/N's favorite. Jimin smiles, then starts to walk to the checkout, only pausing when he remembers he needs a new set of his favorite red pens. Nodding his head to himself, Jimin makes his way to the office supplies section of the store, scanning the shelves to pick out his favorite.

Big mistake.

As soon as he picks up the 3-pack of his much-needed red gel pens, it reminds him of grading, which reminds him of grading tests, which was exactly what he had been doing just three minutes before he and you had ruined your friendship. Your face looms in his memory.

Something stings inside. It rips his heart and then shrivels it up as if he had dumped it into highly-concentrated saltwater. Like lemon juice on a paper cut—but the paper cut was a gushing wound.

It was as if he only just realized he lost someone crucial to his happiness.

Jimin can't help but make a sour, hurt face, instantly tossing the pack of pens away from him. He doesn't want to deal with bad memories. The pens can wait.

Instead, Park Jimin finds himself wandering back to the alcohol aisle, absentmindedly buying an even larger pack of beers, setting it next to the tub of ice cream. There's enough room in the kitchen for both anyways.

His thoughts are completely blank as he drives home. It's as if the rush of pain he'd felt earlier had hurt so, so much he was now immune to it. It was numb.

He reaches his house, setting down the beer and ignoring the ice cream that would surely melt if kept out in the open; he pauses in his steps, hand midway through raking his hair back. All because he sees his couch.

You loved that couch. Actually, you practically lived on it whenever you came over, insisting to even eat dinner seated on it because "it's fucking comfortable."

When you sleep over, taking his bed, he sleeps on that same couch where he can smell your soothing scent. It lulls him to sleep.

But then comes the fantasies.

"Someone will hear!"

"Let them hear."

"God, Jimin, you have no fucking morals," you breathe shakily. "What if Jin walks in?"

"Jin? Walk in? In my house?" Jimin laughs hotly against your neck. "You're just making excuses, baby girl."

"Why would I make excuses?" you say weakly, gripping the hem of his shirt. "I want this just as much as you do."

"Oh?"

Jimin hums as nuzzles the sensitive part of your neck with his nose.

"R-really, Jimin? But here?" you stutter as your eyes automatically close and your mouth parts.

"We'll take it to the couch, love," he answers, sweeping you up in a smooth fashion and softly laying you on the couch before making his way on top of you.

Your body is enveloped by the plush couch and Jimin whose legs are on either side of your hips. He dips in unhurriedly, his tongue touching your lips before his. You wrap your arms around his neck as Jimin cups your face with both hands, kissing you slowly.

Lips still attached, you tug at the hem of his button-up shirt, and Jimin takes the hint to slowly start unbuttoning it. You shift below him to help him with his buttons and before long, his shirt is off and discarded somewhere on the floor. Only then do you move apart from each other's lips.

You marvel at his fit body, reaching to run your cold fingers across his toned muscles. Jimin doesn't give you enough time to continue your sightseeing as he pushes you back down, playing with the bottom of your t-shirt. He gives you a seductive look as you practically melt under him.

"Why don't we take this off too?"

"J-Jimin..."

Wait a fucking minute. This isn't right.

Jimin sighs loudly as he gives his head a little shake as if it would erase him of that rather inappropriate fantasy. At least he's glad it was one of the more innocent imaginations he's had of you.

But now he feels more broken than ever. You're something he can't have, your relationship only exists in the depth of his mind, hidden away from judgment. Jimin sighs again, ripping open the pack of beers and taking one. It's not even cold, but at this point, he doesn't care.

He just wants to forget.

On second thought, he grabs the whole pack and takes it with him to the kitchen, setting it down, choosing one and cracking it open in one swift move. It's a familiar, refreshing feeling.

Jimin raises the can to his lips, waiting to feel the rush of the bitter contents on his tongue. But he freezes.

He's thinking of you again. It's as if his brain can't function without thinking of you so often. Yet this time, it's not the thought of you, it's the sight. Jimin sees your smiling face, the way your sweet lips part to reveal your smooth teeth in a brilliant grin. He can't but to smile to himself as well.

Almost immediately, he sets the beer down.

Maybe... Maybe you might not want to be friends anymore, but Jimin knows that he does. He figured that's all it takes to make him happy. If the thought of you can make him content, make him choose the right decisions, then he'll just have to continue thinking of you.

He's sorry he moved in to change a friendship into a relationship so fast, and he might just regret it, but in the end, he's glad he's met you.

Jimin slowly picks himself up to grab the tub of your favorite ice cream, scrounging for a spoon. The first bite is heavenly, wonderful and phenomenal.

Just like Y/N.

He shakes his head as he takes another scoop, placing it in his mouth to melt slowly.

Damn. I'm so whipped for her.

You sift heavy textbooks around in your arms, fumbling with your lock before getting it open. Throwing the books in, you sigh as you slam your locker shut. These days, you had lost interest in a lot of things you used to like—school included. Things just seemed so bland. You didn't ever feel like socializing with anyone, forcibly dragging yourself to class every single day.

