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multifandomfanatic02 · 2 months

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"My Little Partner in Crime."

pairing : father!Alastor x daughter!reader

synopsis : you spent nearly 80 years by your father's side without him knowing who you truly were. Don't you think it's about time you told him the truth? Would he despise you?

warnings : weep bitches.

word count : 3,106

It had been 76 years since she had passed. Yet she remained in the body of a 15 year old girl. In hell, of course no one aged. Not many child sinners were often found in Hell but she was special. While she wasn't an overlord, she was a brilliant mind behind one.

In life, [Y/N] felt she had been misplaced in the world. So many terrible things had happened at such a young age. She got by though. Through learned methods and maybe a little bit of her genes had helped too.

She was orphaned at the age of 10 years old. Father died before she was born and mama fell severely ill when she was 10. It was an unfortunate circumstance for such a young child to be in, however it only got worse from there. After both parents had died, she ended up in a very poor fostering system. In which none of the children were treated right. It was so much worse for her.

[Y/N] was the daughter of an infamous serial killer in Louisiana. Which did not look good to potential foster parents. If her father was a fucking psychopath, what would she be like? In a way, they weren't far off in their speculations. And they proved to be right later on.

Her mother didn't find out about the love of her life's deeds until he was pronounced dead one eventful night. Gunshot to the head in the midst of burying his own victim. Regardless of what was said about the man, she still loved him all the years after before falling to her own demise. It wasn't like he was a crazed monster, in fact, he likely saved more people than he killed. He only went after the worst of the worst.

It was obvious that the man loved his wife more than life itself. More than his job. It saddened her knowing that he would never get to meet his daughter. Children were never planned or even talked about between the two considering sex was kind of a sensitive topic for the both of them and for different reasons. So the one time they decided to 'experiment' she ended up conceiving. Funny enough, 6 weeks later was when he died. Neither parents had knowledge of [Y/N] presence yet.

[Y/N] was scorned throughout the entirety of her foster community. Not for anything she did, no no. But for something her father did. No one wanted her. Regardless, she was happy that she was on her own in a way. Her 4 years in foster care were quite peaceful.

It wasn't until she was 14 that she had been finally picked out of the system. An old man, maybe in his fifties, had come to get her. The fostering system, not wanting her to continue her stay any longer, kept their dealings with him under wraps so everything stayed out of legal documents. [Y/N] wasn't adopted, no, she was to become his wife and to bear several of his children. Figures. What else would a man like him want in a child. Women were still known as the caretakers at the time. Nobody in this day and age was evolved like her father whom treated her mother like a queen when they were alive.

Thankfully it never got too bad before she decided to take her fate into her own hands. She was an avid reader. Her favorite things to read were the medical books found in her room when she was in the system. So she eventually learned a thing or two. It started off with a crushed pill in his drink every morning to stave off his libido. So he was never in the mood to touch her. (Don't ask where she gets the medication, it's a secret.)

Wearing him down slowly every day and night for the next year before his untimely death. An insulin overdose. It'd be like he died in his sleep. During an autopsy, no one would even know. She grinned ear to ear, feeling the man's pulse disappear from his neck. She took a breath before calling 911 in a faked panic tone. Convincing actually. "Hello? I n-need help. My husband isn't b-breathing, I think he may be dead. Please come save him! He can't die! I love him!" She managed to force tears from her eyes.

Ultimately, he did indeed pass away and she was finally on her own. I guess it wasn't a totally bad set up since his property, belongings, and money went to [Y/N]. It was short lived, unfortunately. All that money that went to ballrooms and jazz music. It was paradise and worth every penny she thought. Only to die at the age of 15 from an infected fox bite. (Random, right? Just like dad's lol)

[Y/N] had been in Hell for 76 years. She wasn't well known unlike her companion. Sticking to the man like glue after all this time. She worked well with the Radio Demon. Their minds complemented each other very well. Almost to a point of familiarity. When she first arrived in Hell, it was like she had made a big boom in the talk of the town. She was a mastermind and very talented at killing and pranks. It sparked a lot of the overlords' interest, especially since she wasn't interested in becoming an overlord herself. All she wanted was to enjoy her dark and very humorous afterlife. [Y/N] of course declined all their business proposals, even the famous Vox.

There was one she couldn't turn away from. He was charming and the two immediately had an unbreakable connection. The connection itself was unreadable but it was there nonetheless. He made a deal with her, promising absolute protection from the exterminators and other overlords and in turn she would help with his dealings. It was a fair trade, the Radio Demon was a bit impulsive with his actions while [Y/N] methodically planned all her own dealings 30 steps ahead. And with her being 15, well, she was thought to be an easy target.

It was actually strange, they look alike too. The same color scheme, same nose and eyes. Both shared that constant shit-eating grin and composure. The only difference between them being that he's an elk demon while she, a fox demon. It was literally just the tail, antlers, and hairstyle that set them apart.

Overtime, the radio demon, opened up to her piece by piece. Alastor, that was his name. It didn't take to long for her to come to the realization that he was in fact her beloved father that her mom talked about oh so much. It was clear. It wasn't just their appearance but mannerisms that were so similar. Her name being the same as his mothers surely didn't help either. He thought nothing of it. Alastor didn't know, he was too oblivious to anything that wasn't himself. And up to now, it never felt like the right time to tell him, so it's been a secret.

Turns out she wasn't the only one to have this realization. Carmilla Carmine along with many other overlords figured it out before even she. Carmilla being a mother herself felt empathy for her and talked to her whenever she needed it. Rosie found a deep love for [Y/N] herself, acting as a mother figure as well. The little darling was just like her bestie, Alastor, how could she not? Other overlords weren't as reasonable and often threatened to use the knowledge as a weapon against her. What would Alastor think? Did he ever want a child? Would he stray away from her if he found out? Often enough, the overlords who threatened her ended up without their lives by her hands by the end of the day.

Seventy-six years, Alastor had kept [Y/N] by his side every step he took. It wasn't until his powerful fight with Vox that he decided to step away. He disappeared for 7 years without notice. It broke her heart into a million pieces but just like before in life, she marched on and kept her promise to him.

It wasn't until news arrived in Pentagon city about this Hazbin Hotel that she'd heard Alastor's name after so long. He was working as the host of the hotel. It wasn't often [Y/N] showed emotion but this time she couldn't hold it in, tears streamed down her face. Her sturdy smile began to slowly break apart. It seemed her father was her weakness. While he didn't want to admit it, it was mutual. He left without saying a word to avoid seeing her disappointment in those little eyes of hers. He didn't want her see him so weak. In a way, he subconsciously felt he had some kind of responsibility over her.

The walk to the hotel was nerve-wracking for [Y/N]. Seeing him after all this time felt bittersweet. She was excited of course but she was awfully upset about his random disappearance.

Knock, knock, knock

The Princess of Hell had opened the door, to her surprise to see a red and black fox demon with a huge smile on her face. Charlie was suddenly having a flash of deja vu. Where else has she seen this before? In any case, it wasn't the most obvious thing to pop out at her. This girl was a child. There shouldn't be a child in Hell, whose cruel idea was it to send her down here Charlie thought.

"Princess Charlotte, it's a pleasure to meet you. My name is [Y/N]." She bent down pulling her dress between her fingers to greet her.

"Just call me Charlie! It's nice to meet you too! Are you here to stay in the hotel? If so we would love to have you here with us. Especially someone as cute as you." Charlie reached out to pinch the young demon's cheeks before composing herself.

"I actually am, among other things. I was hoping I could be of service to you." Charlie sat questioning her proposal for a second.

"I'll gladly accept any help I can get but love, you are a child, don't you want to focus on going to heaven and get out of this place?" Charlie bent down to her level and took the girl's hands in her own.

"Don't let her age fool you, my dear. She is a very capable demon. In fact, better than most overlords I know." The familiar radio static voice tickled [Y/N] ears as Alastor materialized behind Charlie. He smiled genuinely as he held out his arms, waiting for her embrace. Tears suddenly streamed down as she ran into his arms. The two holding onto each other as if one of them would disappear forever.

"I apologize for my sudden departure, darling. I hope you know that I would never leave you willingly. It was the only way I could keep my side of the deal." He stroked her hair in attempt to calm her sobbing. She couldn't say anything, she had already forgiven him a while back. Alastor couldn't do anything to make her hate him.

"Alastor aren't you going to introduce us? Who's this sweet thing?" Angel dust walked to the doors to join him and Charlie. The rest of the sinners in the lobby following suit.

"I guess you could say she is my partner in crime. This little darling has been by my side for nearly 80 years. I owe a lot of my victories to her truth be told." Everyone stood around confused, expecting a different answer. There's absolutely no way she could JUST be his partner they look too much ali-

"Al, is that.. is that all she is?" [Y/N] sent vaggie daggering eyes as a warning not to continue her statement. Getting the hint, Vaggie backed off and went to sit on the couch in the center of the room. "Nevermind, forget I said anything."

"Hey [Y/N], it's been a few months. How you holding up. Still getting into trouble I hear." Husk gives the fox demon some pats on the head.

"It's nice to see you again Husker, I would like to thank you for looking out for me these past few years." Her grin grew looking up at the fluffy demon.

"Just doing what the boss told me." Alastor often had souls he was contracted with look after her in his absence. There wasn't much he could do, but knowing she was safe and sound and thriving eased his cold heart. It wasn't often he found himself tied to someone. But there he was, worried for the safety of someone else. A child no less. It took a while to understand his feelings but he eventually did accept it. He cared about someone other than himself.

Introductions to the residents went smoothly, all of them having such lively personalities she thought. What an amazing new family to have. Besides missing Mama, this was much better than what she had in life ironic as it is.

The times were changing and everything felt still, peaceful. [Y/N] had an amazing new family and business. Angel Dust being like an amazing big brother and Charlie like an amazing older sister. However the biggest change was how close she got to Alastor. He insisted her bedroom be near his radio tower so he could watch over her. It was so out of character for the residents that have only known him since he joined the hotel staff.

She was back to being glued to his hip. Her charm helping to gain more residents with her adorableness. It brought on a whole lot of business deals for the feared radio demon as well. Everything was perfect. Something still weighed on [Y/N]'s heart. Alastor needed to know the truth. Why the two of them have such a strong connection. And why they can't seem to ever let each other go. It's not something easily brought up in conversation. Thankfully, luck was on her side one day during one of their business outings.

"So.. do we have a deal?" Alastor held his hand out to damaged overlord. The enemy's eyes flickered over to the fox demon, causing a distraction. Long enough for his partner to sneak a gun to the young girl's temple. Her composure stabled, a smile creeping on her face.

"Before I agree to this deal, you are going to hear me out. Or my partner here will end the little girl's life. And you'll be pickingup brain matter off the ground." Alastor's eye twitched, returning his hands to the top of his cane. His expression eased back into his typical smile, seeing her unfazed by the imminent threat.

"Fine. What do you want?" The man smiled seeing Alastor accept his conditions.

"[Y/N]. I want the girl." The Radio Demon's breath hitched in his throat upon hearing the request. Never. Never in a million years, he thought. "You see that BITCH had me killed. Secretly drugging me for a year. Didn't think I would have noticed, huh? She never payed for it, she never had to answerfor her crime. Got her out of that shithole of a foster care and this is what I get?"

He forcibly grabbed the collar of her prim and proper dress, picking her up to his face. Her ears folded to the back of her head, scowling at the man now. "You were going to make me a child bride."

"You are a woman. You do what I say. If you don't accept my proposal, I'll tell daddy here your little secret. Won't he be surprised." Her eyes turned red at his words, both her and Alastor, in his demon form, shoving an arm through the man's chest in unison. All he felt in that moment was fear, dying for a second time.

It took a second for the man's words to process in Alastor's head. Secret? What secret? He didn't want to pry but it was obviously tearing [Y/N] up inside. Her expression said it all. All he wanted was to know she was okay. It was time to let him know. And whatever decision he made, she was going to be okay with.

"There's something I need to tell you."

"Darling, you don't have to tell me anything if you are not comfortable. That fuck was just trying to get under your skin." And it worked.

"No. You need to know." [Y/N]'s lip began to quiver in fear. Scared she was suddenly going to be a disappointment. How could she keep this a secret for so long. He had the right to know. Now. "My name is [first name] [Shared last name]. I.. I am your daughter."

The gears in his head turned as he tried to process the new information. When something suddenly clicked in his head. The love of his life just before he died, was constantly sick and had been for a few weeks. Alastor had just thought she had a cold and constantly doted on her, trying to provide the best medicine he could.. hm.. find. She never took it thankfully. She was pregnant.

He hadn't thought about it before now but it has come to his attention that the reason why he cared for this child so much was because she reminded him of his wife. She was careful with every decision, she was always calm in every situation she's been in, and they both had that beautiful fire in their eyes. The fire that let everyone know that they weren't going to submit to nobody. The dynamic between him and his wife wasn't much different from the dynamic between him and his daughter.

Why hadn't Alastor seen it before. [Y/N] was obviously named after his mother. The girl was literally his mini me. He couldn't help but let a tear or two drop from his eyes before bending his knees to look at her at her level.

"Tell me... what uh. What happened to your mother?" Alastor held the girl's cheek in his hand caressing it gently and wiping away her own tears, slightly smearing the blood on his hand.

"Mama died of the influenza virus when I was 10. I'm sure she's in Heaven, having the time of her life." Alastor pulled his daughter into a tight embrace, never wanting to let go.

"After all this time, I've had a precious piece of her with me. And I won't ever leave you alone again."

A/N: Yall let me know if you liked this concept, this was fun to do. I know it's kind of out of character for Alastor but I hope it healed something in y'all with daddy issues 🙏

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matan4il · 3 months

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Daily update post:

A terrorist in the PIJ (Palestinian Islamic Jihad) has admitted in his interrogation that they practiced for the Oct 7 massacre on Iranian soil. This is important to remember, that it wasn't just Hamas that committed the vicious attack on Israelis during that day, that the Islamist regime in Iran's involvement was crucial to what happened, and that Gaza was NEVER "an open air prison" as the anti-Israel crowd claimed. The above link has the vid quoted here.

Yesterday, Golani infantry's division 36 has left a section in northern Gaza, as a part of lowering the intensity of the fighting there. A short while later, no less than 50 rockets were fired from exactly that area into southern Israel. Yoram Bitan's shop in the southern town of Netivot took a direct hit from a rocket while he and his son were still inside (pic is from this vid, where the start also shows the barrages of rockets over Netivot). They're both thankfully okay, the building absorbed most of the impact.

Just this morning, at least 25 more rockets were fired from that area of Gaza into Israel, before IDF soldiers managed to find and destroy some of the rocket launchers that were used in these attacks (see pic with just one barrage of intercepted rockets over Israel on the horizon, Hebrew source). If Israel can't lower the intensity of the fighting, that's absolutely also because of Hamas' continued choices. Israeli civilians from the south are currently protesting against the possibility that Israel will stop the war before the complete removal of the threat of rockets being fired from Gaza.

The IDF has confirmed yesterday that it has eliminated more than 150 Hezbollah squads since the start of the war.

I got to watch an interview with Shirley (not necessarily her real name), who was a prison guard where Palestinian terrorists were held. She was sexually harassed by a terrorist called Muhammad Atallah for 2 years. Towards the end of her service at this prison, he told her that her life is being threatened by Amjad Awad, a Palestinian terrorist, who murdered the Fogel family when he was 18 years old, together with his relative, 17 years old Hakim Awad. These are 35 years old Ruti, 36 years old Udi, 11 years old Yoav, 4 years old Elad and 3 months (!) old Hadas in Mar 2011. Amjad and Hakim were actually on their way out of the house, when they heard baby Hadas crying in her crib, returned and murdered her (Hebrew source).

You can hopefully understand why Shirley was terrified when she heard Awad wanted to kill her, and Atallah claimed he could keep her safe, using this to try and rape her in a spot between two gates in the prison where there are no cameras. She fought back and saved herself. Atallah, who is imprisoned for attempted murder and murder as part of his terrorist activity, was put on trial back in 2022 for sexual harassment of Shirley and attempted rape, as well as for raping another female prison guard.

But in the interview I listened to yesterday, Shirley talked about how horrified she is over the possibility that Awad and Atallah might be freed in a hostage deal, where Hamas will demand terrorists with "blood on their hands" be released.

Last night, the IDF presented the findings of an investigation into the cause of death of 3 hostages, whose bodies were retrieved from Gaza. The autopsy determined that they were NOT killed by direct IDF or terrorists fire, but the bodies are in such a state, that it's impossible to determine what did kill them.

These are Michal and her husband Alex Lubnov.

Alex worked as a bartender at the Nova music festival on Oct 7. He was kidnapped to Gaza. Michal is seven months pregnant. This week, she visited the site from which Alex was kidnapped for the first time. She's waiting for her husband to be freed, and be with her at the delivery room.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #israelunderattack #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish

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thelibrarian1895 · 1 month

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Bruce is the restraining bolt

Let's say that Bruce "dies" again. Tim, of course, figures it's another temporary thing and bonus he doesn't need to risk another organ to prove it this time. That being said, Bruce isn't around to stop them now. Dick doesn't feel the need to be the dad this time since Bruce will be back. He's the big brother, the babysitter at best. Jason has never felt the need to step up into a parental role for any of his sibs before and he's not going to stop now. Cass won't kill, that is her line, beyond that, she's not anyone's parent either. Tim is one bad day away from being a supervillain, he seriously needs a vacation but at the same time he needs something that will keep him busy or he will get paranoid (thanks B for the trauma) and so he's not going to stop anyone, Duke doesn't have the experience to know when or if he should stop any of his sibs, steph and barbara are staying out of it as while they are family they consider themselves cousins at best no matter what B says, and no one is going to let Damian boss them around.

That being established, B is gone, Alfred is fretting but not inclined to stop anyone anyway, the kids decide that while the bat is away...

