#these two are so canon i audibly GASPED | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

meiieiri · 11 months ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 [gojo satoru]

synopsis: in every other universe and lifetime he has yet to lead, megumi will always cherish the painfully brief time he felt the warmth of a proper family and would have gladly referred to himself as the son of the strongest.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader | song inspo: chemtrails over the country club, scott street | visuals: megumi’s jacket

warnings: angst-ish, canon-compliant violence (mostly caused by our pookie wookie megumi who doesn’t tolerate scumbag bullies), mentions of bullying, and possible (bc i’m delulu) character death. | a/n: i just want megumi to have one last moment with his dad please, gege, i’m on my knees here. also hehe, get the title? ya’ll get it? someone please shove that arctic-haired freak to the NORTH! 🥹

Nobara Kugisaki is the classic definition of an Instagram girlie with a passion for fashion.

Honestly, she could appropriately appraise clothes without a second glance, and she could differentiate big fashion brands just by the fabric and silhouette alone even without a brand logo.

It happened on a Monday afternoon while she and Yuji were having a quick coffee in the lounge. Yuji is currently playing one of his Nintendo Switch MMORPG games that he bought from the mall last Saturday while Nobara was scrolling through her phone, swiping left as she watches her mutuals’ Instagram stories. The trio is incomplete today since Megumi mentioned he’ll be running some errands with you and Satoru today.

After positively getting envious of Mei Mei’s supposed extravagant shopping trip in Ginza today, Kugisaki promptly mutes any stories from her for a full twenty four hours. Then, as she swipes left yet again, she nearly drops her phone on the ground which would pretty much set her off on a rampage because she just got its LCD screen fixed. But luckily, she holds onto it.

“Fushiguro has an Instagram account?!”

Yuji himself hits pause on the game he’s playing and leans over the table to see what Kugisaki is talking about. No way. Fushiguro? That sulky, couldn’t-be-bothered-to-care-but-I-actually-do-care embodiment of teenage angst having an Instagram handle? What would he even post on there?

Their questions are answered as Fushiguro’s feed pops up, and it’s filled with his pictures, but that’s not the issue. The two dunderheads didn’t seem to mind that in every photo, Megumi looked like a magazine cover boy, what caught their attention is the apparel he’s wearing.

“What the hell?! He’s wearing Arc’teryx?” Kugisaki couldn’t believe it. She zooms in on the candid shot of Megumi in what looks to be a ski resort and an audible gasp escapes her throat. No way. No frigging way. She does a quick image search and sure enough, she is redirected to Arc’teryx’s official website. See? Kugisaki never misses when it comes to fashion.

Yuji’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when he sees the price tag. “One thousand five hundred US dollars?!”

“And look at this! He’s literally tagged in Gojo and Y/N-sensei’s stories.”

Sure enough, the first they see is Satoru’s story which has a video of you picking out new clothes from the rack for Megumi to try on in the fitting room. You looked so cute and teeny tiny next to the teenager and Kugisaki giggles at the thought you walking around with two literal giants in the mall, one of them being your ward and the other, your arctic-haired husband of three years.

“There’s another one!” Itadori says excitedly. The next is a story you took, it’s a photo of Megumi and Gojo, their backs turned and their hands fully occupied by shopping bags, seemingly unaware of the camera. In the photo, they’re checking out new sneakers in Onitsuka Tiger’s storefront window. In a flash, Kugisaki switches off her phone, and immediately begins to head out the door. “Hey, where’re you going?”

Nobara knows that particular galleria, it should be in Tokyo Midtown. “Out, maybe I could borrow Gojo-sensei’s or Y/N-sensei’s credit card!”

“Are you sure you don’t need me to come along?”

Gojo chuckles under his breath. It’s honestly amusing how you won’t normally ask that, given his newfound title as the strongest Jujutsu sorcerer of this generation. A skirmish with a grade two cursed spirit? Pfft. That’s practically child’s play to your white-haired boyfriend. A rogue grade one cursed spirit that turned out to be a special grade? Maybe you’ll sneak some bandages in his bag just in case. Bottom line is you wholeheartedly trust Satoru will always make it out of a mission in one piece.

But here you were seemingly more tense than usual which is incomprehensible because today’s hardly dangerous mission is simple.

Track down the son of Toji Fushiguro.

“I think I got it, babe.” Satoru leans his head in through the rolled down car window to plant a kiss on your forehead. He pats your cheek lovingly, setting off in the direction of the house after taking one last confirmatory look at the address written down in the file sheet. “Well, let’s hope he’s nothing like his dad. Promise you’ll check on me if I don’t come back in an hour?” he teases.

You lightly slap his wrist. Sometimes you wonder how you fell in love with this literal man-child. He’s just so insufferable. Gorgeous in every way but insufferable all the same. “I’m pretty sure a six-year-old boy isn’t gonna try to murder you. If he does, let the record show that I sympathize with him completely.”

