#no way she died on a fucking bridge

[awindofvengeance]

I’m legitimately so proud of myself for not looking at the Ilsa Faust tag on tumblr at all throughout it’s time in theaters or on streaming services bc if I had I swear to you I wouldn’t have watched dead reckoning tonight given Ilsa Faust’s fate. Like I’m 1000% sure I wouldn’t have given it a shot, if i knew she died.

#ilsa faust #but a little part of me still wants to believe it’s all a fake #and she’s alive #she has to be #right #no way that knife penetrated her heart #no way she died on her first trip to Venice #no way she died on a fucking bridge #hell no

[oatbugs]

procrastination is starting to have its consequences finally

#on my friends living room floor they love together but one of them has been london for weeks or maybe months #to be with her love. im on a foam mattress from one of their beds next to a glass bottle of water opened by one of them #in a mug given to me by another. the weather felt like my childhood today and it also felt like 2 years ago. #(put space in the heavens Einstein's idea and hes your friend too so nothing to fear) around the table they drank and laughed and i thought #i hope you keep growing so full with the love you receive . i hope your appetite becomes insatiable from how used to it you are #and i know youre all leaving soon but i hope one day you miss this and that youll be happy you miss it #its worth missing i think #i thought he didnt care but he said after exams hes going walk around this area over and over #(this is near where he lived and where we visited almost daily for a year) #(hed come across the bridge on a lake) #we went where she used to live and at the entrance a fox sat calmly. it just yawned and stared. #it felt important somehow. i think maybe their impressions of me will never be close to how i feel inside but i think #i love them enough for that not to matter. i dont think theyll ever know this. i dont think if they did it would change much. #and seeing them smile makes my heart glow anyway. today i tried their malaysian tea the ginger burned my throat #they warmed my heart. hes going to canada soon and hes going to the US soon and shes going everywhere soon ill never understand #how were supposed to live with memories and with seperation and with the past but we do it anyway so i think it doesnt matter much #i wanted to write a poem for the lab rats with the fibre optic wires lit with blue forcing them to turn around and around #something about how im sorry that the two photon arrays burned the inside of your brain. im sorry about the sharp points of multielectrode #arrayes. im sorry about everything we do to you. she asked to see me tomorrow. im trying to have self control but i miss her so awfully #last night my friend talked to me and i updated on everything that happened with love and the lack of it and she just started laughing #and she told me about the same thing from her side. and she told me about how she loved london because she would walk the streets #and she felt like the people were her. and her eyes would go over the people and the bag of bagels and the construction men they probably #have a kid at home maybe shes a daughter. this kid is crying for her mother and the building you just walked past caused #blisters and pain and people died in it and very likely people were born in it. we talked for hours and i felt like #i was holding her hand just like that time she held mine watching a horror film. i love her so much #my friend is a genius and i remember her picking up the charms of my phone and staring at the leaf hanging from them. shes side stepping to #music drinking dangerous cider and cocktails from a movie and chit chatting with billionaires and undergrads #i love her dearly. his head covered in electrodes. she tells me about a syrian guy shes in love with and she says #what you feel and what i feel is like cocaine. ive tried a lot of fucking cocaine. #she says ive reminded her of what living actually feels like and to never put energy into someone who doesnt see me this way.

[hanzajesthanza]

also regis swearing at stygga is so meaningful to me because he swore over milva’s dead body and also in front of angoulême (and assumedly cahir too)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#txt #especially because milva was like… not only his friend but he cared for her medically… #i mean he did for everyone (including cahir and dandelion’s head injuries) but #idk regis seeing her dead when he had saved her life under the bridge and counselled her about pregnancy and abortion #and (i guess it’s headcanon but) when her ribs were broken by the druids and she was healing from that he was there for her #milva was beat up by the narrative but regis was always there with bandages lol #so to see her DEAD completely DEAD with no possibility of healing her #also because *he was off* and he paused for a drink (or two—who knows how many) #of course he’s like ‘fuck this place. i’m going to fuck this shit up’ because how shitty of a surgeon must he feel right now #and if he can’t protect his friends now with medicine well the only other option in his arsenal is Fucking Shit Up #his NOSEDIVE begins early in the halls of stygga castle and he just starts losing it #milva: dies | me: oh… oh they’re *all* gonna die huh… #who knows if regis had returned to the rest of the company and milva was still alive. who knows. maybe he wouldn’t have continued to drink #and maybe he wouldn’t have made that suicidal leap towards vilgefortz in the end #i think that in the loss of the rest of the company regis had nothing left to live for #both from an in-universe POV and from a narrative writing POV #because remember that there were previously written versions in which regis survived and lived #so paying attention to not just when he dies but when he starts to go on this downward trajectory is relevant #because sapkowski intentionally devised a way in which he would die that would be plausible for his character #which means that his death isn’t just random. this version was a specially crafted version to ‘allow’ for his death #i love how AS was like well yeah of course milva and cahir are going to die. but yeah i admit angouleme and regis are just stupid #(to clarify he said angouleme dies stupidly) #but i think saying ‘there were other versions in which the vampire survived’ = this is the version where he is stupid #c: regis #analysis #IN THE TAGS lol #book: lady of the lake

[nightly-ruse]

I think I may be a little odd

#I’ve been thinking about like everything/neg/pos/breakdown inducing #and I think I’m mentally I’ll #like yeah no shit but also it’s very clear #I literally got out of breath the other day talking about wolves and Yellowstone bc I was talking so fast about them #also have very wild mood swings paired with abandonment issues constant shame for ppl caring about me and trauam over friendships bc #so many have gone wrong and I’ve been forever changed or abandoned (both in one case) #I mean I met this girl at a school meet and she just reminded me of a person who hurt me. they had the same same mannerisms looked similar #besides the hair and I had a full panic attack. I feel bad about that she probably was really nice #or how I feel sick just thinking about the local park bc it’s where I was forced to hang out with a ex friend that wrecked me #such a mixing bowl of bad traits #I can focus I can’t remember I’m either too lazy or too hyper to stay still I can’t regulate tone well and scare myself constantly just by #talking. relationships always end in a burning bridge even when they were so good bc I get so paranoid and scared they’ll leave that I leave #myself. jumping to crazy conclusions to the point I start hallucinating due to stress #I mean how do I even explain to my therapist that my only good friends ended with me skipping school the last days bc I thought one died. #she actually just left school early. #that one I kinda get even tho it’s fucking nuts bc tjat year has mentally burned me so goddamn much but still #and even tho I’ve kinda had a constant itch that something completely explains why I’m this way but am too scared to bring it up bc of #change and trauma related to bringing up my own mental health #I don’t even know what thsi is anymore sorry #should just shut up and sleep #I’ll be fine by morning anyways so what does it even fucking matter #ruse rambles #vent tag

[risaonda]

it’s so funny bc nowadays i’m doing the Adult Thing and am very late to learning to drive and i think a lot of the anxieties i had about it truly did stem from every fucked up car i experienced growing up bc we would just end up with whatever the hell. my mom used to drive a car that she could not ever stop and let idle for even a second bc the entire thing would just die. my dad one time had a car from some place he was working at and the front tire just caught fire inexplicably at one point. looney tunes shit

#venus ambassador give us a post #i get behind the wheel and i go Oh this is so normal. actually. #like LMAO #also ftr we got stranded in that U Can't Stop This Car car so many fucking times. many a childhood memory of being stranded some place #bc the car died bc u were forced to come to a full stop at a red light that went just a lil too long #instead of slowing to an almost stop way before it and just slowly cruising up to it hoping it'd change #not the same car but the wipers on another one died in the middle of the worst god damn rainstorm i ever seen in my life #while we were also going over a bridge -_- could not see anything out the windshield #my mom intends to give me a car she got from someone when i get my license and it had an issue for a while #where apparently my siblings got a cd stuck in the player and it just drained the battery whenever the car was on #fix was going somewhere to have the cd removed. don't know what that means for that cd player going forward for me

[clockwayswrites]

By the Scruff (Start?)

“I didn’t—” the man cut himself off with a carefully measured breath and pinched the bridge of his nose so hard it had to hurt. “Jasmine, I didn’t kidnap you, I’m saving you!”

“Oh so you’re that type of fucked up freak, got it,” Jazz growled.

The way she bared her teeth reminded Danny of a feral dog. He’d never seen her like this. She tucked him further back behind her again, shielding him from the strange man.

“I am not—” Another careful breath. “I am not that type of freak. I am being sincere here, Jasmine. Your parents hurt me also—”

“Our parents love us!”

“Your parents let your brother die!” the man screamed.

Jazz stumbled back a step into Danny.

Danny who felt like he would throw up.

Jazz wasn’t supposed to know.

Jazz wasn’t ever supposed to know. He was supposed to take this secret to his—

Well, no, he didn’t get a grave, did he. He died and he didn’t get a grave. Danny clamped a hand over his mouth.

The hysterical giggle slipped through anyways.

“Danny?” Jazz asked. Her voice had dropped the growl. She wasn’t the feral animal anymore, she was addressing one.

Danny couldn’t meet her eyes. She’d know if he looked at her.

“They let him die, Jasmine,” the man said, voice a bitter whisper, “just like they let me die, alone and without them. Their inventions killed both of us. They killed both of us.”

“Danny?” Jazz tried again.

Danny shook his head, hand still clamped over his mouth. He thought if he moved his hand he would throw up. If he moved his hand he would answer her.

“I went to Amity Park to— to see them. To show them what they had left to wither away. To show them— it doesn’t matter anymore. When I saw that Daniel— when I saw that they had done the same thing to their own son… well, what was the point?” the man asked. He sounded so broken under the perfectly enunciated words; perfectly trained like a prize pet. “I had to get you both out of there, Jasmine, before they hurt you too or before… or before they discovered what Daniel was and ripped him apart… molecule by molecule.”

“Danny?”

Danny couldn’t—

“Oh, little badger, I am so sorry.”

Danny sobbed.

He had died, and he didn’t even get a grave.

