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alrightieaphroditie · 1 month

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goofy smiles | j.m.

*:·ﾟ✧ series masterlist | previous part!

pairing *:·ﾟ afab!reader x joel miller wc *:·ﾟ2.6k an *:·ﾟso excited to continue with this series! i swear, i love each new installment more than the last. writing this has also given me more joel ideas, so i have a few wips that i'm bouncing between too that i'll hopefully post soonish :3 this is slightly edited, but if anything jumps out please let me know! comments and reblogs are always deeply appreciated! check the series masterlist for the series tags!

synopsis *:·ﾟ there's a dance night in jackson, and joel doesn't leave you hanging.

"i swear if we're late to this dance, i'm gonna be pissed." ellie's voice travels to your ears over the wind as she yanks you down the main street of jackson. in the distance, you could see that the patio near the tipsy bison had been set up once again; string lights crisscrossing their way overhead, with potted plants and wooden tables littering the sides, leaving the middle open as a makeshift dance floor.

you couldn't help but laugh as you picked up your pace, looping your arm through hers and continuing to head down the street. "ellie, hun. you're the one who requested i touch up your haircut five minutes before we were set to leave. i don't know what you want me to tell you." you knew defending yourself to her was pointless, though; once ellie had it in her head, that was it. if she thought it was your fault y'all were running late to the dance, then it was clearly your fault for taking so long to cut her hair.

as if proving your point, you heard her mutter, "as if that's my fault," under her breath while she ran her free hand through her now shorter locks. she had decided last minute that she wanted it cut just above her shoulders, especially with the summer heat already moving into wyoming. the look suited her, accentuating her sharp features while still making her look young. you were pretty proud of the job you did, regardless of if it made you guys late.

by the time you reached the fence line surrounding the patio, ellie had already pulled free from your grip and made a beeline to the far corner, where you could see jesse and a few other people mulling about. you watched them all comment on her hair, which made you grin; partly because of your skills, but mostly because seeing her fit in with this community brought nothing but peace to your heart.

satisfied that ellie was good, you glanced around the layout, taking notice of the tables that had been set up with food and drinks. it was near that table that your eyes came across joel, who was standing off to the side with tommy and another man. he hadn't noticed you yet, so you took that moment to take him in.

he was still wearing his work boots, having come directly here after helping rebuild something on the farm, and his jeans were lightly streaked with spots of mud and dirt. you had to admit that they fit him quite nicely, though, biting down on your bottom lip while seeing the way the material stretched over his thighs. a casual dark grey t-shirt clung to his upper body, and his hair was slightly messy up top, as if he had been running his fingers through it.

damn, did he look good. you had half a mind to drag him out of the patio and head back to your house.

you refrained, though. instead, you decided to make your way near him. the movement caught his eye, and as soon as those big brown eyes landed on your figure, a grin spread across his face. he patted tommy on the shoulder, his gaze never leaving yours, and quickly moved to meet you halfway. you gave tommy a finger wave when he looked over his shoulder to see where his brother went, all while grinning as you watched joel's hand reaching out when you got near, landing to rest against your hip.

"well, hey there, sugar. almost thought you were playin' hooky tonight." joel muttered, leaning in to press a kiss against your cheek. he wasn't really one for the big public displays of affection, but he also liked to remind all of the other men in town that you were his. it was a balancing act that he excelled at. you could feel his thumb gently caress the curve of your hip, could feel his fingers dig into the material of the blue dress you had put on lightly as you stepped up closer to him.

"me? play hooky? i don't know where you'd get that idea from," you teased, leaning into his touch. it was no secret that you were more introverted than most people in town, choosing to skip out on the social events every once in a while, to stay home and read your books. truthfully, you only started going to these events more often to catch glimpses of joel after he first moved here.

you'd never tell him that, though. his ego was already too big with you around. "i'm late because ellie wanted me to touch up her hair last minute. she might be worse than i am with the whole time management thing." your voice was teasing, and joel's grin grew even wider.

"baby, don't shoot the messenger, but nobody is as bad as you are with the time management thing." he leaned down to kiss your forehead, chuckling to himself as you slapped his chest. his grip on your hip tightened ever so slightly, and you were reminded of your earlier thought of dragging him home and having your way with him. at that moment, however, your stomach decided to growl somewhat loudly.

the man at your side let out a snort as your face flamed with embarrassment. joel turned his body to the side, ushering you in front of him and began walking towards the tables spread out with food. "c'mon, misses always-on-time. let's get some food in that starvin' stomach of yours."

you happily obliged, slipping your arm around joel's back as you made your way to the refreshments. joel grabbed one of the plates, holding it out for you as you loaded it up with anything that looked remotely good. you made sure to get extras, too, because joel had a habit of snacking on your plate no matter where you were, despite him claiming to not be hungry every time. you grabbed a couple of the glasses that were set out as well, filling one with water and the other with the locally made whiskey joel liked.

he guided you to one of the tables, pulling out your chair with his free hand before gliding into the seat next to you. joel moved his seat ever so slightly closer to yours, his knee steadily brushing against yours as the two of you got settled. eventually, tommy and maria came to join the two of you, and you spent a good chunk of the night at that table; conversing about the future plans for jackson, commiserating with maria about how annoying the miller brothers could be, laughing at tommy's stories of the two of them before the outbreak.

sometime throughout the night, joel had slung his arm on the back of your chair, and you had moved to lean into his side, your hand resting on his upper thigh. his palm was planted on your shoulder, his thumb sneaking underneath the strap of your dress, occasionally gliding back and forth across your skin. he sipped his whiskey, and you noticed him checking on ellie every now and again, too.

tilting your head back, you took a moment to admire the man sitting next to you while his gaze was focused elsewhere. his skin was starting to get that summer tan again, and the hours of being out in the light had given his hair a few lighter streaks of color mixed in with the dark brown. his beard was growing in more fully too, though you could spot a few strands of grey peeking through here and there. the whiskey had warmed his cheeks, turning them light pink. for a brief moment, the suns setting rays hit joel's face just right, showcasing the different shades of brown within his eyes.

eventually, when the sun began to sink behind the mountains and the lights were flicked on, a few men crowed up on the side stage, each bearing different instruments. they started playing a chirpy tune, causing the crowd to holler in cheers as the dancing portion of the night started. tommy led maria away from the table, pulling her close and swaying her in the middle of the dance floor. it was always good fun, but tommy loved showing off his moves, so the couple was always at the center of attention.

you and joel sat comfortably together, your head resting against his shoulder as his thumb stroked away at your skin. joel has never been too big at participating in these events, happier to just sit on the sidelines and observe. you didn't really mind it either, as you weren't really a graceful dancer yourself and wanted to save yourself from potential embarrassment. so usually you two sat just like this, watching the community you've grown to love and accept as your own partake in the festivities.

joel's gruff voice interrupts your train of thought. "c'mon," he scoots his chair back, offering his hand towards you. with a shocked grin, you accept, letting him guide you from the table to the outskirts of the spot where people had gathered to dance. your eyes widened in surprise as his hands come to rest on your lower back, pulling you closer to him.

"joel miller, leading me to dance? you didn’t even make me beg," you tease, happily settling your hands on his shoulders, letting your fingers tickle the side of his neck. the begging was a tactic that wasn't totally necessary (joel would give you whatever you wanted the moment you asked for it) but usually, on the few chances you did want to dance, you had to rely on that method to soften him up.

"not this time,” he clicks his tongue, giving you a smirk. "although i will be havin’ you beg for somethin’ else a little later tonight, sugar."

your laughter rung out across the patio, causing joel to grin sheepishly as the sound drew more attention your way. his hands tightened in the material of your dress, and you had a feeling you would be paying for that brief moment in the spotlight later, but you didn't mind. the sky was filling with stars, lightning bugs floating around in the balmy night air, laughter spilling in with the music. you were surrounded by your friends, your family, and dancing with your man; you simply couldn't complain.

hours later, when the band grew tired of performing and most of the crowd had dispersed, it was decided that the night was over. joel had left earlier with ellie, who had managed to sneak a little too much alcohol that night and needed help getting back to his house, but you chose to stay and help maria and tommy clean up the patio. maria was packing up the rest of the food and taking trips to the tipsy bison every now and then, and you and tommy were on table cleaning duty.

you were in your own little world, smiling to yourself as you wiped down the tables and picked up the floral decor that maria had strewn about, feeling so content with the way that the night had gone. before he had left, you and joel had spent the rest of the night dancing together, hiding on the sidelines, talking about anything and everything. your feet were sore, and you knew joel would be complaining about his back later, but it was worth it to you.

"you sure have joel wrapped around your finger, don't ya?" tommy's voice pulled you out of your mind, causing you to jump a little at the suddenness of it. you both laughed as you righted yourself, cheeks flushed from his comment.

"well, i don't know about that. he's still a stubborn ass most of the time," you teased, helping tommy gather up the decor on the last few tables while you talked. he chuckled at your comment, taking a second to wipe down the surfaces before turning back to you.

"honey, he never would've stepped foot into somethin' like this before you. you're bringing him back to life." his face was serious, but his eyes - so similar to joel's - held nothing but mirth. you felt your heart stutter at his words, could feel the prickling behind your eyes from the impact of his words.

"i think i could say the same thing." your voice was quiet, fingers clinging into your rag at the admission. tommy nodded his head, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder as you wiped away the lone tear that strayed from your eye. it wasn't a lie, either. you were fine with your life in jackson before joel, sure. you had made friends, were easily accepted into the community. after so many years fighting to survive, you finally had a safe haven.

but you didn't know you were missing something until joel showed up. your relationship was rocky at the start; joel really didn't want anything to do with you, or any of the other members of the community. you couldn't blame him, after hearing his story. but somewhere along the line, as joel became more comfortable in town, you fell into a fast friendship that slowly turned into something more.

whenever you were with him, your soul felt settled; like you had finally found the other half of your heart. he brought a sense of calmness to you that you didn't think existed anymore, a sense of safety and security. he loved you in the way that you always dreamed about as a little girl, before the world turned; deeply, utterly, truly. and you could only hope that he felt the same with you.

"it feels real good to hear you say that about my brother. he doesn't talk much 'bout his feelings, but shit. every time you walk in his vicinity, he gets this goofy ass grin on his face. sometimes i don't even think he realizes he's doin' it, either. that speaks volumes, honey." tommy's fingers squeezed your shoulder once more before letting go, and you watched him gather up his bag of decorations and head over to maria. her laughter echoed through the night as he planted an obnoxious kiss on her cheek.

you let tommy's words settle into your mind, a rush of heady emotions flowing through your veins. you knew joel loved you, there was absolutely no doubt about that. but hearing that conformation from tommy, a man joel so clearly trusts and loves as well, was just everything to you. wiping your cheek once more, you move to clear off the last table, leaving your own bag of decorations by the entrance of the patio.

later, when you finally reached your house, you zeroed in on joel, who was finishing washing the dishes from lunch. without saying anything, you launched yourself on him, clinging to his back. your arms wrapped themselves around his middle, your cheek squished against his firm back. you could feel him chuckle, could hear him softly mutter, "what's this for?" while continuing to scrub away at the dishes.

instead of replying, you simply hummed, content against his back. that sense of security enveloped your heart, causing your eyes to fall shut as you tightened your grip around his waist. you heard him hum too, though you knew he was mocking you - he hated when you responded to him with sounds. he wasn't irritated, though. instead, he turned the water off, drying his hands on the towel you had next to the sink. he removed your hands from his middle, pushing you back slightly as he turned to face you.

joel moved your hands back around his waist, gathering you up in his arms. it was then, with his lips pressed against your forehead, your face buried in his grey shirt, his heartbeat steady in your ears, that you finally felt at home.

taglist *:·ﾟ @hiroikegawa

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redactedrem · 5 days

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You know what? Fuck you. *Ponifies Batman*

Guys I'm so excited to share my newest project of ponifying the Batfam, it started out small with the hypothetical "I wonder what Batman would be like in a mlp universe." And then the project kept getting bigger and bigger.

If anyones interested in my world building/ headcanons surrounding this project, you can see it under the cut. (I didn't want to make the post too long.)

Incase anybody couldn't read my bad handwriting, I gotchuuu.

-(First pic) Bruce Wayne: Bruce had got his cutiemark the night of his parents death, after the grief had broken his spirit and he realized that he never wanted anypony else to feel the same pain as he does. (He has a fake cutiemark to cover up his obvious destiny)

- The first pic is pretty self explanatory, but I want to make it clear that Bruce's destiny isn't "My parents are dead so now I dress up as a bat and beat up mentally ill folk". Because I've seen people on here give hot takes on cutiemarks that directly link them to a ponies destiny.

This goes for specifically in the mlp fandom but (for the sake of being on topic) I'll use the the example of that one post where someone gave the hot take that Jason would get his cutiemark in the warehouse right before he dies (or after he dies? smthing like that) because "It would be really fucked up to know that you were always destined to die." And listen, I can appreciate some good Jason Todd whump as the next guy but knowing that this would be based in a mlp universe . . . just doesn't sit right with me.

It sounds less magical that way. Its like saying that Rainbow Dash was always meant to be the fastest flyer, so theres no point in trying to compete with her. So uhm, trying to stay on topic here. My personal hot take is that a pony's cutiemark is symbol of something that they do/ a skill or talent that they have that makes them happy. And whats a more magical and fulfilling destiny than doing something that makes you happy for the rest of your life?

Looping back to Bruce, he didn't get his cutiemark the moment his parents died, but I like to think that he got it sometime later on in the night. After hours of being checked on by the police, getting looked at by the paramedics, and after Alfred took him home. Its 1:40ish in the morning and tiny foal-Bruce is just staring at his bedroom wall feeling numb and dissociated to hell. And sometime after processing everything that night- he just decides that this is the worst thing that has ever happened to him and that he will do anything to make sure that nopony will ever feel the same pain that he has felt. And then-- Ta da!! Cutiemark!! Too bad neither he or Alfred got to experience the excitement when they both saw it the next day :')

(Edit: I didn't know where to put this detail, but Bruce's fake cutiemark is based off of the "Make It Wayne" TV logo from this fanfic here )

-(Second pic) The Bat: This is heavily inspired by Flutterbat, I know theres canonically already a race of bat ponies made from Lunas stunt as Nightmare Moon. But I chose to go through with the Flutterbat route because batponies are a race, and have bat-like features 24/7. In comparison Fluttershy maintains her pegasus appearance by day and transforms into Flutterbat at night (ALSO with there being implications that there are "Triggers" for her transformations in the day too!!) Which adds the "Vampire." right in front of her batpony title.

I might do a lil comparison chart between vampire batponies and regular batponies in the future or something. But for now I'm focusing on my batpony Bruce Wayne headcanons so yea. My point is that I felt like making Bruce a "vampire" batpony would give him a more solid secret identity with also the bonus of a really metal origin story.

Now we all know that the canonical origin story of batman is that a few months after the tragedy of his parents death, Bruce had fallen into a cave? a well? a pit? of bats and triggered a fear of bats since then. Later on he decides to become Batman so he can invoke the fear of bats he once had into the criminals of Gotham. Yadda yadda yadda.

Now canonically, we don't know the exact science on how Fluttershy turned into Flutterbat. What we do know is that at the time, pony magic is not researched enough for Twilight to be aware that Fluttershys "Stare" is her own form of pony magic and that it would interfere with Twilights spell.

Do you see where I'm getting at here? Uhmm don't ask me what exactly happened in the cave, I'm doing this for fun and thinking about it too hard makes me spiral. But uhmm something something- Bruce looked at a bat in the eye and decided to embrace his biggest fear to fuel his cause, and his already traumatized and fucked up pony magic had transformed his body- something something. (Edit: I didn't think about this until now but maybe Fluttershys "Stare" and Bruces "Bat Glare" could be a usage of the same form of magic? Just a thought)

I'll probably come up with a more suitable explanation in the future, but like I said. All of this is just for fun.

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starberry-skies · 1 year

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Hello! Sorry to bother you, but you are the only blog I know who makes IDs outside of their own stuff so I figured you were the best person to ask. Do you have by any chance ressources to learn how to make and practice them? I want to start using them but I'm not a native speaker and I'm kinda struggling ^^'

Thank you and have a nice day!

oh ofc!! if u want, i have some good posts in the #image descriptions tag on my blog, but i'll link some stuff here too :D

Why and how, basics

Quick tips and tricks

Describing comics

Describing videos

Image Description Guidelines

and a couple of my own tips !!

a great rule of thumb is, "the more time someone would look at an image, the longer + more detailed the description should be". This means, if it's a little doodle or a meme, u don't have to spend hoursss describing every little thing (ie, the clothes ppl are wearing, the lighting, that typa thing -- unlessss it's like,, part of the joke/meme. does that make sense ?) this post by mothfishing [hyperlinked] explains it SO much better than i ever could

on that note, a short/""bad"" id is always better than none at all!! don't worry too much abt the quality, or else you'll get stuck in a loop of fixing and editing and the description will never be published (or is that just me lol)

an absolute lifesaver for me was using a text-to-speech/screen reader to read my descriptions back to me ! especially if it were a longer piece, i would write an id, turn on the screenreader + close my eyes, then see if i missed anything important + if i needed to rephrase anything.

for practicing:

if you see an image w/ a description, try to write one yourself for that image. then just check between those ! it's bound to be different, but how? try to figure out which fits the image better, then adapt !

whenever i'm bored/have nothing to do, i try to describe things in the room. this is mostly just a fun little game to keep my brain busy, but it's also helpful in building skills !

if i can, i like to read out my description to a friend/family member if they're around. i ask them to imagine what i describe, then i show them the image to see if it matches. getting other people's input is always v v helpful... and speaking of....

the people's accessibility discord server!!!!!! i cannot emphasize enough how cool and nice everyone is there !!!!! u can ask for help describing something, ask ppl to double check ur work, or just send an image for ppl to describe!! literally everyone there is just so wonderful and helpful :3 here's an invite link!

little things that i learned:

the screenreader on my phone reads quotes without pause. so it would read "a sentence just like this" as if the quotes weren't there. so i picked up the habit of putting a comma before the quote to break the sentence up. so saying "this" sounds much more different then saying, "this".

(desktop only i think) it's much better for a screen reader to read line breaks (holding shift and enter) than just paragraph breaks (just enter). with paragraph breaks, the person using the screen reader would have to tap on each new paragraph to read it, which can be a hassle. with line breaks, the screen reader just reads the next bit automatically, but the ID is still visually broken up.

save stuff to ur drafts to look over later !

for text-heavy images, use a OCR/image-to-text extractor. just put the image in and copy the text it spits out, maybe looking over it to make sure there aren't any mistakes. this definitely removes a lot of the burden of copying text painstakingly by hand yk

i'm sure there must be more i'm forgetting, so if any of my followers want to leave any more tips in the notes i'd greatly appreciate it :D

#image descriptions #ask #just-an-octopus #fantasticcc url btw !! i used smth similar a while back ^__^

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mgf-game · 1 year

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Here's a rough sketch idea of how I envision the character art. I've never done character design before, so I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing. Actually I've never done any of this before so it's my first time if you can leave me any advice in the comments I would appreciate it!! I'll come back and edit or add to this post as I flesh out the game idea more.

Her magical wardobe

I want my protagonist to be a magical girl so I gave her a dress. I embellished the garment with basic magical symbols to represent items she can pick up. I've never done clothing design so I tried to keep it basice. She has a light color scheme and her hair is brown because I still want to keep her rooted to reality but when the game is built I'd like to add customization options so she'll be able to have her hair changed.

Core game fighting style

The player can select between 2 fighting styles.

The first style is the staff equipped which she uses to spread an AOE multi enemy type attack. It's fantastical and opens her up to abilities. Her attacks are a little weaker but it looks cool and she deals damage to multiple enemies at a time.

The second style is fist Mano e Mano- she throws her staff into the ground behind her and lifts her fists, a little animation should emphasize magic around her fists so she can attack 1v1 she hits way harder but she's a bit slower and can't fight off too many at once.

When she switches between attack styles there should be a 1 second delay but it should feel cool and switching styles should help with strategy while fighting different waves or bosses. Also maybe staying on one style should be rewarded or punished depending on whatever is more fun ill have to think about it.

Fighting enemies and gathering condensed magic crystals

The enemy squud here would be one of many, I didn't really think about enemy design the Lil squid here is just a placement holder. I would rather have enemies that represent some abstract representation of magical energy or creatures that look they could be made of magic. Anyway enemies drop condensed magic and coins.