“You meanie!”

Sticking his tongue out at you when you blow him a kiss, he disappears into the small street adjacent to the neighborhood’s main road. Coming here, Satoru was uncharacteristically nervous. At the rest stop earlier, you watched the scene tensely from the convenience store window. For once, the obnoxiously loud sorcerer was quiet, hands in his uniform pockets, his cerulean orbs trained on the pavement, his foot kicking the asphalt pebbles on the ground, deep in thought.

To be honest, he had no obligation to make the journey here even if this entire affair was born from Toji Fushiguro’s final words that sounded almost like a desperate plea. “In two or three years, my kid will be sold off to the Zenin clan. Do whatever you will with that.” Satoru doesn’t know why — he’s not exactly the brightest when it comes to his interpersonal relationship skills so he could be wrong about this — but those twenty one words sounded more like four simple words: “Please save my son.”

And so, in a matter of only thirty minutes, you spot Satoru from afar, his hand protectively around his would have been assassin’s six-year-old son as they walk back to the car. Looks like the little boy had made his choice.

And you could see with the way Satoru protectively held Megumi back from crossing the street on a green light that he has also made his choice. Just thirty minutes ago, you were bantering with the version of Satoru that would be reluctant to go out of his way to help someone, now, you were face to face with someone new, someone who has been changed almost in a blink of an eye.

Stepping out of the car, you make your way towards the pair, a faint smile on your lips at the sight of Megumi’s tiny backpack slung over Satoru’s shoulder. Your boyfriend gently nudges Megumi over in your direction, introducing him and you crouch down to meet the little boy’s hesitant eyes. “Hi there, Megumi.” Your voice is as carefully gentle as a psalm, you didn’t want to overwhelm him more than he probably already is. “I’m Y/N.”

“Hello.”

“Ice cold,” Satoru whistles, ruffling Megumi’s hair. But you figured that would be the case. A quiet breath of laughter comes from Satoru when you smile endearingly at the kid’s curtness.

As the three of you settle into the backseat, you and Satoru share a fond look when Megumi who has acted all guarded and silent the entire ride home from Chiba begins to drift off to sleep, his arms hugging his backpack but he was dangerously teetering off the seat, so Satoru gently picks him up, allowing him to lay his tiny head on his shoulder.

“He’s gonna stick around with us for a long time, huh?” you whispered, rubbing Megumi’s back as he slept soundly in Satoru’s arms, the three of yu blissfully unaware of just how much your life has changed. You came to Chiba and there was only you and Satoru, now, you were three. And though you know Satoru doesn’t intend to step in as a guardian, you could tell he was slowly settling into the inevitability of that fact. This boy needed a new start, a home, and people to guide him as he grew.

“…Yeah, he will,” Satoru answers, his eyes filled with wonder himself. Earlier when he first met Megumi, he told him to become strong enough to keep up with him.

But for now, maybe this was enough.

For the most part, Megumi is a good kid.

He diligently helps you with the housework without needing to be told twice the same way he diligently trains under Gojo’s tutelage. He studies hard despite only being in primary school, and he’s well-mannered in every way…at least to you, the kid won’t pass up the opportunity to scowl and call Satoru a lanky freak when he’s being pestered by him.

Because he’s so young to be sleeping in Tokyo Jujutsu High’s dormitories, you and Satoru settled into the idea of renting an apartment near the campus premises. Since you and Satoru are eighteen years old now, it was high time that the two of you start growing into your roles as functional adults which means leasing an apartment, paying the bills, growing your careers and taking your relationship to the next level.

Of course, you and Satoru both piled in cash when it comes to raising Megumi. Satoru mostly shouldered rent, monthly utilities and Megumi’s tuition, being a rich guy like him, those were practically small beans to him. You, on the other hand, shouldered the groceries, Megumi’s clothes and other needs.

One day, while on your way to pick up Megumi, you pass by the trendy Daikanyama district due to a road closure leading to the Ebisu district where Megumi’s primary school is. The inconvenience is nothing short of serendipitous as you and your boyfriend really did need a quick breather and some time for yourselves.

“I feel like I’m gonna turn into a wine dad very soon. Who would have known enrolling a kid would be that tough?” Satoru huffs, his hand protectively around your waist as you walked past boutique after boutique. “Like how am I supposed to know what his blood type is for the school clinic record?”

You hummed, sneakily stealing a kiss from him to which he responds to by pulling you closer, and pretending to bite off your ear. “For all the school knew, Megumi is ours. That would explain why they felt a little icky towards us when they saw how young we are back in that parent-teacher meeting.”

“Mmph, fair point. A cute son will come from a handsome father after all—“

“—Oh please. You’re okay at best.”

“You didn’t say that last night when I had you all folde—“

“—Please do not finish that sentence in public.”