#dp x dc #? #or just dp? #idk #bad parents jack and maddie fenton #by the scruff

[jaegersdevil]

skirt — satoru gojo

cw: reader wears a skirt, best friend gojo, everybody's in their early twenties (pretending nobody died or went astray, so suguru + haibara are here!!))

"When are the boys getting here?" Utahime asks, smoothing out one of the picnic blankets on the sand.

Shoko throws you a look, one you hate, and you check your phone. Your messages with Satoru are a mix of flirting and faux hatred shared between best friends. "5 minutes."

"Okay," Utahime mumbles, standing on the blanket. "I'll go get the extra snacks from the car."

And then she's gone, walking up the sand. The night is quiet, the only sound being the crackling of the bonfire a few feet down the beach.

"You know he's gonna freak out, right?"

You jump at the deadpan words of Shoko, and you turn toward her. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Your friend rolls her eyes and gestures to your outfit. "You know exactly what I'm saying. Gojo's gonna lose it."

With hot cheeks, you look down at your mini skirt. I mean, yeah, it's rare for you to wear such an item of clothing in the Jujutsu world, but you didn't think of it as such a big deal (you did).

Shrugging smugly, you place your drink in the cupholder of the camp chair. "Not like I planned to wear this since we made these plans."

But Shoko catches the smirk on your face and laughs. "Yeah, okay."

"Hey!" Haibara yells from the carpark. You and Shoko turn to see the boys making their way down the sand, Utamine in between Suguru and Nanami with bags of chips in her arms.

"Hide me," You giggle, grabbing Shoko by the shoulders to force her in front of you.

"You're joking," She whispers, rolling her eyes.

"Can you believe the nerve of these guys?" Utahime grumbles. "They had the great idea to get fast food instead of eating our prepared food!"

Shoko moves to lecture Suguru, who's holding a large paper cup in his hand, and soon rips into the other two. Satoru, however, pays no mind to her ranting.

As soon as his eyes land on you, he's looking at the sky and cursing under his breath. The glow of the bonfire on his face makes his hair orange, which makes you smile while you give him a twirl.

His strides are long as he stalks toward you, hands full of takeout. Your palms rest on his cheeks, and he refuses to look down, his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose and gaze on your lips pulled into a smile.

“Can I just kiss you right here?”

You throw your head back in laughter. "No!"

Satoru groans and looks down at your legs where the skirt ends. “You’re gonna fucking kill me.”

“Good. Might save Shoko from a heart attack.”

“When you two are done, we'd love to start eating,” Nanami calls, eyes narrowed at you.

"Hold on, Negative Nancy," Satoru chirped. "I'm admiring the love of my life."

Shoko scoffs and groans. "Make her your girlfriend before you start yapping."

Satoru shrugs one shoulder, hands hovering at your sides. You roll your lips between your teeth, legs shaky and heart pounding.

"Okay! I'm hungry, I'm eating," Suguru says, the rustling of paper bags following his sentence.

At the sound, the rest of the group start unpacking their dinner, choosing to ignore you.

Satoru sighs, moving his takeout bag to a spare finger on the hand holding his cup.

"Come on," He whispers, his hand low on your back. "Sit with me. I wanna get a better look at you."

#satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #best friend satoru #— ann writes!

[peachdues]

THE WIND AND MOON

PROLOGUE ♢ SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA X LUNAR PILLAR!READER

A/N: oh boy! The fic that started it all is back in progress (with a slight title change).

This will be a slightly canon-divergent AU, wherein Lunar Breathing is inherited and there's actually some power involved with the breathing techniques as a whole (as opposed to the styles just being nice sword movements with illustrations lmao).

Reader will be Sanemi's tsuguko for a time, and she will eventually become a Hashira. This is their story.

This will be a multi-part fic. Be warned: the Reader is a very morally gray character (but we love her for it).

@ghost-1-y thank you for reminding me of my love for this fic.

Massive CW: 18+, canon-typical violence, graphic violence, gore, child death, and implied S/A. Smut to come. MDNI.

Sanemi was there that day; the day she became part of the Corps.

The day her world ended.

It was fucking freezing that morning. The sky was a muted gray as snow drifted down from the heavens in wet, fat clumps. It had started sometime the previous night, and by the morning, the village had been covered in its thick blanket.

The carnage, however, was fresh, and so the snow was not white.

Only an hour had passed since the watery gray light of dawn bled into the sky from the east, when Sanemi’s crow swooped low over his head, tugging frantically at his hair. Beside him, the Flame Pillar ducked as his own crow joined the panic.

“Northeast! Northeast! Right at the base of the mountain! A horde of demons attacked the village!” They cried in tandem.

Not just one. A horde. A swarm of demons had descended upon a moderately populated merchant village, tearing it and its people to shreds. 

Both the Wind and Flame Pillars furiously made their way northeast, one of the crows bleating that Tengen and Iguro were also en route. As they ran, the birds alternated in snaring what little information they had of the village, and what had prompted the attack. 

It was because of her; or rather, her family.

The head of the village was a merchant known for his imports from the West. His success meant the village prospered as a whole, and it was popular for its numerous small shops and tea houses which lined the streets, always crowded with locals and travelers alike. 

Demons had no use for money or exotic baubles; but Muzan Kibutsuji had a keen interest in obliterating Lunar Breathing from the world.

So he had. 

The very merchant whose business prowess bolstered the local economy with his imports was directly descended from the clan which had created Lunar Breathing, Breath of Sun’s powerful, dark twin. The merchant was the youngest and only living relative of the aging head of the Lunar Clan, a retired Hashira who’d never taken a wife. But unlike the other breathing techniques, Lunar Breathing was an inherited talent, and without an heir, there would be no one to continue the great family’s legacy. 

That burden was thus placed on the surviving eldest child of the merchant whose village both Sanemi and his comrade now rushed to.

There had been an elder son, Rengoku’s crow revealed, but he had died a few years prior from illness. And so, the merchant’s middle child was made the new heir, tasked with the mission of becoming a demon slayer so that she could continue on the Lunar Breathing tradition. 

Her.

There was no word as to whether she had been present for the attack. Final Selection ended only a few days prior, and it was entirely possible that she either had been killed on the Mountain, or that she was still making her way back to the village, unaware that no one would be there to welcome her home.

There was certainly no greeting for the Pillars when they finally arrived at the mountain’s base. The village was eerily silent as Sanemi and Rengoku crossed over the small bridge abutting its ravine; still. Dawn had given way to a dark gray sky, and visibility was not ideal.

Not that it would’ve taken much effort to see the blood and gore that littered the village’s once lively streets.

“What on earth?” The Sound Pillar’s familiar voice broke the silence, as he and Iguro approached their comrades from the Eastern gate of the village. Behind them, trailed a group of nearly thirty Kakushi. 

The Hashira slowly took in the nightmare around them, stunned into horrified silence as they beheld the level of destruction which had befallen the village just hours before.

“Kakushi. Spread out. Look for any survivors. They may be buried or hiding.” Rengoku’s voice was steady but uncharacteristically grave, his face stony and hard. “Shinuzagawa, we should make our way to the Lunar Merchant’s estate. We need to send word to the Clan head right away if-“

“You didn’t hear?” Iguro interjected. “The head of the Lunar House is dead.” Though the lower half of his face was covered, the anguish on the Serpent Pillar’s face was evident. “That’s where Uzui and I just came from. He was ripped to shreds.”

“Fuck,” Sanemi hissed, a toxic mixture of anger, guilt  roiling in his gut. An entire clan — and entire village— had been decimated in a matter of hours, and no one had been able to protect them.

They hadn’t been able to protect them. 

“Have we any word on the Lunar heir?” Rengoku asked quietly. Iguro and Uzui shook their heads. “Then she likely is lost, too.” The Flame Pillar turned back to Sanemi, his face a mirror of his own. “Let’s go.”

The snow and wind picked up just as the two swordsmen approached the Lunar Merchant’s manor, obscuring part of the wreckage before them. From the corner of his eye, Sanemi swore he spied movement out of the back corner of the estate, but when he turned to examine it, all was still.

Beflre he could inquire further, a sharp gasp to his right snapped his attention back to the Pillar at his side. But Rengoku was not looking at him; rather, he was staring directly ahead, right to the courtyard of the manor.

“Heavens above,” the Flame Hashira whispered. 

Sanemi followed his gaze through what had been once-proud iron gates, though only half of it remained hinged. The other had been ripped from its stone setting, twisted by some unfathomable strength and thrown carelessly to the side. Just past the gate, Sanemi beheld a single, bloodied arm. 

His heart dropped sickeningly to his stomach at what lay beyond it; for there was not an inch of ground that hadn’t been saturated with blood and bits of gore.  

Chunks of flesh and torn limbs bearing harsh jagged teeth marks were strewn across the snowy garden. Broken glass and wood from the manor littered the ground, and the few walls that remained standing had been showered in a thick coat of crimson.

But the carnage did not end with the massacre on the courtyard. Sanemi forced himself to look upon the half-severed bodies of those who’d been stuck to the sloped roofing  of the Manor, as though some demon had plucked fleeing humans from the yard to feast on them mid-air, adorning the handsome estate with a shower of bloodied entrails. 

He did not notice the small group of Kakushi that had arrived at the Manor until he heard their gasps and cries of horror. Behind him, Sanemi heard one or two begin to retch, unable to stomach the carnage before them.

“Move!” Sanemi barked, his voice scratchy over the lump forming in his throat. “Fucking look for survivors! Anyone!”

A few paces ahead, Rengoku called up to the crows checking above. “Do you have a description of the heir?”

“She is around eighteen, Lord Rengoku!”

Not helpful, given that most of the bodies around them were unrecognizable. But it was something. 

Rengoku turned back to Sanemi. “I will check inside the house. You!” Rengoku called to a small group of three Kakushi nearby, “With me!”

Sanemi continued to make his way through the debris and body parts in the courtyard, lifting stone and wood in hope that he might find someone — anyone — who had managed to hide. Yet that hope dimmed with every stone he turned, as he found only the scraps of the people who’d once called the Manor home.