Coins are used to purchase clothes or weapons

Magic is used to power up or increase mana/magic capacity. I think some types of condensed magic could also be used as prestige points.

The art style

I don't want to spend hours drawing each character so I'm working with a simple chibi style sketch large outline for each object that the player can interact with. I want it to be less colorful and more pastel like nothing too hard on the eyes.

During serious bits or hard-core parts I want to flesh out a more illustrated or realistic sketchy anime style.

Core gameplay loop

So you switch between fighting styles while fighting waves of monsters or bosses as your character fights they improve in either skills being able to take on tougher challenges depending on how they've built their character while idling- at some point they are defeated or die but they're reborn or remade via the crystal bits they be collected idk and start out at lvl 1 they can spend collected coins or crystals to buy or equip different clothes or armors or weapons to fit their playstyle.

The plot

Uh I'm not sure. I think whatever is going on she's like getting revenge for a loved one who was killed and basically she has to kill her way through a vast amount of enemies before she reaches the big bad the irony is she herself is killed a billion times and everytime she resets she loses a little more of herself but tbh idk I'm not a writer ill have to think about it longer. Maybe the crystals take her over. Oh maybe the more crystals you use to Power up distorts your character over time and so you can choose an active playstyle where you get stronger faster but your character looks more evil or a more idle passive approach where you gather strength but naturally idk.

Those are the basics I have rn, I don't want to spend weeks working on art or plots i just want to build

#magical girl #anime #game development #idle game #game concept #my art #android #android games #game dev

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sukirichi · 3 years

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good girl (m.)

You’re such a good wife to Naoya that he rewards you for your obedience.

request. naoya coming home to his beloved little housewife and feels like giving her a treat for being such a good girl.,,.,, read: man’s gonna re-arrange your guts and have some soft moments with you after (not that he would ever admit that shsghshsj)

cw. explicit smut, riding, dirty talk WITH praising bcos why not, dom! husband naoya, sexism, overstimulation, creampie, lots of kissing, titty sucking, you might end up liking naoya and that’s a warning

note. LISTEN. this is purely self indulgent even if this is a request. my bestie requested this to me anyway so ik she won’t mind i pictured myself as the reader :) so if you don’t like how the reader and naoya was portrayed, that’s a you problem :) EDITED BECAUSE IT’S NAOYA YAY, also got inspired by @caizen ‘s ask about naoya wanting his wife to not bow too deep because he wants to see her face :)

[part of the trophy wife collection]

Being Naoya Zen’in’s trophy wife required a lot of things. You had to be immaculate, précised, refined and full of dignity in everything you did. He already did the work all by himself just to keep the house running, his hard work the only reason you were able to live such a comfortable, luxurious life. On top of that, you had an extremely powerful man trusting you to welcome him every night, and who were you to not fulfill your duty as his wife well?

The moment the black limousine parked on the driveway, the guards lined on duty opening the doors of him and the rest of the house staff greeting him, you were already in front of everyone.

Keep your head down, but don’t look too hard at your feet. Naoya-sama wants to see your face – his lovely wife’s face – upon his arrival.

He would never say it out loud, but five years and counting of marriage with him meant you knew him better than anyone. Through his confident and arrogant self, Naoya worried about a lot of things, you included. There were times he’d wake up in the middle of a nightmare in which he lost you, his arms scrambling to find your body to press it against his for reassurance. You were there, you would always be there, but the confirmation never hurt.

You bowed down to him, skin cleared, cheeks flushed, and lips glossy – all telltales of a happy, nurtured wife who was well taken care of – present before him. And you were beautiful too; the most gorgeous woman he’d ever laid his eyes on.

“Welcome home, Naoya-sama.”

Naoya’s shoulders immediately relaxed at the sight of you dressed in your yukata, hair done perfectly and hands clasped politely in your lap. He tried not to let it show too much though, even though his staff had watched him grow up, he needed to keep his pride as the clan leader. Not even his precious wife could make him tear down his walls in public, though you did not need to worry about his brash attitude, following him inside three steps behind as he’d instructed.

He loosened his tie and dismissed the other servants, locking the door of your shared room. “Is my tea prepared?”

“Yes, Naoya-sama, mixed with jasmine just as you like.”

Naoya’s hands stilled on his tie. His gaze fluttered over yours, eyes still ducked down to the floor with a small smile playing on your lips, one that said welcome home in more ways than one.

The sight of you – so compliant and meek as ever – stirred something deep within his heart. His whole life, he believed women were useless, creatures that were below him. Until now, he held firm in that, but fuck, you were always so open and willing to do everything he asked that he could feel himself hardening in his pants. Women may be useless, but once they followed his orders and praised him so heavenly the way you did?

He fucking loved it.

Naoya’s tie went flying the other room, his cock swelling in his pants as he tugged you by your wrist. You landed on the mattress behind you, watching with a heaving chest as your husband crawled above you. His gaze felt predatory, dark eyes hooded with lust while he planted his knees beside your waist, his fingers looped with yours.

You smiled sweetly up at him, so temptingly sweet his resolve broke for a split second. He captured your lips to taste you on him, the sounds of your husband’s satisfied hum making your chest puff out with pride.

Everyone may look down on you for marrying such a ‘horrible’ man like him, calling you stupid and immoral, even going as far as claiming you were nothing but a dumb cock-hungry slut, but Naoya – even you – knew better. You were not foolish; in fact, no one could handle Naoya’s attitude better than you did, and you were smart enough to keep buying that strawberry flavored lip balm he loved so much, causing your husband to squeeze your palms.

“Good girl,” he mumbled absentmindedly, the praises shooting heat flush to your core. “You’re so good for me, you know that?” he peppered kisses all over your skin, a gesture so rare that you were panting underneath him, resisting the urge to rub your legs together.

Naoya was extremely skillful in bed, his virility as a man not to be looked down on for his ability to render you immobile to walk, throat sore and voiceless for a few days truly impressive. But he was different today; his usual tight grip the same but laced with a want that went beyond than lust. You could never say it out loud, especially not around him, but it was clear – Naoya treated you with affection and care.

“I’m very lucky to have found such a submissive woman like you, but that’s not true is it? Women like you aren’t found, you’re trained,” he harshly tugged the first layers of your yukata to the side, exposing the sensitive flesh of your collarbone that was free for him to mark. “Have I trained you well, my wife?”

“Yes, Naoya-sama, trained me so good,” you rasped out, bringing your legs forward, only for it to bump against the sides of his waist.

Naoya sucked on your skin until he was sure he’d completely marked his territory, the grazing sensation of his teeth so erotic and passionate along with his clothed cock rubbing into your folds. His hand trailed down your waist, yanking the ties of your clothes apart. You gasped as he teasingly rubbed your clit, even going as far as to roll it between his strong fingers. “For you, ah, I’d do anything for you, Naoya-sama.”

“It’s my love when we’re in the sheets,” he corrected you, “When a woman knows her place and obeys me so well, a good girl like you deserves to be rewarded,” hearing your small whines at his words, Naoya chuckled at your skin. “Do you want that? Want me to make you feel good?”

“Yes, p-please, I need you,” you moaned wantonly, gathering the courage to lift your hips up and grind it against his erection. He surprised you by not pushing you away, so you kept going, slathering your wetness all over the front of his pants. “Fuck me, my love, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Naoya smirked, standing up to rid himself of his pants and belt. You whined at the loss of contact and sat up on your elbows, legs spread wide open as you feasted on the delectable way he discarded his clothing one by one. His fat cock, red and flushed with pre-cum, slapped against his toned upper body.

You would’ve groaned at his bare beauty, but he’d already crawled on top of you once more, completely ridding you of the multiple layers of modest clothing you wore, revealing a redolent set of white lace.

Naoya narrowed his eyes at the nearly transparent thong, his hands cupping your seeping cunt with a low hum. “Is this for me? Did my pretty baby get dressed up for me?” you nodded eagerly, pathetically reaching upwards to wrap your arms around him. You were growing needy, soft yet desperate as your stuttered gasps hovered on his ear. “Were you thinking of me the whole time I was away for work?”

“I always think of you, my love,” you breathed out, “Your smile, your voice, your lips, your hands,” legs twitching, you dared run your knee to brush his forearm, the teasing and confident movement earning you a seductive, warning glare from your dominant husband. But oh – you were just starting to have your fun. “Your cock inside me.”

“Naughty little girl,” he snickered, grabbing your hand and shoving it deep inside your panties. That evoked a high-pitched moan from you as your nails grazed against your shaved pussy, Naoya’s smirk present the harder he pressed your palm on yourself. “Did you touch yourself? Pleasure yourself like this?” He was testing you, reminding you of his power and authority, trying to see if you would break his rules that he’d been so firm into fucking deep into your skull.

Naughty as you might be sometimes, you never forgot your place. You were daring, but never in your wildest dreams would you dare go against him. Not because you were plain weak and submissive, but simply because the thought of pleasing him more and feeding his ego was far more satisfying.

You shook your head, pitiable tears already shining through. “N-no, I would never. Only you can make me feel good, just you, mmh.”

Naoya groaned deep in his throat, satisfied at your answer. “You’re always so sweet for me,” he says, leaning over to knee your legs open wider. He situated himself between your body, slow and sensual in removing your bra and panties, the lacy material disappearing somewhere on the black marbled floors. You laid there, vulnerable and wanting, clutching at his biceps as he grinded his cock on your puffy folds. “Have I ever told you’re the perfect little wife? So fucking needy for me always, fuck. This pussy was made for me.”

“This pussy is yours,” you acquiesced, breathing hard when Naoya pulled away to peer at your body. He liked his wife to be healthy, strong and ready to carry his child whenever he wanted, and his hands squeezed your hips appreciatively.

“I exist purely to serve you, my love,” you vowed, “I have no other purpose than to make you feel good and love you. You’re my everything, the world and more.”

He’d looked at you with lust before, the desire pooling in his eyes always making you feel wanted, but this was different. Naoya would never let those cursed three words fall from his mouth, but it shone clearly in his eyes anyway. He gazed at your curves and dips so lovingly that your arousal peaked, slick coating his cock from where he was slowly teasing your cunt with his tip.

Unable to hold back any longer, Naoya flipped you over. Your breath knocked out from your chest at the sudden movement, his hands tugging at your wrist to pull you close to him. He leant back on the bed, kissing you feverishly all the while keeping you shaking on his thigh. Due to your wetness gushing, you slid down his muscular thigh, and you moaned at the contact. “As I should be,” Naoya nibbled at your lips, his harsh words contrasting the tenderness of his hold on you. “You’re nothing to me if you can’t even do something as simple as that.”

You nodded with no hesitation, fully accepting that you were purely his now – and you would honestly not have it otherwise.

Naoya helped you lift your hips up, shushing you with a slap on your ass when you stared at him nervously.

Every time Naoya fucked you, he was direct and simple. He preferred to have you on all fours where he could focus on his own pleasure, or sometimes he would rather cum upon seeing your fucked-out face, the image of your tongue lolled out while he fucked you on oblivion enough to make him nut right away.

But now he was guiding your arms around his neck, kissing the sides of your lips as if to answer your silent questions. “Sit on my cock, baby, I’ll reward you for your obedience tonight,” he said, his cock twitching as he directed your entrance right above his cock. Naoya slid you down, allowing you to feel inch by inch, thick vein upon one another – sliding inside you and stretching you out so good. You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead on his, teeth locked on your bottom lip as he bottomed out.

Fuck, you’d never felt so full.

However, Naoya wasn’t pleased. He clenched his jaw and tapped your bottom lip, scolding you with his mean glare. “Don’t hold back when you scream my name, you understand? Cherish this moment – I won’t always care about your pleasure. You should thank me for this.”

“I-I will!”

Torturous. That was how you would describe it. You had never been this close to him before; not in this position and angle. Each lift of your hips caused your hardened nipples to brush over his muscular chest, his attention sorely focused on the way you bounced on his cock.

Something about holding him this close felt so intimate, breaths tangled and moans shared, along with the pleasure delivered into your bodies with the way you were rolling your hips along his length.

“Still so fucking tight for me,” he said through gritted teeth, “I love this pussy so much, fuck, you’re mine. Just mine, all mine,” Naoya eventually lost it, hooking his arms under your armpits and feet flat on the bed. You kept screaming his name like a prayer, the worship falling from your lips like a broken record driving him to fuck into you faster. He’d had enough of your pace; he’d been good enough that now it was his turn to fuck you, and you were glad he did because his fast, brutal pace was so mind-numbing.

Naoya hitched you up higher until your chin rested above his hair, your breasts right at his mouth. He sucked and bit at the soft flesh angrily, grip so tight on your hips you were hissing from the pain. At the same time, it felt so fucking good unlike everything you’ve ever felt.

“My perfect fucking wife—a quiet, compliant wife is worth more than gold, baby. You’re my fucking treasure.”

Naoya thrusted hard and deep until the bed was creaking, mattress dipped from both your weight. The room felt so foggy with your lovemaking and you tightened around him, crying as he kept hitting that sensitive spot that had you seeing stars. “I’m c-coming!” you whined helplessly, hugging your husband deep to your chest while your fingers tugging at his hair. “Naoya, please!”

“Then come for me,” he nibbled at your ear, delivering another hard slap at your ass. “I’m allowing you to. Come. Make a mess around me.”

“Oh my gosh, ugh, fuck,” you came around him hard, your orgasm making you shake. He still wasn’t done, but his breathless murmurs of close, I’m so close had you holding him tighter, whispering dirty words in his ear to assist your husband into reaching his high. The oversensitivity of him plowing into you even after you came was too much, but you took it all like the good wife you were. Biting the protests down at your tongue, you rode him to meet his hips thrust by thrust, his balls snapping at your ass. “Mmmh, I love you, I love you. I-I love you.”

“As you should, baby. You’re supposed to love me,” Naoya devoured your mindless babbling by sliding his tongue inside your mouth, his hips stilling inside for a moment. Fingers clutching desperately to him, you shut your eyes tight, cunt dripping as Naoya spilled his seed deep inside you.

You kissed him one last time in refusal to let go, but Naoya wasn’t having any of it. He was very iffy every after sex that you had no choice but to pull away from him, wincing as he pulled out.

He stumbled into the bathroom afterwards while you laid there on the soiled sheets, weakly fisting the pillow beneath you. You were so fucked out, tired after a long day of managing everything he wanted you to take care of. To be fucked good by your husband…there was truly no better way of life.

Just as you were drifting off, you felt something damp sliding over your inner thighs. You blinked sleepily at a silent Naoya, sending him a small smile as he wiped both your cum away. He left the towel inside the bathroom before he came back, sliding his white shirt over your frame and tugging a fresh pair of his boxers to your legs. Aftercare with Naoya…while it wasn’t impossible, it also wasn’t a daily occurrence. Your heart kept fluttering inside your chest, that feeling blooming harder when he slid under the sheets beside you, his strong arms pulling you taut in his chest.

His skin remained mark free. You knew Naoya hated being marked; reminding you all the time he wanted to be flawless. You respected that and pressed a deep kiss on the spot above his heart instead, madly and hopelessly in love as you traced circles on his bare chest.

You could stay like this forever, in the warmth and safety of your husband’s arms, but you still had wifely duties to fulfill. Naoya had already done his, prompting you to lean up to trace kisses at his sharp jaw, sweet and docile as ever as you asked, “Naoya…how was work today?”

“Same as usual.”

That meant he didn’t want to talk about it, so you didn’t pry further.

“You need to rest and regain your strength so you can work hard again tomorrow,” you mumbled sleepily, “I’ve already planned your meals for the next week. We’re going plant-based for a while, you need it.”

Naoya remained silent. You would’ve assumed he’d fallen asleep if it wasn’t for his hand caressing your back in a manner so gentle that seemed so alien with him, the strangeness of it all intensified when you looked up at his face, only to see that he had already been studying your features a long time before. There was an unsettled frown on his face, one that you tried to smoothen away with the pads of your fingertips. “What’s wrong, my love?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’ve already forgotten about all my worries. They don’t matter anymore,” he whispered, his voice way too soft. It fit the atmosphere, however, whatnot with the newfound intimacy that you basked in. Suddenly, Naoya cupped your cheek, utterly serious as he croaked out, “Baby.”

“Hmm.”

“Do you love me?”

You didn’t have to think twice about it. The answer would be – “Always and forever.”

However, Naoya wasn’t satisfied. He needed more, wanted to understand more, craved to find a logical reason behind your devotion to him.

“Why?” he demanded, “What is it about me you love so much?”

“Everything,” you confessed, the love so clear in your eyes that even for a small moment, Naoya felt like he understood now. “You’re perfect to me, Naoya. I’m glad you’re the one I’m spending my life with. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

“But why?”

“Because,” you giggled, “You’re handsome, you’re caring even if you don’t show it that much, you’re smart, ambitious, hardworking and the best husband I could ask for,” Naoya opened his lips, probably to ask a stupid why again, until you cut him off, silencing your odd husband with a kiss. Thankfully, Naoya gave in, relaxing at your touches. “Loving you is second nature to me. It’s not living if it’s not loving you.”

Although he didn’t – and would never say I love you – he had his own way of expressing it. He let you know that he shared the same stance at you, staring deep into your eyes while he cupped your cheek, surprisingly somber as he proudly said, “I made the right decision of marrying you.”

“I’m glad you don’t regret it.”

“I could never regret it,” he whispered back, but you had already fallen asleep. That night, you dreamt no more. There was no need to when everything you’ve ever wanted was already right there at your reach, and Naoya joined you long after, the faint linger of a loving kiss a husband only ever gave to his wife the last thing you felt before you faded off into dreamland.

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writing-in-april · 3 years

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Taking Care

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Spencer needs Reader to help him relax after some people were unkind to him.

A/N: This is my last and final fic for my 750 follower celebration!! Thank you for all the support I received on all of the fics, I’m glad people were just as excited to read them as I was to write them. Thank you to all the people who helped me work out all the ideas for the fics- extra special thanks to @spencers-dria who helped come up with a few of the ideas and helped me edit sometimes! This fic was a request from @safertokiss and I felt like it was a good one to end on. Hope you all enjoy! Next week I’m going to knock out some of my requests and then- the first part of my series is coming out!

Warnings: 18+, Mommy kink, Spencer is a sad boi at first, Lots of praise, Oral sex (F receiving), Handjob

Main Masterlist Word count: 1.4K

As soon as Spencer came through the front door you could tell something was off. His shoulders were slumped forward, his hair hanging over his eyes, and he didn’t give you the normal greeting he gave when he came home.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You approached him slowly. He was toeing off his shoes to put in our shoe rack, but all his movements were tinged with lethargy. He looked absolutely exhausted; what was supposed to be an easy paperwork day had obviously turned out to be anything but easy.

“Nothing…” His tone did little to convince you that ‘nothing’ was wrong.

“If you don’t want to talk about it that's fine, but I know it’s not nothing.” You opened up your arms a little and prompted him to move closer to you, “Come here.”

He gladly took your warm embrace and practically slumped into you. You could feel the tension already starting to melt away from him just from a simple hug, fully showing how much he needed to relax. Normally, he didn’t like people touching him, but there was something about you that made him want to hold you tight and never let go.

“Um-Well, what happened was that-gosh it seems so silly. Morgan and Elle laughed at me before we all left when I ranted about the new Star Trek episode we watched together...” Anger started to radiate through you at his words, you never understood why people would make fun of Spencer for his ranting, it was one of your favorite parts about him. You were already planning in your head on giving Morgan and Elle a piece of your mind the next time you saw them. You were slightly surprised he was opening up this quickly to you. Usually, it took him at least a few hours for him to be able to speak with you about troubling events.

“Your feelings aren’t silly baby. It’s ok if you’re upset about it.” You spoke soothingly to him while rubbing circles with your thumbs into his shoulder blades. An idea of how to further take care of Spencer then sprung up into your mind. “Do you need Mommy today? Would that make my baby boy feel better?”

He ducked down into your shoulder in response to your whispered words into his ear. You couldn’t see his cheeks, but you were sure they were flushed a deep red.

“Yeah, I’d like that, Mommy.”

You then gently guided him towards your bedroom, having him sit down at the edge of the edge of the bed while you sat above him. When you began to kiss his beautiful plush lips he moaned into you, clearly craving your touch. But, when you moved to start undoing his slacks to try and relieve some of that aching tension he stopped you hands.

“Do you want to stop, baby? We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Worry instantly flooded through you, afraid that Spencer felt uncomfortable all of a sudden and wanted to be left alone.

“No, I don’t want to stop. Can I make you feel good first, Mommy?”