Digressing, Satoru sighs, planting a contrite kiss on your warm cheek as the two of you leisurely walk down the picturesque lane of Tokyo’s very own version of Soho. Once you reach the main road, a certain outerwear apparel store catches your eye. You stop in front of the store window, looking curiously at the displayed winter items. “Megumi’s birthday is coming up soon, no? We should get him something nice.”

“Hmm? Oh right, the 22nd is coming up,” Satoru hums thoughtfully, leading you inside the store. There, the two of you split up to look for a nice gift for Megumi. There, he is approached by a staff member who asks if he’s looking for anything in particular. Satoru clears his throat, nodding. “I’m looking to buy a gift for my son.”

Somehow, you heard that from across the store and you shoot Satoru an amused look when he refers to Megumi as ‘his son’.

“Right, and how old might he be? We have a batch of new arrivals that came in today. They’re perfect for kids aged four and above.” At that, you rejoin Satoru and the sales staff leads you to check out the items at the front of the store. You and Satoru sort through the rack and find one that the two of you agree on: a fleece two-toned gravel winter jacket.

After paying for it, the two of you rush to get to Ebisu elementary school. Making your way to the gate, Megumi instantly spots you and Satoru, the latter being very difficult to miss since he pretty much towered over everyone else.

“Hi, kid, d’you have fun today?” you crouch down to give Megumi a hug. Between you and Satoru, you were the more clingy one towards Megumi, there’s hardly any hesitation in your heart when you pull him in for a warm embrace or carry him in your arms. Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind one bit, but if Satoru did any of the those things to him, he’ll probably headbut him.

“It was fine,” Megumi says shyly once you pull away. “Oh and I got a hundred on the math homework you helped me with.”

“You did?” you smiled. “I’m so proud of you, Megumi.” Satoru smiles, going to ruffle Megumi’s hair only for the little boy to duck away from his hand and hide behind you.

Chuckling at the kid’s antics, Satoru concedes, putting up his free hand in surrender while his other one held onto the gift bag you got. Megumi reads the name of the store: “The North Face”. Following Megumi’s gaze, Satoru grins, handing Megumi the bag. “Here, we got you something. Call it an advanced birthday gift.”

Megumi’s expression screamed: “You didn’t have to.” but you don’t miss the look of surprise and gratitude that shined through his features. You gently nudge him to open it and his breath hitches in his throat when he sees the gift you got him — the first gift he’s ever received.

“Happy birthday, Megumi,” you and Satoru greet the little boy, with Satoru helping Megumi to try it on.

That was the first time Megumi initiated a heartfelt hug and the first time he ever included Satoru, his little arms trying their hardest to include the two of you, so you decide to help him out, and your and Satoru’s arms engulf the little one.

“Thank you.”

“I don’t know what happened, but I’m headed there now. Alright, see you soon. I love you.”

Everything happened so quickly. One minute you were in Tokyo Jujutsu High’s teacher lounge organizing the first years’ missions for the next few days when you receive a call from Ebisu elementary school, informing you that Megumi got into a horrible fight and was now in the school clinic ready to be picked up, the next you were dashing out the door hurrying over to the school with your heart pounding in your chest.

There, you are the quintessential picture of a frazzled mother looking for her son in the school clinic.

“Y/N!”

“Megumi,” you breathed, your eyebrows knitting together in worry. Gathering him into your arms, you sit on the tiny hospital bed. “What happened? They said you got into a fight? And where’s your jacket?” He was wearing the jacket you got for him this morning when you and Satoru dropped him off, actually, he’s been wearing it a lot, indicating it’s one of, if not his favorite jacket.

Before Megumi could even speak, it looks like the kid that he got into a tussle with had already tattled on him to his mother and now said mother is furiously berating you and Megumi, not caring if anyone else in the clinic could overhear the scandalous remarks she’s throwing your way.

“I want full disciplinary action against this boy!” the middle aged woman all but screeches to the school’s principal, pointing an accusatory finger at Megumi who doesn’t flinch but you hear him sniffle. He’s never been yelled at like that before.

“Ma’am, please, let’s settle this like two rational adults—“

“—Oh I will, I can’t say the same about you! Are you not the least bit ashamed that you couldn’t teach your son good morals?” She then theatrically goes to place her hands on her son’s shoulders. And you have to be honest, with that bruised lip of his alongside his bleeding nose, Megumi had done some serious damage to the boy.

“I — Megumi is a good kid, not once, have we ever seen him hit someone for no reason—“

“—So you’re saying it’s my son’s fault yours is emotionally unstable? This boy doesn’t need a good talking to, what he needs is psychological intervention!”

“Alright, can everyone just please calm down?” The principal, too, seems visibly uncomfortable with the vile words the other parent was spewing at you like machine gun fire. “We’re all here to fix the problem, not make it worse.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you could tell this conversation has reached an impasse. Clearly, there’s no way you could reach a mutual understanding of what should be done to resolve the issue.