He came across a large chunk of curved, chiseled stone that was half-embedded into the soft ground below. Grunting, Sanemi heaved the rock aside, thinking it was perhaps part of some fountain or statue.

His stomach lurched as the stone toppled heavily over. For there, crushed beneath the weight of the rock, was the small body of a child, severed completely at the torso. Her two halves lay next to one another, a ragged seam torn between the two as though pulled apart by force.

Sanemi felt the bile rise in his throat as his gaze fell upon the child’s face, utterly frozen in fear. Though death had snuffed out the light of life from her eyes, it had done nothing to conceal the terror she’d felt in her last moments, the girl’s mouth stretched wide, fixed in her final scream. 

She was no older than ten. 

He could not help it. Sanemi turned away from the grisly sight and vomited into the snow, every inch of him trembling. He wretched until his stomach was empty and his throat burned from the acid and strain of his dry-heaving. 

With great effort, he managed to straighten, his breath short and choppy. But he forced his legs to carry him forward, though any hope that they would find the Lunar Heir or any survivor grew dimmer by the second.

Even as Hashira, Sanemi knew he’d never seen wreckage quite like this.

He neared the center of the courtyard, and halted before a large, circular stone inset that had been smashed to gravel, leaving only a single, large piece of rounded stone wall standing.

Found the fountain, Sanemi thought bitterly. Another sharp, icy gust of wind whipped its way through the courtyard, disturbing the little bit of snow that wasn’t packed down with the carnage. But the wind also stirred up something else, something dark and wispy. 

Had the Wind Pillar’s lilac gaze been focused anywhere but that piece of stone, he would have missed it softly fluttering up before disappearing beneath the lip of the fountain. 

Lips mashed into a tight line, Sanemi moved to examine the other side of the broken stone. As he did so, Rengoku reappeared on the outer steps of the engawa surrounding the Manor, a frown etched deeply on his face.

“Shinazugawa, something is off. The demons’ presence is obvious, but the house looks like it was ransacked— jewels, silks, valuables, all strewn about. Some of it seems to be missing —“

“I found her.” Sanemi bit out, gruffly. “The heir.”

It was her hair, Sanemi realized. Her hair was what had been disturbed by the wind, a few strands having drifted up before settling back down upon the bloodied shoulder of the lifeless girl collapsed before the fountain.

Had there not been a thick spread of red-stained snow and earth beneath her, Sanemi almost would have thought she’d been sleeping. Her face was almost devoid of any injury, save for a few fresh scratches along her jaw and temple. Her eyes were closed, long dark lashes tickling a soft, and unblemished cheek, as pale and smooth as the Moon. And there was a serenity to her expression, a calmness that posed a stark contrast to the chaos and horror which surrounded her.

The rest of her had not been left untouched. Sanemi noted that while she appeared to have maintained her limbs, her back was soaked in blood, no doubt the source of the large stain beneath her. Grimly, he noted that her blood still oozed from an unknown wound between her shoulders. Her left arm was stretched out before her, wrist bent at an unnatural angle, its skin mottled from a mixture of the cold and an attempt to bruise before her blood had ceased flowing in her veins. 

Beneath the torn and bloodied haori around her shoulders, were a pair of pants and a fitted, long sleeved top which had clearly seen better days. Her clothes hosted various tears and stains, and she was so caked in blood and mud that it was difficult to further discern her body’s condition.

The crows had said the Lunar Heir was around eighteen years of age, but as Sanemi stared at her lifeless form, all he could think about was how small she looked; how young she’d been, when she lost her life to the brutality of demons.

The thought made his blood run cold.

“No doubt this is her,” Rengoku said heavily, nodding at wounds Sanemi had not noticed on her hands. Squinting, the Wind Pillar spied bruises and cuts in various stages of healing dotting her knuckles and fingers. 

He suspected more lay beneath her soiled clothing.

“Final selection wounds,” the Flame Pillar confirmed. “She must have just returned from the mountain when the attack began. Perhaps she even stumbled into the middle of it.” Rengoku shook his head. “She didn’t stand a chance.”

It was well known that even if one survived final selection, they would likely descend the mountain with some degree of injury. Seven nights without access to shelter, food, or water was difficult enough, but the added danger of starving demons almost guaranteed that one would not emerge unscathed.

She must have been wounded, and severely enough to slow her return home by a few days. Even if she had the skill to hold her own against the swarm of demons that had attacked her village, whatever injuries she sustained during final selection likely sealed her fate.

Sanemi swore, looking over the last of the Lunar Breathing Clan, the acrid bite of guilt and pity seeping hotly into his veins. The poor girl survived the controlled horrors of final selection only to meet an even more grisly end at her home — where she was supposed to be safe. 

Cruelty; utter cruelty, and a damn tragedy.

“She will get a Slayer’s burial, in the Master’s garden.” Rengoku declared firmly, raising his voice so the nearby Kakushi would hear. “She passed Final Selection; she’s one of us.”

“No,” Sanemi said, voice hoarse. “Bury her here with her family.” His eyes returned to the girl’s face, an inexplicable bitterness coating his tongue. “She fought to return to them; let her be with them.”

He lifted his eyes back up to the ochre gaze of the Flame Pillar. Rengoku stared at him for a long moment, before nodding, turning back to the Kakushi. “You heard Shinazugawa. Let’s give them all a proper burial.”

The Kakushi began to move, thorough and efficient even among the horror around them. Sanemi readied himself to assist, moving to stand when his eyes snagged on the girl’s torso, his gaze drawn to the sizeable swath of smooth skin that was exposed to the icy bite of the snow. His frown deepened as he took note of the odd way that her clothes sat around her exposed abdomen. The girl was half laid on her side, but the front of her shirt was bunched and twisted together, like it had been gathered and shoved out of the way. 

His eyes lowered a fraction to the front of the girl’s pants. At first glance, all seemend normal, her trousers fitted at her hips, but that was precisely what caught his eye. The waistband on the girl’s pants slotted across her lower hips, not higher up on her waist as it should have been. One side was noticeably lower than the other, almost as though they’d nearly been tugged off.

Almost as if-

Sanemi felt the hairs on his body rise. Looking over the girl once more, he noted the suspicious lack of claw marks and bite marks to her body; the way that she seemed intact, compared to the bodies of her friends and family scattered in pieces around her.

And her blood — her blood appeared more fresh than what was caked in the snow around them, as though she’d been attacked right before the Corps arrived at the manor’s gate.

“Rengoku,” Sanemi said sharply, and the Flame Hashira was back at his side in an instant. Sanemi jutted his chin toward the girl’s body and Rengoku followed his gaze. He could see the gears turning in his comrade’s head, the owlish Slayer steadily taking note of the odd skew of her clothes and her lack of demon-like injuries.

“How many demons do you know that try to-,” Sanemi ground his teeth at the word that came to mind, his blood boiling hot. “Have their way with victims before eating them?”

“Not many,” Rengoku conceded darkly, a similar anger simmering in his eyes. “Though not unheard of. It is… rare. Most can’t resist their hunger.” 

He fell silent for a moment, contemplating.

“Didn’t you say the house had looked ransacked?” Sanemi turned his gaze away from the girl and towards the broken doors of the manor.

Rengoku’s eyes widened. “Yes. As if someone came in and grabbed anything they could.”

Sanemi nodded. “Bandits. Probably heard about the attack and got excited to loot. Found a body that wasn’t completely torn apart by demons and tried to take advantage.” 

Rather than bile, Sanemi felt anger, hot and lethal, threatening to spill out of him. 

If he found them, they would receive no mercy, human or not.

Rengoku exhaled sharply through his nose, a weariness clouding over his features.  “Though I don’t suppose we can really know for sure. There isn’t enough left of anyone else to compare.”

Rengoku clasped his hands in front of himself, and he closed his eyes, offering a small prayer for the girl. “Whatever happened to her, she’s gone now. Let us ensure she can rest.” 

He turned to head back to where the Kakushi had begun digging graves for the deceased, leaving Sanemi alone once more.

He’d stared the spot where the girl’s body had lain long after a pair of Kakushi gently removed her to ready her for her burial, watching with hollow eyes and a hollow heart as the one of them — a female — tenderly brushed the girl’s hair from her face and straightened her haori. They’d crossed her arms over her middle and gingerly carried her to join the remains of her family.

Hers was the last of the graves to be prepared. The Kakushi were just beginning to pack the mud and snow over her body when one of them collapsed from exhaustion. The group resolved to take a small water break before finishing, and neither Shinazugawa nor Rengoku had the desire to object. 

After all, digging nearly twenty graves was no easy task.

Both Hashira assisted with the effort, and their combined strength and stamina had streamlined the task considerably. While the Kakushi rested, Rengoku departed for the front gates to update Uzui and Iguro, who’d been dealing with the wreckage within the village, assisted by reinforcements of both Kakushi and lower rank slayers called in to assist with the clean up and burial.

In total, over two hundred graves were dug, and not a single survivor had been found.

It was a heavy day — perhaps one of the darkest in the Corp’s history, and its crowning poisoned jewel was the eradication of one of the oldest breathing styles.The news that there was one less defense against the demons was not a welcome one. 

Sanemi had gone to the other side of the courtyard, away from the voices and graves and rising stink of death. Out of sight from any prying eyes, he found a tree and shoved his fist through it, clear to the other side. Splinters of bark exploded around his arm and bit into the skin around his knuckles and palm, but Sanemi could not find it in himself to care; he sought only to break through the silent numbness threatening to consume him.

Because he’d taken refuge on the other side of the courtyard, away from the new burial site, Sanemi did not see the hand and arm that shoved through the pile of earth resting atop the last grave. He did not see clawed fingers sinking into the mud and snow, desperately seeking purchase as the body attached to the arm hauled itself — herself — from beneath the earth, the remnants of her grave skittering to the side as she heaved her body out.