“No, baby boy it’s all about you tonight.” Most people would probably call you insane for turning down such a sweet offer, but you wanted to take care of Spencer tonight.

“Please, Mommy?” He begged with the sweetest puppy dog eyes that melted your resolve.

“Alright, alright I’ll let you, no need to pout, baby.” You peeled off the leggings you were wearing to reveal a basic red thong you had pulled on without much thought this morning. They may have been a simple style, but Spencer’s eyes went wild when your lower half was revealed to him. He still didn’t reach out to you yet, you hadn’t given him permission to touch you yet. When you eventually got comfortable laying down on the bed propped up on your elbows you crooked your finger towards Spencer, beckoning him over. “I give you permission to touch me.”

“Thank you, Mommy.” He said before hooking your thong to the side, he was far too impatient to take them off himself. Whenever Spencer got permission to eat your pussy he went absolutely rabid, his tongue gliding over you so fervently it felt like your nerves had been lit on fire.

After he was sure he had explored every part of you, he dipped his head down to circle his tongue at your dripping entrance. You reached your hands up to pinch your hardened nipples through your shirt as Spencer continued his assault on your core.

“Am I doing a good job, Mommy?” He mumbled right into your core, just loud enough that you could hear him. God, his mouth was so skilled. He had been so inexperienced when you first met him and now he knew how to get you over the edge in a matter of minutes.

“Y-you’re doing so so gooood for Mommy.” You moaned out hotly, teetering close to an orgasm while rolling your hips into his face. He let out a hum of satisfaction into your core, then sucking your clit between his lips. It only took a few more seconds of his ministrations before you were falling off the edge, cumming right on his face. Spencer greedily licked up all your juices causing you to involuntarily squirm from the slight overstimulation, he always loved the way that you tasted.

Once you had caught your breath you engulfed Spencer into a bruising kiss that you made sure to dominate swiftly by slipping your tongue into his mouth. You released his lips after a few minutes of appreciating them, now more focused on giving him what you had promised.

“Thank you, my good boy. Now, let me reward you, baby.” You praised while peppering hickies and pressing kisses down his exposed skin until you fully slid down onto your knees.

Delicately you pulled his belt out of its loops and undid his slacks, revealing his tightening blue boxers that also had started to get soaked from his precum. You reached forward to stroke his cock still confined by his underwear, pulling a needy whine from him.

“Aww, you need Mommy to take care of you, don't you?” He bobbed his head eagerly at your words, prompting you to free him from his boxers that were keeping his aching cock caged. The head of his cock was flushed a deep red and glistening, standing up curved against his belly, serving as a testament to how much he needed you.

You grabbed a bottle of lube from your bedside table, popping the cap and dripping it all over his cock. The weight of him in your palm was heavy as you started to stroke his cock, making sure to drag over every inch of him slowly everytime you pumped your hand. Precum was dribbling down heavily from him and mixing in with the lube as you deftly worked him up to euphoria. A particularly breathy noise left his lips when you started to focus your attention around the head of his cock, flicking your thumb slightly each time to brush past the slit slightly.

“I’m sorry- Mommy I can’t hold it, I’m gonna cum.” His words high pitched and whiny with tears prickling in his eyes while he bucked his hips up desperately into your hand. It wasn’t surprising to you that he wasn’t going to last long, poor baby needed to release all of that tension.

“No need to say sorry, today’s all about you. Go ahead, baby boy, cover my fists.” You used both of your hands to jerk him hard and fast, you didn’t want to drag it out for him, he had been so good for you. He let out a few ah, ah, ahs! before spilling over and covering your hands. His eyes went wide when you then leaned forward, licking up all the evidence off of your hands and his belly. Then, pressing one kiss to his cock that made him shiver.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Mommy.” Spencer whimpered out as he watched you carefully clean up the mess you had made of him. He then remarked bashfully, “I’m sorry for cumming so quickly.”

“No more apologies, you were following the directions I gave you like the good boy you are. Thank you for letting me take care of you, Spencer. Mommy loves taking care of you”

—-

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

All works:

@shotarosleftpinky

Spencer Reid/CM:

@calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss

Sub Spencer:

@thatsonezesty13 @pastathighs @virtualpeanutartisanjudge

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler smut #750 follower celebration #750 followers

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ayyyeisa · 3 years

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Home

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Mikasa Ackerman

Word Count: 9.7k

Content: Modern! AU, fluff, angst, best-friends-to-lovers trope

Content Warnings: PTSD, alludes to alcohol

Summary: Childhood best friends Eren and Mikasa go through a series of ups and downs throughout their life, struggling to realize what exactly their relationship is

Notes: Thank you to everyone who helped edit this piece! I really appreciated all the feedback you gave me <3

Prologue

They’ve always been told that they’ve been friends since the moment they were born, and it was difficult to argue against it because it really did feel like it’s been a lifetime of friendship. There has never been a moment where one isn’t with the other. It had never been just Eren, and it had never been just Mikasa. No matter where they were and when it was, it was always (and always will be) Eren and Mikasa. The girl, Mikasa, even claimed to have known her friend Eren in her life before, and although he'd never admit it in front of anyone but Mikasa (in fear that his older brother would make fun of it), he did too. At 28, their friendship definitely had quite a few ups and downs, but if they learned one thing during their years of being best friends it was that they both wanted one thing more than anything in the world: to be with each other. That was it. It didn’t matter, when, where, with who, or for what reason. Just to be in the presence of one another was enough to make them happy.

27 Years Ago (4 months old)

Eren and Mikasa were born just barely two months apart, so it was no surprise that they wouldn’t even remember meeting as babies. As their parents were good friends, the couples jokingly tried to make their children be friends too, by making sure they saw each other frequently. Mikasa and Eren’s moms held their babies across from one another so they could see each other again. It was the first time they officially met, excluding the time the Ackerman family came to visit Carla when she gave birth to Eren. The moment baby Eren had set his big, forest green eyes onto Mikasa’s brown ones, he had tried to reach out to her, going as far as untangling himself from the red scarf (a gift given at his baby shower, though because of his size, could not be used as an actual scarf yet) that his mom used to swaddle him. Unfortunately, from his lack of motor skills, the little girl was awoken by Eren's hand. Mikasa shrieked, upset that she was pulled from her sleep. Zeke, Eren's senior by ten years, freaked, immediately apologizing to Mikasa's mom about Eren. "I'm so sorry Auntie! I'm sure Eren didn't mean it. Please don't be mad."

The woman just let out a light-hearted laugh. "It's alright Zeke. Look, Mikasa is fine now. Besides, her and Eren seem to be getting along pretty well," she said as she watched the two babies looking at each other, arms flailing like an octopus's legs in an attempt to reach each other. Mikasa had gotten a hold of an end of Eren’s swaddle scarf and was lightly tugging at it, while Eren continued to reach forward until his small hand lightly touched Mikasa’s forehead. They were giggling, almost as if they were keeping a secret.

23 Years Ago (5 years old)

It was their first day of first grade. They had been smart enough to go to school a year early. Yes, they. Mikasa refused to start school without Eren, and he refused to go without Mikasa. They were a team, never leaving each other’s side. The teachers were a bit surprised at first when they refused to sit with different people, but they soon got the message. Many actually found it quite cute. Eren had many girls crushing on him (yes, he was a very cute boy, and eventually grew up to be a handsome man). Although the girls didn’t completely understand their emotions at that age, they refused to believe that the cute boy prefered Mikasa over all of them. This of course was bad for Mikasa since it led her to having enemies from a young age. Even if she didn’t need total protection from them, she still had Eren to help. He was, however, useless when his own fangirls chased him around the playground. Though he always proudly claimed "As if I would even think of hitting a girl,” Mikasa was there to help him out when they chased him.

Not even a week in, Eren had met a boy named Armin-- a short and shy young blonde, who always seemed to be in the little library corner of the classroom. He was as smart as Misaka and Eren, if not smarter, therefore he also started a year early. The older boys were constantly making fun of Armin for his short stature, yet what caught Eren’s eyes the most was how no matter the power difference, Armin did not seem to back down. Even as the bullies picked and teased at him, he held his head high.

When Eren approached one day to ask why, Armin would simply state “I haven’t lost yet if I refuse to back down.” And it was that bravery, even in the most dire of situations, that had Eren grinning.

Hands on his hips, he announced, “my name is Eren, but you probably already knew that. And that girl over there,” Eren paused to point at Mikasa, who was watching from across the room to make sure Eren wasn’t getting himself into trouble, “is Mikasa. Let’s all be friends. Mikasa! C’mere! This is Armin and he’s super cool and smart.” After gesturing her over, he turns back to Armin with a grin on his face. “Mikasa is super cool too. She’s smart like you, and really strong. She’s my best friend, and I’ve known her my entire life. I just know we’ll all get along,” he said happily while readjusting his scarf.

And right he was, for that was the beginning of the trio’s epic friendship.

21 Years Ago (7 years old)

He took her hand, and led her to his horse. Just like how the leaves were swept away by the wind, so were they. If you watched, you’d see the horse getting smaller and smaller as they rode farther away. But maybe, if you listened, you would hear the princess’s and prince’s joyful laughter- a truly happy ever after ending for them.

“No, no, no, no!” That’s not what happened in my dream! If I remember correctly, we lived in a castle!” Eren exclaimed. He didn’t know where Mikasa got that dream before.

“Well, I’m just telling you what I saw in my dream. Maybe you’re the one with bad memory,” she snapped back, a frown on her face as she lightly tugged on the red scarf he always kept around his neck.

For the past couple months, they had been dreaming of being together in a number of lives. They often fought about them in front of Armin, constantly asking him which one of the two dreamt the right dream. Poor Armin. Luckily, the boy had a knack for reading any and every book he could find, and he decided to do something about it before the fight could escalate again.

“Maybe you two remembered different parts of your old life, and maybe even different lives. You never know, you could have been a prince or princess more than once,” he proposed.

Mikasa’s brows quirk in confusion. “You think so?” she asked.

Eren, on the other hand, fully trusted the other boy, knowing just how smart he was from all the reading he’s done. Grinning, he proudly stated,“Don’t doubt Armin, Mikasa. He’s super smart. I bet he’s right with just about everything.”

“Really?” the girl excitedly asked. “Wait, so Armin, do you know how babies are made?”

Omake:

Eren: “Of course he does! He read it in a book and told me. A stork plucks a baby from a pond and delivers it at night.”

19 Years Ago (9 years old)

“We were super cool ninjas with powers! Like Naruto!” Eren exclaimed, jumping, kicking, and punching the air as if he was fighting an imaginary person. His red scarf danced and swayed along with him as he energetically moved around. He briefly paused to glance at Mikasa, excited to see her reaction, when he saw her expression. It had his previously bright, green eyes dulling into a light grey color. Furrowing his eyebrows, he asked, “You okay Mikasa?”

She sat there, a worried look on her face. “Eren, will my mom be okay?” Even though she was young, she knew something went wrong when her mom had her. Her mom was always happy, yet sad when talking about Misaka's birth. She overheard one night from her parents that having Mikasa was very difficult for them, let alone having another child.

This question always broke his heart- no matter how many times he’s heard it. He stared at her for a moment before slowly walking to her, unwrapping his scarf off his neck. He stopped right in front of her-- her head right below his chin-- before taking his scarf in two hands and wrapping it around her neck instead. Finishing up the last loop, he messily placed the last few inches on top of her head before taking a seat next to her on the couch.

“I don’t know Mikasa. I don’t know. But you’re going to be okay, I promise.”

Eren had said “you’re” not “it’s,” and she couldn't be more thankful. The little boy could not promise that everything would be okay, but he could promise that she would. Why? Because she still had a home. Because he was there. And he always would be.

“I’m right here. And if you ever need more comfort, whenever and wherever we are, I’ll just wrap that scarf around you again,” he stated confidently. He hugged Mikasa, who in turn hugged him back before they laid down facing each other.

“You’ll really do it? You’ll wrap the scarf around me just like you did in the dream I told you I had last night? That one’s my favorite dream-- but I like all of our other dreams too. Promise me we’ll always talk about them. No matter how old we are, we’ll still tell them to each other, okay? Promise me,” Mikasa prompted as she rested her hand in between them.

It was no surprise when Eren gave her a small smile while stating “Promise,” before reaching out with his hand to interlock his fingers with Mikasa’s.

18 Years Ago (10 years old)

At ten years old, Eren was starting to believe what the other boys in his grade were saying about girls. At first, he tried to fight back and ignore their stupid antics, but he hated the fact that people thought Mikasa was stronger than him. He didn’t want her protection; he wanted to protect her.

“Why does she always speak for you, anyway?” one of them would ask.

“She’s a girl; shouldn’t you be stronger?” another would add.

“Don’t forget that girls have cooties.”

“She’s just plain scary too.”

Eren could feel his cheeks heat up at the comments, and if the boys were paying close attention, they would’ve seen his eyes turn a stormy grey. Whether it was from embarrassment of being below Mikasa, or anger of someone daring to badmouth her, he didn’t know.

“Don’t say that about Mikasa. Girls should be strong, and there’s nothing wrong with not being quiet and dainty,” he loudly proclaimed. But while his heart was burning to continue defending Mikasa, a part of him couldn’t help but hate the situation he was in. Why was Mikasa always the one to protect him, and why did it bother him so much?

Weeks had passed, and Mikasa noticed how Eren seemed to be avoiding her. Was it what everyone was saying about them? Or was it something else? The only other thing she could think of was when she gave him a nice punch (a well-deserved punch at that) for being an idiot and getting into trouble again. Because of him, they both had to stay in the classroom writing apology letters during recess-- it’s not like she was going to let him fight those bullies alone. But he couldn’t be THAT mad at her, could he? The jerk sort of deserved it. It broke her. But, Mikasa being Mikasa, she decided to confront him today.

“Eren, why are you ignoring me? Are you okay? Did something happen?” she asked.

“I’m not ignoring you, okay? Why can’t you just let me be and do my own thing. You’re not my mom, and I'm not your kid brother. I don’t need you around all the time, and I definitely don’t always need your help.” Eren spat, irritated.

Just as he was about to leave, Mikasa spoke again. “So you’re saying that I’m not important.”

Eren, caught off guard, froze. “No! I never--”

“You’re saying that those other boys, your other friends, are more important than me and that what they think matters more than me.” Mikasa clarified, tears starting to swell up in her eyes.

...1 second...

...2 seconds…

Gears were turning in Eren’s head, realizing what he’d almost done to their friendship-- what he’d almost done to Mikasa, his Mikasa, his best friend. He could feel his anger subside, and Mikasa saw his grey eyes slowly brighten to green. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. Why don’t you come over today? We can play tag and hide and seek… Or I could even play with the dolls you made. You made one of me, right? Just the two of us. I promise this won’t happen again.”

“Good. I like Auntie Carla’s cooking. We’re walking home from school together, okay? Like old times,” she simply stated before walking away. She was not going to take any chances of Eren saying no. Of course, Mikasa expected his previous response. As much as Eren had been avoiding her, she truly trusted him to always come back. He always did. She could bet her life (and heart) on it.

17 Years Ago (11 years old)

Lunch was going well for the first day of 6th grade. It was an odd transition from eating with classmates in their grade level to being able to eat with just about anyone that attended their school. Eren, Mikasa, and Armin were finishing up their lunch when they heard a voice.

“Your long black hair is… really beautiful, by the way,” a boy with ash-brown hair shyly says to Mikasa. His blush was evident on his light skin and he could barely look at the girl. His name was Jean Kirstein, a new classmate of the trio’s; and he annoyed Eren to no end. Who did this guy think he was? It was their first year at South Paradis Junior High-- there were so many other elementary schools that fed into here that it was unlikely that they’d know all their classmates. And yet, this boy was already coming straight up to Mikasa and complimenting her hair. Mikasa was a rare beauty and Eren’s best friend; she deserved the best and only the very best. He wasn’t going to let some horse face of a boy take a chance with her.

Armin noticed Eren’s frown and how his eyes were a dark grey. He honestly considered teasing him: “Of course you’d be the petty, jealous type.” That’s all he had to say. It was fairly easy, and Armin was quite sure that voicing that thought would have Eren in a stuttering mess trying to deny it all. He’d probably be so busy denying it that he would’ve spent more time arguing with Armin than acting on his jealousy. Though against his better judgement, Armin kept his mouth shut, allowing Eren to speak up.

“Mikasa,” Eren said softly as he grabbed a piece of her hair, “aren’t you trying out for the martial arts team? You should cut your hair. You could get into an accident.” Eren didn’t even bother glancing at Jean; he opted for keeping his gaze on Mikasa as he waited for an answer.

“Yeah… you’re right. I should probably cut it,” she stated as she absentmindedly grabs the same strand Eren was holding, their fingers grazing one another in the process. Eren would never admit it, but his fingers burned right where his and Mikasa’s briefly touched. The physical contact didn’t last long, but he could still feel the warmth she emulated when he went to bed that night. He didn’t know why, though.

13 Years Ago (15 years old)

It wasn’t until sophomore year of high school that Eren realized just why he felt that way-- why he always had the urge to protect Mikasa to the point that her being stronger than him made him angry, why he was always hit with an overwhelming feeling of jealousy whenever Jean was anywhere near her, why his skin started burning at her slightest touch. It wasn’t until sophomore year of high school that Eren realized just why he started to look at his best friend a little differently, why she always lingered in his thoughts a bit longer and a bit more than everyone else.

He was, unfortunately, stupid enough to make homecoming plans without Mikasa. Last year, the two of them and Armin had all gone together, but Armin was finally going with Annie this year. It was of the utmost obviousness that those two had something going ever since she transferred to their school in 7th grade. Annie was a quiet girl who usually kept to herself, maybe occasionally speaking with Bertholdt and Reiner since they transferred from the same school. But otherwise, it seemed as if only Armin was able to break through her shell. It was honestly quite ironic how Eren and Mikasa often teased Armin for his incapability to express his feelings, when he could’ve easily pointed out theirs. The ache in his heart when Annie was away --the way he constantly missed her and wished she was around-- was no different from what Eren and Mikasa secretly told Armin when they were apart. How could Eren and Mikasa not know?

“Historia asked me to homecoming,” Eren had told Mikasa one night after they both respectively finished martial arts and baseball practice. He could see the small glare she gave him, as she stared at him for what felt like hours without saying a word.

“Okay, then just ask her out.” Mikasa didn’t even try to hide her annoyance.

“It’s not like that. I don’t-- There’s nothing-- We’re not like that. I think she’s just pretty bummed that Ymir moved and needs a friend. You know she doesn’t have that many ‘cause her dad’s been sheltering her. You can come with. I told her that I was planning on going with you,” Eren replied. It’s not like he wanted Mikasa to feel left out or unimportant. One of his friends needed his help, and he would never-- could never-- turn his back on a friend. They were the most important people in the world to him, almost on the same level as his parents, Armin, and Mikasa. Of course he would be there if one of them ever needed a hand.

And it was because Mikasa knew him so well that she tried to control herself. Mikasa wanted to argue-- wanted to tell Eren that there were plenty of other people Historia could’ve asked. She had Sasha, Connie, and Jean too. She could’ve even asked her. Why did it have to be specifically Eren? She was jealous, she acknowledged that, because all she ever wanted was to be near Eren. The thought of him belonging to some other girl hurt so badly. For him to have another home besides her, for her to not be able to call him her home-- she didn’t know if she wanted to even be alive if that were to happen. Eren was everything to her. But another part of her just wanted to let it be. If Eren was happy, and as his best friend, shouldn’t she be happy for him too? All she ever wanted was to be near him. Romantic relationship or not, she already had that. Eren cared about her and Armin more than anyone in the world; she has everything she’s asked for. Shouldn’t that be enough?

“No, it’s ok. You don’t need to explain. She needs a friend, and I think you should go. Jean and I were talking in class today. He actually offered for us to join their group because Sasha and Connie wanted to do a whole extravagant group meetup, with pictures and food and everything. I’ll just tag along with them,” her lips drew into a straight line in an attempt to smile. She knew Eren well enough to know that he knew --that she knew-- that he knew that it was most definitely not okay. But to her dismay, neither acknowledged the elephant in the room nor the growing tension between them.