When Bruce returns, Alfred is just returning from a spa trip his beloved grandchildren insisted that he go on since he deserved a nice break and they even investigated to make sure the spa wasn't a scam or front! While Alfred was gone and Bruce was "dead", all Black Mask's warehouses had been mysteriously destroyed with large explosions that Bruce had previously forbidden because he was worried about collateral damage since some of those warehouses were sandwiched by other storage facilities and places where people squatted. (Steph and Jason, both very affronted because they are professionals B! And yes, there were also glitter bombs involved, it made the fire extra pretty with the different colors).

Furthermore, Lex Luthor is no longer the majority shareholder of his own company anymore, that would be Tim now, and all of Lex's employees are rejoicing since they're all getting a pay raise that brings them from the legal bare minimum to not just a living wage but twice that plus benefits even for those who aren't full timers (which is basically everyone, lex never wanted to get benefits for anyone). Lex is also being investigated for embezzling, money laundering, domestic and international terrorism, and the trafficking of minors (kon). Lex chose a very bad time to make Kon sad and Tim took that personally.

Bruce also discovered that Tim's childhood home, aka the drake's old place next door for the given value of next door, has been demolished and that whole area is now a botanical garden and registered wildlife sanctuary. (Damian with assistance and permission from Tim since technically the land was in Tim's name, Damian persuaded Poison Ivy to help while also monitoring to ensure she didn't slip in anything detrimental and also breaking up the exotic animal smuggling ring that B had been trying to keep from him to prevent this very thing. Tim, in the meantime, just happened to have a number of people on hand more than happy to work in a botanical garden/wildlife sanctuary and no, none of those people were ever formerly ninja who answered to Ra's before realizing that Red Robin was a far better employer, why would you ever think they were?)

And of course, the Joker is dead. None of his kids are fessing up to this. If pressed, they will cry, even Jason, and say that they thought Joker killed their dad and they wished it had been them because they missed him so much! (It was Dick and Barbara, Babs faked the paperwork for Dick to go in as an orderly, Dick, in disguise, gave the Joker altered medication via injection and made sure to get some air bubbles in for good measure, official COD was a totally natural brain aneurysm, so sad, no autopsy needed, burn the body)

Duke was a bit of a wild card and ended up hanging out with Selina, picking up a few extra skills, and using those skills to break into various mansions and apartments of the filthy rich to steal back stolen art and artifacts and return them to museums in their country of origin so they can be enjoyed by everyone (he watched indiana jones recently and the "it belongs in a museum" popped into his head a lot, he did wear a particular hat while he was committing his heists) It was nice potential step mother and step son bonding time

And finally, Cass causes Ra's Al Ghul to lose a particular appendage, one that the lazarus pit hasn't been able to grow back for him thanks to a little consultation with Constantine beforehand. She then went to hang out at Themyscira and got some very pretty bracelets.

Bruce is thinking very hard about just turning around. He takes a nap instead and then he lectures his beloved nutcases about personal safety, the law, respecting what is essentially dibs on certain super villains, and all the other boring stuff he's tried to impose on them over the years.

#bruce wayne #batfamily #batman #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #signal #stephanie brown #duke thomas #alfred pennyworth #crack fic idea #cassandra cain #cassandra wayne

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nyyrami · 22 days

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MELLOWING ON THE PAST DOES NO ONE ANY GOOD…

𓏲 synopsis. mellowing on the past wasn’t good. shoko most of all knew that. she’d encountered loss time and time again, she couldn’t help but ponder on the dead…

𓏲 tags. wc. 0.9k satoru gojo x reader. reader dies obviously. everyone’s dead. canon timeline kinda. shoko is depressed. horrible mental health. smoking. descriptions of dead body. morgue. angst angst angst. shoko pov. mentions of suguru.

𓏲 a/n. scrolling through Pinterest and thought of this after seeing a sad shoko post. don’t blame me. blame the app…

IN SOME distant fantasy land, shoko married a prince. A prince of some mighty kingdom where he had all the money in the world and all the alcohol she would ever need. In some distant world she lived her best life, doing what she loved best, surrounded by her family, her parents. She would be loved and cared for, safe and content.

In her wildest dreams of course. She would love that fabled life she wanted to so desperately to live. Instead she lived in Tokyo and she was a Jujutsu Sorcerer and she most definitely did not have her family or her parents surrounding her.

She sighed, blowing a puff of grey smoke out of her mouth throwing the shrivelled cigarette into the dustbin. Oh yes. In another life, she would quit her smoking habit. She wouldn’t inhale the toxic fumes any more and she’d be free of her addictions.

Walking towards the sink in the morgue, she wiped the blood of her hands. It stuck underneath her fingernails and permanent shaded her fingers a light red. Forever a reminder of her job.

It could’ve been worser though, she thinks. She could’ve been like satoru or even nanami, dying in action in gruesome horrible ways. Maybe that fate would be better, instead of witnessing the dead corpse of her friends.

You lay on the embalming tables awaiting an autopsy waiting for the cause of your death to be found. It was clear though. The moment Itadori walked into the room carrying your lifeless body, it had been clear what had killed you. The hole where your heart should have been was large, so large she could see the table beneath you.

She looked you over once more before she shook her head. It was comical to say the least, you looked so peaceful, as if you were sleeping. Anyone could’ve mistaken you for resting. Anyone but her. She knew a dead person when she saw one and the blue of your once red lips was clear evidence.

Once, those lips would’ve been curled into a smile. Or they would be cracking a joke with satoru. You’d always been by him. Wherever you went, he followed. From your school days till now, it was clear his infatuation with you was more than just a silly crush.

It had been relieving for shoko when you finally confessed to him. Many years of shipping you together had payed off. Ever since, you’d both been lovesick for eachother. If shoko was being honest, sometimes she was jealous of the love you’d achieved.

If only suguru were there. He would be paying her a 1000¥ now. She pulled the white sheet above your head, refusing to look at your body any longer. It was saddening to say the least but shoko had practically become insensitive to seeing her close ones dead bodies in front of her. Or that’s what she would like to say.

Leaving the cold room, she returned to her office, digging for something in the cupboards. Ah. She pulled away after finding what she was liking for. A long sleek brown bottle anyone could realise harboured alcohol, you could practically see the contents spilling around through the brown transluecent material.

She took a long swig, feeling the burning liquid slide down her throat and settle in her empty stomach. Yes, shoko would like to believe she was insensitive to seeing the death of her loved ones but she would always down the bottle after.

Her eyes hooked on the picture on her desk from her jujutsu high days. Youth was evident and clear on all your faces. Sad that most of the ones in the picture were dead. Maybe it was by coincidence from the horrible settings that she realised that suguru had never been smiling.

His eyes were downcast, the loss of sleep clear in the slight dark circles beneath his eyes and in the mess of his once perfectly kept hair. How did she not realise then that her friend was struggling with something? How did you all not realise it? No, she was lying. You guys did, of course you noticed. But foolishly you just didn’t want to believe it. Believe that maybe your friend felt he wasn’t cut out for this life. It was clear in his reluctance to do anything.

Shoko took another swig of the bottle before setting it down on her oak desk, picking up the picture simultaneously. It was so clear now that he had been doomed from the beginning, suguru geto, the one who consumed curses.

It was no shock when he became one too. Shoko moved towards the window basking in the afternoon light for a few minutes, relishing the brightness of the sun that these days, never seems to come out.

She held the picture up one final time before she used the lighter and set the picture on flame. She watched as the faces of her friends were swallowed by the orange flame, consuming all she loved and leaving only ashes. She too soon blew those tensing ashes into the wind, watching as they flew on a phantom wind.

Turning back to her desk, she took a seat, finally allowing her limbs to rest from a long day. The ache was unbearable. She took another swig of the drink, relishing in the burning feeling. She would’ve liked to believe she was indifferent to seeing death but it would be a lie, one she repeated to herself over and over but she’d carry on drinking the alcohol either way.

©NYYRAMI24 do not copy, repost or plagiarise my work. if you enjoyed a like or reblog would be greatly appreciated.

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seeingivy · 7 months

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funeral

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic

content: depictions of grief, talk of addiction/anxiety

an: i am alive (mostly). eat your cake, even though I think it Is bad (this chapter was the hardest to write, right next to the "the third act" chapter

songs mentioned: marjorie by taylor swift

previous part linked here

“What are you thinking, Eren?” Hange asks.

The question is stupid. Eren is thinking of the only logical conclusion that he can draw from the autopsy report. The implication of it, of how Marco really died, is sitting right in front of him.

The patient is a twenty-three year old Caucasian male with no significant medical history. Emergency services responded to the scene of a motor vehicle crash around nine p.m. At the scene, responders found that the patient was trapped in the vehicle, upturned on the side of the road, with no pulse at the time of arrival. Patient was declared dead on scene. Autopsy concluded that primary cause of death was asphyxiation, secondary cause being severe loss of blood due to injuries in the extremities.

“I’m thinking that the paparazzi killed him, Hange.” Eren spits.

“Eren.”

“Hange, don’t. Just-” Levi mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Levi’s eyes are borderline gaunt. Eren knows the past few days have sat horribly on Levi’s shoulders and perhaps the past year and a half have too.

The guilt is excruciating. Because all Eren knows how to do is ruin people.

He dragged Levi and Hange into his mess, when he asked them for help. But it had gone too far at that point, the interview, the night on the beach, the fight - he had exhausted all ends and desperately needed someone on his side.

Levi and Hange all but berated him for it. For letting it get so far, for waiting so long when he should have known that they were always there to help. But this reaction, Levi being the one to side with his outburst is proof enough that he made the wrong choice, that he should have stuck with himself. That them bending backwards and forwards to get him out of his mess has truly taken its toll.

Levi and Hange always mimicked him and you. Eren and Hange, he knows they both have a tendency to get so lost in the emotion, to feel it so deep that the response is too loud, too much for what’s called for. That’s when you and Levi would come in, to soothe them down and bring them back to Earth.

In the same vein, you and Levi, you planted your weeds too deep into the ground. Rooted in exactly what he’s not quite sure - perhaps misplaced insecurities, whatever the two of you seemed to hide in those deep inner walls - but it kept you both stagnant, stuck where you were. That’s where Hange and Eren came in, pushing you both to soar a little bit higher than what you imagined for yourself.

But now Levi’s here, all but exhausted and broken, the same way he’s sure you were. That’s why things got so fucked up. Eren didn’t let you pull him down. He didn’t pull you up.

“They killed him, Hange.” Levi states, tone void of any emotion.

“Levi. It’s almost midnight, we’re all feeling emotional right now. We should look at this all with a clear mind tomorrow.”

“They killed him. There is nothing to look at.” Levi says, enunciating every inflection of his words.

Eren knows it for a fact. And from the look on Hange’s face, he knows they do too. His train of thought is cut off by the knocking - rapid, loud consecutive knocks slamming against the wood.

“God, Eren. Go get it now before they run off with our food.” Hange murmurs, gesturing towards the door.

Eren shuffles past the length of the hallway and swings open the door to find not his UberEats bag, but Lana, out of breath and panting on his doorstep.

“Ew. You just left two hours ago. Why are you back already?”

“Eren. Oh my god.”

Lana wraps her arms around him, squeezing hard, as she cries into his shoulder. Her demeanor settles an immediate panic under his skin. The last time she reacted like this, Eren had to watch the most gut wrenching interview of his life while she held his hand. God knows whatever she’s about to tell him now is going to break him.

Eren brings his hands up and grabs her shoulders, applying pressure to stop her from shaking in his arms.

“Lana. What’s wrong with you? Why are you-”

“Eren. I’m so sorry, you- I’m here for you, okay? Whatever you need, just-just say it.” she pants, hiccuping in between her tears.

Eren frowns, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her out of the cold Seattle air into the kitchen where Hange and Levi are cooking by the stove.

“Hi Lana Bear! How are you, kid?” Hange says, all but bouncing over to wrap their arms around Lana.

This only upsets Lana more, the discomfort worsening in Eren’s chest as he can’t help but stare at her, at her brown eyes turning almost red from the downpour of her tears and the tension sitting in her shoulders.

“What is it? Who died?”

The question, when Eren asks it, is entirely rhetorical. A figure of speech, meant to emphasize that Lana’s reaction was extreme, too obscene for whatever it is she must be talking about. But when she doesn’t respond and swallows hard, the look on her face so crestfallen, Eren’s chest settles into a panic.

His first thought is you.

“Lana. Is she dead? What are you-”

Lana scrambles for the remote on the counter, switching from the Disney Channel to the first news report she can find. The image is of an overturned car, the metal crushed and steaming in the front, accompanied with words that burn Eren’s ears. The first hit is relief - that it’s not you. The second hit is painful, like the air’s been sucked out of his lungs.

Because it’s Marco.

“What?” Levi says, taking his eyes off the stove to glance at the screen.

Eren can feel his phone incessantly buzzing in his pocket and he reaches for it immediately, Lana leaning into his side as she continues to cry into his shoulder. Levi and Hange are moving closer to the television, like that’ll somehow make the sound better, the image clearer, like they’ll be able to find falsity in it.

jean: the bodt’s said the funeral is going to be near the old house. ask levi and hange if we can all stay in the townhouse together.

bertholdt: reiner and i are heading over tonight.

sukuna: Let me know if you need anything. Give the paparazzi hell for this one.

connie: i’m coming back to seattle. i-i don’t know if i can do this.

Eren’s quick to respond to that one.

eren: i’ve got you man. meet us in new york as soon as you can, we’re all going to stay at the townhouse. don’t leave sasha’s side until you get there okay?

connie: alright. okay, thanks.

eren: phone is on.

“This is bullshit. How do they know it’s him?” Levi says angrily, hands crossed over his chest.

“Levi.” Hange says, voice nearly cracking.

“No, I’m being fucking serious. How do they know that this guy is our Marco? There’s no proof. Call the Bodt’s right now.” Levi says, pacing the kitchen for where he left his phone.

Eren frowns, his head racing as Levi walks the length of the kitchen and Hange settles into their immediate panic.

“Eren.” Lana says.

“Hm?”

“I have to tell you something. You’re going to hate it. I-”

“Just tell me, Lana. No-no beating around the bush.”

“The paparazzi…got to him first before the police.” she whispers.

“What?” Eren says, through gritted teeth as his head all but short circuits.

“They knew it was his car, he’d been driving it around that part of Nashville for a while. They were probably just following him to get pictures wherever he was going. But then he-he crashed and-”

“And what? They took pictures of it? Of him?” Eren asks, squeezing Lana’s shoulders too hard.

“Yeah. They-they only called the police when they were done, Eren. I-”

The tears fill Eren’s eyes as the implication cuts deep. It all but sears the air in his lungs, the tears welling so fast that it’s already obstructing his vision. All he can feel is Lana’s hands, squeezing his biceps, as he tries to control the heaving in his chest.

“How long?”

“Eren.” she says, tone so pitiful it makes his blood boil.

“How long, Lana?” he asks, voice cracking.

“It took them forty-five minutes to get there. They would have been there in fifteen.” she whispers.

And now, the autopsy report tells him enough. With a definitive resolve that the paparazzi killed Marco. Because he died from asphyxiation, from being twisted in the metal, not getting any air. And if the police had gotten there maybe a moment earlier, a second faster, they could have gotten him out, could have at least made sure he was breathing.

They wanted a picture. Marco died for it.

The anger surges through Eren, tenfold when he remembers the paparazzi lining up Jean and Mikasa’s engagement party, Falco’s school, his house the day his grandpa died. When you walked into his garage, drenched from the rain with a deep cut on your face and skidded knees, scared to death.

“I’m done sugarcoating, Hange. Eren is right. They killed Marco.” Levi responds.

Hange sighs, leaning against the counter as Eren walks up to them, resting his head against their shoulder. They all stand there in silence, not even seventy-two hours after the fact, and it still hasn’t hit Eren.

In full flesh, that Marco is gone.

The rapid knocking on the door, real this time, breaks him out of his thoughts.

“Probably Zeke or Armin. I’ve got it.” he murmurs.

“Thanks kid.”

Eren watches as Levi sinks into Hange’s arms, sighing as he shuffles to the door and flicks on the porch light. He swings it open and immediately feels his throat tighten, fully constricted, at the sight of you standing in the lamplight.

You’re looking up at him, swallowing hard, as you stare into his eyes and all Eren can do is wonder if your brain is short circuiting as much as his is. Surely, it isn’t. Eren has every reason to be embarrassed, to be ashamed. And you don’t.

For posterity, he fights all instincts, every urge in his body, to reach forward and hold you. To let your sweet flowery smell take over his nose, to settle his face into that crook in your neck, to have your soft, soft touch running over his skin. To let the mountain of emotions he’s been carrying fall, because you’re here.

But he can’t.

“Hi Eren.”

“Y/N.”

He can’t help but inspect every micro-movement, every gesture you make. Your eyes are nearly glassing over with tears and you’re nervously fidgeting with your fingers. You’ve dropped your gaze to focus on the ground, a habit you always had when you were sad, as your voice breaks into the air.

“Can I ask you something? Please?” you whisper.

He reaches forward, hands on your shoulders, squeezing once and praying to god you remember what it means, as he nods.

That he’s here and he’s got you.

“Anything. What is it?”

“Is he dead?”

Maybe not anything.

He can’t be the one to tell you. You of all people that Marco died, at the hands of the paparazzi. The same paparazzi who in your very pointed words, gutted your first love like a fish. Who were partly to blame, who drove you out of here alongside him.

“Y/N.”

“Is he?” you repeat, voice smaller.

“Okay. Let’s go inside, you-”

“Is Marco dead, Eren? I’m asking you a question.”

Your anger in your voice is enough to make him stop in his tracks, the second time your voice is laced with that animosity that it scares him into responding. He hears it, in his worst hours, echoing in his mind.

How many times are you going to keep breaking shit without any care in the world? The camera, the fucking award you picked over me, Connie’s fucking livelihood, my heart. God, Eren. All you’ve ever cared about is yourself. From the start.

He swallows hard.

“Yes. Marco’s dead.”

And you don’t even know the half of it.