Sanemi did hear the terrified shriek of the Kakushi, and immediately he drew his sword. In the distance, he could hear Rengoku roaring orders at the terrified attendants, though he could not discern the specifics. 

The Wind Pillar came into view of the gravesite right as the girl spilled out from the hole in the ground, using her bare hands to pull herself forward as the rest of her body remained limp.

Sanemi Shinazugawa was not a pious man; in fact, he considered himself rather skeptical of the idea of faith. If there were truly any gods out there, then Sanemi wanted nothing to do with them. They chose to let chaos and devastation run rampant. They chose to let demons exists.

But hell apparently had frozen over, and Sanemi found himself offering a prayer for the girl’s forgiveness as he prepared to behead her demonized form. He hoped she would understand; after all, she’d  joined the Corps intending to rid of the world of the very thing she’d now become.

It was what he hoped one his his fellow Hashira would do for him, if he ever found himself in that situation.

As the Swordsman cocked his blade, ready to strike the crawling demon from behind, Rengoku cried out. “Shinazugawa, NO!”

Sanemi stuttered,  his arm in mid-swing as he neared the demon’s neck. A flash of violet and white shot towards him, and a piercing shriek of metal tore through the sky as Uzui’s blade parried his, the force of the clash knocking him out of the air. A frustrated grunt echoed from his chest, and with great effort, Sanemi twisted mid-air to avoid falling flat on his ass, just barely managing to land swiftly on the balls of his feet.

“What the fuck,-“ His vicious snarl faltered at the expression on the Flame Hashira’s face, frozen and gaping. In that moment, Sanemi’s ears picked up on the faint thumping of a heart beating rapidly and unevenly below him. His nose suddenly burned with the strong scent of iron. The stench of blood so metallic that it could not have been anything but fresh. 

Ears ringing, the Wind Pillar shoved past his stupefied comrades. Only when he was face to face with her did Sanemi finally understand why the Flame Pillar had been so desperate to stop his sword from hitting its mark. 

The three Hashira were not looking at a newly turned and bloodthirsty demon. Instead, dragging her way across the bloodstained, muddied snow, was the Lunar Heir, deathly pale and trembling.. 

The girl whose death they feared doomed the Lunar Breathing House had clawed her way out from her grave with nothing but her hands and sheer will. She’d not been dead, after all.

Slowly, so slowly, her eyes lifted to glare up at the one standing directly before her. Though she strained to raise her head more than half an inch, her silver eyes met Sanemi’s lavender gaze, and a violent chill shot up his spine as he beheld what simmered within them.

Defiance. 

Pain. 

Rage. So, so much rage, relentless and raw. And so very human.

She reached another quivering hand out before her to further drag herself away from her tomb. A thin sheen of sweat coated her pallid skin, and fresh crimson began to seep into the snow beneath her. 

Sanemi’s eyes flit to the stain on her back, where fresh blood oozed from the deep wound.

She was panting, clearly fighting every urge in her body to give in, to let death beckon her back into its sweet embrace.

“I-I’m not dead!” She grit out in between shallow, uneven breaths, her jaw clenched tightly enough to crack her teeth. 

The three Hashira remained dumb and silent for half a heartbeat before-

“What are you all standing there for?” Uzui bellowed. “Help her!” 

The Kakushi sputtered into action, several of them crouching down around the girl to aid her. 

“Don’t touch me!” She screamed, eyes screwed shut and her head bowed defensively over her hands as she clenched her fists into the earth. The Kakushi fell back, looking anxiously to the Pillars to await further orders, but even they were at a loss. After several, harsh breaths through her nose, the Lunar Heir turned her face up, her gaze clashing with Sanemi’s once more.

He recognized the fear in her eyes, visceral and deep. Whatever she’d experienced over the last few hours had overtaken all her senses. She had no logic, no ability to rationalize that she was among other humans, among comrades. 

Instead, all that drove her now was the primal instinct to survive.

And to her, they were another threat.

She continued to try and crawl away from them, but her movements grew even shakier, more unstable, as the blood loss combined with her physical exhaustion. Rengoku caught his comrades’ eyes, waiting to confirm their next move. 

A quick shared nod sent Sanemi stepping quietly into her blindspot. Swiftly, the Wind Pillar struck the pressure point on the back of the woman’s neck with his hand, and she crumpled against the ground, unconscious and still. Gingerly, Sanemi lifted her over his shoulder, mindful of the open wound on her back. 

Once she was secured, the Hashira and their Kakushi began their frantic sprint toward the Butterfly Mansion.

COMMENTS/LIKES/REBLOGS ALWAYS APPRECIATED!

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi shinazugawa #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #kn y smut #demon slayer smut #shinazugawa sanemi #demon slayer fic #demon slayer fanfic

[stylesharrys]

the box [boxerry]

“Can I help you?” She asks, voice a little throaty and scratchy. 

He’s got a baseball cap on his head, longish brown hair curling around the rim of it and his ears. His eyes are a little squinted and there’s a heavy stubble that decorates his jaw and chin. Y/N thinks he looks much more intimidating in this attire, opposed to the suit she last saw him in. 

He drinks her in before he speaks. She’s wearing a pair of boyfriend jeans and a knitted jumper, and her hair is half plaited up, the rest falling into natural waves down her back. He thinks she looks quite pretty for an elderly support worker. 

“I’m Harry. I used to box with your brother.” 

She nods, biting at her inner cheek. “Figured that when no one recognised you or your friends at the wake.” She squints at him again, scratching at her sore neck. “Look I don’t mean to be rude, but what do you want? How do you even know I work here?” Her tone holds more accusation as she rambles on and Harry can’t help a somewhat amused smile tug on the corners of his mouth. 

He shrugs. “I have my ways.” His arms are still crossed over his chest but he didn’t answer Y/N’s first question. She raises a brow and Harry inhales heavily before his shoulders sag and he drops his arms to his side. “I need t’ talk to ya about the club.” 

Her brows are pinched harder than before and she shakes her head in confusion, shifting from one foot to the other. “Club? What club?” Her movement allows Harry to see the cut on her smooth forehead and he frowns, reaching closer to inspect it but Y/N’s too quick and with wide eyes, she backs away. 

He realises his forwardness and holds his hands up in surrender; standing straighter. “The underground club. Y’know… the one your brother left to you when he died.” She blinks again, lips parting and she’s blubbering a little like she’s trying to understand what he’s talking about. 

Realisation is quick to wash over Harry’s face and he nods. Of course Sam wouldn’t tell her anything about what she’d be taking over. Typical. 

She takes a deep breath. “Why the fuck would I be left an underground fight club by my brother? He was just a boxer,” she sighs tiredly, punching the bridge of her nose and Harry frowns harder. So maybe she didn’t really know anything about him.

He shakes his head. “Your brother wasn’t just a fighter, Y/N. He owned the club. Sam was the best fighter we had in The Box and he bought it outright five years ago. Always said if anything happened to him, you’d be the one to take it over, do whatever you think best wi’ it.”

Y/N is silent, tears welling in her eyes and she stomps her foot like an insolent child, like she can’t believe this is fucking happening. “You’re telling me I now own an illegal underground boxing club?” Her voice is frantic, high-pitched and whispered through gritted teeth.

Her hands find their way to her hair, gripping on her roots in disbelief. “It’s a good business investment, if you're into that.” He shrugs, arms crossed over his chest again and he’s struggling to understand why she’s so worked up about it. 

If Harry had just inherited a three quarters of a million pound business, he’d be fucking ecstatic. But Y/N isn’t ecstatic and she’s staring at him in complete bewilderment.

“No, Harry. No, I’m not into that. Sell it, give it away, I don’t care. I don’t want it.”

READ PART ONE OF THE BOX ON PATREON ONLY :)

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #imagine harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles angst #patreon exclusive #boxerry

[flkwh0re]

The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie.

Contains smut.

Warnings: Readers age is not specified but she is of age, Homophobia, Blood, Puking (reader only does it once while crying), Abuse, Mentions of death, Breif thoughts of suicide, Religion, Use of a slur (once), Nat gaslights reader, Nat punches reader to knock her out, Blasphemy, Dubcon (Nat begins to fuck reader while she’s unconscious then reader wakes up and tries to fight it but eventually gives in), Fingering, Dumbification(-ish???)

Wc: 1,713

A/n: Please listen to Preachers Daughter by Ethel Cain to get the whole ideal feeling of this fic. As a woman who grew up in the south and the church, this album hits really well. Also inspired by the song ‘The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie’ By Colter Wall!

——————————⧗ᗢ——————————

It started off with your father finding out from the woman you trusted most, Carol Danvers. How could she rat you out like that to your father like that? She was your best friend, the only person who knew about your secret.

No one close to you expected you to be a lesbian, even if they called you a fag or said the way you dressed was weird, the way you acted.

He had come home in a fit rage, busting the front door down. You were sure it came off the hinges. Before you knew it, you were backed into the corner, body aching from the blows you had taken, your throat hoarse from the shouting.

You finally found the courage to run and lock yourself in your room, quickly packing a backpack. Throwing in some clothes, shoes, items dear to you, essentials, and a book.

You unfastened the window, punching through the window screen. You hiked your leg out the window and dropped down. To your dismay, your father saw you.

He bolted out the door, and you quickly jumped onto your bike. pedaling as hard as you could, trying to escape the man you feared more than God.

Your dad hadn’t always been like this, he was always more understanding. When your mother died though, he changed. He began to drink and become terribly abusive. His narcissistic behavior only worsened when he ‘strengthened his faith.’

Your breathing became uneven and ragged, exhaustion consuming your overwhelmed body. You finally gave out running off the side of the road, you slid down a hill, bumping into every rock possibly.

Once you were able to stand, blood dripped down your legs and arms. Small amounts also trickled down your face, along with sweat. Dirt and grime coated your body thickly.

You took off to a bridge you saw, climbing up under it, hoping to hide there for a few hours. You heard the loud thuds of your father's footsteps, your heart pounding with each step. He discovered your slightly mangled bike against a tree, and once he realized you were gone, he cried. You’d not heard him cry since your mother's funeral, it almost made you come out of hiding. You knew his sorrow wouldn’t last, the moment it dispersed he’d be the same man as always.