Eren didn’t want to. He was too busy feeling the blood rushing through his ears at the mention of Jean asking Mikasa out. There was only one other time he remembered feeling this jealous-- it had been all that time ago, when they first met Jean back in 6th grade. The horse face had told Mikasa her long, black hair was beautiful, and while Eren agreed, it pissed him off to no end that someone other than him was looking at Mikasa. Of course, it was no surprise that many boys and girls were looking at her-- she was beautiful and strong and everything that a woman should be. But having random people look at her didn’t compare to the jealousy he felt when it came to Jean. Eren wanted Mikasa all to himself. But what right did he have to whine and complain when he was the one to bring up taking Historia to the dance? Jealousy was an ugly feeling, and he hated how accustomed he had gotten to feeling it. Stupid Jean, stupid world, stupid homecoming, stupid him. Oh how he hated himself more than ever for putting himself in that situation. All he ever wanted was to be with Mikasa, and here he was doing the opposite-- here he was starting a small rift between them. One stupid statement, and he already felt far, far away from home.

12 Years Ago (16 years old)

It was concerning, really, how months later, Eren and Mikasa still couldn’t address the divide between them. While the two often got into small arguments before, they were usually solved within a week, if not immediately. This was the first time that it ever lasted more than a few days, if this could even be considered an argument. They were talking, but something felt off-- both of them could feel it. Mikasa didn’t want to push boundaries. Eren was still her friend; he was safe and nearby, so could she really complain? As for Eren, he could feel the ache of Mikasa’s absence run deeper than his heart. It made him sick in a way he couldn’t completely describe— like he was homesick or something.

While he saw her everyday at school, she often paired up with Armin or Jean instead. While he ate lunch with her at the same table as their friend group, she usually spent her time listening to Sasha ramble on and on about meat and food and the so-called cute senior in her culinary class named Niccolo. Even when he was sitting right next to her in the driver’s seat as he dropped her home after practice, their conversations ran shallow. He missed their inside jokes and their talks about their dreams. For months, he’d been wanting to tell her his recurring dream of one of their past lives. How every night, his sleep would send him to the peaceful mountains of Switzerland, where he lived in a tiny cottage with her. They were alone-- isolated from society-- and they often needed to fish, hunt, and gather their own food, but they were together. They were together and they were happy, and God help him, that’s all he ever wanted.

He wondered that of the many other dreams she’s had of what they presumed to be their past lives, if she saw that same dream too. He hoped so. He hoped that when he was away, she felt that same ache too. He hoped that in the same way no one could ever replace her in his heart, no one would ever replace him in hers. Call him selfish, but he wanted Mikasa all to himself-- wanted to be the only person that would ever claim her heart. He didn’t want anyone-- not Jean, not even Armin-- to have Mikasa. So why was he letting her slip through his fingers?

It wasn’t until months later, near the end of summer, that the two finally resolved whatever issue was going on. With school out, Historia rarely saw anybody outside her friends, and even then, she was only really comfortable around Eren-- only he knew the pain of missing someone. Historia knew he was suffering. He never told her-- never really told anyone except Armin-- how he felt about Mikasa, but Historia could see the longing in his eyes whenever he gazed at Mikasa and the sadness they held whenever he talked about her. And it was for this reason that she refused to leave Eren alone. He needed a friend, and so did she. There was no way she’d abandon him-- no way she would abandon anyone in need.

Over summer, the two started volunteering at homeless shelters and orphanages. They’d occasionally invite the whole group over: Sasha, Connie, Jean, Mikasa, Armin… There were days that the seven of them would volunteer during the day and go out for dinner in the evening to catch up. But the amount of time that the group met up was nothing in comparison to the amount of time Historia and Eren spent together. It was evident in the way they talked at their group outings, and it didn’t help with the growing tension between Eren and Mikasa either.

Seeing them together, seeing them so happy-- seeing Eren so happy without her-- had Mikasa feeling things. Was she missing something-- a component or aspect that maybe was pushing Eren away from her? Or was she too overbearing? What did Historia have that she didn’t? There must be a reason why Eren seemed to be wanting to spend more time with the other girl as opposed to her. She missed seeing Eren’s smile and his happy, green eyes. She was both angry and hurt, and while she knew she had no right to speak, for she was Eren’s best friend, not his lover, she could only take so much before snapping.

She hadn’t meant to say it; at least, not out loud and most definitely not in front of Eren, but her jealousy got the better of her. Historia and Eren were once again telling the group about some project they went on the other week to help orphans in a different country. They were laughing and reminiscing about the troubles they went through during their time there when Mikasa spoke.

“We get it. You guys had a great time,” her voice dripping with disdain as she glared at Historia. It wasn’t until Mikasa noticed everyone staring at her that she realized the rudeness of what she had said. Hesitantly, she said “Sorry. I’ve, uhh, I’ve had a rough few… months. I’m just gonna go,” before hastily leaving the table.

“Wait!” Historia called after her.

“We haven’t even ordered anything yet, aren’t you hungry?” Jean added.

She ignored them both, though, and opted to continue walking out of the restaurant, even as the others tried to call out after her.

Armin used that distraction to nudge Eren’s side. “Eren,” he whispered sternly, grinding his teeth together. “It’s now or never. Don’t let it get worse. Are you really going to let her go?”

And it was because Armin knew both Mikasa AND Eren so well that he didn’t doubt that it was all he needed to say to get the guy moving. Not even a second later, Eren was scrambling off his chair and past his friends as he hurriedly followed Mikasa.

“Mikasa! Mikasa, wait. What was that? What’s wrong?” he asked. One of his hands was gripping her arm and holding her in place. He had tugged at it lightly so that Mikasa was slightly facing him, and his eyes desperately searched hers for an answer.

“Nothing,” she stated, trying (but failing) to keep her composure. It’s not like she could come out and say “Oh, I’m jealous of Historia. I hate how she spends a lot of time with you because I secretly love you, Eren.” She could barely admit that fact herself, let alone confess it to someone else.

Eren stared at her in wait, desperately wanting to know what they had and where they stood. Anyone watching could’ve easily seen it in his eyes. “Please,” he begged when she remained stubbornly quiet. “Please tell me what’s wrong. Don’t you miss the way things used to be? What’s happened between us?”

“Historia--”

“Historia and I are just friends! I already told you that, back during homecoming. Why did we drift apart just because of that? Why did it seem like you weren’t interested in talking to me anymore? Why did we stop hanging out everyday?” Eren urged Mikasa to answer. He was already fighting back tears, when one question that had been nagging at him the past few months made its way out his mouth. “Why did we stop talking about our dreams?! Didn’t we always promise to talk about them? Have you given up on a useless idiot like me?”

Seeing Eren cry stopped Mikasa in her tracks. She stopped trying to get her arm out of Eren’s grip and settled for looking at him straight in the eyes, near tears herself. “Eren,” she says with soft urgency. It was only then, when he felt her sad gaze on him and lack of resistance against his grip, did Eren completely let go of Mikasa. She grabbed both his shoulders, giving him the slightest shake. “Don’t say that about yourself. Please. You’re not a useless idiot. It’s just-- I… really missed you. I’m sorry. I know you told me that you and Historia were just friends, but I didn’t like how jealous I felt. I wanted you only by my side, because it’s always been Mikasa and Eren, and Eren and Mikasa, and seeing you with someone else-- I… I don’t know. I guess, I’m not used to having to be apart from you. More than anything in the world, all I want is to be near you. When you kept visiting Historia and spending the summer with her, it just felt like you didn’t need me around anymore, or that you maybe didn’t want me around,” Mikasa confessed, her blush evident.

If Eren heard her correctly, then maybe she was feeling the same ache that he’d been feeling. Maybe, just maybe, she did love him the way that he loved her-- not as a sibling nor a best friend, but something more. He raised both his hands to grab her face, never breaking eye contact.

She could see how his previously gray eyes had started shifting over to green. Mikasa lifted her hands to hold onto his wrists needing to stabilize herself, as she felt like she would faint at any moment with the way Eren was holding her. Since when did his touch start making her knees so weak? And since when did his gaze start making her self-conscious and nervous?

“Mikasa,” Eren whispered, closing his eyes. He didn’t think he’d have the courage to look at her when their faces were close-- so close that their foreheads were nearly touching and he could feel the warmth of her shaky breaths on his face. “I’ll always want you with me,” he whispered softly as he tried to lean in. He wanted to kiss her-- wanted to know what it’d feel like to have her lips on his-- but what if he was wrong about his assumptions? What if Mikasa didn’t feel the same ache in her heart as he did? What if he was just like family to her and nothing more? If he kissed her and he was wrong, it’d for sure ruin their friendship, and the rift between them that they were currently trying to heal would be damaged for good.

He was too busy worrying about all that to realize that Mikasa, too, wanted to kiss him. He didn’t even realize the slight tilt up of her head nor the way her fingers lightly squeezed his wrists before she stopped in realization that he wasn’t actually going to kiss her. Neither of them wanted to make the first move in fear of ruining what they had-- whatever it was. And so instead, Eren went limp and rested his forehead against hers, eyes still closed, and Mikasa did the same. They didn’t move until Mikasa’s stomach growled.

“I knew you were hungry. It’s 7 o’clock and you usually eat an early brunch,” Eren laughed.

“Eren, your eating habits are worse than mine. You’re probably hungrier than me. Let’s go back inside,” Mikasa snapped back with a smile.

Things felt normal again and both were the happiest they’ve been in months. Their friendship was okay. Romantic relationship or not, they were still Eren and Mikasa, and Mikasa and Eren-- they were still each other's best friend. They were together, and to them, that’s all that ever mattered in the world. They were home.

10 Years Ago (18 years old)

Many moments from the next few years were filled with awkward silence or slight tension, ones caused by the fight they had at 16. It was like the rift never fully healed, and that made it much easier to get into small fights. Maybe it was because much of the problem itself never went away. The arguments grew from insecurities and miscommunication; they were two teenagers stupidly in love, yet too scared to say anything. Regardless, it was Eren and Mikasa, and so the fights never lasted too long.

It was the last weeks of summer before the two had to go off to college, and unlike two summers ago, Eren made sure that they were making every last moment count. From getting ice cream to hiking at nearby state parks, Eren came up with plans to hangout every single day. He had to, especially because they’d be spending the next four years apart. Both were originally going to Purdue University, along with quite a few of their friends. Eren was going for aviation, Mikasa for elementary education, Armin for political science with a minor in oceanography, and Jean for business.

Unfortunately, times were cruel and news channels were filled with stories of a possible onslaught of World War III. It seemed surreal, but the growing tensions across many countries of the world had many people worrying if it was actually possible. Eren, in particular, found it interesting enough to change his mind about college. He still wanted to fly-- wanted to know the feeling of freedom-- but first and foremost, he felt a strong duty to protect his country because it’s where the people he loved lived. If the possibility of an oncoming World War III was true, Eren wanted to be prepared. He still hadn’t brought it up to Mikasa or Armin, his decision being so last minute.

He had spent countless nights contemplating on whether he should go or not. If he entered the military, he’d be signing his life away for four years. That’s four years of not being able to always see Mikasa, assuming he’d be able to hide it from her. He just had to keep his decision a secret long enough for Mikasa to not be able to follow him in. Eren knew that she wouldn’t hesitate to drop everything if it meant being able to be with and protect him, but if Eren cared about her the way he claims he does, shouldn’t he be protecting her too? They should be equals, not whatever this was. Just this once, he wanted to be the one protecting, even if it meant being apart from her.

And so, that’s how he came to the decision the night before Decision Day to enter the military as opposed to Purdue. It broke his heart and worried him to no end that for the next four years, he’d be far away from Mikasa-- far away from home. What if something happened while he was gone? Something bad, and he wasn’t there to help her through it? Sure, Jean and Armin would be there, and Mikasa would surely meet other people too. But would they be able to be there for her in the way she deserved? He knew Mikasa better than anyone else, even Armin, so could anyone really live up to his expectations of what he wanted for Mikasa? All these questions ran through his head as he drove Mikasa back home from the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, another one of the trips he planned.

Mikasa, not one to not notice Eren’s changes in behavior, glanced over at the driver’s seat, wondering why Eren suddenly got quiet. “Eren?”

At the sound of her voice, Eren was immediately pulled out of his thoughts. But one look at her, and he was filled with sorrow again. Soon, he’d have to leave her and it’d be another four years or so before they would be able to return to the old days, if going back to the old days was even possible. For all he knew, this could be the very last time they’d talk to each other like this again. These last few days could be the very last time that Eren and Mikasa, and Mikasa and Eren are a thing. He wanted to make the most out of it-- whatever time he had left. “Mikasa,” he stated before pulling over to the side of the road. He wanted to be sure he could clearly see her face, without any distractions. “Let's get out of here,” he continued, looking her in the eye.

She stared at him, observed his movements, the color of his eyes. They were a mix of green and gray, much lighter than his usual forest green eyes that signaled his happiness, but not exactly the stormy grey eyes he had when he was angry or sad either. It confused her, because in the rare times that she didn’t know what he was feeling, his eye color usually gave it away. But this time, it’s like he was both happy and sad. “What do you mean?”

Eren was practically quivering in fear that she’d be angry or reject what he was about to offer. But he kept reminding himself that these last few days would be the last time he’d see her in a long while. They’d be apart for the first time since they were born, and he wasn’t sure how either of them would be able to handle it. He looked away to gather his nerves before turning back around and taking a deep breath.

“Don’t be mad with what I’m about to say. Please.” Eren waited for her nod before continuing. “The night before decision day, I actually decided I was going to be joining the military-- the army. And before you even think of telling me you’ll join too, don’t. You needed to decide by decision day, so there’s no point in joining now if we’re going to be in different regiments. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just wanted to do this to protect everyone, while not influencing any of your decisions to pursue your dreams…” he paused again, waiting for Mikasa’s reaction.

The girl wanted to scold him for making such a hasty and dangerous decision. She didn’t know where to begin. The military was a four-year commitment, which meant that they’d be apart for four years. Would she be able to handle that? They had never been apart for anywhere near that long. And what if the military changes him? Even if he didn’t get deployed, he’d still have to go through basic training and the like. She had heard stories of how the military, even just camp, changed people. What if some part of him never comes back from that? Would he still be her Eren-- the same Eren?

“Mikasa, stop thinking about it. Let’s just… enjoy what time we have left of summer break, okay? I told you this because I was hoping you’d say yes to what I’m about to ask you. For the last few days of summer, let’s go to Switzerland, in Crans-Montana-- in between the mountains where we went on that band trip junior year. Remember how Armin and I climbed the balcony on the third story of the building, just so we could spend the night talking about the most random things? We stayed up till sunrise and nearly got caught staying together in the same bedroom,” he chuckled. “Let’s go there again. Just the two of us. Mikasa, come with me. It wouldn’t be home with you.”

Mikasa, who was shocked and deep in thought, could only manage to give him a small smile before taking the opportunity to reach over the console and grab one of Eren’s hands. “One condition: you wrap this scarf around me one last time, okay?”

6 Years Ago (22 years old)

“Hey Mikasa, have you heard from Eren? I don’t think I’ve received any letters from him in a while,” Armin said.

Their usual group was having a meet-up at their favorite restaurant, a celebration for finishing finals; they’d be graduating in less than a month’s time. And yet, there was a sort of sad or empty feeling to the group, as Eren wouldn’t be home for another 6 months or so. He had to finish his military contract, and there was no way for him to visit at the moment due to his most recent deployment.

“No, I haven’t; the last letter was from a few weeks ago. I think he’s busy. Last I heard, he was deployed somewhere in the Middle East,” Mikasa replied softly.

“Have you told him already?” asked Jean. He gently placed his arms across her shoulders from his seat next to her.

Even from across the table, Armin could see the ring glistening on his finger. He had read somewhere that only about 7% of men actually wore engagement rings; he wasn’t surprised that Jean was of that percentage. It matched the diamond on Mikasa’s hands that were resting on the table. Armin didn’t know how to feel about the entire thing. Mikasa did genuinely look happy, and she deserved every bit of it. So did Jean, especially after all that he’d done for Mikasa when Eren wasn’t able to be there for her. It wasn’t really in his place to judge— what did he know about love? It had taken him years to spend time with Annie, and even then, it took many more awkward conversations and longing glances for them to establish the bond between them. So maybe it did make sense for Mikasa to accept Jean’s proposal. While everyone felt Eren’s absence, he was sure that he and Mikasa felt it the most.

Jean was always there to comfort Mikasa, even when Armin couldn’t. He never overstepped his boundaries, knowing that it was improper to make a move on someone whose heart belonged to someone else, but as the time between Eren’s letters lengthened, the more Jean found himself attending events with Mikasa, or being left alone to study for classes together since Armin wanted surprise Annie, until one day she started smiling at him almost the same way as she did to Eren. A part of him initially wondered if Mikasa really did love him, or if she just appreciated his presence. But those doubts didn’t last long because it just wasn’t like Mikasa to do something like that.

Mikasa was glad that he did believe her when she said she loved him, because she did. Jean was kind and funny; he was hardworking, empathetic, and an amazing leader. She saw how he treated his peers and subordinates with respect and often put himself in their place to make sure they received the best treatment. He also smiled at her in this certain way. She couldn’t describe it, but it made her heart flutter. She loved having him around because he was one of the only people that filled the void of Eren’s absence. She loved when he would pull out a chair for her on lunch and dinner dates, when he brought her breakfast at her dorm in the mornings, and when he helped her put on her jacket even when she didn’t need help. She loved him-- Jean; she really did. But she also knew a part of her would never really let go of Eren, not completely.

“No, I haven’t,” Mikasa stated hesitantly. “I thought he should find out in person, especially since it’d be awkward for me to ask him to be my maid of honor when he’s not even a girl,” earning snickers from Sasha and Connie, who were also seated with them.

“Wait, so you guys have been engaged for months now, and Eren still doesn’t know?” Annie asked, her voice blunt.

Armin lightly kicked Annie’s foot under the table. “Annie,” he softly warned. The two stared at each other as Jean attempted to break the awkward atmosphere.

“No, it’s all good. We wrote to him saying that we started dating, but I guess we’re waiting to tell him about the engagement. He’s on Mikasa’s side after all. He deserves to hear it from her, whenever she’s ready.”

. . . . .

It wasn’t until Annie and Armin were on their way home from lunch did Annie dare to speak again. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” she started. “But Jean’s just in denial that Mikasa is prolonging the engagement because a part of her will never stop loving Eren,” she tells Armin

“I don’t think he’s in denial… Just that, a part of him-- well, a part of all of us-- know that Eren will always have a place in Mikasa’s heart. It doesn’t mean she won’t move on with her life. Though, I will admit that I think Jean deserves someone who will love him completely.” Armin said. And though Annie remained silent, he knew her well enough to see the slight hesitation in her actions, as if she was contemplating on whether or not she should say something. “Eren’s always been adventurous, wanting to explore the world rather than stay here; he’s always been a small distance from Mikasa and me, no matter how close we try to be to him. I think--” he paused, trying to process his thoughts into words. “I think that he just needs time to understand what she means to him. They both do.”

1 Year Ago (27 years old)

The wait for Eren’s return came by slowly, and the way he took the news of Mikasa and Jean’s engagement was quite anti-climactic. Everyone in their friend group expected more, but he was just blank and glaze-eyed for what seemed like months after he returned home. Even years later, not much of his behavior changed. The military had not been what he expected. He went in excited to serve his country-- determined to protect his people and loved ones, no matter the sacrifices he had to make. But the horrors that awaited him were beyond anything he could imagine.

Everytime he closed his eyes, he could hear bombs, screaming, and gunshots, along with the sights of blood and blurred vision. He’d somewhat grown accustomed to it, at least on the outside. He no longer jolted at the slightest touch or immediately stood alert at loud noises. Unfortunately, he still felt far, far away. There were times when he didn’t feel like he was safe or at home, but in fear of worrying Mikasa and the others, he opted for staring blankly at his surroundings.

He could practically hear his mom nagging in his ear “How many times did I tell you to NOT join? Did I not tell you that the army isn’t worth it?”

Eren almost agreed. Almost. Because while a selfish part of him wished he stayed with Mikasa, he couldn’t exactly regret leaving. Yes, more than anything in the world, he wanted to be with her; It had been his dream when he was younger, and still was his dream now. But how could he compare his happiness to the lives of millions, or more importantly, his friends?

He hoped his unhappiness didn’t show too much-- hoped that his friends wouldn’t see how his jaw clenched in anger at the thought of not being able to be with Mikasa the way he was in his dreams.