The older woman looks at you in disdain, grumbling under her breath at the humiliation of being scolded, “What should I even expect from an irresponsible woman who got knocked up before she was even an adult?”

“Don’t you dare talk about my wife or my son that way.”

Megumi looks up, tears in his eyes when Satoru strides in, his normally shining blue eyes dark with a fury that cannot be quelled. You can’t even feel the butterflies that went wild in your stomach when he accidentally referred to you as ‘his wife’ without so much as a stutter because you’re honestly this close to chewing the vile woman out. It didn’t matter if she insulted you, but if she does so much as insult and make your boy cry, you and Satoru will give the weasel a matching patch on her scalp where there should have been hair had you not ripped it out.

But now was not the time to prove her right.

People have always judged you and Satoru for being acting parents at such a young age, often giving you rude stares when you’re out and about doing the most menial of things like shopping at the supermarket or spending some time in the kōen, people found your current situation disgusting, borderline immoral, which is why you initially had trouble looking for an elementary school that would properly entertain you, Satoru and Megumi and not dismiss you three as a bunch of kids playing house.

“Satoru…” you rub your boyfriend’s arm soothingly.

“Babe, she insulted you and ‘Gumi,” Satoru whispers sadly. “I can’t just let her do that.”

All of a sudden, Megumi’s voice cuts through the tension in the room. “Daisuke was being mean. He ruined Hana-chan’s project and made her cry.” At that, the kid named Daisuke bites his lip, his skin turning pallid at the revelation. “And when I told him to apologize, he and Kaito…” Megumi whimpers, trailing off. He averts his gaze from your and Satoru’s, feeling guilty.

And right then and there, the story becomes even clearer when an unexpected witness comes to Megumi’s defense.

“Megumi-kun? We found your jacket, it’s not too damaged, but you may want to have your mama and papa wash it when you get home.” The school nurse walks in and hands you the ruined jacket, it had been cut all over but since it’s fleece, the damage isn’t too bad, not only that, it had crayon marks all over it and it smelled of the dumpster.

“…Daisuke and Kaito ruined my jacket and I punched him,” Megumi sniffles. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t apologizing for punching Daisuke, that much you could tell, he was apologizing to you and Gojo for supposedly not taking care of the gift you two got him just last week.

The vile mother scoffs at your son’s apology. “Save your breath, you little liar—“

“—He wasn’t talking to you,” Satoru glares at the woman, effectively shutting her up. “Come on, we’re going home.” With that, Satoru, being careful with him given his sprained wrist, carries Megumi out the clinic. You offer the principal a polite nod, indicating that you’ll cooperate with any sanction she seems fit for Megumi, Kaito and Daisuke, before following Satoru and Megumi to the parking lot. A melancholic smile appears on your lips when you hear Satoru reassuring Megumi that you’ll just wash and mend the jacket once you get home to which, Megumi only buries his face in the crook of his father figure’s neck.

If there is one good thing that happened today, it’s the fact that you proved to yourself and to each other that, no one in this world is allowed to hurt or insult your family.

Satoru wakes up to an empty bed and he doesn’t pretend to wonder where you are. He stays like that for a full minute, simply staring at the ceiling while your side of the bed slowly loses its warmth. He knows you’re hurting, and he knows just how much this entire ordeal has taken from you. First, you had to deal with him being sealed in the Prison Realm, now this…

You really just couldn’t catch a break, could you?

Slowly, Satoru gets up and pads across the hallway, entering a painfully familiar room. The owner of the room has only since recently moved out, but for ten years, this room is one he normally frequented with you, whether it be on Christmas mornings to greet the little prince that occupied such a special place in your heart or on nights when the three of you just simply needed to hold each other, searching for comfort, while you slept.

The door creaks open and Satoru’s eyes well up with tears, his heart plagued by the same emotional turmoil that was haunting you day in and day out. “I just want our boy to come home…I want our son back,” you cried as you held the jacket Megumi had outgrown, the same one he wore almost everyday that winter when he first came to live with you and Satoru.

Instantly, Satoru sits next to you on Megumi’s bed, hushing your cries, kissing away each agonizing tear that slipped from the confines of your sorrowful orbs.

“He must be so scared,” you sniffled, picturing Megumi in the darkest crevices of Sukuna’s soul, trapped and alone. “I don’t even know if he’s alright, if he’s even slept at all or if he’s being tormented by Sukuna day in and day out. What if he’s in pain? What if he’s cold?” you sobbed into your husband’s chest, your cries growing more desperate with each hour Megumi isn’t home safe.

“Shh, shh…I know, sweetheart…I’ll get him back, I promise I’ll bring him home.”

Or he’ll die trying.

Somewhere in the void, Megumi Fushiguro is in a state of catatonic stasis. Is this what limbo feels like? He just wants to sleep, to give in and let Sukuna’s soul consume him.