Your father had finally given up his search for you, not like he cared much anyway. His daughter was ‘one of them queers’ as he’d say. He couldn’t stand people like that, but you were his daughter. He needed to find you, he needed to help you. He knew a woman, Natasha Romanoff.

Natasha was the pastor of the local church. She hadn’t been preaching there for a while, but in her short time she’s ‘helped’ so many young men and women. Now of course her time was spent more catered towards teenagers, but she would be more than willing to help you.

Once night settled in, darkness clouded your eyes. You knew your father wouldn’t get anyone out to look for you, so you figured you’d move at night. You had to get away, and fast.

You stepped onto the main road, your small flashlight in hand that barely worked. The thick mid-June air made sweat slick your body as you walked along the gravel road. No one to your knowledge loved this way, or so you thought.

You followed the small road for what felt like an eternity, your thin tank top clung thickly to your skin. Your overheated weary body fell to the ground, you slumped over laying on your side. Salty hot tears spilled down your face. Thoughts of hatred filled your mind.

How could you disappoint your father like this? How could you betray god like this? a you felt disgusted, so disgusted that as your tears ran you began to heave. Thick bile spilled from your mouth.

If only you could just stop it all, end all your suffering right now. You wouldn’t even hesitate.

You had laid in the spot for what felt like hours, wishing some animal would find you. What found you was even worse.

The sound of a car engine, and squeaky breaks stirred you. Bright headlights blinded you. You wanted to run, you figured now someone had found you and would return you to your father.

The soft crunches of gravel echoed in your ears; a figure approached you. They leaned down and you got a good look at her face. Natasha Romanoff.

“Hey sweetheart, what in the world are you doing out here? What’s happened to ya? Oh my goodness, you’re all bloody laying in a mess of vomit. Let me get you to my house” As she tried to help you to her car you kicked and squirmed.

Loud cries of no came from you, and Natasha was beginning to become impatient. As you thrashed your body around, trying to escape the woman who would bring you to your doom, you speared blood on her spotless suit. She finally had it with you, her fist struck a heavy blow across your face. Your mind went foggy and your eyes dizzy, eventually you lost consciousness.

“If you would’ve just cooperated, I wouldn’t have had to do that.” Natasha said through gritted teeth. She picked up your limp body and carried you to her truck, softly placing you in the seats next to her.

She drove down the road until she reached another small road, turning down it. No one knew about her second life, her home hidden away in the woods. She wasn’t who everyone thought she was. In fact, she was what everyone deemed evil.

She pulled up next to a small trailer house and stepped out of her truck. Natasha stepped around to the other side, pulled you into her arms carrying you bridle style into the house. She brought you to a broken-down couch that reeked of cigarettes.

Natasha walked off to her small room to change out of her dirty, bloodied clothes. She trudged to small refrigerator to grab a beer, cracking it open and taking a big drink.

As she made her way to the couch where you were, an idea popped in her head. She peeled your tank top off your body, revealing your bra. She examined your chest and stomach, dried blood and dirt smeared on your delicate skin.

Natasha unclipped your bra, slipping it off your arms throwing it off. Her hands grope at the soft flesh of your chest. She kneels down, so she can get closer to your breast. Her mouth latches onto your nipple, licking and sucking.

You began to finally regain consciousness, once you realized what was happening your eyes shot open. “No stop! Get off of me!” You shouted, trying to wrestle the older woman off you. She grabbed your wrist in her hand, pinned them onto the arm rest of the couch.

“No baby, you need me. See.” She slipped her hand into your shirt, gathering your slick on her fingers. She removed them and showed you her fingers wet with your arousal, “See baby, now be a good girl and let me fuck you.”

Her hands unbuttoned your shorts and slipped back into your panties. Her rough fingers rubbed at your clit, then she slipped two into your dripping cunt.

A loud cry and moan left your mouth, tears spilled from your eyes. “See baby, it feels so good doesn’t it. Tell me it feels good.” She rasped as she pumped her fingers in and out of you. You weakly nod your head, but Natasha wasn’t satisfied. “No, I want words. I want to hear you say it feels good.”

“Fuck! I-it feels good Natasha.” She chuckled, “Such a dirty mouth.” She curled her fingers up into the right spot, your legs trembled and your back arched up into her. “Fuck ‘m goin’ to cum!” You moaned out, as your juices gushed onto Natasha’s fingers.

She slipped her fingers into her mouth, sucking off your slick and moaning around her digits at your taste. “Fuck baby, you taste so good. I wanna taste you from the source, but we can do that another time. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You nodded and she helped you stand. You laid your head on her shoulder as she walked you to the bathroom. She readied the water as you slipped yourself out of your shorts. You couldn’t believe you were giving into her; she was so tempting you couldn’t even fathom saying no to her. Like a presence luring you in, like the devil themself.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about pretty girl?” She asked you. “Nothin’.. thank you thought. For this, it’s real kind of you.” She smiled, “Oh it’s nothin’ darlin’, it’s my job.”

You slipped into the warm water, and Natasha began to scrub the dirt off you. She’d give you the occasional kiss on your face, she just couldn’t help it. She’d had her eye on you for a while, she got pretty lucky tonight.

“I’ll keep you safe, don’t worry.” She spoke up, “What?” You questioned her, how would she know? “Your father already spoke to me, but don’t worry. Stay here with me, let me take care of you. I won’t say a word to him.” You nodded, “Okay, promise?” She grinned, “I promise.” She placed as soft kiss of your head, then pulled the plug.

Natasha wrapped the towel around your body and took you to her room. “Here why don’t you put these on, and I’ll grab you a sandwich. Is peanut butter okay?” You smiled and nodded.

Once you had put the clothes on she gave you, Natasha had returned with a bottle of water and the sandwich. “Eat this then we can go to bed, I bet you’re exhausted.” She said as she got into bed, motioning for you to join her. “I am.”

You finished eating, and snuggled up with Nat. She hummed you to sleep, whispering sweet nothings to you. She placed a kiss on your scalp and spoke soft words, “I won’t let anything hurt you.”

You felt safe with Natasha, you still weren’t sure what changed in you. You knew you could finally be comfortable with your life though.

Masterlist

#natasha romanoff #marvel #fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romonova #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha x you #natasha fanfic #natahsa romanoff #natasha #natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x y/n #nat x reader

[stevieschrodinger]

Link to Part One Part Two Part Three

TW Human trafficking discussions of injury

Steve feels like shit. He looks like shit. He’s pretty sure something might have straight up died in his mouth when he got that forty five minutes of sleep.

Everything looks good though. The fact that everyone else sprawled around the boardroom also looks like shit makes him feel a little better about himself. Well. Everyone but Nancy, obviously, who could probably walk out of a tornado and still look put together.

Steve only knows it’s morning because Carol just brought them all coffee. Carol does not come in out of hours. Steve learned that very, very early on. It was uncharacteristically nice of Carol to turn up with the little trolley from downstairs; it had a bunch of fruit and breakfast pastries on it, plus coffee.

She then proceeded to explain to Steve at great length how he looked and smelled like he’d been shit out by a bear, so, maybe she had motive. And that motive was being a bitch.

“Happy now, Steve?”

Steve’s got like, a whole bag of sand in each eye. Coarse, if they grade that kind of thing. Coarse sand. “Do you think we got everything?”

“I am confident that the team have done their utmost to pursue every avenue.”

“Nance, stop being a politician. That’s not a yes.”

She purses her lips at him in the way that she has, “can I have a word with you?” She scans the board room, “privately?”

Steve drags himself out of the chair, balancing one croissant on top of his coffee cup and grabbing a bear claw too, and then follows Nancy out and into a nearby office.

She doesn’t pull any punches, “I need to know how you know.”

Steve takes a big bite, then speaks with his mouthful, “can’t. NDA.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose, “and who, exactly, did you sign an NDA for?”

“The FBI.”

Nancy brings up her phone, showing Steve the screen. More precisely the headline on the screen, and Steve is thrilled that the picture they’ve used of Hagan is, objectively, fucking awful, “so Tommy Hagan was arrested last night, for Omega trafficking. When you walked into the office yesterday, oh so confident that everything relating to Hagan was going to tank…it was nearly ten full hours before this hit the news.”

Steve shrugs again, “N...D...A.”

They stare at each other for a long moment.

The door opens, Henderson’s baby face poking through. You would not in a million years think they guy was in his twenties, “Steve, morning! Sorry, I know it’s early…” Henderson seems to take in the state of Steve. Shirt rumpled, tie hanging loose, starting in on his second pastry, “but I kind of need to know why over a quarter of a million dollars was moved on Saturday, and where it went since it seemed to just...disappear?”

It takes, probably, less than a second for Nancy to leap to a conclusion like an Olympic fucking vaulter, and half a second longer for her to hit Steve with the file she’s holding.

“Er...not now, Dustin okay?” Steve manages to say, trying to shield his pastry and his coffee while Nancy gets it out of her system.

Dustin’s a smart kid, he watches Nancy slapping Steve with the papers...and just leaves.

She finally stops, pinching the bridge of her nose, and says very evenly, very quietly, “Steven Harrington, look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t buy an Omega.”

“NDA?” Steve replies quietly, uncertain, and then flinching when Nancy raises the folder again, “okay okay! Yes, yes I did. But! Under the FBI’s kind of...you know, instruction? I was evidence gathering! He’s at mine but I’m figuring out where his family are and I’ll take him back! It’s fine!”

“Why is he at yours?”

“They didn’t have anywhere for him, short notice, plus his feet are kind of messed up, from them like, hurting him. He’s been there a couple of years so doesn’t have anything, so I’ve ordered him some clothes and stuff. He’s fine.”

Nancy tilts her head, like a predator working out the distance they need to strike, “he’s...fine?”