But they did, at least, Armin and Mikasa did. They noticed because this new Eren, so emotionless and easily irritated, wasn’t him. It broke their hearts to see him so different. It broke Mikasa’s heart to see the caring and determined boy she grew up with-- the one that would do anything for his family and friends-- was just… gone. Her heart ached because she had waited so long, waited 4 years to see him again, only for it to seem like he never even came back. She wanted nothing more than to be able to hug him, ask him what the matter was, and tell him everything was going to be okay because she was there-- the same way he always did when she was out of it. She wanted to tell him she lov--. No, she couldn’t do that, because it wouldn’t be fair to Jean. It wouldn’t be fair to Jean who always cared about her well-being when Eren was gone, who never overstepped when he sensed something going on between her and Eren. It just wasn’t right for her to be saying any of that last part to Eren.

Not that it would change anything. It was like he was always angry. And whenever someone asked, he’d just rudely brush them off. Which is how Eren and Mikasa got into this position: as if the past few years have not already been filled with awkward glances and underlying tension, Eren and Mikasa were, once again, fighting.

Eren could only bite his cheek while shaking his head, “That’s just the thing, Mikasa. You don’t understand. You would never be able to, and you’ve just really been pissing me off lately. God, I hate you.”

“No, no you don’t. I know you, Eren,” she insisted softly.

He hated how it didn’t phase Mikasa, as if she was expecting him to say that or that his opinion didn’t matter to her. But while this was so, he hated even more her unwillingness to give up on him. Why wouldn’t she just let go. He doesn’t deserve any type of kidness-- not after abandoning her for some stupid dream in the military, not after letting some other man claim her, not after all the awful things he had to do while he was in the Middle East. He didn’t deserve any kindness from Mikasa-- he didn’t deserve her.

And yet, he was angry that Jean was with her, because even after everything Eren had done, he still wanted Mikasa to be his. He wasn’t mad at her-- God no, he could never be mad at her-- but he was mad at the entire situation and all his conflicting emotions.

His anger got the better of him, of course, and he continued speaking. “Don’t you think your life is so pitiful? I might be fucked up in the head, but at least I’m not stuck in a long engagement, working a regular 9-5 schedule like some robot who’s following orders. I actually have some interesting things going on in my life,” Eren sneered. He internally cringed at the harshness of his words when he saw Miaksa recoil. He hit her where it hurt, he was sure. Good. Maybe if she hated him, it’d be easier for him to move on with his life without her beside him.

It took Mikasa a second to recollect herself. She honestly wanted to cry, but with the way Eren had just treated her, she did not want to give him the satisfaction of it. “Okay,” she tried to calmly say. “You clearly don’t want me around, so I’m just going to go,” she stood up from the table they sat at before walking away. Maybe Eren was too far gone-- too far changed after his military service-- too bitter at how life turned out for him. She deserved better, right? It was okay to walk away after what just happened. Slowly taking off her red scarf --the scarf he had given her so many years ago when they were just 9 years old-- she didn’t dare to look back. It was too bad she didn’t-- if she did, she might’ve caught Eren shedding a tear before quickly wiping it away.

Present Day (28 years old)

“Mikasa, we need to talk,” Jean stated firmly. It had been months since Eren and Mikasa’s big fight, and while everyone in their friend group knew something happened, no one was actually sure what exactly went down. Years of being Eren and Mikasa’s friends taught them to stay out of it. They’d solve it eventually-- they loved each other too much to stay apart forever. Which is the thought that solidified Jean’s decision to do what he was about to do. “I think we should break our engagement,” Jean announced slowly and quietly, as if it pained him to say it-- it probably did.

Mikasa reached out to grab his hand, “Jean--” she started before pausing.

Jean outstretched his hand in a gesture to let him continue.

“I’ve thought about it a lot. There is no doubt in my mind that you do love me. I know that. But I also know that you’ll never love me in the same way you love Eren. Even after everything, you still have his scarf. Mikasa, love like what you guys have-- it doesn’t happen often. Don’t let him go,” Jean’s voice cracked at his own advice.

Mikasa couldn’t deny it-- she could only stare at him sadly while apologizing. What for? She didn’t know. Maybe for leading him on? Or not loving him as much as Jean deserved?

“Hey, it’s okay. I love you. I want you to be happy, and if that means letting you go, then I will learn to live with it,” Jean gave her a small smile.

It made Mikasa want to cry. She probably hurt him a lot, with him always knowing he wouldn’t live up to Eren, and yet here he was, being understanding, a gentleman. He was letting her go. “Thank you,” she whispered before she gently kissed his cheek.

And before Jean knew it, she was gone. Just like that. Everything seemed to run by in a blur that he hadn’t even realized how much time had gone. One second, he was watching Miaksa leave, and the next, he was sandwiched between Connie and Sasha at a bar. He had a drink in his hand that he didn’t even remember buying. Had he been drinking?

“Yo, you seem out of it, man,” Connie stated while hooking his arm around Jean. It earned him a nudge from Sasha, who muttered something about letting Jean wallow in his despair a little longer. He had just let Mikasa go after all-- someone who he’d loved for over a decade. “Uhh what I meant to say was, I hope you know that you deserve someone who will love you with all their heart, and all of their mind, body, and soul. Someday, you will find someone who makes you happy, then you’ll forget just how much this hurts,” Connie says, him and Sasha rubbing Jean’s back in comfort.

. . . . .

Mikasa was never one to back down from confrontation, so even she found it surprising when a week later, she still hadn’t talked to Eren. It’s not that she didn’t want to, but rather, didn’t know how. Luckily, Eren was impulsive as ever, and so everything seemed to fall back into place when he showed up at her doorstep one day.

“Hey,” he says with a short breath, as if he was trying to hide his exhaustion from running or whatever extraneous activity he was doing beforehand.

“Hi,” Mikasa replies, looking at his disheveled hair and the sweat-stained neckline of his shirt. Did he rush over here?

“I heard from Jean… about umm… about what happened,” he pauses, seeming to take a moment to gather his thoughts. “I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused you-- what I’ve been causing you. But I just wanted to tell you this before I lose my courage: I’ve uhh I’ve been having this dream for a while, practically forever. Of all our dreams, our past lives-- presumably, at least-- this one is my favorite. We were together in Switzerland, in this small cabin. There were trees everywhere and mountains in sight. Nothing ever really happened, except… normal everyday things. We hunted, fished, gathered wood… it was simple, but I was really, really really happy. I was happy because I was home with you. Those nights and my memories of that dream kept me going, even during my hardest times.” He notices how she was slowly registering what he said, so he gives it one last push. “What I’m trying to say is--”

“I know, sorry it took me a second,” Mikasa lightly laughs. “Why did you come back?” she dares to ask. It was a little awkward, like they haven’t been friends for the past 28 years.

Eren could only smile before grabbing her hands in between them, slightly hesitating. He grips them a little more tightly as if to stabilize himself. “Because we’re Eren and Mikasa, and Mikasa and Eren. Because you’re my best friend. Because I love you. Because you are my home, and I’ll always find my way home back to you.”

#eremika #eremika fanfic #eremika fanfiction #eren yeager #mikasa ackerman #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #aot fanfiction #eren x mikasa

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empyreanwritings · 4 years

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A Familiar Face

Pairing: Mob!Natasha Romanoff x Brat!Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: mentions of domestic/sexual abuse, canon gore and violence, mild torture, allusions to death

A/N: thank you to everyone that was patient with me! I’m sorry it took an extra day for me to post this, I was just so tired after my flight, I couldn’t even think about editing. I also wanna give a shout out to @caws5749 for listening to my ideas and helping me pick which route to go with. I hope this is everything y’all were expecting for the first one shot.

Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated (: x

Tony believed himself to be an observant man. Pepper was the one who loved to give him credit there. He wasn't sure why he enjoyed the bodyguard gig considering he was meant to only be the family lawyer, but he felt it gave him a chance to see things for what they truly were. People, even the ones who swore they were good at hiding their emotions, had no idea how much they could give away with one look.

He became particularly good at reading you. You had a flurry of emotions. Sometimes you'd go from mischievous to full of rage to content in a matter of minutes. You were a passionate person, and it was no wonder Nat fell for you.

No one understood you the way Nat did, but Tony learned early on. He watched for the slightest movements to know when he needed to pull you out of a situation. And when you were about to get yourself arrested. Again. If he ever needed to find another job, he'd put crisis management as one of his life skills.

You weren't a big fan of crowds, which was why you hated going to indoor malls. You always said the stores were tacky and everything was "too cheap," but you needed something specific for your cousin's wedding. Tony kept his distance while he shopped, but he always kept an eye out for your tells, waiting to see if it all became too much for you. Which, he knew if something was too much for you, it was bad. You were the original definition for chaotic.

You held up a pair of crystal champagne glasses, trying to gauge whether or not it was a good wedding gift. Tony scrunched up his nose and shook his head. Too cliché. You nodded, silently agreeing with him. You let out a frustrated sigh as you set them back down. Meaningful gifts weren't your strong suit.

"Why don't you let me take care of the gift?" Tony offered. "Pep's great at picking things out."

"I don't even want to go to this stupid wedding," you grumbled.

"Nat is going with you."

"She's the only reason I'm going at all."

He hummed. You didn't talk about your family often. He knew better than to touch that subject. Too many times he witnessed you stress shopping after a phone call with your mother.

"Let's go to Bergdorf. I'm tired of being in this mall. It smells like poor people." You looped your arm through Tony's and let him guide you out of the store. Pepper was good at picking out gifts, so you trusted her enough to get it done. And if she didn't, you wouldn't make it a big deal. Your cousin didn't deserve a good gift anyways; you'd just get her a gift card to Red Lobster or something.

You shoved your way through the sea of people, not caring if they had to jump out of the way. You never moved for other people. It was a pet peeve of yours - when people would walk in big groups and take up the whole walkway, forcing everyone around them to squeeze their way through. You never moved. They needed to move around you, and you weren't going to budge on that.

"Y/n?"

You froze, and Tony stopped in his tracks to look down at you. You recognized the voice before you saw his face. Tony saw the brief flash of panic, but it was gone before he could ask about it. You quickly took a deep breath and turned to face Brock.

"I didn't realize you came to this mall," you replied calmly. "You know this area is Nat's territory."

He snorted. "Natasha Romanoff. I heard you two were engaged! I never got to say congrats."

"Well?"

Brock didn't give you his congratulations. Instead, he looked over at Tony and gave him a look of contempt. Tony knew Brock Rumlow from various encounters Nat had with him in the past. He was the leader of Hydra, who had a heavy presence in Staten Island and in parts of New Jersey. They caused a lot of trouble for the other mob families, and Nat always denied making business deals with them. She knew no matter what he claimed, he couldn't be trusted.

But it wasn't Brock that made Tony squirm. It was the way your grip slowly tightened on his arm. Every time Brock moved a little closer to you, you'd fist Tony's jacket sleeve and try to step away. He had seen you anxious before, but this was worse than your usual fits of anxiety. You were terrified - genuinely - of the man standing in front of you.

"You look great, by the way. You look like you put on a few pounds, but it works for you," he added with a charming smile and glanced over his shoulder at the group he was with. "I'll see you around, yeah?"

"Not likely," Tony huffed and lead you through the rest of the mall.

He didn't say anything, but he kept glancing at you every few seconds to catch a glimpse of that fear he saw earlier. Your lips were pressed into a tight line, and the grip you had on his jacket sleeve didn't loosen until you made it through the mall doors. He didn't miss the way you looked over your shoulder to make sure Brock wasn't following you. The last thing Tony wanted to do was assume, but he had a feeling no one in Nat's circle knew your connection to Brock Rumlow; it was something you kept to yourself and it ate you alive from the inside.

You were silent as he helped you into the car. Your gaze fixated on the world outside the window, and you kept the music off, claiming you had a headache. But Tony knew better. These were the subtle signs that you were about to have one of your bad days. If someone like Brock could trigger this, he couldn't just let it go.

"What happened back there?" Tony shifted in the driver's seat, making it clear he wasn't going to drive anywhere until you talked. Nat would have his head if he brought you back in this state. "How do you know Rumlow?"

Your eyes dropped to the circular scar on the inside of your thigh. The same scar that made you chop a man's finger off when he grazed it with his meaty hands. The same scar you never talked about, even when Nat begged you to tell her what happened. You always told her it was an accident, but she never believed it. Not for a second.

You cleared your throat to keep yourself from losing it and looked back at Tony. "I used to be engaged to him. Long before I met Tasha."

"Wait, what? Does she know that?"

"No. He was…" Your bottom lip trembled, and the sight made Tony suck in a breath. "He was a very cruel person, but I don't think he believes that."

"You don’t have to talk about it if you aren't ready, Y/n."

"It's okay," you sighed. "I think I finally should, but I know once I tell you, I have to tell Tasha. And I'm scared she won't look at me the same."

Tony knew that statement wasn't true, but you were allowed to be scared. He wasn't going to dismiss your feelings on it. He took your hand and gave it a little squeeze to reassure you that no matter what comes out of your mouth, he'd be there for you. He was more than your security. More than the lawyer that you liked to give a headache. He was your family, and nothing would ever change that.

You told him about how you met Brock. He was charming, and funny, which you didn't expect from someone linked to Hydra. At the time, he wasn't the leader, and you assumed being involved with Hydra didn't make someone a terrible person. In the beginning of the relationship, he was nothing but kind. He treated you like the queen that you were born to be.

But the second you agreed to marry him, everything changed.

He never let you leave the house. He only allowed to eat when he was around to eat with you, and he kept a lock on the fridge to make sure you couldn't sneak something without him finding out. You lost more weight in the few months you had been with him than you liked to admit.

Brock was obsessed with control. He liked picking your outfits, and he constantly asked for pictures to make sure you were still wearing what he wanted. If he told you not to wear anything, you had to do what he said, even if his friends were over.

Those were the hardest days. He loved to embarrass you, degrade you. One night he made you serve him and his friends in barely-there lingerie. You were so terrified of messing up, your hands shook and you ended up dropping of the beers on the carpet. Brock had been so pissed at you, he put out his cigarette on your thigh and screamed at you to clean it up. And none of his friends said anything about it. They just watched with their sadistic smiles, worshipping the man that could "put a woman in her place."

You were almost certain he was going to kill you before the wedding day. He'd make comments about how you were nothing without him - how if you even looked at the door, he'd do whatever it took to keep you from escaping.

"He kicked me out one night because he met another woman," you sniffled. "Someone who he claimed was more of a woman than I'd ever be. I was so surprised because I didn't think he would ever let me go, but he basically tossed me out with the trash. And maybe I should have been heartbroken, but I wasn't. I felt free in that moment." You let out a watery laugh and dabbed at your eyes to keep the tears from streaming down your face, but it was already too late. "He always told me he loved me, but he never showed it. Never bought me anything new unless he wanted to see me in it. Never let me eat. His words meant nothing because he never backed them up."

Tony hummed in understanding. It all started to make more sense - why you were so obsessed with material goods and Nat buying you things. In your eyes, anyone could say they loved you, but you didn't believe them unless they proved it. Brock did a number on you.

"He forced me to do sexual favors for other men while he watched. I'm almost certain they paid him too, but I could never prove it. Even if I could, who would believe me? It became such a regular occurrence, he forced me to get my tubes tied so I didn't end up pregnant. Told me he didn't want me getting fat and unattractive with someone else's baby." You shook your head. "Seeing him in the mall, acting like he didn't put me through hell, I felt naked. Like he still held his power above my head."

"I'm not saying you have to, but are you going to tell Nat?"

You nodded slowly, swallowing the lump that formed in you throat. "Can we get milkshakes first?"

"Yeah," Tony chuckled. "We can get milkshakes first."

There was so much he wanted to tell you. He wanted to tell you that you were much stronger than you believe considering the shit you had to endure; he wanted to remind you that Nat would never view you as anything besides the woman she was blessed to fall in love with; and he wanted to make sure you knew he was never going to lay a hand on you again. Every word he wished he could say stayed on the tip of his tongue because it didn't feel like the right moment. He knew you needed Nat to be the one to tell you those things, but he still gave your hand another reassuring squeeze.

And that was enough for now.

---

Telling Nat was harder than you expected it to be. The words that came out so easily when you were with Tony were almost impossible to choke out. It was as if you forgot how to breathe when she looked at you with her sad eyes. But you sucked in those sobs and told her everything, even if the tiny voice in your head told you she'd view you as less of a woman too.

You hated that the negative voice always sounded like him. You hated the hold he still had over you after all these years, but the more you talked about it, the lighter you began to feel. The heavy weight on your shoulders disappeared bit by bit.

And when Nat pulled you into her arms, whispering nothing but words of affirmation and comfort, you knew you'd be okay.

You weren't sure how long you stayed in her arms, but when you finally looked up and wiped the tears away, you noticed it was already dark outside. You almost made a joke about how being emotional could make the time fly by, but it took too much effort to laugh right now.

"Let's get you into a bath, okay?" Nat whispered as she helped you off the couch.

"Nat?" You reached up and wiped a stray tear that fell from her eyes. You had been so caught up in yourself, you didn't notice she was crying too. Part of you isn't sure if you've ever seen Nat cry before; she was always so good at keeping her emotion in check. "I'm sorry I never told you. I was so scared-"

"You don't owe me an explanation, kitten. You told me when you were ready to talk about it, and I never would have wanted you to force yourself to tell me before then."

Nat gently caressed the side of your face and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose. She told you to pour yourself a glass of wine while she fixed your bath, and you gave her a small smile. She already had the expensive bottles chilling for you because you never drank cheap, and you made sure she knew that the day you met.

She turned the faucet on for the tub and waited until she heard you flick on the kitchen light before she pulled out her phone. Nat never kept anything from you, but she didn't want to stress you out more right now.

"It's a little late to be calling, Natasha," Yelena yelled over the music blaring in the background. She must have been at one of the clubs tonight.

"This couldn't wait." Nat spoke quietly, but Yelena could hear her loud and clear. The seriousness in her tone was enough to make anyone listen intently. "I need you to get Barnes, tell him that I have one last person for him to grab for me and I'll never ask for his services again."

It was silent for a moment, and Nat worried this conversation was taking too long. She wouldn't know how to explain herself out of this one if you overheard.

"Who do you want?"

"Brock Rumlow."

She heard the kitchen light flick off again, and she quickly rattled off an address for the drop off to take place before she disconnected. Yelena never asked for details, which is something Nat appreciated. She could relax and trust everything would be ready for her in the morning. For now, all Nat had to do was focusing on taking care of you.

"Sorry for taking so long," you murmured as you sipped from your glass. "I ended up drinking straight from the bottle for a few minutes there."

Nat laughed and gave you a little shrug. "Sometimes we all need a good drink, and I think you definitely earned it."

While she spoke to Yelena on the phone, she made sure to prep the bath the way you liked it. You weren't a huge fan of bubble baths, but you did love Epsom salts and essential oils. Especially lavender. She even remembered to light the unscented candles so their smells didn't clash with the oils. It was the small details that matter the most, and you were filled with so much gratitude in that moment, it was hard not to shed a few more tears.

You inhaled deeply once you slid into the tub, letting the aroma of the lavender fill your senses and relax you. The steam coming from the water stuck to the parts of your skin that weren't immersed in the water, and as you leaned your head back, you imagined the harsh words of Brock Rumlow melting off our body.

Nat smiled at the way your eyes fluttered close. She thought it was adorable how easily you slipped into relaxation mode.

"Aren't you going to join me?" You weren't really asking her despite making it seem like you were. It was your subtle way of telling her to join you without being too demanding - a specialty of yours that Nat could never say no to.

"Of course I am," she replied softly. "Let me just grab another bottle of wine, okay? I have a feeling you're going to drink that one all by yourself."

You giggled. "I love how you know me so well."

As she excused herself to the kitchen, her phone vibrated in her pocket. A single text from Yelena: Barnes is in, will be ready by 6am. She wrote back, telling her to dip into some of the work funds to give to him as a thank you for getting the job done on a time crunch. She felt bad for pulling the man out of retirement, but he was the only one she trusted to get the job done discreetly.

Her phone buzzed again.

Already taken care of. See you tomorrow.

---

Bucky waited for Nat outside of the warehouse. He leaned against the doorway, his hands stuffed into his pockets. The dark circles under his eyes made Nat's stomach churn. She shouldn't have pulled him away from his home so late at night, but she acted purely on impulse. Brock Rumlow hurt the one person in this world she loved the most, and he couldn't let him get away with it. Not anymore anyways.

"Thank you for doing this."

"This is my last job, Nat," he said firmly. "I know Wanda works at the bar with you, but she doesn't know I used to be your hitman. I'd like to keep it that way."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I wouldn't ask you to kill anyone ever again that's why I just asked for a snatch."