He watches your glass tears, the ones sitting right on the edge of your eyelashes, fall in full force, onto your cheeks as you immediately start hiccuping, hands clasped against your chest.

“I-I saw it on the news. I-I didn’t believe it but I- They always lie about stuff. I thought it was the same as that and-”

“Y/N, come ins-”

Your panic sets in so fast, so quick that Eren doesn’t even register it. Because one second you’re panting and the next Eren’s watching you retch onto the grass Connie mowed this morning. Eren pushes you into the house the second you stop, straight to the kitchen where Levi and Hange are still standing in their spots.

“Wait, is that-”

“Do you guys know if we have something like…anti-nausea? Is that what you do when someone throws up or-” Eren asks.

“Is that Y/N?” Levi asks.

“Yeah, she-she was on the porch, I-”

Levi’s quick to walk up, hands on your shoulders as he talks, voice quiet and calm when he speaks near your ear. Hange moves to Eren’s side, her face wearing that concerned look she gives him too much these days, as they both rummage through the cabinets for anything that could help.

“Y/N. You okay?” Levi asks.

“I-I threw up on the-the porch. On the g-grass. So-sorry.”

“It’s just grass. What’s-”

Eren tries to still it - that pounding in his heart - as he walks over with the glass of water he filled up for you. Your hands must be wobbling too much because Eren doesn’t let the glass go, instead tilting your head up softly with his hands and pouring the water into your mouth.

“Hey. Drink some more for me.” Eren states, voice soft as he instinctively reaches forward to fix the hairs sticking to the sweat beading your forehead, feeling your skin burning under his touch.

“We should take her temperature.” Eren says.

Levi and Hange dart out of the room, to the drawer upstairs where the thermometer is, as Eren takes breaks between helping you drink the water and rubbing circles into your back.

Eren can feel every muscle in his body tense, his skin burning when you lean forward, forehead resting against his chest as you groan out in pain.

“Hey. You with me?” Eren asks, murmuring straight into your hair.

Eren feels your breathing still against him, his hands intuitively wrapping around you this time, cradling the back of your head in his hands. You hum in response to his question, which is a good enough answer for Eren now.

“Found it.” Levi says, all but speed walking as Eren spins you around, watching as Levi meticulously pushes your sweaty hair out of your face and holds the sensor against your head. You’re all standing there in silence, craning over the little plastic as the two consecutive beeps go off.

“98.6. You’re okay, Y/N.” Levi mutters, setting the thermometer back on the table.

“Thank you, Levi.” you respond back, rubbing your arms on your biceps as you stare at the two of them, withdrawn and withholding from you.

Granted, you’d do the same. You wouldn’t rush to their arms either if they ignored you for two years.

“You can take this for nausea. If it happens again.” Hange says, placing a bottle in your hands.

“Sure. Thank you, Hange.” you respond.

The silence hangs in the air between the four of you as you stand there, each of you racking your heads for the right thing to say. Eren wants to tell Levi and Hange to stop being so rude, that they were the ones who were begging you to come back and now that you’re here they won’t even talk to you. Levi and Hange are debating which one of them should yell at you first, for being withdrawn from them and not asking for help the way Eren did. And you’re figuring out who you should apologize to first, between the three of them.

None of you break. Because it’s not the right time. Because Marco is dead.

“Everyone is sleeping together upstairs. There should be an extra air mattress up there, Eren will get it for you….knock if you need something.” Levi says, tone exasperated as he shuffles away.

“Welcome back, kid.”

Hange gives you a full smile as they follow him, leaving you and Eren in the kitchen. The distance Levi is putting in between you and him stings, but you swallow the burn and remind yourself that you’re the one who inflicted it on yourself.

At the time, after the interview, the rationale made more sense. Nonsensically, you decided that you were done with the industry and that, by proxy, meant that you were done with them too. You did your interview and stuck to your word, never looked back.

It’s humiliating now. Debilitating thinking about how much you must have hurt them. Because each of them, they continually reached out until it stopped. Mikasa made every effort to have you come to her engagement party, that she would even stop the press from coming for Vogue the way they had planned for you.

And when you didn’t show, all she did was send you pictures, of her and Jean cutting the cake and of the dress she had bought for you to wear. Hange and Levi were so vigilant about it, on making sure that you were okay, that you had security details, that people really were leaving you alone. You didn’t heed any of their efforts, because for all intents and purposes, you were leaving the girl you were behind.

Her dreams, the love she held, the friends she had.

It seems stupid now. It seems incredibly and gut-wrenchingly stupid that your last words to Marco were over two years ago because you were punishing him for something that wasn’t his fault. That you can’t go to any of them for comfort because the thing that they need comfort from is you.

All you know how to do is ruin people.

“Are you hungry? Or do you want to go to bed?” Eren asks.

“I can go to bed. Levi said air mattress?”

“Yeah, we’re all sleeping together in the loft upstairs.”

“We?” you ask.

“Mikasa and Jean are here. Ymir and Hisu, Bertholdt and Reiner, Connie and Sash. Everyone else should be getting in tomorrow.”

Eren pads towards the stairs and you awkwardly follow, crawling up the stairs behind him. You can hear the loud chatter of voices, talking over each other, as you try to catch the ends of their conversation.

“But where do they go when you pee?” Sasha asks.

“Fuck do you mean, where do they go?” Reiner says, voice incredulous.

“Like in the bowl? Because if you’re sitting on the toilet, they have to go somewhere?” Sasha repeats.

“Sasha. It’s almost one in the morning. Please stop talking about balls.” Ymir groans, earning a good amount of laughs from the group.

“Eren, tell them all to shut the fuck up.” Jean groans, forearm over his eyes as he and Mikasa roll around on their mattress.

Eren looks at you, eyes weary, before he turns to respond to them.

“Y/N’s here.”

They all peek their heads up, curious eyes falling on you, as you give them a halfhearted smile, trying your best to wipe your sweaty palms on the back of your dress.

“Hi guys.”

The silence is deafening. You can’t pick what’s worse - Reiner and Bertholdt squinting their eyes at you or Mikasa and Jean refusing to look at you.

Mikasa and Jean.

Historia stands up, strutting over from her air mattress, to wrap her arms around you, the pressure of the hug so hard you can barely breathe. You breathe in her smell, spicy and sharp the way it’s always been, as she pulls away. Her warm hand is resting on your cheek, the smile on her face so genuine that it untangles the smallest parts of discomfort on your chest.

“Hi princess. Missed you.”

“Thanks, Hisu. I missed you too.”

That’s always been the thing about Historia. That she’ll pick up, even when you haven’t called her in two years, and run to your aid.

“How’d you know we were here?” Jean asks, hands resting on his knees.

“I asked Historia.” you respond.

“Told you I was her favorite. She reached out to me before you.” Historia mutters, flopping back onto the air mattress she’s sharing with Ymir.

“You’re so arrogant, Historia. And full of shit.” Jean responds, rolling his eyes.

“You’re so right, Jean-Boy. This is just like what we fought about earlier.” Connie responds.

The group of them break out into an argument, Historia looking like she’s full on about to wrestle Connie as he only instigates her on. Mikasa’s already resting with her eyes closed as Jean turns pink in the face from his irritations.

And you can’t help but laugh, warm tingling in your chest at all of them, wholeheartedly the same. You look over at Eren and smile, which he returns. But despite it all, that stillness, that outsider feeling sits in your skin. Because despite them being the same, the striking differences in the room tell you things are wholeheartedly different too.

“Okay. Where’s the extra air mattress?” Eren asks.

Connie turns, eyes wide, as he gives the two of you a sheepish smile.

“Really funny story. Sooooo….”

“God. What did you do?” Eren groans.

“Long story short, I was thinking about waterbeds. If you pop a water bed, it should be like a waterfall right? So if it’s an air mattress, it should be like an inflatable air balloon thing. Like the weird noodle guys at the car store? Right? So, I tried to pop it. And succeeded.” Connie responds, rambling.

“Was it cool?” you ask.

“Ugh. Not at all, princess.” Connie responds.

You smile, perhaps bigger than you should at Connie using your old nickname, as Eren starts yelling at him.

“You should be the one to sleep on the floor since you’re the one who ruined the mattress.” Eren states.

“She should sleep on the floor. She got here last!” Connie responds.

“She just threw up. And she wasn’t going to sleep on the floor regardless.”

“Is she contagious?” Connie responds.

“Connie!”

Eren rolls his eyes as Mikasa stands up, shuffling to your side and lightly tugging your arm. You look at her, taking her shorter hair in, as you give her a smile.

“Hey. Want to go change? Your old clothes should still be here, don’t know how well they’ll fit.”

Eren breaks out of his conversation, leaning forward to where the two of you are talking, to interject.

“What’s mine is yours. Take mine if you need to.” he says, before returning in full flesh to the argument he’s having with Connie. You can tell they’re both joking from the way they’re trying not to laugh as you start to walk away.

The two of you quietly pad down the length to the two doors, directly across from each other, as you take in the scribbled signs switched. Your old room now reads Jean and Mikasa with Connie’s handwriting scribbled underneath inscribing please fuck quietly on the door. And consequently, Eren’s room now reads Eren and Y/N with Sasha’s handwriting scribbled underneath reading yall are fucked UP for this.

You turn to Mikasa and give her a weird look.

“Right. We’ve been here for a week, actually. Table reading season four stuff. Jean and I want to share a room so we moved all of his stuff to your room and your stuff to Eren’s room. We’ll put it back.” Mikasa states, pushing open the door to Eren’s room as she starts rummaging through your old drawers in the closet.

“No, no. It’s okay. I wouldn’t want to impose on you guys when you’re almost about to be newlyweds?” you ask.

“Yeah. Yeah, next year. And we just moved it because we thought you weren’t going to come back. And Eren didn’t want to toss your stuff and all.” she responds. She pulls out a shirt, most definitely from when you’re fifteen, as you both snicker at the size and she keeps digging.

You walk around Eren’s room, your room too now, as you eye all the boxes filled with your things, tangled in with Eren’s clothes lying around on every open surface. You take a seat at his desk as you start inspecting his little bulletin board, the pictures underneath the pins.

One of him, Lana, and Sukuna - the three of them smoldering at the camera. Eren and Connie smiling, Eren and a little kid with short curly hair, and two pictures of you. The first one is of you and him sleeping on set and the other is the two of you with Falco, both of you crouching down to his height and hugging him from behind.

And hanging around both of the pins are your friendship bracelets, which you take off the hooks to inspect.

So that’s where it went. In all of the fire of moving around so much, jumping from one place to another, you always thought you lost it. But you must have left it here all along.

You run your hands over the beads, yours and Eren’s names, as Mikasa gives you a head shake, indicating she didn’t find anything.

“S’okay. I’ll look through Eren’s stuff I guess.” you murmur.

Mikasa nods as she leans against Eren’s desk, hands crossed over her chest, as the silence hangs in between the two of you. She takes one of the bracelets from your hands, twisting the beads in her fingers, as you do the same with yours.

You find solace in the fact that Mikasa is still wearing her engagement ring - a constant in the sparring mix of changes you just witnessed in the room.

Connie sober. Ymir and Historia sharing a mattress. Eren and Connie getting along. Mikasa and Jean even tolerating being in the same room as Eren. In the same room as you. And the jarring absence of Marco.

“How are you?” Mikasa asks.

“Okay, Mika. How are you?”

Mikasa sinks down, sitting flat on the floor as she hikes her knees to her chest. You follow suit, dropping from your chair to sit next to her, lacing your arm through hers as you both blankly stare at the floor ahead of you, picking what topic to broach first.

I missed you. I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you in two years. Our friend is dead. Eren is here.

“The engagement party looked beautiful, Mikasa.”

She smiles, leaning her head against yours.

“Thank you, Y/N. It was quite nice actually.”

“I watched it on Vogue. Cried quite a bit.” you respond.

She laughs, rolling her eyes at you as she lightly shoves you.

“Should’ve come then. Cried in real time.”

You swallow hard, cheeks warm, as you squeeze her hand. You know she’s joking, but the guilt runs too deep.

“I’m sorry for not coming. I-I really wish I was there. And I know there’s no justification for it but-”

“We aren’t mad at you. Jean and I.” she clarifies.

“I’d understand if you were. I’m your best friend. I’ve-I’ve been with you guys since the start and-”

Mikasa’s hands are soft on your shoulders, tears gathering in her eyes, as she looks at you, eyes pinched in pain.

“You had every right to not come. To be done with this. What they did to you, to Eren- Y/N, god.”

You swallow hard.

“It didn’t warrant me not coming to you-”

“It did. You don’t even know the half of it. You-you and Eren. You just-”

There’s a knocking at the door and Eren pads in, eyes wide as he sees you and Mikasa on the floor, tears gathered in her eyes and your limbs tangled together.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can come back.”

“No, no. It’s okay, Eren. Her clothes are too small. I can go grab mine for her if you two want to talk-” her words pointed, the emphasis on the last words hard.

“No, don’t bother Mikasa.” he responds, disappearing into his closet to find a pair of clothes for you.

Mikasa turns back to you, giving your cheek a pinch.

“I’ll make Jean sleep on the floor if Connie doesn’t give up his mattress. It’ll be like old times.” she responds, shuffling out of the room as you stay on your spot on the floor.

You hike your knees to your chest as you twist the beads in your fingers again, Eren’s name that you used to wear on your wrist almost every day foreign in your fingers.

“Eren. We’re going to be late.” you groan, impatiently tapping your foot on the ground as you wait for him by the door.

The two of you are already thirty minutes late to Erwin’s going away party, the last car waiting to take the two of you, Marco, and Annie out to the little soiree that Erwin is throwing for himself - in celebration of him being killed off.

“Sorry, sorry. Looking for my bracelet.” he responds, darting back and forth from different corners of the room.

“Well, hurry up. Annie’s getting pissed.”

“I found yours! But where is mine?”

You look down at your wrist to find the pink beads on your wrist, spelling out your name against your pulse point in your wrist.

“Oops, sorry. I’m wearing yours.” you respond.

Eren’s quick to walk over to where you’re standing on the door - giving you enough time to groan at how haphazardly he got ready for the party. His tie is loose against his neck, hair all messy as you reach up to fix it.

“God, Eren. At least brush your hair.”

“Quit moving your hands.”

Eren takes his hand in yours, quickly sliding the bracelet off your wrist and switching it with the one in his hand.

“Well, get ready properly. Your tie isn’t even on right.” you respond, irritated as you reach forward to tighten the fabric and smooth down his collar.

“And if I told you I put it on wrong just so you would fix it, what would you think?”

“That you’re asking for a death sentence from Annie for wasting time.”

He rolls his eyes, reaching up to lift the hand he just placed the bracelet on. His thumb is straight against your pulse point, blood pulsating under the spot, as he lifts his hand to leave a kiss right there.

“And that it’s cute that you did that.”

He gives you a wide grin, locking your hands together as you both rush out the door.

Eren shuffles out, sitting across from you as he puts the stack of clothes between you and hikes his knees to his chest. He holds his hand out and you place the bracelet in his hand.

“You left it in the bathroom.”

You nod as you try to steady your mind - still running a hundred miles per hour and overstimulated from seeing everyone again. From how familiar it all feels, how easy it all is to fall back into this despite how different things are.

How you and Eren are miles apart, how you haven’t talked to them all in months, how Marco is dead. That Marco’s death is suspending all of you in a weird state of reality, that every angry word spoken and every bit of harshness seems miniscule now.

“Do you want me to leave?” Eren asks.

“No.” you shrug.

“Do you want to talk?”

“No.”

Eren nods, counting each of the beads on the bracelet, as you both sit there in the silence, letting your eyes float around the room as you let your mind wander.

Marco and Colt playing chess everyday when he visited you in Canada, Marco falling for every stupid joke that Connie played on him, the way you all cried when Marco died in the show, Marco at the awards show.

“Eren?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Do you remember the first time we kissed?”

The question takes Eren off guard. He debates it then and there - telling you the truth full and whole - on the basis that he can’t handle the way you’re looking at him. At the fact that you even asked that, at the implication that you thought he could ever forget.

“Of course. On set, in the-”

“No, no. I mean, for real.”

“At the awards show.” Eren responds, without a beat.

“Yeah.”

Eren leans forward, wrapping his hands around your neck and pressing his lips to yours. You can still feel people moving around you, setting up things for the closing part of the ceremony, but the only thing you’re paying attention to is Eren. And his lips. And the way he’s pulling you closer, like he can’t get enough of you.

When you pull apart, you’re both panting, smiling at each other.

“Thank god. If I got cock-blocked from kissing you a third time, I was actually going to commit a murder.”

“You want me so bad.” you say, sarcastically.

“Obviously.”

You both smile and turn to the left, to a very smiley Marco staring at you two. And then you cringe, remembering that you and Eren are literally backstage and there’s like seven people who just watched you suck face. Marco walks up, wrapping his arms around both of you and hugging hard.

“I love you guys.”

“Marco. Don’t-” Eren starts.

“I’m not going to tell anyone. You need time to figure whatever is going on, without Connie and and Sasha up your ass the entire time. But I’m really, really happy for you.”

“Really, Marco?” you ask, leaning into Eren’s touch.

“It’s always been you guys. You guys better not break up or else I’ll come hunt both of you down. And if I’m dead, I’ll come back to life just to haunt you guys.”

“Do you think he’s haunting us?”

Eren frowns, the memory refreshing in his head. One he thought of a few days ago, lingering on the fact that Marco’s probably turning in grave right now. Granted, Marco was very vehement about his stance on you two - your interview and what Eren did, making Marco so agonizingly and uncharacteristically angry that it bothers him now.

For not listening to him. That if he does ever get to cross that bridge with you, at least be your friend again, that Marco won’t ever know.

“I just don’t understand why you won’t just go out there and tell her. You know where she lives.” Marco states, irritated.

“Because I just can’t, Marco! You watched the interview!”