Steve knows he’s fucked up. Nancy is using that tone. It’s...a very specific tone. “Err...yes?”

“You have an injured Omega, who has been held against his will, abused enough to be, at the very least, physically injured, never mind the emotional toll this whole thing may have taken...and he’s fine?”

Oh, no. She’s raised her eyebrow in that way she has. “I mean...yeah?” Nancy glares, and Steve backtracks, “I mean. Obviously he’s not...you know, perfectly okay, I guess. He’s been through a lot. But I made sure I fed him plenty, and he’s got some clean clothes on the bed. The bed in the room...I never actually...got around to showing him to...because I got, distracted. And it’s upstairs…” Steve can feel his insides sinking, “his feet are hurt. Shit.” Well fuck. Steve's...fucked up, probably quite badly now that he actually stops for thirty seconds to think about it.

Nancy sighs aggressively out her nose in that way she has, “Steve your security system is like fort fucking Knox, did you at least…”

But Steve’s already shaking his head, because he didn’t do that, either. He’s just...locked Eddie into a new prison. Shit.

He scrambles, feeling guilty, “I’ll give him some of the money. A lot of the money. Hagan’s...stuff. He can have the ranch?”

Nancy’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline, “why on earth would he want the place he’s been kept prisoner for-”

Steve shrugs, “whatever he wants. He can bun it down if he likes, I’ll help. It’ll be like, therapy?”

Oh no, she gone from pinching her nose to rubbing that spot on her forehead, but then she seems to...deflate. Grasping Steve’s arm to hold him close, she actually speaks gently to him, which is, quite frankly, a million times more terrifying, “Steve. We’ve known each other a long time, now, so I say this with love. Money, wealth...is not the most important thing in life.” Steve opens his mouth to protest, but she shushes him, “I know. Alright, I know it can help, and it makes life a lot better for a lot of people...but giving people things does not...fix anything. Money is not an apology. Gifts are not an apology. And I know it’s hard for you to...see it differently, okay? Because you’ve always been very...driven, and that’s a good thing! I know how you grew up and how your father was with you and I know you feel you have...something to prove, okay, so I understand, I do. But...a lot of people put higher value on...just. I mean, maybe just go home. Say that you're sorry. Look after the Omega for a couple of days, make sure he gets home, okay? Maybe prioritize that, for a moment. You know the office will be fine...and maybe you’ll see that other things in life can have value, hmm?”

Part five

@stylelovechild @steddieonthen @marklee-blackmore @sticknpokelightningbolt @resident-gay-bitch @somegirlsomewhere @mugloversonly @weekend-dreamer7 @lololol-1234 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @mx-jinxous @goodolefashionedloverboi @bogwitchlesbian @lunaraquaenby @steddieinthesun @pluto-pepsi @disrespectedgoatman @i-eat-spinal-cords @waelkyring @kal-ology

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #ao3 author #nancy wheeler #pre steddie #alpha steve harrington #omega eddie munson because he's so pretty #omega eddie munson #my writing

[exhuastedpigeon]

Buddie Hiatus Fic Recs - Day 1 Fics posted between May 15 - June 15

This is the first of probably 9 rec lists that I'm hoping to put out before the 911 premier! Each list will cover a month, starting with the day of the finale and wrapping up the day before the premier.

0-5k wedding bells by renecdote / @renecdote Gen | 1.9 In which Buck and Eddie plan a wedding.

You Should've Just Kissed Me by chronicallystendan / @chronicallystendan Teen | 2.3k Set after the Poker Date Night, Buck overhears Eddie talking about being set up on a date and wonders aloud why Eddie doesn't just explain that he's already in a relationship - with Buck.

let me see them tan lines by 42hrb Teen | 2.8k Four times the 118 notices Eddie Diaz's ring tan line and one time he was wearing a ring.

The Toothbrush Correlation by MidnightJen Gen | 3.1k ‘A toothbrush?’ Hen repeated dubiously, eyebrows high and tone extremely dubious.

‘A toothbrush,’ Eddie confirmed.

The one where Buck has Celiac Disease by buddiefication (pumpkincreamcoldbrew) / @911onabc Gen || 3.3k Buck has celiac disease. He’s also in love with his best friend. His best friend who has a girlfriend. Somehow, these things keep colliding.

Love is stored in the kitchen by toomanybats / @buckstummy Explicit | 3.6k Eddie loses his mind on a Wednesday morning. The thing is that Buck has been around a lot more lately. Like a lot more. Like twenty four hours a day more, his whole apartment building is being fumigated, apparently. The problem is that it’s been like, two entire weeks, and Eddie is only a mere mortal.

take my hand (knot your fingers through mine) by rainbow_nerds, ransomdrysdale / @rainbow-nerdss Teen | 4.1 what 6x18 could've been, pre-relationship

all i ever wanted was a life in your shape by tuckergreeen / @henwilsonmd Gen | 4.3k Pre-relationship | Buck buys a new couch, and a few other things that happen after the bridge collapse. 

you'll feel the rush of it all by oklahoma / @malewifediaz Explicit | 4.7k Buck convinces Eddie to fuck him while they're on the clock at the station—even if it’s just the tip. To nobody's surprise, Eddie folds easily.

5k-10k please don't take this feeling (if I wanted to, I'd be alright) by rowan_wood / @transboybuckley Gen | 5.1k Double Dates, getting together, love confessions

totally not interrupting. at all. by magicisrealforme Gen | 5.2k Maddie's bored and misses her brother so she decides to drop by. She didn't expect to see Eddie there.

ring the bells by thelikesofus / @the-likesofus Gen | 5.3k Buck starts frequenting a coffee shop near the firehouse in hopes of running into the beautiful man whose coffee he mistakenly drank.

mark me like a bloodstain by MonsterRae1 / @monsterrae1 Mature | 6k In a universe were your soulmarks appear when your soulmate is badly injured, Buck think's his died, until his best friend gets shot in front of him and he finaly figures out it was Eddie all along.

not all of us are heroes (not all of us are brave) by withmeornotatall / @chronicowboy Gen | 6k buck and natalia break up, eddie decides to introduce his girlfriend to his son, christopher knows way too much, and the 118's wine night has never been quite so eventful

to feel the need of your touch by honestlydarkprincess / @honestlydarkprincess Explicit | 7.5k The one where Buck is touchstarved and desperate for Eddie. They fuck but it's also really sweet.

10k + right in front of your eyes by rainbow_nerds / @rainbow-nerdss Teen | 15.2k Buck offers to fake-date Eddie so Pepa will stop setting him up on dates.

very time we stop talking (the universe starts screaming) by withmeornotatall / @chronicowboy Mature | 21.9k buck gets reckless, eddie gets angry, they talk in all the wrong ways, and the universe decides to intervene

let's build this house (into a home, baby) by withmeornotatal / @chronicowboy Explicit | 24k.4 Neighbours AU, slow burn, Different first meeting, getting together

i owe you a black eye and 2 kisses by colonoscopys / @colonoscopys Explicit | 29.3k Four weeks later, Buck completes his first mission. Ft Nurse Buck and Mob member Eddie

today i live for a single drop of you by Underhung_Aura / @eddiebabygirldiaz Explicit | 38.9 Five times Buck dreams about sucking Eddie's cock and the one time he actually gets to do it.

let the world have its way with you by fleetinghearts / @shitouttabuck Explicit | 54.4k a bucket list that’s really about buck needing to make a change and an eddie who’s ready to do anything to see him fall in love with life again. it takes some crossing off for eddie to realize—the thing at the top of the list in his own heart? it’s been right here all along.

when it's you i'm with (everything goes quiet) by withoutthetiger / @rewritetheending Explicit | 56.2k Eddie can't speak after he and Christopher are in an accident, but somehow he asks Buck to stay while he recovers. Buck can't imagine wanting to be anywhere else, and even in the silence that lingers between them, they both find a way to say everything.

wishing to be the friction by ipretendtobesane / @useramor Explicit | 97.2k the straight eddie friends with benefits fic

#Buddie #Buddie fic recs #rec list #buddie fic #911

[ziorite]

crying laughing (mostly just crying) over the long goodbye job rn because what the fuck guys. what the FUCK.

(spoilers for the last episode of leverage season 5)

i still had so much hope for them even after hardison fell and parker got shot. i was crossing my fingers because eliot will be there and they’ll get away because they always get away ?? right ?? but then they make it the van and eliot gets shot. right in the fucking chest.

THE VAN SCENE. I WAS DISTRAUGHT. DISTRAUGHT Y’ALL. AND THEN HARDISON’S LAST WORDS ARE TO WONDER IF ELIOT IS OKAY ??? “HERE I AM”??? WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT. AND THE THREE OF THEM FUCKING DIE HOLDING EACH OTHER’S HANDS WHAT DID THEY DO THAT TO US FOR. (something something parker dying alone when she’s finally learned what it means to have a family something something eliot dies first because to watch the people he’s dedicated his life to protecting die in front of him is to die a second and third time something something)

and then the cherry on top when nate and sophie look back and the three of them are dead and bleeding out and clutching on to each other in death what do they do ??? they don’t even consider giving themselves up they drive that van up the bridge and into the damn river.

nate’s enraged yelling at the agent had me wide eyed with my hand over my mouth. fucking STUNNED yall. nate is really no one’s favorite but my god the fucking pain in his voice. 10/10. BUT THEN of course that’s not all there is to it. the switch from grieving fury to composed nonchalance was both peak comedy and absolute whiplash.

AND HERE’S STERLING !! everyone’s favorite slime ball <3 and ho ho ? he’s mad at nate for killing the rest of the team ?? they grew on him didn’t they— like clumps of adorable mold that just keep coming back <3

and finally. the master plan is revealed. sterling did scare the living shit out of me shooting “hardison” like that but of course nate had a better plan than what they believed. crazy to think that the whole damn emotional rollercoaster was really just set up for the actual break in. (eliot’s exasperated eye roll and fall at nate’s “bang !” was everything.) starring sterling as the trojan horse! an amazing choice all around.