He sighed through his nose and gestured towards the warehouse. "So, what he do?"

"I can't go into the details, but he's a sick person. It's time someone took care of him."

Bucky didn't prod her for any more details. He didn't really want to know. When Nat met you, she tried her best to keep the killing to a minimum, which meant Bucky could retire. He never said it out loud, but he was grateful. The amount of blood on his hands kept him awake at night before he met Wanda. But some nights he'd still find himself covered in sweat and screaming about what used to be. He didn't want to get sucked back into this life.

The less he knew, the better.

Nat thanked him once more and made her way into the warehouse where Yelena was already waiting for her.

Rumlow was tied to a chair, his face already covered in bruises and small cuts. He must have put up a fight when Bucky tried to grab him.

"I should have known you had something to do with this," he spat. A glob of blood landed on the concrete in front of Nat's boot, but she wasn't fazed by it. "What are you going do? Torture me? Get me to spill Hydra's secrets?"

"You're not here because I want Hydra intel, Rumlow." Nat ran her fingers along the tools set out for her. "I'm here because you hurt someone close to me, and I can't risk you walking around the city and running into her again." She grabbed one of the smaller knives and moved to stand in front of Rumlow. She dragged the blade along the inside of his forearm, drawing just enough blood to make him hiss in pain. "For every bruise you put on her body, I will cut you. For every horrible thing you and your friends did to her, I will make you bleed. And then, I'll cut out your tongue. Maybe force you to choke on it - I haven't really decided that, but I can promise you, your death will be painful."

She held out her hand and waited for Yelena to place the pack of cigarettes in it. It was something she asked her to pick up this morning. A small detail she felt the need to incorporate today.

Nat quit smoking long before she met you, but she took the chance to get one drag in just to make Rumlow squirm. The longer she took to do anything else to him, the more paranoid she became. And she loved when she could see the fear in men's eyes. The same fear they sparked in others filled their hearts, and she planned on making sure it overflowed in Rumlow's.

He twitched when she examined the bright red end of the cigarette and blew smoke into his face. He even moved to spit in her face, but Nat grabbed his face and jammed the lit end into his cheek before he could.

Rumlow didn't scream, but she was okay with that. She'd get the screams out of him soon enough. She was a patient woman.

"Don't worry, Rumlow, that's the easy part," Nat snarled. "We're going to have so much fun. And you wanna know the best part? No one will ever care enough to go looking for you because you're nothing, and I promise, you will die knowing that."

#mob!nat x brat!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff one shot #mob!nat #brat!reader #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff fic #black widow x reader #black widow one shot

759 notes · View notes

deascheck · 3 years

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Family is More than Blood

Summary: The reader and Winchester brothers bond as the brothers try to help the reader realize family is more than blood when a hunt goes wrong.

Pairings: none

Word Count: 4439

Warnings: angst, description of physical pain, death and fluff <33 !!!

A/N: Also, this is my absolute first SPN fic I ever wrote and am now getting around to posting it. I’ve fleshed it out and edited it since then, but still. Not bad for a first attempt at writing SPN, I think! Thank you to the wonderful @winchest09 for beta'ing once again!!

Well.. At least my day could not possibly get any worse, you thought. After getting a rip from your parents for choosing to stay with the Winchesters, all you felt like doing was curling up in bed with a bottle of whiskey and drinking away your newest painful memory. Correction, you didn’t get a rip. You had just been disowned. You frowned as you thought about your parents. I don’t need Mom or Dad… They don’t understand the life I want to live. How long has it been since they supported me? You rolled your eyes as they filled up with tears.

You’d been with the Winchester brothers for four months now, grabbing any case you could get your hands on. You weren’t sure how they viewed you, given the short time you’d been together, but you were confident in how you viewed them; badasses.

They had first run into you on a case, interrupting your attempt to fight a vengeful spirit on your own. To this day you argued that you would have won the fight. Whenever you said it though, Dean just scoffed and Sam would muss your hair with a small smile.

As you thought about the adventures you’d had with the brothers, trying hard to keep your mind off your parents, you heard a knock on your door.

Quickly, you wiped your eyes to make sure they were dry, and then answered in a strong voice, “Come in!” You bet yourself it would be Sam, since Dean tended to just barge in. Sure enough, Sam poked his head in. “Y/N? Hey, we’re about to sit and eat dinner. You coming?”

Sighing, you nodded and got up. As much as you loved the Winchesters, you didn’t feel like bringing them into your family drama quite yet. It seemed best to keep up appearances. Wandering into the kitchen, the smell of hamburgers hit your nose. You smiled, remembering that Dean had made it a rule: Hamburgers every Friday night if and when the three of you were at the bunker.

Dean grinned at you as you sat down, happy with having a night off. You gave him your best smile back, hoping he didn’t notice you were off rhythm tonight.

“Hey Y/N! Haven’t seen you all afternoon. You been hiding?” Dean looked at you inquisitively as he took a massive bite of his burger, rolling his eyes in ecstasy.

You gave a small chuckle. “I think I’m allowed to hide from you two terrors every once in a while with what I put up with from you.”

As Dean’s chest swelled with indignity, you winked quickly at Sam. When Dean was happy, it was easy to tease him.

Sam gave you a quick smile back, though he seemed a little distracted.

Crap. He can tell. He’s studying me! Do better, Y/N. Get the banter going! Your inner panic began. Sam had always been able to pick up on how you were feeling, no matter how well you hid it. Even from day one, he had read you like a book.

You spent the rest of dinner working on making the two of them laugh, embracing the warmth their laughter brought you. You knew you’d have to hold on tight to this happy feeling once you were on your own for the night. The nighttime was always when any unhappiness you were harboring hit you the hardest.

As you stood up and started clearing the table, you missed a non-verbal exchange between the brothers.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, Dean?”

“We’re gonna to head to the bar in town.”

You didn’t pause in your cleaning as you rolled your eyes. “Good for you.”

“No, we’re ALL going, ya moron. Stop cleaning and get ready! We leave in 10!”

Turning around from the sink, you narrowed your eyes as you studied him. “Why? I’ve got dinner to clean up and a good book waiting in my room.”

This time, it was Sam who answered with a big grin. “Why? Cause it’s high time you learn how to compete with us at pool. And you’re gonna need more alcohol than we have to deal with Dean’s cockiness.” He laughed at Dean as he walked around the table to grab your shoulders and guide you out the kitchen door.

“Sammmmm,” you complain. “I don’t want to have to do the dishes later! You’ve seen the mess Dean makes when he cooks!”

Sam bent down to put his mouth close to your ear. “I have seen the messes he makes. But I’ve also seen you hide when you’re hurting. So we’re going out to give you some fun memories to battle your bad ones with.”

Your eyes filled with tears at his thoughtfulness. You stopped resisting him and turned around to give him a giant hug. Being significantly shorter than him, if you wanted a comfort hug, you had to jump and wrap your arms around his neck. Sam caught you and wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you tight as your feet dangled off the ground several inches. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, squeezing your arms gently to let him know that you appreciated what he was doing. Sam’s arms squeezed back.

After a couple minutes like that, he lifted his cheek from your head and started to walk, straddling a bit to avoid hitting your legs as he walked. You laughed and started to struggle. “You big teddy bear – put me down! I can walk!”

As Sam laughed too, you could feel it rumble deep in his chest. He said, “So? I need my workout for the day! I’ll carry you to your room, m’lady.”

Appeased, you stopped struggling until what he said hit you. Indignant, you exclaimed, “Workout? I’m a workout to you? I am NOT that heavy!” Sam laughed at your outrage and then grunted as your struggling resumed.

“Ok! Ok! I’ll put you down. But only if you promise to be ready in a couple minutes!” Sam looked at you, more solemn now. “We’re serious about giving you some good memories, Y/N. You are a part of our family, and we want you to be as happy as you can be in the life we live.”

As Sam put you down, you gave him a quick peck on his cheek as a thank you, and ran into your room. It wasn’t hard to decide what to wear since you had all of two non flannel/jean outfits. Grabbing your white, high-waisted short shorts, you pulled them on as you ran into your bathroom, rummaging through the mess of clothing, make-up, and toiletries on your counter. Your fingers found your eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss, and you immediately separated them by placing them on a tshirt as you pulled your crop top on. It was one of your favorite tops, and you loved to wear it when you got the chance. But you’d been so busy with the Winchesters, you hadn’t gotten to dress up since before you became a hunter.

Despite the lack of practice, you dolled up quite nicely within 10 minutes. You fluffed your hair as you walked to your door, hoping that you looked ok. Opening your door, you yelled for Sam and Dean, “Guys! I’m ready, let’s go!”

You walked down the hall towards the garage, suddenly impatient. You opened the garage door and saw that the boys weren’t there yet. You gasped. I actually beat them? How on earth did I beat two men in getting ready for a night out? Smiling smugly, you leaned against Baby, crossing your ankles and your arms as you waited. This was a day for the history books.

Sam and Dean walked through the door in button down shirts and jeans. You huffed softly, wishing they’d change it up occasionally. Talking quietly, they didn’t see you until they got close to the car. Glancing forward, Dean spotted you first and stopped dead in his tracks, his jaw hanging slightly. Sam, in the middle of a sentence, stopped when he saw Dean fall back. Confused, he looked around and saw you leaning against the car. His eyebrows go up slightly and his eyes roamed down and up your body slowly. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, yet flattered, you flipped your hair as you opened the rear passenger door.

Sending a quick look in their direction, you teased, “If you boys don’t hurry up, the bar is going to be closed by the time we even get out of this garage.”

They quickly shook out of their stupor and climbed in the car. Clearly they had not seen you dressed up enough. Dean started Baby up and the three of you headed out.

The drive to the bar was not very long, and before you knew it, Dean was pulling into a parking spot. You got out, and headed inside with the brothers. As you walked in, you noticed they each flanked you. You realized they were feeling protective, and you couldn’t help but loop your arms through theirs in a burst of rare affection for the two of them. Looking up, you caught them exchanging happy smiles over your head. This was going to be a fun night, you thought to yourself.

The three of you reached the bar, and while you and Sam sat down, Dean ordered three whiskeys. One thing that you knew the boys liked about you was that you could drink like they did. The bartender brought you your drinks, and you all took a big gulp from your glasses, wincing slightly at the burn that trailed down your throats.

“Ok, Y/N.” Dean looked at you seriously as he put his glass down. “This is the plan. We’re going to get drunk, and then I’m going to teach you how to play pool with the big boys. Because you, my dear, are sadly lacking in your pool skills.” He smiled a big smile, letting you know he was teasing.

You leaned in, and said right in his face, “Challenge accepted, Winchester. Bring it on!” You laughed at the surprised look on his face and turned to Sam. Raising your glass, you gave him a nod and a wink and downed the rest of your drink.

As the three of you ordered another round, you noticed something caught in the napkin dispenser. You moved closer to inspect it, and as you did, your face paled. It was a hex bag. Pulling a napkin out of the dispenser, you used it to grab the bag and bring it to you. You turned around and sat down again, wishing to God you hadn’t seen anything. All you wanted was to get wasted and make some good memories with Sam and Dean to counter the awful ones of your parents. But you were never one to back down from a hunt. And maybe you’d get to release some pent up emotions by beating up this damn witch.

Sam noticed the napkin in your hand and asked, “Hey Y/N, what’s in the napkin?”

You groaned and pulled it below the counter before you opened it up. Their eyes widened as they saw you reveal a hex bag. Sighing, you said, “Boys, we have a witch in our territory. We’ve got work to do.”

Dean hung his head and sighed. “Why tonight?” he asked, frustrated. “This stupid witch couldn’t have waited for us to get ONE NIGHT off?” He grabbed his second drink and downed it in three gulps. He growled, “Let’s go finish this mother fucker.”

You slid off your seat and headed to the door when your head started spinning. Unable to stay upright, you crashed into Sam, who caught you. “Y/N? Y/N what’s going on? What’s wrong?” His concerned eyes swam above you as you tried to focus on what he was saying.

“Sam.. ‘M so dizzy.. Why…” You left it at that, feeling more than dizzy. Your stomach turned, and you turned your head just in time as you vomited violently all over the floor. You felt fear threaten to overwhelm you as you saw blood on the floor.

Dean grabbed your head when you finished and shook you gently to get your attention. “Y/N! You gotta talk to us! What’s wrong?” His deep voice was slightly husky with his urgency.

You met his eyes and moaned, “So dizzy.. and my stomach!” You clutched your stomach as pain shot through it, draining you.

Sam’s arms tightened around you as you went limp, the strength quickly leaving your body. He hoisted you up bridal style and said to Dean, “Dude, what happened to the hex bag?”

Dean’s eyes widened in understanding, and he quickly checked your pockets. As he patted through them, he apologetically said, “Sorry Y/N, I promise you I’m not trying to feel you up.” Dean found it and tucked the hex bag into his shirt’s front pocket, handling it with a bandana, before heading for the car. Sam was hot on his heels with you in his arms.

When they reached Baby, Dean helped Sam get you into the back seat before they opened up the hex bag. They mumbled in confusion as they realized it must have been made for you. Its location originally seemed a coincidence. But the fact that once you held the hex bag and then got sick solidified their theory. The witch knew you and wanted you to suffer.

Dean worked on destroying the bag while Sam patted a wet rag along your face, trying to help the best he can. Your eyelids fluttered weakly as you turned your head to look at him. The bag may have been gone, but you were still weak from whatever the bag inflicted on you. As you felt the rag on your face, your feverish thought process picked up. This isn’t over… If I’m sick, Sam and Dean are distracted. It would have been too easy to just destroy the hex bag. Trap... Y/N, get your act together and warn them! You forced your eyes fully open and looked at Sam. He met your eyes in surprise, seeing a fear and determination in yours. You forced yourself to put full sentences together, and say, “Sam. This is too easy. It’s a trap- you two need to arm up. I think the witch is here.” As you finished, you heard two thumps. Sam leaned back and looked towards the sound.

“Dean! Y/N, Dean’s down!” As the reality of your situation fully set in, your adrenaline started to kick in.

Good to know that I can practically be on my deathbed and my adrenaline will bring me back, you thought wryly. You stayed low and slid out of the car, carefully watching the surrounding lot. Sam grabbed Dean and pulled him over to you. He had a lump on his head, but his pulse was steady. What the hell? How did he get knocked out? Friggin witch must be here…

Sam motioned for you to lie down and roll under the car. You rolled under the car and waited a few seconds, knowing the witch must be close. As you got ready to emerge from the other side, you heard an angry, rough, female voice utter three words in latin, and then you heard another two thuds.

Shit. She must have gotten Sam. What the hell does she want? Is she one of those psychos that plays with her victims before she kills them? Your stomach turned uncomfortably as your imagination ran away with you, disgusting images flashing before your eyes. Yo. Dude. Gotta focus, you told yourself. Sam and Dean need me.. With that thought you rolled out and sprang to your feet, ready to fight.

For the first time in your short hunting career, you were grateful that you had faced so many witches. Being a quick learner, you knew a spell or two yourself. As you located the witch, you yelled, “Obmutesce!”

Roughly, you knew you were removing her ability to speak. You saw her work her mouth in surprise and frustration, and you grinned. The spell worked. Grabbing a knife and a gun from your bag in the back seat, you faced her. As she tried to get around the spell, you took a second to study her. She had dark brown hair, dark eyes, and a long, albeit pretty face. She was a little taller than you, and clearly had some class. Her wardrobe just screamed ‘snobby rich girl’.

As the two of you locked eyes, hers went black. Immediately your mind went into panic mode. She’s a demon witch? A witch demon? I’m screwed! Sam and Dean need to wake up! Shit!

Your face remained hard and confident as you called out, “Ya know, you may be the spawn of hell, but without the ability to speak, there’s really jack shit you can do to me without having to fight me.” You forced yourself to give a big predatory grin that you learned from Dean. “And well, I’ve got two weapons here that will kill you.” You hold up the gun and the knife tauntingly. Thankfully, you’d stolen the demon killing knife from Dean after the last hunt, and had stuck it in your bag- intending to be the one to kill the next demon the three of you faced.

The witch raised a hand, looking smug, and flicked her wrist. Your weapons yanked out of your hands and went flying. Your jaw went slack. Ok, she’s a demon who isn’t afraid to use her demon powers. Bluffing, failed. Plan B. Attack? You grimaced as you realized you’d have to charge her. This is one fight I’m probably going to be feeling for a week... You groaned mentally and went to attack her.

If it was a fight she wanted, it was a fight she’d get. Thanks to your parents, you’d always been able to defend yourself. You knew aikido, karate, and boxing. You’d beaten both Sam and Dean in several training fights.

The minute you got close, she snapped her fingers and you found yourself flying through the air, crashing onto a car’s windshield a few yards away. Ahhh...That one hurt. Freaking bitch. Who does she think she is? You growled at her, “What? Afraid you can’t take me in a fair fight? Is that why you’re hiding behind your stupid demon powers?” You approached her again, taking your eyes off her for a split second to check on Sam and Dean. They were both still and unmoving.

That made you even angrier, and you attacked again. This time the witch let you get even closer before she waved her hand and sent you flying again. You contacted a car’s driver door, the impact jarring every bone in your body. You prayed to yourself, Come on Sam, come on Dean... I don’t know how to exorcise her! Wake up! I’m only going to be able to take this for so long... Even just two hits in and you could feel your body giving. You were sure you have a couple cracked ribs, and maybe a mild concussion. Cars were hard, unforgiving objects.

As you walked towards the witch again, warily, you noticed Dean stirring. Perfect. Time to help wake him up. Throwing caution to the wind, you charged her at top speed and full volume, knowing you wouldn’t get even close at that rate. Sure enough, she grinned maniacally as you got closer, before sending you off through the air once again. This time, you get knocked against a light post.

As you hit the post, and then the ground, you felt a searing pain in your knee and your shoulder. Eyes welling, you looked down and saw your kneecap was not at the front of your knee. Despite the rising urgency of the situation, you couldn’t help but think how gross it was. You couldn’t look at the disfigured limb without feeling weak and began to taste bile in your throat. Your shoulder was just about in the same situation. You could feel it out of its socket.

Looking up, you saw the witch making her way to you. As you watched her approach, you wished you could talk to her and find out why she had such an interest in you. Despite your pain-addled brain going haywire, you managed to organize your thoughts enough to try to identify your attacker. Do I know her? We haven’t faced her before.. or she’d be dead. Is it the demon that knows me? Which demon is it?

You started getting desperate, realizing you were completely helpless against a freaking demon. She stopped in front of you and crouched down to your level, staring at you closely. Your voice filled with pain, you ask, “Who are you? What do you want with us?”

As you asked, you heard the sound of flesh being torn, and you saw the demon-killing knife protrude from her chest. You looked up in shock, and you saw Dean pulling his knife from the witch’s body. His hard battle face changed into one of deep concern as he looked at you.

“Y/N! Man, you are messed up... What hurts?”

You responded softly, trying hard not to cry. “My shoulder and knee... I think they’re dislocated. My ribs feel cracked, and my head hurts like nobody’s business.” You looked at him helplessly.

Dean’s face battled between sympathy for you and anger at the witch. His sympathy won, and he said, “Here, let’s get you up.” He wrapped his arm around your waist and helped haul you to your feet, mindful of your dislocated knee and shoulder.

Now that Dean was awake and here, and the witch/demon/enemy was dead, you started going into shock. You began to tremble, and Dean saw you starting to deteriorate. He quickly said, “Oh no you don’t,” and slapped your face gently. “We still have some work to do, sweetheart. Don’t worry, Sammy and I will take care of you.”

Startled into calm, you look at him. The words started tumbling out of your mouth, “Dean, it was a witch possessed by a demon. I didn’t know who she was, and I muted her, so I couldn’t find out after that. She never let me get close. She just kept tossing me around like she was freaking Goliath, and oh my God, Dean, I hurt so bad...” At this point you couldn’t handle it, and the tears started to cascade down your cheeks, leaving you breathless as you lost control.

Dean brought you as close to his chest as he could without hurting you, and shushed you softly. “Shhh, Y/N it’s ok.. Shh. You did great, kid. You did great. The bitch is dead now- there’s nothing to worry about. Hey, you’re ok. Shh...”

He held you for several minutes, allowing you to cry your stress, fear, pain, and anger out. As you finished, despite the massive amount of pain you were in, you relished the moment of getting to snuggle with Dean; it happened so rarely that you’d take it, regardless of the circumstance.