It’s so cold…so…cold.

No! He can’t give up, more than his desire to tap out and just live and let die…he wants to go home where he belongs.

You and Satoru must be so worried about him and he was worried too, what if something had happened out there while he was here? What if…something happened to the two of you when he hasn’t even done a thing to thank you both for all the love you’ve given him throughout these years? So with his last inch of consciousness remaining, he spends it on a silent plea.

“Mom…dad…please come find me.”

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uzurakis · 9 months ago

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in the face of uncertainty and despair, two hearts confront the possibility of loss, grappling with the question of what remains when yuuta okkotsu is gone.

n. wrote this to cope with whatever fucked up mental shit going on in jjk261. god please take away his suffering and triple it to gege. comfort? angst if you squint. the theme is similar to canon. please be safe my glorious morally grey king.. we will miss u..

“what will you do if i’m gone?”

yuuta's shoulders slump, his eyes reflecting the weight of his thoughts. you notice the tension in his posture, the way his hands fidget nervously in his lap.

“huh?” you ask softly, the sound very audible in the heavy silence that surrounds him. “what kind of question is that?”

he turns to you, expression a mixture of exhaustion and despair. “what if something happens to me, what will you do if i’m gone?”

the weight of his emotions bears down on you as if it were a tangible force as you sit next to him. his breath escapes him in short, jagged gasps, each one laced with doubt.

“then i’m gonna be sad. really, really sad,” you murmur, reaching out to touch his stiff hand. a lump forms in your throat, the thought of losing him too painful to bear. “and i will miss you, every single fucking day.”

“i don’t want to live without you, yuu. i can’t live without you.”

he shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “but what if i’m not myself again? there’s nothing—“

“shh,” you interrupt, placing a finger against his lips. you pull him into a gentle embrace, hoping to offer some small measure of comfort in the face of his pain. “even if you change, even if you’re not yourself anymore. who gives a damn about that?”

the man’s eyes enlarge, a kaleidoscope of feelings tumbling through their depths. his eyebrows wrinkle slightly as shock leaves its mark on his appearance, resembling cracks in a fragile facade. you can see the desperation for reassurance battling with the unknown.

“so what? i’ll always love you nevertheless, yuuta okkotsu.”

with a hesitant breath, he leans backwards, away from your touch with his hands on your shoulders. his gaze locked onto yours with such intensity. it's as if he's searching for something, something elusive yet vital, within the depths of your soul. you can feel the weight of his scrutiny, the silent plea for truth in the midst of everything uncertain.

“my love for you will always stay the same, yuu. nothing matters beside that, ‘kay?”

and then, like a dam breaking, understanding floods his expression, washing away the shadows of doubt that had clouded his mind. tears began to form at the corners of his eyes slowly, barely noticeable.

and yuuta's breath hitches, his grip on you tightening. "but i don't want to leave you…”

"then don’t you dare die on me, dumbass,” you say passionately. "you’re not leaving me, yuuta. we’ll go through this together, i fucking swear." softly brushing his hair, attempting to provide some comfort in this time of turmoil.

"i need you here with me."

@uzurakis

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thought--bubble · 1 year ago

Text

Things We Cannot Change

Dark Aemond X (Strong Niece Reader)

Warnings Below

Word Count: 1,938

Aemond (Canon Era) Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners & Dividers by @arcielee

Based on THIS request

Warnings:: Reader's hair is brown. That's the only descriptor due to the request received, Breeding kink, Targcest, Virginity Loss. Mental abuse, mentions of character deaths.

On your knees.

A place you thought you would never be, but alas here you are. On your knees looking up at the cold, cruel face of your uncle.

Once a boy you played with, read with, considered a friend. Now, he holds the life of your youngest brother in his hands. The only member of your family you have left.

"I ask you, Aemond-" He interrupts you with a cruel chuckle.

"King Aemond, my dear"

You cringe at the title. The war that ravaged both of your families put him on that throne. The thought of all you had lost made you sick.

"I ask you, your grace, to please spare my brother and I. There are so few of valyrian blood left." You keep your head bowed, your knees aching against the cold stone beneath them.

The both of you go quiet, you could still smell your mothers burning flesh, hear her screams as she was scorched and eaten alive in front of your very eyes. All for nothing, you thought. Your entire family is dead for Aemond to be the one to ascend the throne.

Your mother had been executed immediately, no court, no trial, just a woman and a dragon. Aegon II had demanded that you be executed as well, but luckily for you, he did not survive the trip back to the capital. Thus, your younger brother and you had been delivered to Aemond as traitors.

Followers of the false queen is what Aegon II had called you. Worthy of a public execution.

"On that front, we can agree bastard" He places his fingers delicately under your chin and tilts your face up towards him.

"I fear that dragon riders may become a thing that history boasts about if we are not careful in our decisions." He rubs his thumb gently across your bottom lip.