“The entire song was about how she forgave you. How she isn’t holding a grudge against you. And-and the way she was talking about it, some part of her knows that other people had something to do with this, Eren. She knows deep down.”

“The interview was fucking horrible. This entire thing, this thing that I did, fucked her up so bad that she isn’t even doing this anymore. This was all she wanted, ever since she was a kid, she-she was so determined and she gave it up because I said all those things, because I did what I did.”

“Eren. It’s more compl-”

“No, it’s not. And she fucking hates me. You should have seen how upset she was at the awards show…..I-I ruined it for her. I ruined her entire dream, Marco.”

“God, Eren. Your tunnel vision is insane. You’re not even giving her a fighting chance when she doesn’t even know the truth!” he says.

“Maybe haunting is too mean of a word. I think he’d be happy to see us together, right now. Even if the circumstances aren’t the best.” he responds.

You smile, giving him a nod.

“He always did like playing cupid, didn’t he?”

“At the engagement party, he walked around telling everyone that Jean and Mikasa were only dating because of him.”

“That’s a lie.” you state.

“No one believed him.” Eren responds.

The two of you fall into silence again, resting your chins on your knees, as more thoughts swim through your head, pain so palpable it’s sitting in your chest. That if Marco were here, he’d be prancing in and giving you two devious smirks, lovingly teasing both of you. Pulling both of you aside, saying that bygones should be bygones if you still love each other.

You look up at him, watch his eyes flutter open and close, as he fidgets with his hands.

You still love him.

“Can we be civil for the weekend? Like…like you’re not Eren and I’m not Y/N, we’re just-” you sutter.

Your question falls short, hanging in the air as you watch the gears in Eren’s head turn.

“I just mean. So many things happened between us. And I know there’s hurt there, on your part and maybe mine too, but…..I don’t want us to be mad at each other at the funeral. Or after.”

You swallow hard.

“I’d hate for one of us to die being mad at each other. Without having talked in years.” you whisper.

Eren gets it. The guilt that must be wracking you for not talking to Marco, when you were one of the people who was closest to him. He reaches forward, taking your hand in his, as he fidgets with your fingers.

“He knows you loved him, Y/N.”

He watches the tears pour down your eyes, face pink and eyes swollen, as you talk.

“Did he? Because I ignored his texts. For years. He texted me happy birthday, asked how Falco was doing, wanted to know if I watched Halloweentown on October first like I always do, if I was happy, if I wanted to talk and-”

He squeezes your hand, pulling out his phone, as he scoots to the space next to you. He tries to still the pounding of his heart as you lace your arm through his, leaning your head against his.

“He knows, Y/N.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I was with him. I talked to him quite often after….after everything that happened. I promise you, he knows you loved him.”

You shake your head, guilt sitting in your head.

“I have something for you.” he murmurs.

“What is it?”

“It’s from a few years ago. I think he was really, really drunk.”

He hands you his phone, open to a voicemail from Marco, as you wipe the tears on your phone and press play. His voice comes through the speaker booming and giggling and hiccuping as he talks.

“Eren. Eren! Fuck, I love you so much dude. You’re-you’re such a guy. Like I-I just see you and think hmmmm. That’s a guy. Are you with Y/N? Tell her I love her. She’s my best friend. You’re all my best friends. I’m so happy I got to grow up with all of you. Oh, Connie just threw up on the floor, oh Connie- hey, stop! Okay, love you brother, I have to go.”

The voice cuts off abruptly, as you laugh.

“Never could hold his drink, could he?”

“Not everyone can be alcoholics like Jean and Mikasa.”

You both laugh, chest aching from how familiar, how soft this feels. That you’re both sitting in this room, where you grew up, fell in love, slept next to each other every night. Eren can see the tears welling in your eyes, thinking of his best efforts to stop it, at whatever is plaguing your mind.

“So. You said you’re not Y/N and I’m not Eren. So who are we?” he asks.

“I meant that metaphorically, you’re-”

You watch Eren’s eyes flit around his room, scanning till he stops around his bookshelf, and turns back to glance at you.

“Your new name is Margaret.”

“Ew. And I didn’t mean it like that, Eren.”

“Who is Eren? My name is….” he responds, giving you a smile as he elongagates the syllables waiting for your response.

You roll your eyes.

“Bruce. Your name is Bruce.”

“Bruce Wayne!”

“No. Not like Bruce Wayne. Think of someone really boring. Irritating, agitating.”

“Perfect! I’ll just think of you after five shots of tequila.”

You both laugh as Eren stands up, holding a hand out to pull you up. He sets the stack of clothes in your hand as he makes a move to walk out of the room. Except he hangs on the door for a second, voice soft when he talks.

“Does Bruce have permission to say something?”

“Sure.”

“I know he technically just met Margaret because she was born a minute ago, but he missed her. A lot.”

You feel your cheeks burn as you give him a nod, murmuring a quiet me too before sinking into the bathroom to slip his clothes on.

Connie, does in fact, not give up the mattress. Jean and Eren begrudgingly share as you and Mikasa cuddle into the night.

You wake up first, to find Mikasa sprawled over your entire frame. Her entire body is burning hot and you send a silent prayer to the world's strongest soldier, Jean Kirschtein, for putting up with this for so long. After you all but free yourself from her grasp, you spare a quick glance to see Jean must be smothering Eren more than Mikasa was you and silently muse that the two of them truly are made for each other.

You pad down to the kitchen, yanking the hood of Eren’s hoodie over your head, to find Connie sitting at the table, scribbling away in a journal, a steaming bowl of oatmeal next to him.

“Good morning, Con.’”

He looks up, one of his hands going instinctively to cover what he was writing as you take the seat next to him, crossing your legs up on the chair. He immediately relaxes, giving you a bright smile.

“Good morning, princess. You can have some if you want.”

“No, no. I don’t want to impose.”

“What’s mine is yours.” he says, mimicking Eren’s voice.

You snort, reaching for his spoon, as you take a bite of the warm food, soothing the stiffness in your throat.

“Sleep well?” he asks.

“Mikasa basically strangled me all night.”

“Ew. Of course she has the cuddle bug. I swear, Jean and Mikasa were always goo goo ga ga, but they’re even worse now.”

“They’re getting married, Connie. It’s sweet.”

He smiles, sliding the string through the pages, as he turns to you giving you a smile.

“Yeah. It is sweet.” he responds, voice quiet.

Connie swallows hard, eyes weary as he turns to you.

“I want to apologize.” Connie says.

The elephant in the room. He’s the first one to touch it.

“Oh. That’s okay, I under-”

“No, no. It’s not okay.” he responds, tone almost harsh.

You and Armin share a look the second he breaks the frame, glass shattering over the length of Armin’s apartment.

“Why the fuck would you guys bring me here?” Connie asks, sweat beading his forehead.

From the way he’s moving, all erratic and nonsensical, it makes you think that it’s out of his system. That if Connie had a chance, this would be when he would sneak off to the bathroom to get his fix. But he’s nowhere near that, instead settled into Armin’s tiny New York apartment, screaming at the two of you.

“Connie. You asked us too.” you respond.

“I was fucking high! Why would you guys even entertain a word I said?” Connie states, voice even more agitated now.

“Connie. You…you need help. We looked at some rehab places while you were asleep and-”

“Rehab? I’m not going to rehab. Are you trying to ruin my fucking career, Armin?”

“No, but we want to make sure you’re okay. They’ll be discrete, we’ll make sure the security detail is good so that you can be better and-”

“I am fucking fine. Do I look like I need help?”

You and Armin share a weary glance, before looking back at him.

“Connie. We love you. We-we just want to help you, okay?” you say.

“Does it ever embarrass you when you do this, Y/N?” Connie says, voice laced with venom.

“Sorry?”

“Does you not think it’s embarrassing to beg like this in front of people who don’t fucking care about you the way you do about them? I figured that Eren putting you in your place like that would set you straight but it seems like you didn’t learn your lesson, did you?”

You swallow hard, eyes and skin burning as Connie waits for your response.

“You don’t mean that. You-you’re just mad because you can’t be high right now.” you murmur.

“Am I, Y/N? Or is it true?”

“It’s not true. This isn’t you, Connie.”

“God, Y/N. Wake the fuck up. We aren’t fifteen anymore. No ones sitting here holding your hand telling you that you’ll be the best anymore. I get that you need that ego boost to move forward but I sure as hell am not going to be the one to give it to you.”

“Connie, that’s enough-”

Connie swallows hard, eyes focused on his fingers as he talks.

“I know-I know that I said it wasn’t true. But I really did say all of those things because I was high. Or because I wanted to be high and was in withdrawal and-”

“I know that, Connie. I’ve never held it against you.”

He frowns, twisting his pen to his fingers.

“You always give grace even when you don’t know the whole story. Me, Hisu, Eren.” he murmurs.

“You deserve it…and I partially knew. I mean, addiction is a disease. It hurt at first but that wasn’t your fault. You just needed to be treated and helped and I’m glad you did.”

He smiles, resting his cheek against his hand.

“Thank you, Y/N. Don’t mind me if I spend the rest of my life asking for forgiveness. I won’t ever feel like I deserve it but I’ll keep asking anyway.” he murmurs.

“I’ll always give it to you.” you respond, squeezing his shoulder.

You silently wonder that if you ever did come back, sans funeral, if things would be like this. If you and Eren could pretend, if Mikasa and Jean could look past it all. Because some parts of it, they feel earnest, truthful. But you can’t tell if you’re all suspended in some disbelief, clouded by your grief and trying to cling onto one of the things Marco loved most. His time on the show, with you all.

“Honey when I’m above the trees, I SEE IT FOR WHAT IT IS.” Connie sings, screams.

“Oh my god, Connie.” you deadpan.

He’s singing happiness. Like the happiness you sang in your interview, when you forgave Eren.

“THERE’LL BE HAPPINESS AFTER YOU. BUT THERE WAS HAPPINESS BECAUSE OF YOUUUU. BOTH OF THESE THINGS CAN BE TRUE, THERE IS HAPPINESS.”

You clamp your hand flat against his mouth, trying not to snicker, as he continues to sing underneath your hand.

“Are you insane? They’re all sleeping.” you whisper.

“Not anymore we’re not.” Ymir responds, immediately smacking Connie against the head.

“You’re going to give Eren a nightmare, Connie.” Historia mutters, dragging her feet into the kitchen as Ymir follows.

“I’m already living it.” Eren grumbles, leaning against the counter as he splits a PopTart with Jean.

Slowly but surely, every one of them shuffles down to the room, the deja vu of the situation hitting deep as each person follows suit. Sasha ambles down after a few minutes, finishing off the bowl of oatmeal that you and Connie were sharing while Reiner and Bertholdt murmur quietly over the coffee cup. Eren’s in hushed conversation with Jean and Mikasa, fixing himself breakfast, as Hange and Levi wander into the room, immediately thrown off by all of you in there.

“Jesus.” Levi says, tone exasperated.

“Good morning, Levi.” Mikasa says, gesturing to the water boiling on the kettle for his tea. He gives her a grateful smile, taking a seat in his corner as Hange talks to the group of you. Connie’s resorted to cracking all of your knuckles since his are all worn out as they go on.

“Good morning kiddos!”

“Don’t….do such a cheery voice, Hange.” Levi says, sighing.

Hange’s smile falters, before dropping all together, and giving a thoughtful nod. Eren shuffles over to your side, taking the seat next to yours as he places a steaming bowl of ramen in front of you.

“Oh. Thank you, Eren.”

“Who?”

You roll your eyes as Eren smiles, reaching forward to flick your cheek.

“Bruce.”

“Bruce, indeed.” he responds.

Eren knows he’s in treacherous waters. That this line you’ve drawn, that you’re not you and he’s not himself, works almost too well for Eren’s purposes. That he can pretend, in earnest, that none of the things he said happened. That you and him are just as you always were, untouched in the bubble you were always in when you lived here. .

“The funeral is tomorrow, as we all know. The Bodt’s have requested that we get there ten minutes before the service, so be on time tomorrow. Bertholdt, Sasha, I’m looking at both of you. ”

You all nod, humming in response, as you start digging into the bowl, switching off with Connie and Sasha who are both trying to monopolize the only real food in a five feet radius.

“That being said…” Hange says, swallowing hard.

They’re pacing back and forth almost, teetering on their ankles, when they talk. And when they finish explaining - autopsy report in hand and the gut punch sticking in your chest - you all sit there, blankly staring.

And wander in silence for the rest of the day.

It was one thing that Marco died. And an entirely different one that he was killed.

“Someone go get Eren, we only have thirty minutes.” Levi says, everyone lingering in the kitchen and the living room, in a sea of black.

Almost everyone is here now - Erwin, Armin, even Eren’s parents - all lingering around as you wait to head to the funeral. You give a curt nod to Levi and march out to the pavement, pebbles crunching under your feet as you make your way to set.

Eren’s been in there since last night, never retreating to the room to change into his pajamas before he settled down on the couch downstairs. Despite your protests, he refuses to sleep in the same room as you. Or let you sleep anywhere else besides Jean’s old bed in his room.

You let the pebbles crunch under your feet, ignoring the sting as you pass the tandem bike, and slip onto the set. You can see new costumes designs printed against the walls, storyboards with Levi and Hange’s handwriting on them as you make your way to the back towards the piano.

When you see him, that rage, simmering warm in your stomach over the past twenty-four hours, the deep-seated pain of Marco dying alone, crying out for help, comes to a head when you see Eren. Because he’s sitting at the bench, with his book propped up against the stand, and a bottle of pills in his hands.

You march up to where he’s standing, crossing your hands across your chest as you all but glare at him.

“Oh. Hey, you look-”

“Are you serious?”

You watch his face scrunch up in confusion, that stupid look on his face aggravating you even more. His tie is unkempt, his hair is messy - he’s always so haphazard with these things.

“You’re doing pills in here before Marco’s funeral. Are you fucking serious?”

He looks down, at the bottle in his hand and stands up, and swallows hard when he looks at you.

“Wait-”

“No. No, for once, you’re going to listen to me. You-you’re sick. Marco’s dead. You can’t even give it to him to be fully there while we say goodbye? This means that much to you?” you spit, watching him shut his eyes.

“Y/N.”

“How could you do this? To him? To me?”

He reaches forward, hands on your shoulders as he squeezes, and your eyes burn like acid. And every feeling, building up over the past few days, comes tumbling out.

“Why did he have to leave us, Eren? We didn’t get enough time with him. He was only twenty-four, he didn't even get to grow old. He was supposed to die, years from now, so happy, so-so surrounded by people he loved.”

Eren forgoes the rational thought. He reaches forward fully, snaking his arms around you as he cradles your head into his frame, trying his best to stifle your cries into his shoulder.

“And you. He would hate that you were doing this. I hate that you’re doing this. You-you don’t have to. There are other things that can make you happy or-or fix whatever it is that’s wrong.”

“Y/N.”

“What, Eren?”

He pulls back, reaching for the pill bottle, and placing it in the palm of your hand. You read the label, immediately embarrassed and ashamed of your reaction.

Eren Jaeger *Lexapro 5 mg Take one tablet by mouth with the morning meal.

“Oh my god, Eren. I’m so sorry, I-”

You pull back, sitting down on the bench, as you dig your fingers into your temples, trying to stop that pulsating feeling under your skin. The rage, the feeling, coursing through you so hard that you can’t even pick what you’re mad at.

You’re breathing panic in and out, chest heaving, as Eren takes a seat next to you, leaning his elbows on his knees. And the feeling, it lands on feeling overwhelmingly embarrassed. Because Eren’s not doing drugs, he’s taking anti-anxiety pills.

“Eren. I’m so sorry. That was so horrible of me, I thought it was-”

“You thought it was like Connie.” he finishes

“Yeah. And I’m sorry for assuming, I just-”

“I’m not mad at you. You were just trying to take care of me. I appreciate it.”

You groan, embarrassment still coursing through you, as you lean your forehead straight against the piano, the smell of the ink on Eren’s book permeating your nose.

“Do you remember that birthday party of mine I told you about? When I was ten, at my old house in New York? It was when we were in Australia.”

You nod.

“I remember feeling it. A paralyzing block in my chest, like I couldn’t move. And when I was able to move, it was only because it all came rushing to me, so panicked, so fast that I-I didn’t even register what happened.”

He was barely even ten. You lift your hands to his shoulders, squeezing hard, as he continues.

You’re here and you’ve got him.

“I didn’t tell anyone. I thought something was wrong with me. I thought that people feel this way, that it’s normal, but I just felt too much of it. That I just can’t handle things the way normal people do.”

You frown, reaching up to cup the side of his face. Your fingers brush over his dimples, soft under your fingers, as you talk.

“Eren. There is nothing wrong with you. That’s just an anxiety attack.” you whisper.

You’re not sure what it is about what you said but when you look up, there are soft tears flowing down Eren’s cheek, the voice coming out of his mouth so garbled you can barely understand what he’s saying.

“Hey, Eren.” you whisper,

“No. No, no. Stop.”

Eren stands up, retreating to the other side of the piano, where he’s leaning over, his entire frame heaving up and down as you walk to his side.

“Why are you-”

“I don’t want you to help me. You shouldn’t be helping me.” he says, his voice shuddering.

“Why not?” you ask, frowning.

“I’ve been horrible to you. I don’t deserve your help. You-you should be cussing me out, so mad that you can’t stand me, that you want me to suffer and you’re not. And it’s agonizing for me that you aren’t.”

You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around him from the back, as you feel him sigh. You lean your cheek flat against his shoulder, squeezing as hard as you can as Eren continues to cry, fists clenched so tight on the piano that white.

“You’re not you and I’m not me. We agreed on that.” you murmur.

“Y/N. We can’t-”

“Who?”

He snickers, amidst his tears, as he turns around, and you slot your arms under his. You can feel his heart thumping under your ear, loud and fast, as you place your hand over the spot. The two of you stay that way for some time, Eren's tears falling onto you, as you try your best to remedy whatever it is that's burning inside of him.

“Just calm down and breathe. Falco says it always helps to talk about something else, when he feels like this.”