Once you had quieted down, Dean helped you over to where Sam was, who was slowly waking up. He sat up slowly and put his hand to his head, groaning softly. As he looked around, he saw you and Dean. Immediately he was on his feet and hovering anxiously when you told him not to touch your right side. Dean helped you perch on the side of Baby’s backseat while you discussed how best to get you home.

Sam looked at you guiltily and said, “Y/N, I can put your shoulder and knee back into place, but it’s gonna hurt a lot. And you’ll probably be in even more pain once they’re back. Do you want to do this now?”

You looked at him wearily, with your tear-stained face. “Sam, I’m in more pain than I’ve been in my life, quite honestly. So since my pain record has been set tonight, it doesn’t matter to me how high it gets as long as I can get fixed quickly.”

Dean stepped in at this point, and explained, “Y/N, he’s just asking because we can take you to a hospital and have them do it while you’re on pain meds. You’ll be a lot more comfortable, but they might not let you go home tonight. If we do it, it’ll be a helluva lot more uncomfortable, but you’ll be home, and we can take care of you there.”

You attempted a smile. “It’s a no-brainer, boys... Help me out. And take me home? Please?”

Needless to say, your level of pain went from overwhelming to excruciating when they reset your knee and shoulder. But you were grateful the boys could get you right again. Dean was driving and Sam was helping prop you up in a comfortable position in the back seat.

You reflected as you were lulled into a half-asleep state. Ha... And here I was thinking today couldn’t get any worse. My parents disowned me, I don’t get to get drunk because I got attacked by a demon-witch, and then I’m almost killed because I can’t protect myself, Sam, or Dean. What a fantastic fucking day.

Sam’s voice brought you to a more conscious state. “Y/N? Hey, sweetheart. Sorry, I know you’re falling asleep. I just wanted to tell you I know you’re probably beating yourself up, and you’re probably thinking about how much today sucked. Which,” he paused to smile briefly, “would be fair. However, I want you to know that you were incredibly brave today. Not many new hunters would be willing to face such an intimidating challenge alone.” He bent his head around sideways to look at you and see what you were thinking about. “Seriously, Y/N. Dean and I are proud to call you our sister and fellow hunter. Family is more than just blood.”

You smiled up at him as you felt sleep starting to take over you. “Sam, there’s no one I would rather have as my brothers. Thank you for taking me in. I love you guys.”

You continue thinking as you fight sleep. The bunker, living with my boys, that’s my home. They’re my family. Sam and Dean are the only two who matter in my life. I choose my family...

Sam smoothed your hair gently as you nodded off. “It’s us who are grateful, Y/N. You are the sister we never had.”

#supernatural writing #supernatural fan fic #supernatural fandom #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #deascheck

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xseildnasterces · 3 years

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that won’t save us.

The current pelvic pain I am experiencing is unlike anything I have ever experienced before. I am well aware that I can be dramatic, but this is exceptional pain. I have been asked before during IBD appointments if I experienced any pelvic pain, and I always said ‘no’, because I never really understood what was meant. Now that I lay here, unable to sit on my butt, with stabbing pains in my stomach, lower pelvis, and also in my butt, I realise that I do indeed experience pelvic pain related to IBD. I have experienced pelvic pain before, but clearly was not aware that that was what it is. Yet this that I am experiencing today is excruciating. I cannot sit, I cannot stand, my face is in a constant look of screwed up pain whilst I have also found myself shouting ‘ouch’ at numerous times today when I physically couldn’t continue what I was doing anymore due to the pain. In short: it really f*cking hurts.

Since moving to the US I also seem to have developed allergies. I have woken so many mornings feeling incredibly congested, sneezing non-stop and just generally feeling a bit sh*t. I actually thought I just had constant cases of the common cold, but it appears that is not the case. I clearly have allergies. I woke up like that today. The inside of my nose is so itchy that I would love to just remove my entire nose until the allergies stop. I took anti-allergy tables this morning in the hope that they might help a little. I already had some due to needing them to combat medication allergies which seem to arise every time I start new topical medication.

Despite all of this, I’ve actually had quite a productive day. I’ve crossed a few things off my list that needed doing, sent numerous emails that I hadn’t done earlier and also did some cleaning. I’m currently half laying, half sitting on the sofa in the only position that appears to help the current pelvic pain. If I had a picture, I would share, considering the current position is interesting to say the least, with almost half myself on the sofa, and the other half balancing in mid-air!

My skin has been reacting pretty well to my new acne medication, but since upping the dose last week, my skin has become so incredibly dry, itchy, sore and peeling. I know this is normal at this stage of treatment, but regardless, it sucks, and I am simply lathering on as much moisturiser as possible to simple bring some form of moisture and hydration back to my poor skin. At least the treatment is doing as it is supposed to. It is renewing the skin and removing the old skin, I almost feel like some form of reptile that sheds its skin throughout the year. I guess it’s a similar type of process, although it doesn’t happen quite like that. Imagine that, a full layer of your skin coming off in one piece. Urgh, that sounds gross.

Although it’s Easter weekend, this is not something that we get off in my current organisation. It seems very odd to me, as thought-out school and all my previous jobs up until this point I have always had easter off. I usually always took the long weekend to head home and see family, so as with last year, it seems a little odd to be spending it alone. However, my friends and family have come through, and during the week I received a wonderful parcel from my mum full of easter chocolate treats, my birthday cards from my parents, sister and grandma, easter cards and a cute little note from my mum. I also received parcels from C and A, both full of chocolates as my UK chocolate supply is very much at its end. I was incredibly grateful. My family really are wonderful. I was also sent another parcel but that is lost in the post and I am currently in the middle of a huge argument with the postal service here to try and locate it. It seems very unlikely; despite the fact it was sent tracked. So yeah, that sucks.

I took yesterday off regardless, as I had worked so much overtime that I had the time to take back. I, H, F and M went to the National Arboretum which was wonderful. Unfortunately, despite it being incredibly sunny, with wonderful blue skies, it was freezing. The wind was icy cold, and it was impossible to spend too much time outside with such a small child. To be totally honest, after an hour or so I was also ready to get warmed up I the car because it was just far too cold to be walking around in such a vast open space. We fully intend to go back once all the flowers are in full bloom and I hope whenever my mum gets to visit I can take her there too – because I know she would love it. I also found a flower that I thought was the cutest, most adorable thing ever, so I used my geeky plant app to find out what it was. As I guessed, it was a type of snowdrop, but was actually called a summer snowflake. I thought that was adorable. I must admit that I have become quite the plant nerd. I have always had such a huge love and appreciation for nature, but that has grown so much, and I very much enjoy having my lovely plants inside. I also would really love to start growing fruit and vegetables once I have some place to do so. Yesterday I re-potted my snake plant as it had had a child and the child was beginning to outgrow the pot. So now I have two!

I was determined to head down to the Tidal Basin this year to see the cherry blossoms. My mum was visiting to see them last year, and then covid happened and the National Park Service shut the Tidal Basin to the public completely because of covid regulations. This year, they said they would keep it open until they felt it was becoming too busy and then they would close it. So, me being me, decided that I was going to go anyway. I got up at 05:45 and got myself ready, before waiting for the sun to come up a little as I didn’t fancy walking through certain parts of town whilst it was still pitch-black dark. I reached the Tidal Basin at around 06:30 and began to walk around the loop. I had the most wonderful time and took some incredibly beautiful photos. I got to see the sun rise at the Lincoln Memorial and although there were still numerous people with the same idea at the Tidal Basin, it was still quieter than if I had gone later in the day. After taking a slow walk around and admiring the flowers, I finished the loop and then began my walk to work. I arrived at the office at 08:58 and by that point I had already walked six miles! I was very proud of myself, and just felt really good. It was a fabulous way to start the day and walking in nature just makes me so happy. I very much enjoyed taking photos and it once again made the urge to attend a photography class or course come to the forefront of my mind. I think after covid I will definitely look more into this. I do not want to become a professional photographer or anything like that, but I would love to know more about editing and the technical side of things. It would be a new skill that I would like to learn for myself. I’m excited at the prospect, yet I still need to buy the new DSLR camera that I have been talking about for the last 5+ years. I am always like this about any big purchase. I am so scared of making the wrong decision.

Next week I finally have a OBGYN appointment to finally address my PCOS and see what options are available to me. The UK didn’t seem to treat my PCOS as something that needed treating. I was pretty much told that it was not a concern until the time I decided to have children (if I ever made that decision). Seeing specialists here, I hear that they approach it much differently. There is treatment, so I am looking forward to hear about what they are. I have also been talking to R a lot recently about possibilities of freezing my eggs. I do not believe I want children, but I do not want to get to a point where my body no longer works at all and I regret not giving myself that option. I feel that I am perhaps getting a little ahead of myself as I do not even know if everything is even in working order, and I have a gut feeling that it’s not, and I would not be able to have children anyway. This is something that has never bothered me before, but the thought of it actually being confirms scares me, and actually really upsets me. I don’t like things being closed off to me. I want the option to be there, even it is unlikely that I will use it. Anyway, I guess we shall see. Perhaps that will be a whole other journey that I will find myself on.

In 20 days, I turn 29. Twenty-nine years old! Now, that is scary as hell. One more year till 30. Genuinely, the thought of that makes me feel sick. I feel grateful when people try to guess how old I am and actually think I am still in my early 20s. I assume dressing like an early 2000’s lesbian emo kid. I do like that I can do both though. I can be my grungy inner child who I have always been, but should I need to dress up for work and look professional, then I can do that, and I’m more than happy to do so. It’s funny though, I actually haven’t worn any work clothes for over a year, and I hate it. I would love to go back to wearing office wear, blazers, tailored trousers, shirts and smart dresses. I do hope we one day go back to looking professional, even if it is just for a few days a week.

[Blog title: Against The Current - that won’t save us].

#that won't save us #against the current #life #update #thoughts #feelings #thought #feeling #memory #memories #emotion #emotions #me #personal #diary #journal #journalling #writing #write

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cyb-by-lang · 4 years

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Cosmic Escape Velocity

Did a little bit of writing in the whole YYH situation thing! It’s silly. It also takes place during Hell Year in its own branch timeline.

Kei.

Yeah?

I suspect your personal fate and fortune may be… Isobu paused, clearly trying to come up with a single word that would sum up the disaster of Kei’s life. All of his tails swayed uncertainly in her mind.

Unlikely? Hilariously broken? Kei’s suggestions, as always, went over like a fleet of lead balloons. She didn’t react at all when Isobu mentally swatted at her with those tails in irritation, keeping her hands behind her back in perfect parade rest.

We are standing in the office of a thousand-year-old spiritual being that has a pacifier in his mouth, said Isobu, angling his palms as far up as they’d go without breaking his not-at-all-physical shell. He just didn’t have the limb rotation range. I am not sure there is a way to sum up this latest catastrophe without stretching the language.

Kei shifted her weight from her right foot to her left. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with just screaming.

I do not scream, Isobu huffed.

Too much dignity?

Not enough lung.

It was Kei’s turn to roll her eyes as subtly as she could.

“Are you even listening?” asked the baby, standing up in his chair to loom as far as he could over the top of his desk. The two mountains of paperwork to each side of him did not care, and in fact made him look even smaller. Despite the added weight of his spiritual energy—not chakra, as had been specified a few minutes ago—Kei didn’t take him much more seriously.

Look, she had the equivalent of a nuclear reactor implanted in her chest through spiritual surgery. There was only so much comparison to make.

Still, what Kei actually said was, “Of course, Koenma-sama. Sorry for the interruption.”

The baby sat back in his chair, frowning around his pacifier. “Then as I was saying, I can’t send you back to your starting point.” As Kei’s hopes for a quick resolution took a dive, he went on, “Going by your spiritual signature, you arrived from a world that has a different wave pattern from our own. Forcing your way through during convergence must have cost tremendous amounts of energy—”

Well, it wasn’t like I passed out in a bush on purpose, Kei thought despairingly, silently cursing her circumstances for the umpteenth time. Koenma’s attendants had picked her up, dusted her off, and plopped her in front of their boss with barely any time to react.

“—but once the intersection period passes, that cost skyrockets. By a factor of a hundred.” Koenma laced his pudgy baby fingers together as far in front of his face as they’d reach, a contemplative look crossing his expression as he observed her. “How well do you understand the concept of a leyline?”

Kei considered. Then she unfolded her arms and brought her hand to her chin, to facilitate her thinking. It was probably a placebo effect, but it made her feel better. “I don’t know if you’re going for the ‘weak point in reality’ or the ‘source of magic’ version, but I think I get the basic idea.”

She’d only read enough fantasy novels to fill her entire brain with tropes.

Koenma stared at her with his eyes narrowed almost to slits, as though trying to decide if she was being facetious or not. “Well, you must have found a leyline from your home world at the exact moment the waveforms met. And whether you knew it would happen or not, using any kind of spiritual energy near something that volatile has…consequences.”

Of the wormhole kind, Kei thought.

Your luck is atrocious.

“But this is no time to give up hope,” Koenma said firmly, wagging one finger. “Your world’s wavelength is appreciably short by human standards! The best time for sending you home could be anywhere in the next year to the next four. It’s certainly better than the half-century for some worlds. Some others haven’t come back in my entire lifetime!”

Kei shot a mental glare at Isobu. You were saying?

I stand corrected. It is worse.

Kei took a careful, meditative breath to steel her nerves. No time for freaking out. She could have her moment of wordless panic when she could find a corner to cry in without being observed. Even the emotional deadening of the last few months couldn’t stand up to this. “I see.”

Koenma’s face scrunched into a frown. If it was ever going to be less strange hearing fully-formed sentence coming out of that face, Kei didn’t imagine it’d be any time soon. Then: “In the meantime, would you like to have a job?”

Kei’s thoughts screeched to a halt. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s not the same as a solution; just a stopgap,” Koenma explained patiently. “But if I understand humans, it’s better to have something to keep your hands busy than to sit around in despair until a miracle falls into your lap.”

“What kind of job?” Kei asked, careful to keep the suspicion from seeping into her voice. She’d had more than enough contracts go bad in the midst of her long deployment to learn a little caution. Sensei filtered what he could, but now Kei was out of his reach.

And she hadn’t said no, so Koenma leaned forward in his seat with full lecture mode engaged. “I have a new spirit detective—a boy a few years younger than you—undergoing training to improve his combat skills. But while he’s busy getting whipped into shape, I don’t have anyone to handle his workload.” Koenma’s half-hidden eyes gleamed. “Are you interested?”

“What does the job entail?” Kei asked, as most of her sense of humor dropped right out of her body. Even if she didn’t know where she was, some things never changed. It wouldn’t be her first time being hired halfway through a contract, though it was always at Sensei’s discretion. There had to be a reason why a person whose agents had found her in a bush under a purple sky, in the land of the dead, thought she would be useful for his purposes.

Koenma replied, “In your case, it mostly means completing any minor missions he can’t. Stamping out trouble caused by apparitions of all kinds, but especially demons. Your duties will change after he returns.”

Something in the back of Kei’s head started itching, like a thought she’d forgotten sometime over the last seventeen years. The blanket of emotional exhaustion was too thick to avoid smothering it.

I will look for it.

Thanks.

Kei’s gaze roved slowly around the room, from the stacks of paperwork to the employer offering her busy work. “Let me read and edit the contract before I sign anything. I’d also like any reference material you have on apparitions, and maybe an assistant if you have one to spare.”

Something in Koenma’s expression softened, at least as far as Kei could tell. Babies did not have terribly suitable faces for adult emotions. “I’ll send for Ayame-san. She’ll also be your contact if you do decide to take me up on this offer.”

“Thank you, Koenma-sama,” Kei said, because it didn’t hurt to be polite to a god who administered the afterlife. Sure, Kei was a little corporeal to be a resident, but that could always change.

Kei barely paid attention as the oni attendants bustled around the pastel office and eventually escorted her out into a waiting room. While blue- or red-skinned humanoids registered as unusual, the sheer number of them running around like headless chickens cut down on the unfamiliarity quickly. They were just barely clambering up the slope on the uncanny valley in their tiger-skin loincloths, and most of them ignored her presence entirely.

I wonder if that is a self-preservation instinct.

If any of them can tell you’re here, it is. Kei, sitting in an armchair no more comfortable than those plastic abominations in a waiting room at a hospital, mostly let the world pass her by. Do you think anyone’s realized we’re gone?

I doubt the nearest jōnin has, Isobu muttered resentfully. Then, more thoughtfully, he said, The crane might have.

Kei’s hand shot to her mouth before she’d even articulated her thoughts. Using her kunai would be more sanitary, but hell, she was in the land of the dead. She bit down on her knuckle with one canine, drawing blood for the contract. Then her hands flew through the hand signs with barely enough time to name them: Boar, Dog, Bird, Monkey, Ram.

For a split second after she slammed her hand into the nearby coffee table, Kei’s nerves jangled with fear. What if this doesn’t work? What if I do this wrong and Tsuruya gets hurt—

Chakra-derived ink spread across the wood in a familiar pattern. Sure, the drain behind the technique was an order of magnitude higher than anything she’d expected. And sure, that usually meant bad things, and she was probably breaking several interworld rules in one fell swoop.

But Kei didn’t care.

Because, amid the sudden burst of white chakra smoke and the terrified screaming of oni office workers, she heard a familiar voice say, “Keisuke-sama? Did you call for me?”

Tsuruya beat her wings once, sending paperwork flying through the air along with the rapidly dissipating smoke, much to the dismay of the oni audience as the flailed after their disrupted files. Once she could see, she jerked her dark head to see Kei better with one eye, then the other. Then she folded her huge wings against her sides and bowed low.

Kei launched herself out of the chair and hugged Tsuruya’s three-meter bulk with enough force that her crane companion let out a startled honking noise.

“I missed you too,” Tsuruya said once she regained her balance, dropping her beak to rest against Kei’s back. Her wing looped around Kei, shielding them both with metal-edged feathers. “Though if you do not mind my asking, where are we?”

Kei said, “Probably the afterlife?” but was so muffled by her summoned friend’s feathers that she didn’t get a response.

“My apologies, but I do not think I caught what you said,” Tsuruya said. When this, too, failed to incite an audible response, Tsuruya changed tactics.

“Ow!”

By hitting Kei in the head with her beak, just like old times.

It was at this point in Tsuruya’s fussing that they were interrupted by a polite cough. Kei kept one arm slung around Tsuruya’s neck as the two of them turned to face the interloper.

A dark-haired woman stood amid the chaos of the oni attendants’ panic, expression placid. She wore a black kimono and carried a centimeter-thick stack of paper bound neatly with gold thread, along with an oar strapped to her back.

She bowed.

“Can I help you…?” Kei prompted, after managing a half-assed bow despite her stance.

“Ayame, Gekkō-san. I have your contract.” When she straightened, Ayame added, “If you’ll come this way, there is a side room where we can discuss terms in private.”

“Are you helping represent my interest or those of the spirit world?” Kei kept the obligatory lawyer joke tucked well inside her skull.

“I only want to help both parties come to a compromise.”

Well, that was helpful. “Thank you, Ayame-san. Please lead the way.”

-----

An hour later, Koenma received the modified contract and began to read it, while Tsuruya, Kei, and Ayame all stood around. Of the three, only Ayame seemed perfectly in place.

Ten minutes after that, the oni outside his office were startled to hear a cry of “How many thousand yen per month?!”

Kei stared down his fury with patience born of entirely too long spent alone and nail-biting desperation. “I’m still human. I’ll need to pay rent, buy food, and obtain supplies while living in whichever city I need to cover. And I know what my expertise is worth.”

Koenma gaped at her for a moment longer, only avoiding the goldfish impression by dint of his pacifier, then glared down at the contact. As he perused it with increasing fervor, he muttered under his breath.

Kei caught the words “unbelievable” and “never in my life” and “not made of money.”

Over Koenma’s shoulder, Ayame smiled faintly.

“FINE!” Koenma burst out at last, throwing down his fountain pen in defeat after almost fifteen minutes of desperate rereading. “It’s legally sound, and you have a point about living world expenses. But when the call comes, you need to be ready to fight! Is that clear?”

Kei bowed in full shinobi style, dropping to one knee with her head angled toward the floor. Koenma didn’t need to know she was hiding a smile for, however tangentially, managing to frustrate a god. “Of course, Koenma-sama.”

Oh, he may regret that.

“Then get out of my office! Ayame, show her how to get everything organized so she can start as soon as possible!”

Ayame swept Kei and Tsuruya out of the room amid the god-child’s impending tantrum. While Kei sat sidesaddle on Ayame’s oar as they took flight, Tsuruya pumped her huge wings and trailed in their slipstream with deceptive ease.