"So you and I shall marry, to preserve the bloodline," you audibly gasp at the absurd statement. You were now a mere strong bastard not fit to be queen.

"B-but your grace, I have been stripped of all royal titles. Surely I am not worthy to marry the King"

"You are not." he says curtly."But, preserving our dragon blood is of higher importance than that of courtly titles." He removes his hand from your chin and steps back, clasping his hands behind his back.

"The choice is yours, dear niece. Marry me or face the blade. If not to breed you, I have no further use of you."

You gulp audibly as your eyes begin to well. "I shall serve my duty to the realm your grace."

The betrothal was announced to the realm with mixed reactions. Some houses understand the reasoning others are very upset that a bastard would be queen and not one of their highborn daughters.

All concerns fell upon deaf ears because Aemond knew what he wanted, and he wanted you. As king, he would have exactly what he wanted.

Your life changed very little after the announcement of the betrothal. You were given chambers instead of being in the dungeons, but you were not trusted.

You were escorted everywhere you went, and the incoming title of Queen did little to garner you any respect.

Everyone knew what you were. A vessel to breed valyrian blooded babies and nothing more.

What was worse was the embarrassment.

Aemond made sure to embarrass you at any opportunity. He would have you serve him at meal times instead of servants. Pull his bath for him. Even perform his ridiculous hair care routine. All of it meant to demean you.

You had hoped that after the wedding, he would stop this disgusting showcase and allow you at least a modicum of comfort, but even in that thought, you were mistaken.

After the two of you had been escorted to your marriage chambers and left alone, Aemond ordered you to pour his wine and stand in the corner. Once again, as if you were a servant and the treatment had finally become too much for you to bare.

"I'll take the sword," you say after moments of silence have fallen between you.

"Pardon?" Aemond lifts an eyebrow and looks up at you.

"I will take the sword, i do not wish to live this way for years and years." You stand with conviction. "I ask only that you spare Aegon so that he might have children in the future."

Aemond chuckles and sips his wine. "The offer has expired, dear wife. You are mine now, to toy with as I please."

"I was kind to you!" The words almost echo throughout the room. The connotation is clear.

"You were." He simply nods and continues to look into your eyes, no clear expression on his face.

"Then why do you treat me like this? Like a-" You search your mind for the words but come up empty.

"Like a traitor? Because you are a traitor. You knew the laws of the world in which you live. You did not at any time attempt to talk my dear sister out of war, did you?" He stands up from his chair and stalks towards you.

"My sister Helaena took her own life, my nephews murdered in the cruelest of fashions." His breath is heavy as he glares at you with his one eye. "You were complicit in their deaths. How should i treat you?"

"As if I lost nothing? You killed Luke. You weren't complicit in it. You did it with your own hand!" You can feel your rage bubbling up in your chest and try to suppress it to no avail.

"You killed Rhaenys and Daemon. There is far more dragon blood on your hands than mine. " You regret the words as soon as you say them, expecting his wrath to be swift and harsh.

He clicks his tongue and looks away from you. "That may be true, but there will not be anymore dragon blood spilled by me. Least of all yours."

He walks toward you but stops when he sees you backing away from him and sighs. "There are things we can not change. The war. The losses we suffered." He continues to advance on you but moves much more slowly.

"Although I believe I can change this, your fear of me."

"I am not afraid." You attempt to sound convincing, yet the shake to your voice gives you away.

"Let me try," He says gently as he gets close enough to cup your face. "This needn't be a marriage filled with fear and hate. We are all that is left of the house of the dragon. Let us rebuild, together"

Your heart cramps in your chest at his words and soft demeanor. This is the Aemond you remember. The boy who was always gentle with you, kind. Not the monster who murdered your brother and countless others in a ruthless pursuit for the throne.

"I have known fear. I do not wish to spend the remainder of my days being the cause of yours." He presses his forehead to yours and kisses the tip of your nose.

"Will you stop? The public shaming?" A tear trickles down your cheek at the thought of continuing to live in this manner. The abuses mounting, the shame unbearable.

"Yes. twill not happen again." He takes your face in his hands and lifts until your eyes meet. "This i swear."

He gently kisses your cheek where the tears have started to fall.

"We have all shed enough tears for a thousand lifetimes." He wipes a tear from your other cheek with his thumbs. "No more."

He pulls you close to his chest, gently swaying from side to side. "Shhh." He tries to comfort you as he strokes your hair.

He very softly brings his lips to yours and whispers. "Let me be more than the monster, I implore you."

You press your lips to him in desperation. Do you love him? No.

Will you ever truly trust or forgive him? Most likely not, but you want to feel something. Anything other than the dull ache that you have carried in your chest since the day Luke died.

If Aemond was aware of your true feelings, he did not let on. He reciprocated your neediness with hungry kisses of his own before lifting you and carrying you over to the bed chamber.