AND !! we have a proposal !! proposals plural actually because no way in fucking hell was that not a confession from eliot. that scene was the height of romance and i will be DAMNED if someone tries to tell me that was just normal best friend shit. OT3 IS REAL !!!

in conclusion: love leverage, they have the amazingest show to ever show and a finale better than any other out there. 200/10 would watch again and i am currently penning a love letter to john rogers and dean devlin.

#leverage #the long goodbye job #nate ford #nathan ford #sophie devereaux #eliot spencer #parker #parker leverage #alec hardison #leverage ot3 #thiefsome

[weird-an]

There's a dead kid sitting next to a psychic one on the couch and Hopper feels it is the beginning of a joke he has somehow missed.

"El, what makes you so sure that he isn't possessed?" he asks, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His gun is still on him, but a teenager who was pronounced dead a few hours ago and is now stuffing his face with brownies doesn't really seem like a threat.

El gives Billy a smile. Billy scowls at her through the curls of his dirty mullet. "Don't you fucking dare to-"

"He thinks about Steve's uniform," El says. If mischief had a face it would be hers. "The Mind Flayer wouldn't care."

Well, she's got a point there.

"Get out of my fucking head. I had enough people in there." Billy groans and flips her off.

Jim clears his throat. Billy mumbles something that could be interpreted as a half assed apology or an insult.

"Sorry." El winces and puts her hand on Billy's shoulder. "Steve is worried and sad about you, too."

Why would that even fucking matter? Jim isn't really up to date on Hawkins' gossip, but last time he checked friends don't beat each other like the boys did - additionally he cleaned up the aftermath of said fight - which consisted of a very high Billy Hargrove trying to punch him and asking for a night in a cell instead of being brought home.

"He is?" Billy perks up, before biting his lip and laying back on the couch, in very obvious fake carelessness. "What a loser."

"He thought you were very brave," El continues, trying to wink at Jim. Both of her eyes close. She's still practicing that.

"He does?" Billy picks at his dirty fingernails, but his eyes are glowing and his face flushes. His coolness seems to melt away by the second.

God. Jim has seen a lot of lovestruck people, but Billy is the worst. He nearly died, but all he can think of is Steve Harrington?

"We should call him." El turns to Jim with big eyes.

Jim sighs. Whatever the fuck is happening right now is way better than monsters and possessions.

"It's midnight," he reasons half heartedly.

"Oh, he's awake," El promises.

Billy is already on his way to the phone, a manic glint in his eyes. "Let's make him stop worrying then."

Jim has the feeling that Steve will have a new thing to worry about pretty soon.

#billy sorted his priorities and they are all steve harrington #harringrove #billy hargrove #billy x steve #jim hopper & billy hargrove #exhausting hopper with harringrove #working hard to make this a tag tbh #el hopper & billy hargrove

[seeingivy]

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 )

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[hyqerfixation]

𝐈𝐬𝐞𝐤𝐚𝐢’𝐝.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

UPPERMOONS (upset gyokko and hantengu)X BROKE MODERN READER

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Part one.- also I’m not used to making story’s instead of one shots sorry y’all 🤞

-GIF MADE BY ME.

Female reader

Please reblog my work!!

Daki and Akaza first because they are my favs and they seem like they could be besties if they put their mind to it

Y’all let’s get into it 👅

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Incompetent is the only valid word to describe you three right now.”

Akaza respectually bowed his head in shame,not daring to speak over his master.Whereas Gyutaro and his younger sibling Daki tried to decorously reason with Muzan,once he finished talking.

“B-but sir,we really did try to hunt all of them down,but then upper three came and they all scattered like mice!” Daki lifted her head to look up at observe his expression,only to see that he has gotten more perplexed.Muzan brought his hand to his face and pinched harshly at the bridge of his nose.

“I do not want this nonsense to happen again,do you understand?”muzan looked down and sneered.The thick sense in the room could choke the three uppermoons,they really have fucked up.

The three nodded.

“Yes sir.”

Just like that Muzan turned around,having his back faced towards the three.

“Nakime.”

Nakime was the shy lady who sat leg crossed on the floor.Her jet black hair covered most of her face besides her own mouth,she looked at her wooden biwa licked the tip of her finger and strung her biwa.With that a majority of shojis closed of. Making the figure of muzan disappear.With that,Muzans presence was gone.

“THIS IS YOUR FAULT!” Daki groaned,getting up and kneeling to turn towards Akaza.Only to be held back by the green and black hair Oni.

“Sister calm down” gyutaro tugged.

“You guys were struggling against 3 boys and a hashira? I just wanted to help a fellow moon” Akaza sighed,unbothered by Dakis shouts.

“ARE YOU MOCKING US?”

“Daki he’s like three ranks above us stop being annoying.”

Daki kept rambling on to Akaza,who was asking nakime to teleport him to where he was prior.

Once Daki was done having a temper tantrum.She sighed and stood with her arms crossesed firmly.

“Hey biwa lady, once you teleport Akaza-dono, take us back to the entertainment dis-“

POP!

Before gyutaro could finish his sentence daki disappeared into thin air.making a loud pop sound echo.

“What the fuck, biwa lady where did you teleport her”

Nakime laid down her biwa beside her carefully.

“I did not play my biwa,so there was no way for me to teleport her anywhere”

Akaza stood in stupor.He nor gyutaro could not feel dakis presence at all.

“If she did teleport she must be far.I cannot feel her aura.” Akaza commented

Gyutaro turned away from the two demons,his hands clammy and trembling, he clawed and attached his face gratingly. His worry starting show.

Akaza’s face softened slightly.Not wanting to let any of his guard down towards a rival. Akaza was about to comfort gyutaro, walking up to the lower ranked moon to put his hand on his shoulder,then suddenly.

POP!

gyutaro turned around quickly, hoping that Daki could have possibly have teleported back from that simular sound.Only his eyes to widen in shock to see that Akaza was now also missing.

“Biwa lady, did Akaza leave or did the same thing happen to him as Daki?”

Nakime only looked down in slight curiosity.She didn’t really care about the disappearances of her fellow allies. She just didn’t want the blame from the boss in the near future.

“No, he disappeared Along side with your sister.”

————————————————————————

A loud thud made noise with this creaking sound. Akaza slowly pushed him self up only to be on a-

Futon? No, this futon isn’t on the ground.it has a sort of, frame? Elevating it from the ground underneath.

Perplexed Akaza looked around in his surroundings. It seems he’s in a room with no shoji but with one or two windows. Akaza laid his eyes on the kyodai (a small vanity in the tashiō era). Although, Akaza noted that it seemed a lot more western;Infact the whole room seemed to be based on more western objects which was unrecognisable. Was he and Daki teleported to a different country?

He got of this weird different cultured futon as He looked at himself at the mirror.

‘Why are my kanjis gone? Same as the marks on my torso and face?’

Akazas hair was still pink and he still had stripes on his wrists. Although, as for his marks on his body. They suddenly vanished. While there isn’t no kanji in his yellow eyes: infact, his eyes weren’t yellow anymore.They were now an ocean blue, which Made him seem more human like. Akaza cautioned himself towards this opened wall.

‘I’m going to assume this is a western styled shoji, whatever if I find Daki we might be able to teleport the fuck out of here.’ Akaza thought to himself.Although, as soon as Akaza stepped into this hallway.

“HYAHHHHH”

Akaza suddenly turned around in the hallway. Barley dodging the frying pan that skimmed past his head. Only to dead pan when he noticed it was Daki.

“I MIGHT NOT KNOW WHERE I AM RIGHT NOW AND WHY I LOOK SLIGHTLY UGLIER BUT I WILL STILL KILL YOU IF YOU COME NEAR ME.RAH”Daki held multiple kitchen sources in her hand. As well as wooden spoons and plates.

“I CAN DO CLOSE COMBAT AND FAR RANGE COMBAT. TRY ME BASTARD IVE BEEN DOING THIS FOR CENTURIES.”

Akaza gaped blankly at daki. who had white hair and blue eyes with no kanji in sight.Yet she still had her revealing outfit on,the same outfit from normal.Also to add on it seemed that she was speaking clear English? Which was weird.Since the both of them was foriegn to the language.

“I MIGHT NOT HAVE MY BLOOD DEMON ART BUT I STILL HAVE MY FUCKING SASS” only to get more worried once the “stranger” in Akazas clothes come closer towards her

“Daki it’s me Akaza. I got teleported here to while trying to talk to your brother.” Akaza put his hands on daki shoulders.

“Oh, right I should’ve reconigsed your clothes. Sorry for nearly obliterating you Akaza-Dono”

“About that, I’ve realised that we are not demons anymore. Hence us having a different appearance and not dying from the sun light being brought in from these windows.” Akaza brought his hands down then brought one to his chin. He continued to think.

“Right! Akaza dono before I realised you were here I couldn’t do any blood demon art. Also I accidentally cut my hand on one of these blades I’m holding and I couldn’t regenerate!”

Daki showed her hand that still had the fresh cut.

“Right you need to patch that cutup Daki, We don’t know how fragile our human bodies are right now.”

Akaza held dakis wrist and walked around the place.It seemed to be a home of a human already, so Akaza looked cautiously.

“I think this is a bandaid. Put this on over the cut quickly. We need to find an exit out of here or something that could help us okay.”

Daki held akazas shoulder firmly. Making him turn to face her.

“What about my brother?”

“He will be just fine without you for now. We just have to find something that could get us back for now.”

Daki nodded her head. Trusting a higher ranked demon is more reasonable then freaking out like she did earlier.

————————————————————————

“Ughhh, we’ve been looking for ages now. All there is this dumb looking stuff!” Daki huffed, throwing an iPad onto the bed.Then walked towards the closet to see female clothes inside.

“This is the only room we haven’t looked at yet.just keep looking”

Akaza looked at picture frames and objects.He then continued to open the first draw and pull out a black bra.

Akaza sighed “another unkown western thing.Although it could be used as rope?”

Akaza turned to Daki, who snickered.