“I look forward to working with you, Ayame-san,” Kei said, though even she wasn’t sure how sincere she was. “Please take care of me.”

Still, Ayame replied, “Like one of our own, Keisuke-san.”

It wasn’t until they’d landed in some human city that Kei realized, however belatedly, that she’d never told anyone her name. And that to be in the spirit world meant she’d been separated from her real body. Which was, of course, also lying in a bush.

All she could say to that, once she was again on her own two feet, was, “Well, that figures.”

Dead twice she could remember, and all she got out of it was a job.

#catch your breath fanfic #crossover #yuyu hakusho #keisuke gekko #isobu #tsuruya #koenma #cosmic escape velocity

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mooksie01 · 4 years

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With Teammates Like These, Who Needs Friends? (1/5)

Summary: Clover doesn't care what the other Ace Ops have to say, he absolutely does NOT have a crush on Huntsman Branwen. He just admires his skill on the battlefield. And the visible results of his obviously-excellent training regiment. And his gorgeous eyes. And his mysterious demeanor. And voice.

Okay, Clover might have just a little bit of a crush on Huntsman Branwen, but that doesn't matter, because if the other Ace Ops are going to tease him relentlessly for it, then he just won't pursue any relationship with the guy!

...Maybe.

Warnings: None, really, for this chapter. Death mention in the context of a joke. Gratuitous bullying of teammates. Spoilers for RWBY Volume 7.

AO3 Link: [X]

Notes: Hey, so... I haven't really written for fun in over four years. Which. Is pretty crazy to think about. But my New Year's Resolution this year is to get back into it because it used to make me really happy. With that said, I'm pretty rusty nowadays, so I'm sorry if any of this reads a little awkwardly. I'm hoping to get back to the level I used to be at with some practice, but I know it'll take time. This fic is mainly my effort at shaking the dust off with my current favorite show and favorite ship. I hope you all enjoy! Please like, reblog, and comment if you have the time to do so, I'd really appreciate some encouragement while I get back into the swing of things! FAIR GAME RIGHTS!!

---

Clover can’t say that he isn’t expecting it, but even he is a little taken by surprise when, only mere seconds after closing the door to the Ace Ops’ commons, a heavy hand lands on his shoulder and spins him around with enough force to make him dizzy.

Elm’s ecstatic face immediately fills his entire field of vision.

Oh, Brothers.

“Clover!”

He attempts to wave her off, feeling his face grow hot. “I’m trying to head to bed, Elm. Gotta be up bright and early tomorrow, you know.”

Her shit-eating grin only grows larger. Her vice-grip tightens. He will not be escaping any time soon. His death warrant is signed and hidden somewhere in the mess that Elm calls her quarters.

Elm manhandles him to the couch and shoves him down to sit, then flops down next to him and tosses her wrapped feet onto the coffee table.

He wrinkles his nose. “Elm, please. I’ve talked to you about your feet and the table.”

Ignoring him (as she so often does) Elm simply continues to grin smugly at him. “Who would’ve thought?! Our very own captain!”

Clover rolls his eyes in what he hopes to be a clear sign of his exasperation.

“Elm, what are you even talking about?” Marrow pipes up from where he is leaning against the wall. His arms are crossed over his chest in a deliberate attempt to appear uninterested, though his faintly wagging tail gives him away. Clover hadn’t even noticed him until he’d spoken.

Looking around, he realizes that all of his subordinates are standing about the room, watching the interaction with varying degrees of interest. Just great. He considers whether or not it would be worth it to attempt to preemptively write Elm up for not-yet-conducted insubordination.

Hm. He probably isn’t allowed to do that.

He startles as Elm yanks her feet off the table next to him, instead throwing herself forward so she can bang her fist against the helpless furniture to punctuate her next statement, “Our captain has a crush on Huntsman Branwen!”

“Elm,” Harriet sighs, “stop being an idiot. Again. You know that he--”

Clover pulls himself away from Elm and her interrogation couch. He stands up, straight-backed, falling into a parade rest that has his shoulders held just a little too tightly to his ears, positive that his face is red. “That’s enough,” he orders, voice as firm as he can make it, “what I do is none of your concern, Elm. Nor anyone else’s. This conversation is… unprofessional, to say the least. And it’s over.”

Rather than be appropriately cowed by his scolding, Elm only flashes him an even bigger smile. On the other side of the room, Harriet makes a choking sound and starts to sputter, “Holy shit, you are--!”

Elm jumps to her feet, swinging a muscular arm over his shoulders. “I think you mean ‘who you do,’ Captain!”

Clover shrugs her off, scowling. “Elm!” His mind races, attempting to formulate a way to escape this horrible situation, but it seems that no amount of luck is getting him out of this one.

“Well,” Vine rubs speculatively at his chin, finally deciding to contribute something to this dumpster-fire of a conversation, and Clover makes the split-second mistake of hoping that he will be the voice of reason to shut the whole thing down, “you can hardly blame our captain. Huntsman Branwen is, objectively, quite conventionally attractive. Not to mention his skill-level and renown in the field and all of the good he has done in the ongoing battle against Salem….”

Clover feels his soul die a little.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Marrow throws his hands up in the air, his tail raised in visible agitation. “What are we, a buncha kids? You’ve known the guy for five minutes!”

Elm laughs uproariously, “And he stared at Huntsman Branwen for all five! Not to mention the extra twenty seconds when he was watching him walk away!”

Harriet gags. She looks incredibly annoyed and vaguely disgusted at this turn of events.

“That really is enough--!” Clover tries.

“Really?” Vine tilts his head, coming a few steps closer. He peers at Clover in a speculative manner. “It seems to me that it would be difficult to catch a glimpse of Huntsman Branwen’s posterior, considering that the cape he wears covers it quite effectively. Are you sure, Elm, that that is what Clover was doing?”

“Haha!” Elm raises her hand for a high-five, which her partner passively returns.

Clover is sure his skin-tone must faintly resemble that of the Atlas Academy mess hall’s tomato soup by now. He had not been staring at Huntsman Branwen’s ass. Even if he were interested in Qrow Branwen like that, he’s too much of a gentleman to do such a thing. Besides, there were plenty of other attractive aspects of Huntsman Branwen to focus on without having to drool over his “posterior” like some sort of mangy grimm. Like his soft vermillion eyes; or his trim waist; or his hair, which looked like the shining feathers of his namesake; or his elegant hands, undoubtedly calloused from so many years of handling his weapon so skillfully…. He swallows hard and feels his face flare up anew as he realizes what train of thought he’d been taking.

Looking up, he catches Elm smirking at him again. Marrow and Harriet have near-matching expressions of distaste. Vine is merely studying him with even more interest than before.

He opens his mouth to retaliate, only for Vine to cut him off, clasping his hands behind his back in a move so prim that it leaves Clover completely unprepared for what he says next: “I believe our captain was just lost in thought about Huntsman Branwen’s posterior again.”

Clover coughs hard, choking on his own spit. Vaguely, he registers the sound of Elm exploding into further laughter at his expense.

“Oh, ew, ew, ew!” Marrow covers his ears, baring his teeth at Vine and Elm and probably also Clover.

Harriet simply glowers at all of them, “I did not need to know that.”

After a moment, Clover pulls himself together. He glares at his attackers, “Elm,” he snarls, “Vine.”

Vine takes an even step back, cocking his head inquisitively, “I apologize, did I say something incorrect?”

Elm loops her bicep around her partner’s neck in a pseudo-chokehold that he makes no attempt to remove himself from. “No, Vine, but I believe that’s our cue to leave!” She extricates herself from him and once again brings her hand down hard on Clover’s shoulder, having apparently never learned that it isn’t wise to poke an angry bear. “Don’t worry, boss, I’ll make sure to keep an extra eye out for your little bird!” She winks and pats him a few times with enough force to jolt his entire upper torso. “Though I’m sure you’ll already have that handled!”

Then, in a blink, she has removed herself from the room, Vine following behind her at a more sedate pace.

They are going to be facing so much disciplinary action, Clover thinks furiously. They will be scrubbing the floors for months. He turns to face Harriet and Marrow, who are somehow still in the room, staring at him. He crosses his arms firmly over his chest, “Do either of you have something to add?”

Marrow merely shakes his head and turns tail to leave.

Harriet looks him over for a moment longer, then makes a sharp tsk’ing sound with her tongue. “Gross.”

She spins on her heel and walks down the hallway that leads to each of their personal rooms.

Clover sighs heavily and plops back down on the couch. It is going to be a long however-many-months with Huntsman Branwen and his students here.

Still, he can certainly make it easier on himself by avoiding working with the other man. Even if he is incredibly attractive….

(No! Bad Clover!)

Everything will go over much more smoothly if he just isn’t seen staring at or talking to or even vaguely thinking about Huntsman Branwen from here on out.

---

More Notes: So, that was the first chapter! I hope you liked it and that it made your day a little brighter :)

The first installment is already completely finished minus some light editing. Stuff from here on out will probably be formatted as oneshots rather than chaptered fics, but I wanted this first part to be a bit longer and explore the very beginnings of our boys' relationship, with particular emphasis on Clover being a Secret Gay Disaster. Is that actually my headcanon for the show? Nah. Is that what this fic turned into? Absolutely.

Anyway, I'm currently deciding whether I want to post one chapter everyday for the next four days to finish this story up or if I want to post every other day. If anyone has any opinions on that, I'd be glad to hear them.

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chrisbitten123 · 4 years

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Electronic Music History and Today's Best Modern Proponents!

lectronic music history pre-dates the rock and roll era by decades. Most of us were not even on this planet when it began its often obscure, under-appreciated and misunderstood development. Today, this 'other worldly' body of sound which began close to a century ago, may no longer appear strange and unique as new generations have accepted much of it as mainstream, but it's had a bumpy road and, in finding mass audience acceptance, a slow one.

Many musicians - the modern proponents of electronic music - developed a passion for analogue synthesizers in the late 1970's and early 1980's with signature songs like Gary Numan's breakthrough, 'Are Friends Electric?'. It was in this era that these devices became smaller, more accessible, more user friendly and more affordable for many of us. In this article I will attempt to trace this history in easily digestible chapters and offer examples of today's best modern proponents.

To my mind, this was the beginning of a new epoch. To create electronic music, it was no longer necessary to have access to a roomful of technology in a studio or live. Hitherto, this was solely the domain of artists the likes of Kraftwerk, whose arsenal of electronic instruments and custom built gadgetry the rest of us could only have dreamed of, even if we could understand the logistics of their functioning. Having said this, at the time I was growing up in the 60's & 70's, I nevertheless had little knowledge of the complexity of work that had set a standard in previous decades to arrive at this point.

The history of electronic music owes much to Karlheinz Stockhausen (1928-2007). Stockhausen was a German Avante Garde composer and a pioneering figurehead in electronic music from the 1950's onwards, influencing a movement that would eventually have a powerful impact upon names such as Kraftwerk, Tangerine Dream, Brain Eno, Cabaret Voltaire, Depeche Mode, not to mention the experimental work of the Beatles' and others in the 1960's. His face is seen on the cover of "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band", the Beatles' 1967 master Opus. Let's start, however, by traveling a little further back in time.

The Turn of the 20th Century

Time stood still for this stargazer when I originally discovered that the first documented, exclusively electronic, concerts were not in the 1970's or 1980's but in the 1920's!

The first purely electronic instrument, the Theremin, which is played without touch, was invented by Russian scientist and cellist, Lev Termen (1896-1993), circa 1919.

In 1924, the Theremin made its concert debut with the Leningrad Philharmonic. Interest generated by the theremin drew audiences to concerts staged across Europe and Britain. In 1930, the prestigious Carnegie Hall in New York, experienced a performance of classical music using nothing but a series of ten theremins. Watching a number of skilled musicians playing this eerie sounding instrument by waving their hands around its antennae must have been so exhilarating, surreal and alien for a pre-tech audience!

For those interested, check out the recordings of Theremin virtuoso Clara Rockmore (1911-1998). Lithuanian born Rockmore (Reisenberg) worked with its inventor in New York to perfect the instrument during its early years and became its most acclaimed, brilliant and recognized performer and representative throughout her life.

In retrospect Clara, was the first celebrated 'star' of genuine electronic music. You are unlikely to find more eerie, yet beautiful performances of classical music on the Theremin. She's definitely a favorite of mine!

Electronic Music in Sci-Fi, Cinema and Television

Unfortunately, and due mainly to difficulty in skill mastering, the Theremin's future as a musical instrument was short lived. Eventually, it found a niche in 1950's Sci-Fi films. The 1951 cinema classic "The Day the Earth Stood Still", with a soundtrack by influential American film music composer Bernard Hermann (known for Alfred Hitchcock's "Psycho", etc.), is rich with an 'extraterrestrial' score using two Theremins and other electronic devices melded with acoustic instrumentation.

Using the vacuum-tube oscillator technology of the Theremin, French cellist and radio telegraphist, Maurice Martenot (1898-1980), began developing the Ondes Martenot (in French, known as the Martenot Wave) in 1928.

Employing a standard and familiar keyboard which could be more easily mastered by a musician, Martenot's instrument succeeded where the Theremin failed in being user-friendly. In fact, it became the first successful electronic instrument to be used by composers and orchestras of its period until the present day. http://www.chrisbitten.com/

It is featured on the theme to the original 1960's TV series "Star Trek", and can be heard on contemporary recordings by the likes of Radiohead and Brian Ferry.

The expressive multi-timbral Ondes Martenot, although monophonic, is the closest instrument of its generation I have heard which approaches the sound of modern synthesis.

"Forbidden Planet", released in 1956, was the first major commercial studio film to feature an exclusively electronic soundtrack... aside from introducing Robbie the Robot and the stunning Anne Francis! The ground-breaking score was produced by husband and wife team Louis and Bebe Barron who, in the late 1940's, established the first privately owned recording studio in the USA recording electronic experimental artists such as the iconic John Cage (whose own Avante Garde work challenged the definition of music itself!).

The Barrons are generally credited for having widening the application of electronic music in cinema. A soldering iron in one hand, Louis built circuitry which he manipulated to create a plethora of bizarre, 'unearthly' effects and motifs for the movie. Once performed, these sounds could not be replicated as the circuit would purposely overload, smoke and burn out to produce the desired sound result.

Consequently, they were all recorded to tape and Bebe sifted through hours of reels edited what was deemed usable, then re-manipulated these with delay and reverberation and creatively dubbed the end product using multiple tape decks.

In addition to this laborious work method, I feel compelled to include that which is, arguably, the most enduring and influential electronic Television signature ever: the theme to the long running 1963 British Sci-Fi adventure series, "Dr. Who". It was the first time a Television series featured a solely electronic theme. The theme to "Dr. Who" was created at the legendary BBC Radiophonic Workshop using tape loops and test oscillators to run through effects, record these to tape, then were re-manipulated and edited by another Electro pioneer, Delia Derbyshire, interpreting the composition of Ron Grainer.

As you can see, electronic music's prevalent usage in vintage Sci-Fi was the principle source of the general public's perception of this music as being 'other worldly' and 'alien-bizarre sounding'. This remained the case till at least 1968 with the release of the hit album "Switched-On Bach" performed entirely on a Moog modular synthesizer by Walter Carlos (who, with a few surgical nips and tucks, subsequently became Wendy Carlos).

The 1970's expanded electronic music's profile with the break through of bands like Kraftwerk and Tangerine Dream, and especially the 1980's when it found more mainstream acceptance.

The Mid 1900's: Musique Concrete

In its development through the 1900's, electronic music was not solely confined to electronic circuitry being manipulated to produce sound. Back in the 1940's, a relatively new German invention - the reel-to-reel tape recorder developed in the 1930's - became the subject of interest to a number of Avante Garde European composers, most notably the French radio broadcaster and composer Pierre Schaeffer (1910-1995) who developed a montage technique he called Musique Concrete.

Musique Concrete (meaning 'real world' existing sounds as opposed to artificial or acoustic ones produced by musical instruments) broadly involved the splicing together of recorded segments of tape containing 'found' sounds - natural, environmental, industrial and human - and manipulating these with effects such as delay, reverb, distortion, speeding up or slowing down of tape-speed (varispeed), reversing, etc.

Stockhausen actually held concerts utilizing his Musique Concrete works as backing tapes (by this stage electronic as well as 'real world' sounds were used on the recordings) on top of which live instruments would be performed by classical players responding to the mood and motifs they were hearing!

Musique Concrete had a wide impact not only on Avante Garde and effects libraries, but also on the contemporary music of the 1960's and 1970's. Important works to check are the Beatles' use of this method in ground-breaking tracks like 'Tomorrow Never Knows', 'Revolution No. 9' and 'Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite', as well as Pink Floyd albums "Umma Gumma", "Dark Side of the Moon" and Frank Zappa's "Lumpy Gravy". All used tape cut-ups and home-made tape loops often fed live into the main mixdown.

Today this can be performed with simplicity using digital sampling, but yesterday's heroes labored hours, days and even weeks to perhaps complete a four minute piece! For those of us who are contemporary musicians, understanding the history of electronic music helps in appreciating the quantum leap technology has taken in the recent period. But these early innovators, these pioneers - of which there are many more down the line - and the important figures they influenced that came before us, created the revolutionary groundwork that has become our electronic musical heritage today and for this I pay them homage!

1950's: The First Computer and Synth Play Music

Moving forward a few years to 1957 and enter the first computer into the electronic mix. As you can imagine, it wasn't exactly a portable laptop device but consumed a whole room and user friendly wasn't even a concept. Nonetheless creative people kept pushing the boundaries. One of these was Max Mathews (1926 -) from Bell Telephone Laboratories, New Jersey, who developed Music 1, the original music program for computers upon which all subsequent digital synthesis has its roots based. Mathews, dubbed the 'Father of Computer Music', using a digital IBM Mainframe, was the first to synthesize music on a computer.

In the climax of Stanley Kubrik's 1968 movie '2001: A Space Odyssey', use is made of a 1961 Mathews' electronic rendition of the late 1800's song 'Daisy Bell'. Here the musical accompaniment is performed by his programmed mainframe together with a computer-synthesized human 'singing' voice technique pioneered in the early 60's. In the movie, as HAL the computer regresses, 'he' reverts to this song, an homage to 'his' own origins.

1957 also witnessed the first advanced synth, the RCA Mk II Sound Synthesizer (an improvement on the 1955 original). It also featured an electronic sequencer to program music performance playback. This massive RCA Synth was installed, and still remains, at the Columbia-Princeton Electronic Music Center, New York, where the legendary Robert Moog worked for a while. Universities and Tech laboratories were the main home for synth and computer music experimentation in that early era.

1960's: The Dawning of The Age of Moog

The logistics and complexity of composing and even having access to what were, until then, musician unfriendly synthesizers, led to a demand for more portable playable instruments. One of the first to respond, and definitely the most successful, was Robert Moog (1934-2005). His playable synth employed the familiar piano style keyboard.

Moog's bulky telephone-operators' cable plug-in type of modular synth was not one to be transported and set up with any amount of ease or speed! But it received an enormous boost in popularity with the success of Walter Carlos, as previously mentioned, in 1968. His LP (Long Player) best seller record "Switched-On Bach" was unprecedented because it was the first time an album appeared of fully synthesized music, as opposed to experimental sound pieces.

The album was a complex classical music performance with various multi-tracks and overdubs necessary, as the synthesizer was only monophonic! Carlos also created the electronic score for "A Clockwork Orange", Stanley Kubrik's disturbing 1972 futuristic film.

From this point, the Moog synth is prevalent on a number of late 1960's contemporary albums. In 1967 the Monkees' "Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn & Jones Ltd" became the first commercial pop album release to feature the modular Moog. In fact, singer/drummer Mickey Dolenz purchased one of the very first units sold.

It wasn't until the early 1970's, however, when the first Minimoog appeared that interest seriously developed amongst musicians. This portable little unit with a fat sound had a significant impact becoming part of live music kit for many touring musicians for years to come. Other companies such as Sequential Circuits, Roland and Korg began producing their own synths, giving birth to a music subculture.

I cannot close the chapter on the 1960's, however, without reference to the Mellotron. This electronic-mechanical instrument is often viewed as the primitive precursor to the modern digital sampler.

Developed in early 1960's Britain and based on the Chamberlin (a cumbersome US-designed instrument from the previous decade), the Mellotron keyboard triggered pre-recorded tapes, each key corresponding to the equivalent note and pitch of the pre-loaded acoustic instrument.

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