He tenses at the mention of Falco, which you realize was a mistake.

“Why were you in here?” you ask.

“The Bodt’s asked me to write a song for the service.”

The perfect distraction.

“Can you sing it for me?” you ask.

He looks down, green eyes - full and round - as he nods, shuffling towards the piano bench as you take the seat next to him. You can see that the lyrics are scribbled on the book resting against the stand, the paper stiff from blotches of Eren’s tears. He starts playing the piano, his voice echoing on the walls of the set.

And if I didn't know better I'd think you were talking to me now If I didn't know better I'd think you were still around What died didn't stay dead What died didn't stay dead You're alive, you're alive in my head What died didn't stay dead What died didn't stay dead You're alive, so alive

You rest your hands against the keys next to his, slowly following his pace, as he continues to sing, the hum of his voice filling the air. You can’t help but think it. That he’s beautiful. That this is your Eren, miles away from whoever he was when you saw him last.

I should've asked you questions I should've asked you how to be Asked you to write it down for me Should've kept every grocery store receipt 'Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me

You can feel the tears flowing down your cheeks now, straight onto the piano keys and your hands, as you cry.

And if I didn't know better I'd think you were singing to me now If I didn't know better I'd think you were still around I know better But I still feel you all around I know better But you're still around

When you and Eren get to the service, you walk hand in hand to the piano. And play the song together, for Marco and Marco only.

You knock on the door, padding into the room to find Levi, hunched over his computer and leaning his hand on his cheek. You take the seat next to him, crossing your legs against the chair, as he looks over at you, expressionless.

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” you say.

Four days after the funeral and all of them have cleared out. Forced to go back to wherever they were before, to push down the beating pain and move forward. The grief, perhaps it did suspend reality for the rest of you. Leave you to pretend that nothing that happened was real, that you were still teenagers running around on this set together.

That wasn’t how it was for Levi. Because in almost a week of being there, he had yet to talk to you with a straight face.

“What are you working on, Levi?” you ask, cracking your knuckles.

He turns the laptop towards you, one of the old hard drives from the earlier seasons pulled up on his computer. He plays the video, one of Jean sitting in a chair behind the green backdrop.

“Okay, Jean. Tell me your goal for the end of the show.” Levi asks.

The video, Jean must be barely sixteen, wearing one of the old costumes from season one. You remember now, that Hange was insistent on documenting everything - that you all were going to grow up so fast that they should keep videos. Obviously, Hange is too disorganized to do it themselves, so Levi bit the bullet and did it for them.

“I don’t know. That’s so far away, Levi.” he groans, scrunching up his forehead.

“Just answer, Jean. Where do you see yourself at the end of the show, when you’re in your twenties?”

“With Mikasa.” he responds.

You both smile as Levi switches to the next videos, the two of you watching all of them in silence.

“I want to be myself. That’s all I want to be, not embarrassed or ashamed, I-I just want to be me.” Historia says, smiling into the camera.

“I don’t know. That’s a weird question, Levi.” Mikasa grumbles, glaring at him.

“You’re horrible, Mikasa. Jean said he wants to be with you.” Levi responds.

“Well, that’s a given. Of course, I’m going to be with Jean.” she responds, giving one last eye roll to the camera.

“Doing something important. That means something to people.” Connie responds.

You swallow hard, as you see Eren, fifteen and so smiley, as he crawlsl onto the little stool.

“My turn?” Eren asks, giving Levi a bright smile.

“Yes, kid. Your turn. Why else would you be sitting here?”

“Okay. This is a secret so don’t tell anyone.” he says.

“I’m not broadcasting to a news channel, Eren. Just hurry up, I still have to get through half of you.”

Eren nods, reaching up to fix his hair, before he talks - his voice filled with that confident resolve, that one he always sported when he was fifteen.

“I want to get the Best Actor in a Lead role award. And on the same night, I want Y/N to become a triple threat. And then I want us to tell her that I told her so. Me and her, at the top.” he says, giving the camera a bright smile, before jumping off.

The next one is of you, what you said being entirely lost to you in your memories.

“What do I want to do when I'm in my twenties? Hm.” you echo.

“Today would be nice.” Levi deadpans.

“Well, I don’t know! That’s so broad. I want to be doing stuff like this. Acting, making music, To have people enjoy the work I make, and making it with my friends, like Eren and Mikasa and Armin. I want to be here, more than anything. It feels so right to me, that I get to do this. It’s special, it’s a privilege and I’m really thankful I get to do it.”

“Note to anyone watching. This is one of our only kids with manners.” Levi says, setting the camera down to give you a hug.

You bite down on your cheek, looking over at Levi, as he plays the last one. Of Marco.

“Okay, Marco. What do you want to do when you’re in your twenties?”

“Well. I know what I’m going to be doing.” Marco says, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

“See. Spoiler alert, but Hange and Levi just killed me off this show. But we made a deal. That I get to be in each season, even if its a super minor role like a flashback or whatever. So in my twenties, I’ll be here. Surrounded by all my childhood best friends, making this show that’s always meant so much to us.”

You swallow hard as Levi wraps his arms around you, the two of you watching Marco’s smiley face disappear from the screen.

“So I’ll see you in four months? For season four?”

“Damn right you will.” you respond.

And for the first time in a week, Levi breaks a smile.

“Good.”

next part linked here

an, again: SEASON FOUR ERA (this shit abt to be so awkward when they're not all sad/grieving )

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly-y-blog @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @squirrelspoetry @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi

346 notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 5 months

Note

Match is a Luther my beloved

“So you’re recovering your design,” he says instead, eyeing the man warily. He doesn’t understand why Luthor isn’t just killing him. Especially if either his chauffeur or bodyguard or both are Amazons; they could carry out his body easily, if they didn’t want to leave the Agenda either his DNA or an autopsy subject. “Why? You could just refine it and make a finished Superman.”

“That sounds incredibly irritating, actually,” Luthor says pleasantly, linking his hands together behind his back. “One sanctimonious alien is enough. And two alien brats are definitely enough.”

“. . . we’re not aliens,” Match says, because . . . just because. That’s all. Luthor tilts his head again, his expression flickering almost thoughtful.

“By what metric?” he asks.

“Superman’s an alien,” Match says. “Superboy and I were designed and produced on-planet by members of the dominant native species.”

“Semantics,” Luthor says, gesturing dismissively but still looking just barely thoughtful. And assessing again, a little. “But fair enough, I suppose.”

#anonymous #wip: match is technically also a luthor

99 notes · View notes

zepskies · 1 year

Text

Never Say Goodbye - Part 2

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

AN: Real quick, just want to say I’m so happy that so many people seem to like this little story so far! Here’s a longer chapter for ya.~

Word Count: 4,300 Warnings: Mentions of anxiety. Language.

Part 2: Connection

Dean honestly didn’t remember that snowy day when he was seventeen with much clarity. Or that sad, anxious feeling in his chest.

Not until six years later, anyway.

It was only a few months after Sam left for college, and left his older brother behind. Well, he’d left John too, but he was the one who gave Sam the ultimatum in the first place.

If you leave, don’t you dare come back.

So Dean struggled to be okay with that while he and John were on another hunt in South Dakota. There was a short but significant string of murders in Vermillion, about an hour away from Sioux Falls.

“Too bad Bobby couldn’t make it,” Dean said. He and John were researching the case at the closest library—over at the University of South Dakota. This one was huge, with multiple floors and new computers.

I guess this is what nerds like Sammy dream about, Dean thought.

“Yeah, could’ve used the manpower. But he’s got his own hunt over in South Carolina somewhere,” John said. His voice was gruff with tiredness. They’d driven for about a week straight, slowly but surely getting farther from the west coast.

“So this thing eats hearts. That could still be a lot of things,” Dean said. He gestured at the small pile of books between them at their table. John had been jotting something down in the autopsy report they’d stolen. He then turned it Dean’s way and tapped his finger on the puncture wounds.

“Those look canine,” John said.

Dean’s browed crunched. “Werewolf? It’s not a full moon.”

His dad shook his head. “Similar, but different. If I’m right, all we need is a couple silver bullets. After we track this thing down.”

“Okay, I’ll bite.” Dean grinned at his own pun. “What is it?”

John smirked. “It’s a skinwalker.”

That rung some kind of bell, but Dean would be hard-pressed to remember what made a skinwalker different from a werewolf. He hadn’t encountered one before, but after he killed it, he’d be sure to remember.

John explained how skinwalkers were actually a lot like werewolves: they could infect people with a single bite, they liked their burger meat raw (as in, fresh human hearts), and more importantly, silver could kill them.

Though unlike their lunar-dependent cousins, skinwalkers could shapeshift into their animal form whenever they wanted. And that didn’t limit to canines.

“But in this case,” John said, pointing again at the autopsy pictures, “I’d say we got us a dirty dog.”

Dean nodded. “Okay, so how do we find him?”

“What do the vics have in common?”

They started pouring over the police reports of the five victims. John took out a map of the city and made notes on the location where each body was found.

This was the part Sam was hella good at. Dean enjoyed the Magnum P.I. aspect of it, but sitting here in a dusty library for hours was going to be a severe test of his patience.

He tried to focus on the reports, and he actually noticed that one of the victims was a college student—here at South Dakota University. Another one was a bartender, and the bar was only a couple of blocks down the road.

Interesting.

He shuffled through the papers to find the third victim and felt something nagging in the back of his mind—an annoying buzz that made his brows knit together. He was already feeling a bit restless sitting here, his knee bouncing in place and rattling the table a bit.

John looked up at him. “What’s the matter?”

Dean blinked in confusion. “Huh?”

“You’re shaking the table.”

Dean forced his knee to stop. But that was when he felt it—a growing sense of frustration and anxiety blooming in his chest.

What the hell? he thought. He was perfectly fine a few minutes ago. Why did it feel like it was getting hard to breathe?

“Dean.” John looked at his son a bit harder. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered quickly. “Fine…I’m gonna find a bathroom.”

He tried to be normal as he got up and left the table, but at soon as he was out of eye-shot of his dad, he made swifter strides towards the nearest bathroom. He went to the sink and splashed some water across his face to wake himself up. God, why’m I so freakin’ tired?

He took slow, deep breaths to calm down. Even though his mind was racing with what the fuck, what the fuck.

He wiped his face with some paper towel and realized his hands were shaking. Was he sick or something? He knew that Taco Bell breakfast burrito was too good to be true—

That’s it. Wake the hell up. I can’t fail this damn final!

That. That was not his thought.

“What the fuck?” Dean couldn’t help saying it out loud, just to make sure he could still speak normally.

He stared at his own shocked face in the mirror.

Then finally, he knew.

He knew what these symptoms were, because while he’d ignored that chapter of social studies, Sam had always been an avid student. Truth be told, Dean hadn’t really wanted to learn that subject. It was the reason he didn’t like thinking about their mom. And the reason why their dad barely spoke about her.

But Dean knew what happened when soulmates started getting close to one another for the first time.

Dean was feeling his freaking soulmate, and it was scaring the hell out of him.

Suddenly he could feel the bond. It was like a humming thread in his mind, an itch he wanted to scratch. If he just reached out the slightest bit, he could touch it. He could connect with whoever it was on the other line.

He could…or he could just leave it for a while until he figured out what he was even going to say, let alone do if someone answered him back.

So he did what most twenty-three year old men would do when faced with a potentially life-changing bond of commitment and…feelings.

He shoved it down and ran.

Well, not literally ran, but he was quick to leave the bathroom and return to his dad.

“Finally. What the hell took you so long?” John asked. He was already gathering their stuff together to leave.

Dean felt pinned by his dad’s gaze, but he did his best to play it smooth.

“Uh, sorry. Breakfast burrito hit me sideways. Then there was no toilet paper in the stall and I had to climb under and—”

John grimaced and held up a hand to stop him. “All right. Let’s just go.”

Dean let out a relieved breath. He hefted his backpack onto his shoulder and followed his dad out of the library, back to the Impala. He climbed into the passenger seat and took a swig of an old soda to steady himself.

He still felt her anxiety in his chest (at least, he hoped it was a her). Maybe she was having a rough day…but once he remembered what she’d said in his head, he wanted to slap a hand to his forehead.

You idiot. She’s studying for a test, he thought. She’s probably a student here.

That realization made him smirk. Aw, yeah. College girl, huh?

Though that thought was followed by a dousing shower of reality.

Oh shit. The thing we’re hunting just ate a college freshman.

“Dean, what’s the matter with you? You lost in space over there?” John asked. It punctured the bubble of Dean’s internal world and made him sharpen to attention.

“Nah, I’m fine. Where’re we headed?”

John scrutinized him a bit longer, but at Dean’s stubbornness, he seemed to let it go for now.

“To find this thing,” he said. “I narrowed down its hunting grounds and called the local animal control. They’ve been getting reports of people hearing a stray dog barking, but no one’s seen him.”

Dean nodded and settled back into his seat. Just focus on the hunt, he told himself. Deal with the rest after.

You were having a phenomenally shitty day.

Well, you supposed that was nothing new. You were twenty years old, still not old enough to legally drink but old enough to have adult bills and adult stress to go along with it. So you were also broke.

And you were halfway through a degree in history. A degree that your father repeatedly told you was “impractical” to earn a decent living with. Which wasn’t even true.

…Okay, maybe that was a little bit true. But you liked history, and you could easily fall into Mom’s footsteps and become a teacher.

You could work for a museum. You could become a world-renowned historian, or write an award-winning historical fantasy like Game of Thrones and make millions off the TV deal!

…Okay, most likely it was probably going to the teacher thing, but at least you still had dreams.

Your dad only believed in what he could see right in front of his narrow-minded face.

Your dad was a dream killer.

Maybe you shouldn’t have told him that on the phone just now, but you were fuming, damn it. This wasn’t what you needed on finals week. Especially because you had an insane Calculus final to cram for, and only a few hours to do it. You needed to get back to your part-time job at the coffee shop by three. Unfortunately, you were closing tonight.

First, you needed a pick-me-up before you headed to the library.

Sighing, you rubbed the silver ring on your right hand absently as you waited in line at the university’s café. The ring had been your mom’s, and now it was yours. On most days, it gave you comfort; just that little bit of extra support to get you through.

Eventually, you got to the front of the line and rattled off your coffee order while still looking up at the menu board: extra-large black coffee with a turbo shot, four sugars. When your gaze slid down and met the guy ringing you up, your brain stuttered to a halt.

“Okay, got it. One ‘Turbo Cram Session’ coming up,” he said. He gave you a charming, friendly grin. With his hazel eyes and tan skin, he was a rare find in a midwestern town like this. His brown hair was long, brushing past his shoulders. He almost reminded you of a character from the cheesy vampire book your teen cousin Lily was obsessed with.

Regardless, he was attractive.

A nervous flutter in your stomach made you smile back. “Thanks.”

You paid the overly expensive bill and watched him make your coffee.

“Finals week, right?” he commiserated.

“Yep.” You sighed and nodded. “Three exams tomorrow, one at eight-in-the-damn-morning.”

He whistled sympathetically. “Yeah, it’s a killer.”

He put the lid on your steaming coffee and handed it to you. His fingers brushed your hand when you took the to-go cup from him, but he hissed a bit and pulled his hand back.

“You okay?” you asked in concern. He glanced at your hand. You toyed with your ring in a nervous habit.

“Yeah, some coffee spilled. No worries,” he said. He flashed you a smile. “If you need to pull an all-nighter, just come back. I can help you mainline the espresso machine.”

He tapped the inside of your wrist and you laughed, playing along. “You’d do that for me?”

“Just for you,” he said with a nod. He pressed a finger to his lips conspiringly. “Keep it quiet, though, or the whole school will be cramming in here like stray cats.”

You laughed again. His nametag read, James.

“Got it. Thanks, James.”

“Call me Jimmy,” he said, giving you a more flirtatious smile.

You left the café with a full-on blush warming your face. When your hands hand brushed, you felt tingles on your skin…but you hadn’t heard his thoughts.

He’s not the one.

Disappointing.

You continued on your path to the library.

You were a bit introverted, mostly keeping to yourself. Your friends were back home in Sioux Falls, so you didn’t really have anyone here, and you didn’t put yourself out there as much as you could. But even when guys did notice you (however few and far between that was), you just couldn’t bring yourself to entertain them. Not if you couldn’t feel them.

Maybe that was a lonely way to go through life. Your friends had certainly told you so. They encouraged you to have fun and explore in college, and part of you wanted to. Another part—the more sensitive part—thought that was just setting yourself up for disappointment.

You wanted something real. Something that would last. Like what your parents had, before…

Whatever. Enough of that. You shook your head to clear your thoughts as you approached the library, but it was hard.

Juggling a full-time college schedule, two part-time jobs, and commuting over an hour every day to school was hard. And your dad wasn’t making it any easier.

All right, stop it. Anxiety was starting to well up in your chest, and you couldn’t afford to battle with it right now.

You went into the library and found your usual spot, practically buried behind the reference books. Finding your favorite work desk, you settled your things there and sipped your coffee. You willed yourself to calm down—to power through that voice in your head that wanted to focus on your problems instead of solutions.

You only had a few hours to plug several complex math equations into your head.

That’s it. Wake the hell up, you thought sternly. I can’t fail this damn final!

With a shaky breath, you cracked open your Calculus book, put on your headphones and some music, and started studying.

A few minutes later, the men’s bathroom door opened with a loud crack and someone quickly walked out of it—right past your table.

You were too deep in your studies and your music to notice.

Father and son were on the hunt.

John was pretty sure they’d found the skinwalker (in a coffee shop of all places). They just had to wait until the bastard came out.

He and Dean waited in the Impala with Reuben sandwiches to tide them over for the stakeout. John discreetly shot his son a glance.

The boy had been off his game all day, but he couldn’t put his finger on why…

“Hey Dad, where’s Zeppelin IV?” he asked, around a mouthful of Reuben. A smile twitched at John’s lips. He wordlessly retrieved the cassette from the compartment on the driver’s side door and held it up in his hand.