“Akaza-dono, I think that’s a western sarashi.”

(Sarashi was used to hold and cover the female and male chest in the tashiō era lmao)

Akazas face suddenly went red.Shoving the bra back into the draw and shut it.Face going even redder when he realised that there was loincloth in the draw aswell.

“Well Atleast we know the home owner is a female.”

Akazas eye twitched,

“Sure.”

Daki sat on the bed and grumbled.she looked up to Akaza who sat on the chair to the vanity.

“We are stuck Akaza-dono.it’s no use.”

Both Akaza and Daki began to sulk and look towards the floor.

It was silent until-

*keys jingle,click.*

Suddenly Daki and Akaza look at eachother in suprise.While Akaza slowly got up from the chair and walked to the edge of the door. Daki got up from the bed and followed closely behind his shoulder.Even though Akaza wasn’t as cool as her brother.She knows that Akaza was stronger then both of them combined;Making her feel safer behind him.She would never admit it though

Akaza and Daki peered around the corner.

The front door closed. Revealing a girl in a coat that’s been caught out in the rain. The H/C girl took her shoes of and went to the bathroom.Which was across the bedroom in the girls small apartment.

Y/N was broke.Making money of two jobs,one being a waitress at some fancy restaurant.Whereas her second job was working in a bakery.She owned a small apartment with only one bedroom and one bathroom.It was somewhat messy.Yet she never cleaned it though.

“Fuck”

Akaza muttered under his breath. He admitted the human girl was admirable. She might not look like the women or dress like the women from the tashiō era but none of that mattered, he still thought of her as pretty.

Same as Daki. She wouldn’t admit it but the girl that’s just came through that door was nearly as pretty as her.She wouldn’t admit that though.

Y/n started to walk towards her bedroom. Only to alert the duo

“Shit we need to hide.”

Daki and Akaza looked for a place to hide. Akaza hides under the bed while Daki decided to hide in the closet.

Y/N enters her room.

“What the fuck is the iPad doing in my bed? I haven’t used that in like a week?”

Y/N picked her iPad up and placed it back on her desk

“So like what? You’re telling me that you want to quit to be a vollyba player.What world are we in? Haikyuu?” Y/N chuckled to herself on the phone.

All Akaza could see from under the bed is feet.

Y/N picks her towel up from the floor and wraths it out.

“Right susumaru,I’ll call you later I’m gonna hop into the shower.Aha alright cya.”

Y/N places the phone on the bed while she walks out the room to take a shower.Akaza comes out from under the bed and looks at the device that Y/N was just on.

“Daki the humans gone”

Daki slowly comes out the closet holding a cute hoodie.

“I shouldn’t be hiding from humans:humans should be hiding from me” she groaned

“This clothing is so cute though.”

Akaza picked up the phone and in curiosity.He examines it up close.

“Daki don’t you think this is strange?”

Daki turned around.

“What do you mean?”

“We are humans.In a different country,We don’t understand it’s culture nor language but we understood that girl perfectly?”

Dakis eyes widen.walking to Akaza and putting the hoodie down onto the bed.

“Whatever’s happend to make us teleport it has changed up completely.what if we are in a different universe.”

Akaza turns on the phone.Completely distracted by this futuristic technology.

“Whatever’s happening,we need to get back home and inform master-“

Akaza was cut of by a scream.Which caught the two kizuki off guard. Making them both turn around to the girl standing in the hallway.

The girl tried to run towards the door. Since Y/N couldn’t call the police on her phone since that weird emo guy had it.She had to get out quickly. Maybe use somebody else’s phone to call the police.

Although her idea came to an halt when a hand came over her mouth.

“Look human.We don’t know why we are here either,we are just as scared as you are”

Y/N bit as hard as she could on akazas hand causing him to let go of her mouth. Although he still had his other arm slung around her waist and Daki kept hold of her shoulders, causing her to stay put.

“Look I don’t give a shit about your weird roleplay and cosplays but I’m not into this! so get the fuck out of my apartment before I call the cops!”

“AKAZA-DONO SHES CALLING RE-ENFORCEMENTS IN! WHAT DO WE DO!?!”

Akaza loosened his grip around you and closed in onto Y/Ns ear.

“Look lady, me and my ally really don’t want to hurt you at all.Will you sit down and listen to us,please?”

Y/N seeing how they don’t have any weapons nor seem to have any threat. She decided to come to an agreement.

“Out of safety,I will only listen if you guys stay Across the room from me.So I know you won’t hurt me.”

Akaza let go around her waist and looked her up and down.aHe grabbed Dakis shoulder causing her to let go of you too.

“Of course.”

Y/N walks towards her own bed and plops herself down on it.She grabs hold of her phone tightly while signalling the two to go on the other side of the room.

“Go and stand infront of the closet.”

Daki grumbled and rolled her eyes.

“How can a girl so pretty be so bossy”

Akaza pulled her alongside him to the closet.

“You are one to talk Daki” Akaza bluntly spoke.

Infront of the closet Daki and Akaza stood. Akaza shrugged his shoulders

“Is this fine enough for you lady?” Akaza questioned.

Y/N crossed her legs and rested her hands together.

“Yes.now fucking explain to me why two people broke into my house in some weird roleplay? Not only that why do you keep calling me a human like you guys aren’t human yourself?”

Daki chuckled

“Well actually human, we aren’t”

Y/Ns eyes broaden while she laughed

“You what? I don’t seem to understand? Are you guys still roleplaying even though I threatened to get the cops involved?”

Akaza begings to explain what happend from the beginning.

————————————————————————

“Right.. so the two of you got isekai’d?” Y/N pondered.

Akaza and Daki looked at eachother in confusion

“What’s that?” Daki asked

Akaza turned his head side ways in bewilderment and stared blankly towards Y/N.

“Isekai’ is where like…how do I explain it, it’s where people gets teleported to another universe whether it be a game universe or a movie universe.”

Dakis mouth was agape.making an ‘ohh’ sound.Akaza just crossed his arm and look to the side.

“I guessed that’s what happens to us then.”

Akaza turned to look at you.with slightly blushed cheeks.

“Do you,perhaps know how we could get back”

Y/Ns face blanked.Were these lunitics serious? She stood up from the bed and grabbed the two demons roughly and started to drag them towards the door.Akaza and Daki was just bewildered.

Y/N stopped at the wooden front door.

“Look,you two seem really nice and you guys kept me company which I do appreciate.although your both crazy and I think you guys need mental health if you guys genuinely think whatever this magic phenomenon that’s going on is real.”

Y/N gave them a gentle shove outside the door.

“Look I really don’t have time for this I have to have a shower then get ready to go to bed.I now only have four hours to sleep until I have to get up to the bakery tomorrow morning.”

Daki and Akaza frowned at her comment.

Y/N yawned and looked past the two who seemed desperate. To see it’s starting to get darker and darker outside.She couldn’t help but feel like shit leaving two mentally I’ll people to walk by themselfs in the dark.she wouldn’t want to be responsible for whatever happens to them;yet she doesn’t want to keep them inside her small tiny apartment.

‘Damn you self conscious’ y/n thought to herself.

“If it makes you two more comfortable I can order you guys an Uber? To any place you want I’ll pay for it.”

Akaza looked behind him and thought to himself what an Uber was while daki irritated started to twitch her eye.

“Look stupid human, we don’t know where we are we need to get back home!”

Daki thrailed her arms around the place.Starting to think about gyutaro.She started to become more and more upset.

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose. At this point she just wanted to slam the front door in their faces.she wont though since She will feel bad afterwards.

“Well if you don’t know where you are how about I get you a god damn Uber to the closet police station. They can get you back home.”

“No;No,No”

Akaza rejected shaking his head. He pointed at y/n .

“Look lady, you said we were isekai’d. That means not a simple police station can get us home. We got teleported into your home.There must be an exit in here somewhere.”

“Yeah outsmart her smartness akaza!” Daki added on

Y/N now irritated decided to leave all her morals tonight.

*SLAM*

Y/N shut the wooden door on Daki and Akaza and locked the key whole.

“People just get weirder and weirder everyday.”

Before y/n went to go and turn the shower on, the shower she was supposed to be finished with two hours ago. She turned around and looked through her doors peep hole.Only to see Akaza sat on the apartment complex floor and Dakis upper half leaned over the apartment balcony crying.

Y/N felt alittle guilty.

“I’ll call the cops to help them.there’s nothing o can really do to help them,there delulu” y/n considered.

Her thoughts stopped abruptly when a loud-

POP!

Y/n stood baffled when a white blonde teleported and fell onto the floor. He seemed tall.He also had weird clothes on like the other two from before.Having a red turtle neck and weird beige pants. With socks and…SANDLES?ew.

“What the fuck.”

She cautiously walked to the guy now on the floor to see that he’s unconscious,Y/N squatted down next to him and blow wind his face.

“Hello? Why did you just teleport into my living room?”

She checked to see if he was alive by checking his heart beat-

Wait.

“Me and Akaza are demons lady,so what” y/n remembered what Daki said earlier.She didn’t want to believe them but when a big weird looking dude just randomly teleports into thin air in you living room things seem a lot more believing.

For fuck sakes.

————————————————————————

The door clicks open. Only for Daki and Akaza to see Y/N inviting them back inside.

“I think I understand what you guys were on about now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TASHIŌ SECRET!!

Y/N actually has another side gig to make money!!She is also a babysitter on some weekends.

She babysits a rich woman’s baby. Which actually gives her a good amount of cash.

———

I hope you guys enjoyed this!! This is my first story so idk if it really makes sense or not. Either way I make these for fun so pls no hate 🙇‍♀️🤞

Love y’all❤️

NOT PROOF READ YALLLLLL

#demon slayer #anime #kny x reader #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #thank you dear anon #aesthetic #art #gaming #upper moons #twelve kizuki #demon slayer akaza #akaza x reader #gyutaro and daki #daki x reader #gyutaro x reader #muzan x y/n #yandere douma #kokushibo #hashiras #kny #kny x y/n