"Hey, Y/N!" a familiar voice calls as you whip your head around to respond.

"Oh, Jungkook!" you reply, "ah, and Yoongi, Taehyung..." Immediately, guilt courses through your veins. You'd been ditching them during lunch for quite some time now, ignoring their frequent 'where are you?' texts. They'd come to confront you for sure.

"Were you sick?" Jungkook asks as he reaches you. "I didn't see you in school for a while."

"I bet you happened to drop your phone in the toilet as well," Yoongi snarks.

Taehyung coughs awkwardly. "Since you haven't been answering our texts."

"Well, I—" you sigh. How are you supposed to tell them you've been wanting a lot of alone time these days without brutally mutilating their feelings? The answer was too obvious.

"Uh, yeah I was sick. And yeah, I kinda drowned my phone in the toilet," you say. Lies. "I'm sorry if you worried."

"Damn, did you drop your phone in the toilet after you used it, or before?" Yoongi laughs, earning an elbow to the ribs from his truly, Jungkook.

"You don't have to be sorry, Y/N," the sweet math nerd muses, giving Yoongi a dirty look. "We're sorry you haven't felt well. You're better now, right?"

You stand there awkwardly, not wanting to engage in a full-blown conversation. Your daily dose of alone-time was calling, and you desperately wanted to succumb to it.

"Yeah... um, I'm okay, been better. Sorry, I kinda have to go..." you fib. "Um, doctor's appointment?" It sounds more like a question than a solid lie but it'll do for now. "See you sometime later, I guess."

Turning around, you quickly walk away, faintly hearing confusedly murmured goodbyes from your friends. You speed around a corner, finding refuge in the girl's bathroom. Setting your things down in the big stall, you sigh, sitting down on top of your backpack.

It almost feels like the old days.

Except back then, you didn't have to ditch your friends for solitude because you had none. In a way, you feel slightly guilty. Your friends just wanted to hang out with you, it was that simple. But surely, if you hung out with them, you'd ruin the fun and the happy mood.

It's better to not meet them at all than meet them and remember bad things.

It's an upgrade, you think. You used to be afraid that others would hurt you. Now you're afraid you'll hurt others.

Some kind of upgrade.

It's even worse with the situation you have at hand (ahem, the Jimin one). You rarely lift your head up in class, flinching just slightly when he calls your name to solve a problem. It's harder than you think. To get rid of a crush, that is.

Not only that, but it's also wrong to be infatuated with your teacher. You just don't know what to do anymore. Jin didn't buy your feigned happiness—well, any idiot could tell you weren't as content as before. And now you've got a handful of people worrying, fussing over you of all others.

Why couldn't they just leave you alone?

No, that's stupid.

Deep inside, you want them to care, to worry for you. It gives you a feeling that you're not so alone.

"Y/N? You little liar!" a masculine voice screams from the entrance of the girl's restroom.

"Oh shit," you breathe. That was definitely Taehyung. Fuck. Just stay quiet, it's not like they can—

"We're coming in!" Yoongi yells, making the blood drain out of your face.

"Wait, guys!" Jungkook pleads. But it's too late. Yoongi and Taehyung barge into the girl's bathroom, rattling stall doors. Thank goodness you know for a fact no other girls were in here.

Before Yoongi or Taehyung can break down the stalls, you quickly unlatch your door, coming face to face with the two students.

"Ha! I knew you were in here!" Taehyung declares. "Jungkook swore he saw you go to the restroom and not to the office!"

"Doctor's appointment, huh?" Yoongi smirks.

"Well, I—"

"Save it. Jungkook, you little brat, get in here! Stop being a wimp!" Yoongi yells at the top of his lungs.

"Yoongi, will you quiet down? This is the girl's restroom," you hiss.

"But if this is the place you choose to eat your lunch at, we'll be here by your side," Jungkook says, smiling as he timidly walks in the stall. He looks alert as if anyone could open the door to the restroom and catch three teenage boys in a bad act, (which was perfectly plausible).

You don't know how in the hell you're supposed to respond to this. This. This is what friendship should be, isn't it? You'd never really known until now. It's such a beautiful, heartwarming feeling.

"Actually, JK, my man, you can be by her side, Yoongi and I have some business to take care of," Taehyung giggles has Yoongi links his arm around his.

"Wait, huh? That wasn't the pl—"

"Buh-bye!" Yoongi sings, waving his fingers at you and Jungkook as he and Taehyung strut out of the bathroom, not once looking back.

You and Jungkook are completely stunned into silence.

"Wow, they're really out to get us, huh?" you finally say, laughing under your breath.

"Y-yeah," Jungkook agrees quickly. "Listen, Y/N," he turns to you, the surprising sternness in his voice hinting that he was being extremely serious. "I understand you like your alone time, maybe a bit more than others. But sometimes the most dangerous, harmful and hurtful thoughts come when you're in solitude."