“Hey, why d’you keep it on your side?” Dean asked. “You don’t trust me with your tunes by now? Just like you never let me drive?”

He was mostly teasing, but maybe there was a thread of truth underneath. John scoffed.

“I don’t let you drive the Impala ‘cause you’re a punk,” he said. He offered Dean the cassette, but just as he was about to grab it, John took it back and popped it into the cassette player himself. He smirked. “Driver picks the music.”

Dean gave him a look, like he wanted to snipe a comeback, but thought better of it. He sat back into his seat.

John took a satisfied bite out of his sandwich.

Oh shit!

You sprung up from your desk in the library, wiping drool from the side of your cheek.

Tell me I didn’t fucking fall asleep!

Sure enough, your Calculus book was cracked open, your half-drunk coffee was cold, and you had all but missed your shift at work. No, no, no!

You dashed around like a mad person trying to collect your books, pens, your phone—everything into your backpack. You had walked here from your dorm, so you were just going to have to run to the coffee shop on foot. You were too broke to take a taxi and the bus would take too damn long.

It was only, what, a mile or two?

Lord help me.

You didn’t have a choice. You just had to run.

“Coffee boy’s clocking out,” Dean observed. He and John climbed out of the Impala. By then it was evening, almost night. The sun dipped behind the clouds and the streetlights were about to come on. Rush hour traffic was heavy here at a four-way intersection.

Dean focused on their target. The guy looked normal—dark hair, tan skin. I guess that’s the idea, Dean thought. Look normal, blend in by slinging watery, overpriced coffee, get your filet o’ human hearts on the side.

When the guy came out of the café, he didn’t walk to a car parked on the street. Instead, he dipped between the café and the university library and went through a back alley.

“Let’s go,” John said, and with their guns loaded up with silver (hidden in their jackets), they hurried across the street and ducked into the alley.

But they didn’t see any trace of the guy. Both retrieved and cocked their guns, moving through the alley slowly.

Dean was usually good at this part. His ex-marine dad had trained him well, and he was focused. Alert.

Until something nagged at the back of his mind. A low hum as that connection flared to life.

Oh fuck. His lips pursed. A persistent feeling of worry (that wasn’t his own) prickled in his chest, like fire ants across his skin. He tried his best to shut it out.

Not now.

You rushed out the library doors and inwardly bemoaned that it was practically nighttime. You were lucky if you still had a job by the time you got to work.

Damn it! Frustration and worry warred for dominance, but you couldn’t focus on that.

Not now.

You hesitated a moment. A weird feeling fluttered in your chest just then…

Ugh, whatever, you dismissed, shaking your head. I’m insane, it’s fine.

You ran to the street intersection and waited impatiently for the walking light to turn green.

You looked both ways on the street. It was still red, but there was a window of opportunity in a short lull of cars. You could make it if you hurried.

So you did. You took your chance and ran halfway down the street, making it past the first wave of oncoming traffic. You just didn’t account for the truck that was turning the corner—from the opposite direction.

You had time to utter a scream before you dove for the sidewalk. A woman walking her dog helped you up, asking if you were okay.

You were and you weren’t, really. You were shaking, but you thanked the woman with a trembling smile. At this point, you didn’t care if you were fired. Five bucks an hour wasn’t worth getting splattered on a dusty pavement.

Damn. Guess I’ll have to apply at Starbucks.

It was intense.

Your fear was like a searing hot knife ripping through Dean’s heart, and it tore a ragged sound from his throat as his knee buckled.

John’s head swiveled to him with wide eyes. “Dean—”

That was the opening their prey was waiting for. Or rather, the creature that was hunting them.

A large dog leapt from the roof of the café—behind and above them. It went for Dean first, biting into his arm through his jacket. Both of them went down as Dean struggled and the animal growled and tried to shred his arm. Dean almost didn’t feel the pain, but he felt panic of his own as he tried to pry the creature off by his canine ears.

“Dean!”

He looked up at his dad, who stood with his gun aloft. Dean trusted him. He helped give an opening and moved his face away.

Three shots rang out.

The first two killed the skinwalker. The third was just for insurance, and maybe vengeance.

John helped Dean out from under the creature’s body, and they watched it transform back into its natural form. Coffee shop boy.

James, Dean read on his nametag.

“Rest in peace, Cujo,” he quipped, but by now the pain was finally registering. His arm wept with blood through his jacket, and he hissed in pain when his dad put firm pressure on the wound.

“What the fuck happened, Dean?” John demanded. “You got shit between your ears, or a working brain? Because whatever’s got you distracted, that’s how you get killed.”

His father’s anger wasn’t pleasant, but his disappointment was crushing.

Dean swallowed the pain, both physical and…and the rest. He just nodded and apologized.

“Sorry, Dad.”

John shook his head, but he continued leading Dean back to the car.

Back at the motel, John was able to stitch Dean up and wrap his arm. They had planned to leave after the hunt to save money on another motel night…but John agreed to give it one more day to let Dean rest on a real bed.

His son wasn’t just in pain. He was melancholy.

It was unusual for Dean, who normally kept up a decent attitude. And it wasn’t like him to slip up like that on a hunt. John could admit, things were different now without Sam. John was different.

Not that he’d been a picnic before. He knew that much. But maybe Sam leaving was harder than John cared to admit.

After he and Dean were showered up, John brought them back some takeout and beers. He gave Dean one, but before he turned on the TV, he hesitated. A twinge of sorry was at the tip of his tongue.

Instead, he asked, “What’s wrong, Dean?”

His son opened his mouth, a denial ready to fire.

“Don’t lie to me, son,” John said. “Just…tell me what happened today.”

It took a while to pry it out of him. He was resistant, and John expected that.

Dean, for his part, was trying to figure out what to say. How to say it.

Just then, he also remembered something Sam told him when he was only in sixth grade.

“Dean, did you know this? Human souls are really complex, and they’re unique too. We learned about it today in school.”

“Good for you, Super Geek.”

“They found out that connected souls subconsciously try to find each other. So when you start hearing someone’s thoughts, it’s because the souls are trying to bond together, like molecules.”

Like molecules, huh?

Speaking of, Dean hadn’t heard your thoughts since that terrifying moment when he felt you…

For a moment, he’d thought you’d….

Though deep down, he knew you weren’t gone. He knew the bond was there, like an idle TV. Either you lived really close to this motel, or this HBO connection was getting a wider bandwidth.

“Dean?” John pressed.

Dean looked up, breaking from his thoughts. John didn’t often ask him to open up. But Dean figured if anyone would understand, it would probably be his dad.

He was forced to contemplate the question that had been scaring him all day.

Did he want the same soul bond his parents had, even if it nearly killed John after she died?

“…Dad, how did you and Mom meet?”

The question took John by surprise…but maybe it shouldn’t have. His perceptive gaze washed over Dean.

“It was after I came back from Vietnam,” John said eventually. “We ran into each other by the old movie theater.”

Dean smiled. “Aw, both of you were in line for Jaws?”

A resigned smile quirked at John’s lips. “That was ’75, genius. And no, we…literally ran into each other. Full speed. I went to help her up, but she was already doing it herself. Plus picking up everything that fell outta her bag. All I could do was stare at her like an idiot, ‘cause…I heard her say, God damn it.”

John had been lost in the memory for a moment, but here he looked at Dean.

“But she didn’t say it. She thought it,” he said. “And I knew it was her. She was it for me.”

“And she did too?” Dean asked, somewhat hesitantly.

“No,” John laughed a little. “She took some convincing, if I remember right.”

“What, she couldn’t hear your thoughts?”

“No, she could. But that…connection. It’s different in the beginning,” John said, with a heavy sigh. This was harder to talk about than he thought. For Dean, he would do it. But just this once.

“You don’t have so much control over it. It just kinda…happens.”

“And…how did that work, exactly?” Dean asked.

“Why do you want to know?” John returned. Dean quieted, looking down at his beer.

That was all the confirmation he needed to finally know what was going on. He sighed again.

“Son,” he started, then hesitated. He knew what he was about to say wasn’t completely right, but it was the truth. One day, Dean would understand.

“Son,” he said again. “Unless you’re prepared to hang up your gun, and stop hunting, don’t open that door.”

Dean’s brows knit together, a silent question that he almost didn’t want to ask. John answered it anyway.

“Nobody should be waiting on men like us to come home bloody,” he said.

Dean took those words to heart. He reminded himself that his dad had seen blood and war long before he met Mary. Maybe his dad had more regrets than just not being able to save her.

So the next morning, Dean slid into the Impala’s passenger seat. John drove them away from the college town, out of Vermillion, South Dakota.

Dean felt relieved, and also guilty. Then, the farther they got, he just felt wrong.

Soon enough, the warm tendril of connection in his chest dissipated.

AN: Phew! Okay, one major step closer to you and Dean finally meeting. I definitely drew on some of my own experiences at college here lol.

Read on to: Part 3.

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean x female!reader #dean x female reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #john winchester #sam winchester #bobby singer #soulmate au #soulmates #slipped in a winchesters reference #spn #spn fanfic #zepskies #zepskies writes #dean x you

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thenextdawn-temporarilyclosed · 1 year

Note

is it possible for a Wednesday x Reader where they are childhood friends but Reader went overseas and years later Nevermore has a new transfer besides Wednesday and that is reader but Reader is different compared to the young Reader Wednesday knew because Reader lost all memories when reader was young and Reader today is a prisoner who used to be a assassin (just like Black Widow but recently cured from brainwashing) and is staying in Nevermore while waiting for final punishment?

Prisoner of Mistakes

Word count: 2.3K

Warnings: mentions of Gore, Violence and Blood

There you go! I had a lot of fun writing this so thank you for the request! I did put a lot of effort in this so hopefully you like it!🖤✨

———

You and Wednesday were both kids when you met for the first time. You were older than her by 3 years, but you were still really good friends. You would play together since you had very similar interests. The way Wednesday grew up never bothered you, you always liked everything that was horror, killing, blood. So it was really easy for you to be friends with Wednesday. You would play all kinds of games, hell you even helped her dig up graves or make autopsies.

One day though when you were around 10, your family decided to move across the world to a scientist, that could help study your ability since no one could find a way to understand it. No one ever managed to figure out what it really was but it messed with your brain and it definitely was not something good. You never got to say goodbye to your childhood best friend because the decision to move overseas was so abrupt, and in your head and heart you never accepted it.

And for the first time you moved you never stopped going around the world, most specifically through hospitals. No one could pinpoint what it was you had, if it was an illness, if it was an ability but you were starting to get so tired of this. You just wanted to live a normal life as a normal girl and have friends, but you were never allowed that.

Then the worst thing happened. While performing an experiment on you, a doctor made a terrible mistake, he hit the wrong button on his machine and ended up erasing all kind of memory you had. Ever since then, your personality completely changed and kept on changing. You had lost yourself, you didn’t recognize yourself nor your parents and everything your brain had was long gone.

Talking about losing your way, you became everyone’s worst nightmare. You were now 16 and a serial killer. You were ruthless, they way you killed people was unbelievable to everyone. you cut their body parts, opened them up and mixed their organs around all while your victims were still alive. You enjoyed hearing their scream and lose their breaths before dying. Probably this “gore” part of you is the only thing that remained in your brain ever since you were a kid, given the fact that you’ve always liked this kind of stuff.

The way you would always get away with it was unbelievable too. Seeing how the victim had been reduced, everyone always thought it was an animal. You got away with it till some day you didn’t. At 17 you made a mistake when killing a guy and left a trace, which led the investigators straight to you. By now your parents had completely disconnected from you and changed their names. Not that you would remind them anyways. Of course you had a trial, but somehow the judge gave you two choices. You could either live forever in prison or go to Nevermore.

You didn’t know what Nevermore was, but you chose that. Apparently you had to spend there a couple years, and see if you would come back to your senses, see if somehow the wrong experiment would reverse itself. The judge knew that all of this wasn’t your fault, and he hoped that in Nevermore you would find something that triggered you and made you go back to the sweet girl you were before you took this road full of everyone else’s mistakes.

The day you arrived at Nevermore was an intense day. Nobody would treat a killer like a normal person, right? Right. Everyone at the school had heard that a killer would be coming to their school to study, but no one quite believed it until you showed up. At your arrival of course you weren’t alone. You got off the police car with police on both of your sides. You were cuffed and as you were being escorted to the principal’s office you walked through the quad. As soon as you did everyone went quiet and stared at you. You looked at them with a psycho-killer-smile and waved at them.

“Hey, look in front of you psycho” one of the guards said as he roughly grabbed you by your head and forced you to look forward. “Alright alright, it’s not like m I’m gonna kill people here with you around, morons”. They pushed you forward at your reply as you kept on heading towards the principal’s office.

Wednesday looked at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she made sure that what she thought was right. “Enid I think I know her” she said, looking at the slightly taller girl next to her. “Why am I not surprised you know a worldwide known killer?” Enid replied not surprised at all, arms dropping on her sides. “She was my childhood best friend, she wasn’t like this. All I know is that she went overseas and then I knew nothing, but she wasn’t a killer, not at all” Wednesday finished her speech being sure of what she said, like most times.

After having talked to the principal she decided that it was necessary that she talked to students and teachers, so she called everyone in the quad and started listening. “May I have everyone’s attention please?” Weems started as you stood by her side, still handcuffed and with cops at your sides as everyone turned to look at her. “From today till the end of her studies, (Y/N) will be studying with us. Keep in mind that she’s a worldwide known killer so make sure not to get too close to her, stay away from her room and most of all DO NOT bother her. She’s manipulative so she’ll get you to do what she wants if you let her so I repeat, do not get close to her. She’s here on court’s orders so she’s not leaving anytime soon.”

That day finished like that, with you going to your room and the guards leaving the school, though making sure that your handcuffs were still on. There was no way they were letting you stay here without them even for the night, although the police officers would be coming back the next day, and they did. After having dressed up they escorted you to the greenhouse for mrs Thornhill’s class. The class had already started when you got in, of course you were late because you were trying to escape.

“Get inside psycho, if you continue we won’t hesitate to hit you and you know that so move your ass!” One of the police officers said as he pushed you, almost making you fall to the floor. Your balance was limited to a minimum because of the handcuffs. Everyone’s eyes turned to you as you had interrupted their lesson. “Fine okay! There’s no need for you to threaten me, jeez” you said as you headed to your desk. Of course it was away from everyone else. “I would think about what you do before bothering her. You both know how she can be right? I wouldn’t feel so powerful if I were you. She could kill you in a second and I’ll stay and enjoy if she does” Wednesday started.

“Thank you shorty, but I don’t need you to defend me,” you raised your hands, showing her the handcuffs “I have these so they’re right after all” you said smirking. You may look like a psycho, but deep down you hated how you were being treated. You were still a teenager. Wednesday looked at you with confusion on her face - for how noticeable it was - and turned back to Enid. “She didn’t recognize me” she told the blonde, and she turned to reply “well I would be happy about that, at least she doesn’t have a reason to kill you right?” The blonde ended the conversation like that. Deep down Wednesday was sorry that her childhood best friend didn’t recognize her.

The following days were pretty much the same, you would get pushed around by those idiots and a couple of times they beat you in your room for the bad replies you gave them. You had started submitting to them, having finally understood that there wasn’t a way out from this living hell and that no one would ever treat you like a normal girl.

This time you were in your Biology class, of course in your alone desk. You weren’t listening to the lesson at all, you were just writing on your diary. It was the only place where you had privacy so you would vent and write all kinds of things there. Then suddenly you felt a presence at your side, and realized that the girl you had learned to be Wednesday Addams had moved to sit next to you.

“Addams maybe you should go sit somewhere else” the teacher suggested, but she quickly shut him up “I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. If needed I even know how to defend myself so don’t worry about me” he nodded hesitantly and let her do. “What do you want Addams?” You started, closing your diary as she noticed the bruises on your arms, but decided to say nothing about it.

“Do you remember me?” The brunette asked without thinking of it. “No I don’t. Why would I?” You were quick to reply. “We played together when we were kids and I used to be your best friend. Then you moved when you were 10 and I never knew anything about you” she said, not once looking at you in the face. You wondered why. “Yeah well I lost all of my memory when I was 13 so for my cute little brain my life started at 13” you said and then everything went quiet for the rest of class, until Wednesday got up and sat back at her place next to Enid.

Even more time passed since then and things didn’t really change much. In school you had learned to behave and always went to class on time, but when you were in your room you would always end up fighting with the guards, who always ended up beating you until you passed out, and they also started tightening your cuffs, which started cutting on your wrists and leaving dark bruises and dried blood.

The day after the 100th fight with the cops you went to class with tears in your eyes, which you refused to let go. Arms full of bruises, yet everyone refused to say anything. You were breaking and you had no one to talk to. By now of course you regretted what you did, but at this point there was no going back. Nobody cared about your state, except for Wednesday.

Recently she had been Sending Thing to your room to check on you, luckily you hadn’t seen him. He saw every day how you would get beat up and of course told Wednesday. One day she finally decided to act upon this. Luckily the guards were only outside of your room so she only had to distract them to get inside and help you. Thing took care about this and Wednesday got in your room. She caught you crying on the floor because of the pain.

“…(Y/N)?” Wednesday asked quietly as she walked to you, kneeling down in front of you “are you okay?” She asked again. “Addams get away from here before I kill you!” You warned her in between sobs, but she didn’t budge from where she was “I’m not leaving. I came to help you” she said and without thinking of it she put a hand on your shoulder, but she didn’t expect a reaction from you.

She didn’t expect you to jump up on her and pin her to the floor, a murderous expression on your face as you looked at her while breathing heavily, but suddenly it all came back to you.

How you would always play with her

How you loved your parents

How your parents loved you

How you were such a happy little girl

But then came the experiments

And with it the pain

And the depression

The killing.

Suddenly you remembered everything and it gave you a headache as you quickly stepped away from her and crawled backwards to the wall. Wednesday looked at you unfazed, like she expected it from you. But she didn’t expect you to pull back that way.