"I always wanted you to be my wife," He admits between kisses. "Always"

You choose not to respond, instead pulling at his clothes. He drops you down onto the bed and rucks up your skirts. Pulling your small clothes down quickly.

"Close your eyes," He whispers huskily, kissing up your inner thigh. You comply with his demands, closing your eyes and turning your mind off. Surrendering entirely to the physical sensations you are experiencing.

He brings his hand to your heat, pushing you open before bringing his tongue down upon you. The feeling is overwhelming at first, and you can't help but cry out.

He tightly grips your thigh as he nudges his nose against your clit, running his tongue along your tight entrance. Never before have you felt something like this and as if your body is controlled by an invisible force your hips buck up towards his face.

He chuckles and grips your hips, holding you in place. "Patience my love, patience" He circles your clit with his tongue, the gentle flicking driving you to near madness.

"Oh gods," you bite your bottom lip as an unfamiliar pressure builds up in your lower stomach. "Aemond!" You clench at the bedsheets beneath you, the breath tight in your lungs as a searing fire moves throughout your entire being.

"Gods!" You arch your back as the feeling hits a peak before dropping back on the bed, your breath coming out in short huffs.

Aemond chuckles as he removes his breeches his hard cock slapping against his stomach. "Im going to fill you with my babes and everything will be better."

He moves on top of you prodding your entrance with the tip of his cock. "Hold onto me, this may hurt for just a moment" He warns, gentleness in his voice.

You head his warning, wrapping your hands around his back, as he begins to push into you, the stretch painful, not excruciatingly so but shocking nonetheless.

"eeeek," you can't help the slight screech that escapes your throat.

"Shhhh, it is alright." He comforts while he continues pushing into you until his hips meet yours.

"Are you alright?" He asks, his breathing labored.

You are ok. The pain, the fullness. It is something, and after so long of feeling nothing, the something, even if it is pain, is relieving.

He thrusts his hips against you, steadily increasing his pace. "You will be with child soon. We will be happy then, " He huffs.

You close your eyes and hold his head to you as he buries his face in your neck gently kissing at the sensitive skin there, and for the first time since the war began you feel calm.

His grip on you tightens as he buries himself to the hilt in you again. "We will be happy. we will" he grunts into your ear as the pressure once again builds up in your lower stomach.

As the two of you reach your peaks together, trembling and smiling you allow yourself to believe.

Even if just for a moment. That he is right. He is telling the truth.

That even after so much death and loss, the house of the dragon can stand tall and be happy once again.

To be added to taglists click HERE

#dark aemond x reader #aemond x reader #dark aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x niece!reader #ewan mitchell verse #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewanverse #ewan nation #ewan mitchell #aemond one eye #jess fics #my war criminal bf

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flying-fangirls · 5 months ago

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As a music, religion, and literature nerd, the Dies Irae has been one of my favorite go-to pieces of trivia for a long time, which means that this line:

Has been driving me batshit BONKERS since part 42! And also as a semi-professional media analysis yapper, I figured I might as well dive into the exact reasons I jumped up and audibly gasped upon first hearing this line and have subsequently lost my mind since then. So!

Here is why I think that the Dies Irae is the perfect analogy for John and Arthur:

Religion

Let's start with the most straightforward meaning: "Dies Irae" is a Latin term, and it translates to the "Day of Wrath." Or otherwise known as the Judgement Day, the foretold second coming in Catholic canon, when Christ will "come again in glory to judge the living and the dead." It's at this Last Judgement where God will wield perfect justice to send the worthy to everlasting peace and the unworthy to everlasting punishment. (everyone say "thank you" to excessive childhood Catholic lessons for burning this into my brain)

There's a kind of irony to the fact that Arthur so vehemently rejects Christianity and religion as a whole, and that John spends much of his arc trying to distance himself from the role/identity of a god, yet both are given this incredibly religious title, effectively restricting them from ever forgetting the presence/influence of religion in their lives.

This title has a couple layers though, because we have to consider why it's the Day of Wrath specifically that represents Arthur and John. Now, I don't think I have to tell you that those two are bursting with anger 80% of the time. But I am going to tell you that those two are not just angry, but moreso "divine fury" incarnate.

The Day of Wrath, the Final Judgment, is the final and eternal judgment of God on all: "For now before the Judge severe / all hidden things must plain appear; / no crime can pass unpunished here." (Dies Irae, Dies Illa). The final Judge, the all-powerful God, can see the objective morality of every single person, and is thus the sole, rightful determiner of fate.

This assumption of their right to perfectly and single-handedly decide others' worthiness shows up over and over, not just John and Arthur's actions, but also in how they describe these judgments.

When Arthur kills the widow on the island, it's not because she was dangerous, but because she was a cultist who "deserved" to be punished.