He's right and you know it.

"Aw, Jungkook, don't worry, I'm fine!" you say in the most lighthearted way you can. You chuckle sourly inside. No, I'm not.

"Y/N, you're not fine," Jungkook sighs. "For the longest time, I thought you weren't hanging out with us during lunch because... because you hated me or something. But now, I think there's something going on in your life that's hurting you, keeping you from being the better you."

You're speechless.

"Do you have anything to tell me?"

You do.

"I don't."

"Y/N, it's a burden to tell others every single detail of your life and problems, but it's also a burden to not say one single word about it," Jungkook says. "I don't know anything about you except that you like math... I want to know more about you, what goes on in your life, what problems you have. I want to help you."

It's then when you know you've been a mystery to Jungkook. You know a shit ton about him from your friendly talks, but you never talk about yourself. You realize you had only ever told Jimin everything that went on in your life. He was the one who could possibly know you better than Jin, himself. Jimin.

His name echoes in your head, but it feels so empty and dark.

You hadn't even known you were crying until Jungkook wordlessly wipes your tears away with the hem of his sleeve. He softly pats your back, then hesitates before he leans in to embrace you. Something about that makes you start crying. Too bad it's the ugly kind.

Jungkook seems a bit taken back at your sudden burst of tears, but he only holds you tighter, rubbing warm circles in your back. The best part about it is that he doesn't say a single word. He gives you time to cry your heart out, giving you company when you should feel so lonely.

You hiccup, leaning back from Jungkook's chest but still in the warmth of his embrace. "I'm sorry. I just... I don't... I'm so sorry," you blubber. Damn. Why the fuck—

"Unrequited love?" Jungkook asks softly.

You give him a strange look. "I guess you could say that..."

"Thought so," he mutters. "But he loves you back," he declares confidently.

Your head jerks up and you take a second before you start to laugh, the last of your tears dripping down from your chin to the ground. "How would you know?"

"You're Y/N. Everyone loves you back," Jungkook says, grinning. He dabs at your wet cheeks with his sleeve.

"And you're supposed to say that because you're my friend," you chuckle. "Trust me. It's not even 'love.' It's a little crush that I shouldn't even have had in the first place," you explain. "I'll be fine."

Jungkook smiles. "I trust that you will be." He's about to say more, but you hear the restroom door swing open as a few loud, gossipy girls come in.

You quickly tug Jungkook into the stall with you, locking the door. "Oh shit!" you whisper, grabbing at your friend's shirt.

"That was close!" Jungkook chuckles quietly. He smiles at you, and it's so contagious that you can't help but smile back.

You finally realize that you're not alone, that you shouldn't be alone. There are people willing to listen, to help you. There are people willing to break school rules and hang out in the girl's restroom with you, for goodness sake. You need to get over this 'unrequited love' and focus on the better things.

It took you a good ten minutes to escape the girl's restroom with Jungkook safely—curse high school girls who like to gossip their mouths off when they should really be flushing down their business. The two of you spent the rest of lunch casually talking as if you hadn't broken down crying not too long ago. It felt good to talk to someone. Especially since you've been so focused on shutting people out these days.

Now you're in the best mood you've been in months as you practically skip to Jin's drama classroom.

"Today's been a wonderful day!" you belt out singing as you swing open the door, twirling dramatically into the classroom. Looking up from your little happy dance, the color from your face drains as you see Jin and Jimin staring at you in shock.

Okay. I was expecting Jin. But Jimin? Really?

You're so embarrassed. All the mirth from before had officially been drained away.

Jin's the first one to break the silence as he laughs heartily. "A wonderful day? That's great, Y/N! Did Jungkook confess?" he teases.

You roll your eyes. "No!"

Your cousin wiggles your eyebrows at you as from the corner of your eye, you can see Jimin looking down at his shoes. Your heart stings at the sight.

"Yeah, um, so... Let's go home?" you awkwardly suggest, tightening your grip on your backpack.

"Oh right... About that," Jin chuckles nervously. "Jimin's taking you home today."

The light in your eyes extinguishes immediately. "He can't!" you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

Jimin looks up at your sudden outburst, your eyes meeting.

Crap. Shit. Fuck.

Jin cocks his head. "Don't worry, Y/N, he's not going to crash the car or anything," he laughs. Your eyes plead at your cousin. "Sorry, for the late notice, Y/N. I have some team meeting I have to go to. Now, behave yourself! I'll be home in a few hours. Bye!" Jin gives you and Jimin an equally goofy grin as he sashays out of his classroom, happily waving his hand as a final goodbye.

You internally groan. This was going to be so bad.

—previous | next

—masterlist

#jimin #park jimin #jimin fanfiction #jimin imagine #bts #bts fanfiction #jimin fluff #jimin angst #teacher au #jimin fanfic #illegirl

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