“What’s happening?” She asked you as she stood up and once again walked to you. “I- I remember everything..” you told her and began crying once again “I’m sorry- I’m so sorry Wednesday I didn’t mean to do anything of that- it wasn’t my fault” you started rantling. You were apologizing to her, she did nothing wrong but she knew that you just needed to say that.

———

From then on you turned once again to the girl you used to be, with the only difference that no one trusted you here at Nevermore, even though Wednesday told everything what had happened, obviously after you had given her consent. The court has been notified about this events and today you were going through another trial to validate what had been said.

They asked you questions of the past to which you replied, and then they called Wednesday to testify that you were back to normal. When they told you you were free to go you breathed of relief but then you asked for one thing you never thought you’d ask.

To go back to Nevermore.

#jenna ortega #wednesday #wednesday x y/n #wednesday x you #wednesday x reader #wednesday adams #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x y/n #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader

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secretsandwriting · 8 months

Text

Part One: Dead Reapers and Watching Eyes

Thirteen dead reapers, Thirteen spears, Thirteen bodies devoured by mushrooms, Thirteen days, Thirteen hours, Fourteen People.

Masterlist -- Next

Bruce wakes up suddenly. Shooting up, he looks around his room. Eye’s stopping at the foot of his bed. There, at the foot of his bed was a reaper. Something most wouldn’t believe, but Bruce had seen them before a few times. What he had never seen before was a dead reaper.

A spear made of a material Bruce had never seen had been impaled into the reaper's chest. Black blood was still dripping from it’s chest. A large puddle covered the floor and was slowly getting bigger.

Alfred knocked on the door but Bruce did notice. Alfred walked in after the second time, stopping in his tracks at the sight. Reapers were an uncommon sight, Dead reapers were myths.

The rest of the day didn’t go well. On top of his normal paranoia Bruce felt eyes on him. He knew it wasn’t his paranoia, this was too real. Someone or something was watching him. Another reason he knew it was real, he could feel it. He could feel it in the room with him. It didn’t matter where he went or how fast he turned. He couldn’t see it and it wouldn’t leave him alone. Patrol wasn’t good. He almost didn’t make it out of a few situations and he had to take someone to the morgue for an autopsy. He had just stumbled across them in the street.

That night, he barely slept. The feelings of being watched were still there and making it difficult for him to relax enough to sleep. He laid in bed for hours. It wasn’t until 4 am, when he rolled over, that he was distracted from the feeling. The cause of his distraction, a small black mushroom, barely visible in the dark of his room, growing from the hardwood floor in the corner of his room.

Bruce woke up suddenly. He didn’t remember falling asleep, all he remembered was a little mushroom in the corner of his room. It was still there. Something was off. He still felt like he was watched and that there was another presence in the room, but he kept hearing something dripping?

Black blood was dripping from two wounds made with two spears that Bruce didn’t recognize the material of. Both embedded into another reaper.

The day was worse than the one before. The feeling of eyes on him was stronger, the presence of whatever it was was stronger, and he kept seeing little black mushrooms growing throughout the manor. Something about the small black mushrooms screamed danger, so he left them for the time being. To top it off, patrol went horribly. Everything came out to get him and he found another body.

When the coroner saw him, he pulled him over to a table covered with a sheet and showed him the body from the night before. All the man's internal organs had been overtaken with little black mushrooms. The autopsy came up inconclusive on cause and time of death.

The coroner cut into the new person with him there, they were met with little black mushrooms. Bruce left the morgue horrified and confused.

There were more mushrooms growing at the manor.

There was another reaper impaled with three spears in the morning. There were more mushrooms, eyes still on him, and an undeniable presence following him. He almost died multiple times on patrol. There was a third body filled with more mushrooms. Bruce didn’t notice Dick watching him when he decided to call it a night and go home.

The next morning, there was another reaper with 4 spears, more mushrooms, the eyes on him somehow worse, and the presence stronger. Bruce hoped that whatever was going on wouldn’t go after Damian. He was coming home from a school trip and the last thing Bruce wanted was for anything to touch him. He debated having Damian stay with one of his brothers but that would raise too many questions and he didn’t want any of them getting involved in whatever it was that was killing reapers.

Damian came home, he seemed on edge around Bruce. Bruce tried to brush it out of his mind. Damian was 15 and just had a taste of normal freedom, that was probably it.

Patrol went horrible again, there was a fourth body full of mushrooms.

It was like everything was trying to kill him. He hoped it was just how it felt and nothing Damian would notice.

Damian noticed. Damian also noticed Dick and Jason watching from a nearby roof. He also noticed that Bruce hadn’t noticed them.

The next morning, there was another reaper impaled with five spears. Damian mentioned the mushrooms. Bruce had Damian go out with Tim just to make sure his bad luck didn’t affect him. Patrol went horrible, there was fifth body. Bruce didn’t notice all the boys observing him.

Another reaper, six spears, more mushrooms, more almost deaths, a sixth body. All his kids on a roof observing.

Another reaper, seven spears, more mushrooms, more almost deaths, a seventh body.

Bruce was getting tired. He didn’t know what was going on. The feeling of being watched was still extremely strong, the presence following him seemed to get stronger every day. He had no idea what was going on with the reapers, every source he checked led to nothing and all the evidence vanished shortly after he woke up. There was no record of the mushrooms anywhere. He had nothing.

He stepped into his room and was met with all of his kids. All of them were staring at him intently. He knew what this was. He did it to them when he wanted them to tell him what was going on without asking questions.

He was too tired for this. He stepped past Cass, changing in his bathroom. He dropped into his bed when he got out, turning the light out. Bruce listened to them shuffle around, hoping that they would leave. He didn’t know what was going on and he didn’t want them hurt.

They stayed all night.

He woke up to another reaper impaled with eight spears, Steph’s scream woke up the others and brought their attention to the dead reaper.

Breakfast was barely touched by anyone.

There were more mushrooms, more near deaths, an eighth body. This time, all of them witnessed it with him.

Nine spears, more mushrooms, worried kids, near death experiences, and a ninth body.

Ten spears, more mushrooms, worried kids, near death experiences, and a tenth body.

Eleven spears, more mushrooms, worried kids, near death experiences, and an eleventh body.

Twelve spears, more mushrooms, worried kids, near death experiences, and a twelve body. Jason left that night to make an important phone call to someone who might know something about this. No one mentioned that they heard him muttering about Danny better pick up under his breath as he left. None of them thought the Ghost King would know anything about this.

Thirteen spears, more mushrooms, and worried kids. Jason was finally back, Danny following behind. No one offered a greeting, Danny seemed to understand.

“I see what you mean. Something is definitely here. I don’t know what it is exactly though…” He bent to pick one of the mushrooms. His hand stained back and the veins in his arm seemed to be filled with something black.

“I can’t say for certain why, or even what it means but this holds Death’s signature. I would assume the mushrooms, near death experiences, have something to do with the dead reapers. The bodies hold Death’s personal signature, meaning she’s personally killing them which is completely abnormal. The current Death is known for not interfering or getting her hands dirty unless necessary.”

“Is there any way we can get a hold of her?” Dick questioned Danny. A sliver of hope.

“Well, we have to go visit her in Okadus. I don’t know if it will do anything but I’ll try throwing my name around to get us in faster. We need to go now though. Nothing good comes from 14.”

#danny phantom x reader #danny phantom social media au #danny phantom #dp x dc #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #tim drake #stephanie brown #bruce wayne #dc social media au

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thebaileybugle · 10 months

Text

Mistake

Pairing: L. Jethro Gibbs x male!reader

Warning(s): None really, just some fluff and cuteness

Request: Hi could I please request a Gibbs x male reader fic where the reader works in the lab with Abby and without thinking Gibbs gives him a kiss on the cheek like he would Abby I doesn’t have to be detailed at all

A/N: Hi again! how are you wonderful people doing, hope you are doing well, and if not hope you get better! It's not much but its a kickstart to writing again.

Gibbs walked off the elevator and approached you and Abby with half a mind. It was a whole twenty-three or so hours since the NCIS was assigned this case and one of those hours was the only time he slept.

Is it a bit dangerous? Yes. Though, has he survived worse with a not-so-better mindset? Yes. Is there a slim chance you might kill him if you found out because you are the father hen of the team (including Ducky) yes, but he could at least convince you to not throw away his 50th cup of coffee.

"Afternoon Boss!" Abby said enthusiastically with a bright smile, Gibbs smiled back tiredly and nodded before she went back to a forensic test on some clothing from the victim.

You didn't even look up picking up on the sudden smell of coffee as his footsteps approached the front of the table.

"What cup is that Gibbs?" You asked without looking up from your computer as you type away. That was the third time you've asked him this question in just thirty minutes. You were much like your colleagues, exhausted, anxious, and ready for this damn case to be over.

"None ya'" Said man answered before taking a sip of his 53rd cup of coffee. You looked up from the device and stared at him with a glare more lethal than his own. He didn't stand down though of course. He smiled and made his way around the lab table to stand next to you. "I know what she's working on but the hell are you doin?"

"Looking up bridal shops for the vic." You said sarcastically with a fake smile that you dropped as you looked back down the screen, trying to look up a possible substance we're missing from the scene. That can't be all of the cause of death, it's damn near impossible for it to just be blunt force trauma."

"What? ya thinkin' something internal that Duck could've missed?"

"That could be it, but there's also the fact that Ducky is most definitely 99% correct and thorough with his autopsy reports so that's unlikely." You shake your head and run a hand down your face in slight frustration.

"But not impossible." He points out shrugging a bit. You nod and make a move to text Jimmy. Gibbs furrows his brows at the device and scoffs and shakes his head. "You'll figure it out, kid. Between you, Abby, and that brain of yours you'll find the missin' piece in no time."

"Thanks, boss... might not be the most helpful brain though... between my partner making things difficult at home and this case, i feel like I'm gonna snap."

"That's alright kid, but if you do, make sure it's on DiNozzo." You smirk and nod thanking him silently. "Alright you two, I'm off to get another cup." He grins and out of habit kisses Abby's cheek before also kissing yours.

Abby's eyes widened in surprise at what she saw. Gibbs, who you and Abby thought didn't comprehend what he just did, walked off to the elevator once more and pressed the up button, leaving behind leaving you and Abby stunned and confused.

"Don't make it weird, it ain't that bad to kiss a man!" He yelled back to you both and entered the elevator.

------

Taglist: @ilovemark1951 @napoleonthefrog

To be tagged in more things Gibbs fill out this form, to request more Gibbs and/or other characters I write for fill out this form

#first post back #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs #jethro gibbs x reader #gibbs x reader #ncis gibbs #ncis x reader #ncis reader insert #ncis #jethro gibbs #leroy jethro gibbs x male reader #x male reader #male reader #male reader insert

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morbidology · 4 months

Text

‪Sally Ann McNelly, 18, and Shane Paul Stewart, 17, were a teenage couple from San Angelo, Texas. On the 4th of July, 1988, they attended a fireworks display at Lake Nasworhy. The following morning, a lake ranger discovered Stewart’s abandoned Chevrolet Cameo parked near the O.C. Fisher Reservoir several miles from Lake Nasworhy. With the couple nowhere to be found, they were reported missing.‬ ‪

‬ ‪Four months later, hunters stumbled across skeletal remains in a pasture south of Twin Buttes. The remains were identified as Sally and Shane and an autopsy concluded that they had been killed by shotgun blasts to the head. At a time when satanic panic was rife, rumours soon started to circulate that they had been murdered by a satanic cult that they were both involved in. According to friends, Sally and Shane attended parities with occult activities. It was alleged that the couple were involved in a satanic cult. Years later, investigators would rule the satanic cult theory out.‬ ‪

‬ The case eventually went cold but in 2017, there was a breakthrough when John Cyrus Gilbreath was pulled over on suspicion of possessing marijuana in Texas. When police searched his home, they found three Audi tapes with “SS” on them, a lock of hair, blood and a fingernail which could link him to the double murder. He has since been named as a person of interest in the cold case.‬

#true crime #unsolved #mystery #cold case

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xjulixred45x · 21 days

Note

Hiiii I just read SatoSugu x Douma reader and I loved it! :3

I was wondering if you could do a headcanon about Ieiri Shoko adopting a Nezuko Kamado! Reader and her brother Tanjiro? Like imagine two 5 year old children walking around the streets of Japan homeless because their family was massacred by a special grade curse and they were the sole survivors. And the reader’s wounds were exposed to the curse which kinda transformed into a vampiric like state.

Like in a universe where Toji didn’t kill Riko, and Geto didn’t turn evil. Like the twins, megumi, tsumiki, reader and tanjiro having little playdates. It be so cute! And reader being so shy around Geto and Gojo so she hides behind Shoko. But also protective of Shoko :3

and maybe Nezuko! Reader when she’s older she develops a crush or gets a girlfriend and its Nobara Kugisaki

YES!!! SHOKO CONTENT!!! THANK YOU!!

Lieri Shoko x Nezuko! Reader(+ Tanjiro! Reader)

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: female

Warnings: Divergent canon AU where Geto didn't turn evil and Toji didn't kill Riko, a happy AU. Smoking, some Angst, Fluff, Reader has the Powers and personality of Nezuko Kamado of Demon Slayer, Reader has a brother. I think is all.

To be honest, I can see how Shoko wasn't going to take care of the siblings voluntarily at first.

Let's see, I'm not saying that she didn't like children, just that she was too self-aware that her work environment and herself were not the best for a child, let alone two who had gone through a traumatic situation.

When she read the incident reports and autopsies of the parents, she felt bad for the children.

A curse of a special degree had invaded their house and killed their parents and siblings. The children hid quickly, which saved their lives, but they did not leave without both physical and emotional scars.

Shoko had to check on the youngest, (reader), who, thanks to long exposure to cursed energy, had gotten sick.

Although that was definitely common, the girl's rapid healing process was not.

It was something strange, it was as if his body began to absorb the cursed energy as a survival mechanism.

and his older brother, the other survivor, was largely unaffected, but he was definitely worried about what would happen to him and his sister once the checks were over.

Shoko wondered the same thing. They couldn't just return them as if nothing happened. Maybe they would hand them over to some clan?

Imagine Shoko's surprise when she found out that the brothers were going to live with her temporarily for "safety" reasons☠️

They weren't fooling Shoko, they wanted to keep the children close to see how they developed as sorcerers and how to use them in the future, especially the girl, but she really couldn't do much against that.

After all, being the only doctor with a reverse technique, Shoko had a high level of security, so if the children would be safe anywhere, it would be with her.

although it definitely didn't mean it was easy.

Shoko spent much of the time before the children's arrival moving things, throwing away papers, organizing her house, so that it was habitable for two more children.

She also had to moderate her gloomy attitude towards children for now in order not to generate a regression as a result of the trauma.

She had to learn not to smoke inside her own home.

It was a great adjustment. and Shoko hates it at various points.

and it was worse when she didn't love the children right away, she felt like she was changing her life completely for strangers.

Fortunately it was not something that lasted for long.

(reader) and her brother were good children, quite good, they didn't cause problems, they ate what Shoko gave them and above all they were calm. maybe too much.

Sometimes Shoko worried that they were too quiet for their ages.

which prompted her to want to interact more with them.

In part he did it with the excuse that it was to have more information about the (reader's) condition, but it was quite obvious that he cared about the children.

but especially their health.

Shoko being Shoko let the children make their mistakes to learn from them, which included getting hurt, she expected to have to treat the boobs but was surprised when she saw, again, the rapid healing of (reader).

so it's not just with cursed energy, it's with all the wounds.

Shoko watched the children in their period of adjustment and recovery while doing what she could to make them comfortable, such as telling them a story (which she had to buy), making them food, giving them some private classes in the cursed energy (and them understanding as much as Geto and Gojo), etc.

Shoko was...starting to enjoy the company, the movement, the activity...

The children's enthusiasm and optimism was contagious, especially from (reader)'s brother, Tanjiro, who was always trying to help with anything around the house, see the positive side, and being generally sunny.

(reader) on the other hand was a somewhat cryptic case, she was a good girl, yes, but at the same time she barely spoke, she was more reserved, but she definitely had potential.

that was what worried Shoko.

She has seen what Jujutsu does to people, what the ACADEMY does to people, taking something good and crushing it.

She didn't want (reader) to go through something like that, she had already been through a lot in her life.

If possible, he will ask Geto and Gojo for help in keeping the higher-ups away from the children, which they both gladly do.

Shoko also exposes them to other children with their special abilities, such as Megumi, Mimiko and Nanako, they get along quite well despite their differences (the reader and Tanjiro are somewhat afraid of Geto and Gojo, but at least they feel safe with Shoko there) .

Thus, they grow with better management of their skills and, above all, a better understanding of the jujutsu environment.

If we go to the most general ideas, Shoko is the empowering "cool mom" who lets you get away with anything as long as you don't hurt yourself (she doesn't give a damn about anyone else).

Shoko is "fine" with her children wanting to join the sorcerers, but she will also be quite clear about all the possible risks (and will threaten Satoru with death if her children do not return safely).

If her children still want to be sorcerers, then she accepts it, she even supports their courage quite a bit.

I think that Shoko, taking advantage of ( reader's) healing ability, would try to teach her reverse ritual technique, hopefully now using words that she can understand and thus be more useful in fights or outside of them. You could really use an assistant after all.

Now that her children are grown, she allows herself to be her normal, somewhat scary self, so to annoy them from time to time she throws super random or super deadly data on the human body as "fighting tips" or how to dismember someone, For example.

She finds it funny how, having been practically raised by her, they still turned out so good-natured.

Although don't get me wrong, Shoko will be a somewhat carefree mother but that doesn't mean she doesn't care about her children.

If (reader)/her brother comes depressed because a classmate died, they had a horrible mission or they are simply down, then she will sit with them, give them some tea (or a cigarette if they want) and comfort them in her own way.

She wants her children to feel like they can count on her and tell her what they feel, not be the "my mom is going to kill me" type of guardian.

And above all, he is afraid of losing (reader) and Tanjiro for that very reason, that they cannot say things.

Shoko is brutally honest with her children, so she expects the same. She knows when to praise them and when to criticize them.

that in all aspects of life, both school and out of school.

in love for example.

(reader) is someone with little experience in love, so Shoko will always be honest when she thinks a boy doesn't suit her, even if it sounds ugly or causes a fight, she prefers a passing storm to a permanent hurricane.

The same goes for Tanjiro, but we could say that the two of them team up to protect (the reader)'s back as much as possible from jerks.

Honestly, Shoko would be more than fine with LGBT children, simply because then she won't have to deal with certain additional problems.

I mean, if (reader) had a crush on Nobara for example, seeing that she is a good girl and that she is good for (reader) because she accepts her into her home.

although she definitely gives him/her the shovel talk in case she/he ever dares to try to hurt her daughter :)

and also Shoko's threats SHOULD definitely not be taken for granted.

She has already become very, VERY attached to them for the higher-ups to want to do some dirty tactics with them in order to maintain "peace" in the system.

even without Gojo or Geto helping her, Shoko is BRUTAL on her own.

If they tried to take the kids to another family, I think it would be one of the first times that Shoko loses her cool and is panicking, it's not like she would let it happen, but she wouldn't think that would happen in the first place.

You could say that children really change her priorities.

If they try to commit any of the children to a member/heir of one of the clans, it is a big NO NO and she will make the epic move of eloping with the children on the wedding day. she is like that💅

Experiments with ( reader) because of her special ability? Over her cold.dead.maggot infested BODY.

Do you hurt any of them? It's your last day. prepare to be received at the morgue, not necessarily dead yet :)

She literally becomes feral.

Even if he doesn't mean it, he might threaten to quit his position as a doctor if they try any moves with the kids, which has worked, for now.

But either way, there's nothing to worry about. Shoko is a mother bear who protects and loves her strange and extraordinary children very much.

Shares, reglogs and comments are very welcome!

Thanks for the Request ❤️

Aaaaaa it's been so long since i enjoyed writing for JJK so much!

If You guys can, Request of other fandoms (i'm recently into Invincible and Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood, so if You can, it would be really nice)

Love ya ❤️

#headcanons #fem reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu no kaisen #shoko ieiri #jjk shoko #jujutsu kaisen shoko #jujutsu shoko #shoko x reader #ieiri shoko x reader #platonic #platonic reader #demon slayer nezuko

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mvltisstuff · 10 months

Text

solitude - e.b

summary: the only people who hear hen and chimney out about jonah are y/n and buck, but little do they know the hell it’ll rain down on them.

evan buckley x reader

a/n: ok but like imagine all four of them working tgt bc this storyline was actually rly good… this is literally just buck, y/n, hen and chim acting like the mystery gang for a day!! 3.4k wc 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

“claudette and perry both had no other symptoms before full cardiac arrest,” hen starts, scanning over the patient charts left by the new paramedic. “he’s administered nebulized albuteral during transport.”

“hen, look,” chimney points to the computer screen. “he’s been at four different locations, chicago, miami, dallas, and denver. now he’s hitting up LA.”

the station sirens buzz in their ears, alerting that they could be discovered any second. hen shoves the files into her jacket as chimney logs out, and they shuffle out quickly attempting to go unnoticed. hen looked for any details in the files that she could, trying to confide in karen.

clearly, there was a pattern of extreme suspicious in jonah’s patient files. these patients had no reason to be going into arrest when they were not showing previous symptoms. hen was the best paramedic there, in medical school. she just hoped that everyone would see the obvious wrongdoings. it was painfully evident that he was a dangerous person to be placed in the system.

hen and chimney banged repeatedly on buck and y/n’s apartment, knowing that they’d be the ones to believe them. y/n’s taken note of jonah’s behaviors, but she tried not to think anything of them, just as magical saves.

“hi?” buck says, answering the door. “are you two ok?”

“we need to talk to you and y/n,” hen tells him, inviting chimney and herself in. both y/n and buck hadn’t expected visitors, so they were clearly not dressed in presentable clothing.

“hey, hen, chim,” y/n comes down the stairs. “what’s going on?”

“you two need to look at these,” hen slaps the folders down onto their kitchen counter. buck takes one as y/n reads the other.

“what’s wrong with them? aren’t these just patient files?”

“and why are they all jonahs?”

“buck, you saw claudette before she died.”

“y-yeah, i did. she was fine, though. there was probably something underlying the inhalation,” buck grows more confused at the paperwork and the accusations from his friends.

“look,” chim points. “he’s administering drugs that have nothing to do with patient conditions.”

“meaning… he had no reason to push any meds at all,” buck speaks slowly, starting to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

“protocol dictates that the only treatment used in that situation is respiratory, and we looked at claudette’s autopsy report. there were incredibly high amounts of potassium in her system that would’ve been present in the tests we did on scene,” hen informs the group in front of her.

“so is he some murderer paramedic?” y/n asks, looking up from the file. “i believe you, but how do we even get this to question? do we bring it to bobby?”

“i don’t know where we go from here,” hen starts. “but he needs to be out of the LAFD before he purposely kills someone else.”

buck, y/n, henrietta, and chimney had all piled over to athena’s house. they presented the activity of greenway to bobby, explaining that he has documented his cynical moves.

“i’m not approving any of your suspicions, but we have to be careful with these accusations against him getting out,” bobby tells his workers.

“listen, cap,” chim says. “he’s got a history of this. we can’t confirm what was in that syringe, but it sent claudette collins into cardiac arrest.”

“he’s been bouncing around to different cities the last few years, way too many to be looked passed.”

“so he’s just killing people for mercy?” athena asks, holding bobby’s hand and intently reading over the patient files.

“it’s way more complicated than that. when jonah was a kid, he played the hero. he’s reliving that by trying to play god and bring them back,” y/n adds, standing beside her boyfriend. buck doesn’t want to overthink this, but he’s so conflicted about the whole situation. he knows bringing up something like this is incredibly risky when dealing with a person like jonah. if things were to go awry, then he’d feel like it was his fault for not believing it.

“we tried getting news footage, but it’d be more suspicious that way,” buck tells bobby.

the group was sent away to leave bobby and athena to their own investigation, letting them work this out on their own. in the driveway, they stood by the two cars they used to come here.

“come back to my house,” hen suggests. “we can look some stuff up there on jonah and pick out any details we can get.”

“i can grab my laptop that has the proper software on it. it’s back at my place, though, i’d have to grab it,” chim states.

“ok, guys,” buck begins. “don’t you think we might just have to leave this alone? there’s only so much we can do with this.”

“who else can deal with this, though? we have the resources and the upper hand with this, buck,” hen replies back at his worries.

“look, buck,” y/n places a reassuring hand on his arm. “i’ll go with chim to get his computer, and then we’ll be over. just try and hear her out some more because this is something way deeper than what we might think.”

buck agrees, allowing himself to listen to hens convincing. she rants on about more details, slowly but surely opening up his mind to the possibility. as she portrays her concerns to him passionately, her sentence is brought to a halt when her phone rings through her car’s speaker. the unknown number is thoughtless to henrietta as she presses the green button. “hello?”

“i heard you’ve been asking people about me,” the cold, dark voice echos through the car, causing buck and her to tense up.

“jonah?” buck whispers, to not let him hear.

“got the weirdest call, something about an investigation about that dispatcher. did you four file a complaint against me?”

“jonah, i don’t know what you think is going on, but-“

“i think that you never gave me a chance. to show you what i’m capable of,” he speaks eerily into the phone, making bucks eyes widen. “so i’m gonna do that now. i’m going to show you, henrietta and evan.”

the phone beeps, signaling the hang up from the other end. “what was that?” buck panics. “hen, what is he showing us?”

“he said us four, right? he’s gonna show us four?”

“so are we next?”

“next? who’s first?”

buck heart drops to the floor, frantically reaching for his phone and dialing y/n’s number. his shaky hands slowed it down, but the prolonged ringing was painful to hear. if jonah was going to show them what he can do, he’s going to go for that group first. as evil of a man as he is, he’s amazingly smart. he’s not going to begin with buck and hen, he’s starting with y/n and chimney before going down the line. the sweet sound of y/n’s voicemail goes into bucks ears, his heart thumping against his chest. “hen, go to chimneys apartment. now!” he yells, and she presses on the gas, redirecting the two of them in his direction.

buck called y/n repeatedly, completely petrified of losing the one person he’s loved more than anything. he would be so defeated if she was hurt because of his disbelief. he called chimney, maddie, karen, and anyone who might be able to reach them. unfortunately, no one had good answers for them.

he sprinted up the stairs of the building, hen rushing behind him. the door was unlocked, and the room had an unfamiliar feel to it. the orange lighting and silence was strange to the two, searching for her best friend and his girlfriend. “chim?” hen shouts out. she gives buck an unsure look, one containing an expression of fear and confusing all mixed into one.

before buck can even turn, the thick footsteps behind him rush up. he looks at hen, ready to pounce and run out, but the man is too quick on his feet. buck is injected with a needle right where his shoulder and neck meet, twinning with hens own needle in her skin. the syringes are pushed down, forcing an unnecessary liquid into their bodies.

they recognize the feeling all too well. the fading of their hearing turning into ringing. the scene in front of them disintegrating into black dots. their bodies became heavier and heavier, before turning light again as they thumped to the ground below.

the two awoke at the same time, feeling like they were suffering with sleep paralysis. their arms were restrained behind their back and their eyes were dry and tired. their ankles were connected to the legs of the chairs, but the sight in front of them was worse than any demon that could haunt them.

jonah towered over chimney on the table, pushing more probable toxic fluids into his veins. hens heart was beating obnoxiously fast, but she couldn’t tell if it was from the drugs or from the scene that was unfolding. chimney lay shirtless and almost lifeless on the table with alarmingly slow beeping coming from the portable machine.

y/n was laying across from him in the opposite direction, the two being smushed together. she had matching IV’s in her arm and patches on her chest, the only remaining article was her bra. buck could swear he was screaming, but nothing was coming out. his face was still, but his eyes were full of tears and panic at seeing y/n unconscious. everything was completely out of his control. he glanced over at hen, complete terror in her eyes while trying to calm jonah.

the room they were placed in was unfamiliar, almost completely darkened beside the light above his two victims. or in jonah’s mind, his patients. jonah craved validation from people around him, but also from himself. he remains hungry for the feeling he had the day he saved his bus driver. he was a hero, and he had to make sure everyone knew it.

as soon as the flatline ricocheted in the room, jonah scooped up the paddles and shocked the two until the beeping commenced again. “look who decided to join us,” jonah teases. “i was too generous with the propofol, you two were out longer than i expected!”

“why are you doing this, jonah?” hen begs to know the answer. bucks dying just to give him a piece of his mind, but hen has regained more of her strength.

“you know, you can get anything on the internet these days, like medical equipment, drugs. the real answer is that you gave me no choice, henrietta. snooping around and checking up on me when we are supposed to be on the same team.”

“we are not, on the same team,” hen mumbles. “we don’t put our patients in danger.”

jonah moves over to y/n. “one sec,” he says while pushing another dose of adenosine.

“no,” buck manages to push out.

“jonah, please, you’re stopping her heart,” hen cries out.

“don’t worry, nothing a little epinephrine can’t fix, right?” he nodes with a ring of excitement in his voice. an maniacal, twisted voice. as soon as his hands move to the paddles next to him, buck frantically shuffles in his chair. he places them to her chest, her body flailing up before restoring a normal heart rhythm. “woo!” jonah screams. “nothing like it, huh? the rush of watching someone walk right up the deaths door and snatching them right back. it’s like being god.”

“we are not god,” buck replies to him, regaining some of his fight. “i swear to god, let them go right now-“

“alright, alright,” jonah says. he grabs the needles and bottles while pouring the drug into it. he injects it into both y/n and chimneys skin.

“jonah, please don’t do this, jonah!” hen yells.

“oh, my bad, i thought you wanted me to let them go…” he tells them, slyly.

“you son of a bitch, you lay another hand on her an-“

“and you’ll what? you can’t do anything, buckley,” jonah steps closer to the restrained people. “you both need a partner like me. someone more your speed.”

hens eyes land on the movement on one of the tables. chimney twitches and his eyes are squinting from weakness in his brain. he’s playing around with the machine while getting a good grip on one of the electric shock paddles. “you are not my speed. you’re sloppy, and even if i wanted to commit these heinous crimes, you think i’d let myself get caught?” hen starts to mock the man in front of her while trying to distract him to give chimney time. bucks eyes have never separated from y/n, his soft gaze was planted on her aching body, lacking life in all forms.

“you might’ve been a hero once, jonah,” buck begins to play along with the distraction act, knowing they can’t take anymore of the brunt of it than y/n and chimney have. “but now, well you’re nothing but a fucking murderer,” buck hisses out at him. as jonah begins to move over, hen gives chimney a convincing look as he presses a button on the vital machine.

“no, i’m not,” jonah laughs sarcastically.

“then why is chimney not breathing?” buck spits at him as jonah whips around, looking at the flatlining man on the table. he runs around, and chimney silently hypes himself up to act. it’s now or never, it’s live or die, and it’s jonah’s turn to taste his own medicine.

chimney shoves the paddle into jonah, causing him to shiver and collapse on the floor in front of him. “chim!” hen gasps. “oh, my god. are you ok?” chimney grunts his way over and off the table, stumbling to the ground while he crawls over to hen. he starts pulling at the ropes around her feet, letting them go as she is able to maneuver her hands out of the ropes. she wobbles over to buck, who is then released and limps over to his girlfriend.

“y/n? hey, baby, c’mon wake up,” he shakes her in a desperate attempt to bring her senses back and wake her from this nightmare. when he eyes finally begin to slowly open, he releases a heavy breath.

“buck, please tell me she’s ok!” hen says, comforting chimneys panting self.

“she’ll be ok,” he leans down, pressing his lips to her forehead.

“b-buck,”

“hey, hey, it’s ok, we’re all ok.”

the red and blue lights are hard to miss behind them, reflecting in the windows and onto the walls. they hear the ruckus of the officers clattering their way into the room, placing chimney and y/n on a stretcher as buck and hen follow out. jonah is summoned away to the new reality of the back of a police car. buck finally sees another familiar face, running over to bobby as he pulls him into a strong hug. bobby’s anger is fueling in his system, not being able to control himself before his fist is connected with jonah’s face.

“hey, cap,” chimney says, clearly on some new type of drug that will actually help him. “nice punch.”

“i am so sorry, you guys. im just so happy you’re ok,” bobby rants out in pure relief at his team. hen climbed into chimneys ambulance, as buck stood in complete denial about the situation. “hey, buck.”

“she died, bobby,” buck says, glaring into the distance. “her heart stopped and now she’s pumped up with all this stuff and i couldn’t save her and he almost murdered her-“

“listen, kid,” bobby grabs bucks shoulders, trying to ground him. “she’s ok, what she needs now is you next to her. we got him, he’s going away for the rest of his life. now go get checked out, please.”

buck releases yet another exhale as a matching teardrop falls down his cheek. buck walks off, grabbing onto y/n’s hand as she’s lifted into her own ambulance. he still looks at his girlfriend in complete disbelief that she’s alive, and that he is too.

the hospital air was dry and they knew it like a best friend. the smell, the feeling, the white lights that make you think you’ve died when you wake up. they’ve walked in and out of so many hospitals, almost having no fear that they’ll never come out. until buck sees y/n in the bed is the first time he’s completely shaking in the one next to her.

“c’mon, doc,” chimney complains. “i’m fine, i don’t need to stay here.”

“it’s good that you feel good, but it’s just overnight. we want to keep an eye on you and y/n to make sure nothing changes in your blood levels,” the doctor explains.

“it’s ok, chim. just listen to her because she’s right,” hen reassures him before starting her own complaint session.

“i’m glad you feel that way, because we’re keeping you too for further tests. you as well, evan. it’s to make sure he didn’t put anything else into you guys,” hen groans and looks at her three friends.

“we’re in for a hell of a night, y’all.”

chimney and y/n were placed in one room together, needing the same type of observation as hen and buck were having a slumber party in the other. they were watching whatever crappy reality shows they could find until their boredom got the best of them. hen and buck snuck out in their twinning gowns and IV lines and made their way to the room holding their favorite people inside. when they walked in, they said, “guys, we’re breaking out of this joint.”

“and how exactly do you plan to execute that?” chimney asks, slurping on an almost empty juice box. buck moves over to sit on y/n’s bed, caressing her hand as she smiles at him.

“you two almost did die,” hen says. “you know, i never really liked him.”

“not much of a fan myself,” chimney replies in his always lighthearted spirit.

“well some people thought i was crazy, but you guys were ready to go to battle with me. with no proof, you listened and were on board from the start.”

“um, i definitely was not on board from the start,” buck interjects.

“well look at us now buck! we’re stuck together for life,” hen smiles.

“hens always right, that’s the thing between us. she’s the genius and we were the comic relief,” chimney adds.

“you guys are way more than that. chim, you’re the best friend i’ve ever had. y/n and buck, i can’t imagine my life without you two. you’re like denny’s siblings at this point and i’m one hundred percent bringing this up at your wedding.”

“well, you know what they say about parents at weddings,” y/n hints. “they always pay for it.”

“ooh! got her there,” buck laughs and looks at hen. “you know i love you guys, you’re my family.” he lifts y/n’s hand up, landing a kiss on her knuckles.

“if we weren’t in a hospital room right now, i’d say that was quite romantic, buck. i’m proud of you,” chimney pokes fun at the couple on the other side of him before looking back at hen. “we did a great job raising them, don’t you think?”

“i’m just really happy you’re ok. i cant do this without you, y/n. you’re my whole life,” buck speaks softly to his girl, looking deep into her loving eyes.

“you’ll never have to do anything without me,” y/n says. “you’re stuck with me, love.”

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