When John and Arthur need to get rid of Mr. Scratch's stone, John says they should give it to "criminals" who are "deserving of this curse." Even though, just moments before, Arthur refused to give the stone to Oscar because to do so would be to cursing him to a fate of eternal suffering.

And I can't go into every single detail about the entire Larson plotline because this post would double in size, but it obviously needs to be included here. Possibly the strongest tie between this arc and the idea of the Dies Irae is Arthur's conviction through it all. Arthur vows that he is going to kill Larson in divine retribution not because he wants to, but because he has to. He even goes so far as to admit that killing Larson will be a mistake, a cruel and overly-bloodthirsty action that goes against his compassion. But killing Larson isn't a choice to Arthur, it is the unavoidable punishment for Larson's sins and Arthur is simply the enactor of justice. Just like the Final Judgment, there is no sympathy, no hesitancy— the judgment is absolute, divinely ordained, and cannot be stopped no matter how undeniably horrific it is.

If we look at the Catholic Catechism, principle 2302 states that it is sinful to kill out of desire, but that it is "praiseworthy to impose restitution" and use violence to "maintain justic." So even if Arthur has intent to kill, his actions count as divinely sanctioned. He is acting as the hand of God's punishment.

Over the course of Season 3 and 4, Arthur's fiery rage dies down to a more gentle simmer, but his conviction only seems to grow, and John follows suit. Despite previously reprimanding Arthur for his unquestioning wrath, John eventually becomes just as convinced that Larson "deserves" to face a wrathful reckoning. The "fact" that Larson is wholly unforgivable and is fated to receive eternal punishment becomes more indisputable in their minds, and they both stop questioning the morality of their intentions, entirely convinced of their judgment.

Throughout the story, Arthur and John insist upon the importance of kindness, compassion, and forgiveness, and say that these are the values that guide their every action. Yet, time and time again, they approach certain people with nothing but wrath and resentment. It's a sharp contrast to the benevolent figures they make themselves out to be, and Arthur and John are often blind to the contradiction because, in their eyes, they are still following those values in every action. And in the moments when they do recognize their horrific words or actions, they still cannot let their judgment go, convinced that it is their "duty" either way.

In Part 35, Arthur says "Just because you can't make the hard decision, doesn't mean it's wrong." This is exactly how John and Arthur view themselves. They know that some of their actions are harsh and violent and painful, but they are don't view that violence as wrong, because they are enacting that violence in justice. They move through life with carefully-selected destruction, culling the world of those they view as unforgivable sinners, and punishing them with divine righteousness. Arthur and John carry righteous fury in their every step, bringing the Day of Wrath down upon the world around them.

Now, there's already a ton of meaning just in this religious allusion alone. However, there's another application of the Dies Irae in modern culture, which brings us to the second side of this title:

Music

Back in the 13th century (sounds like a familiar setting...), friar Thomas of Celano wrote a poem for and about the Dies Irae. The poem was recited at Requiem Mass (church services to honor the dead), and it ended up being set to a Gregorian chant tune.

Over time, this melody has been used by a variety of composers, but the one we're focused on is Hector Berlioz. In 1837, Berlioz used the Dies Irae melody as part of his narrative symphony, Grand Messe de morts, in order to communicate that the main character had died. Then a lot of other composers saw that and said "Hey that's a cool idea!", and started also using this melody to represent death in their music. Nowadays, it's a fairly staple part of modern film and musical storytelling. If you've listened to literally any major soundtrack, then there's a good chance you've heard this motif (or a variation of it) used before. It's often subtle, sometimes loud and obvious, but no matter what, it reveals the inevitable presence of death. (essentially, the Dies Irae=death)

Now, obviously there's something tragically ironic about Arthur being likened to a musical motif when he tries so hard to distance himself from it, and there's something tragically ironic about John being associated with such a dark piece of music when he shows so much fascination and joy toward the art. Again, though, we've got some layers here. Yorick doesn't just compare Arthur and John to the Dies Irae, he literally defines them as the Dies Irae, a full embodiment of it.

Even before the story started, Arthur lost both of his parents, his friend and wife, his daughter, and his best friend.

John, when he was part of the King in Yellow, knew only how to harm and attack. In the Dark World, he falls back on this fearful lashing out with violence, harming even more people.

And throughout the story, John and Arthur seem to bring devastation to everyone else around them: Lilly the buopoth, Oscar, Noel, Collins, Daniel, Larson and Yellow.

The arrival of Dies Irae musical motif in a film always indicates that death is approaching or that is has already struck— a host carrying its blight to spread onto others. Just like the musical motif, the arrival of Arthur and John foretells the near-arrival of death. They play a duet together— John and Arthur, and death— always singing and dancing around and with each other.

These two never succumb to death, always finding a way to slip through its fingers and survive every situation. But they cannot escape death's presence because they are death's partner— singing the melody to death's subtle harmony. They cannot escape death because they are its host— destined to carry and spread devastation to death's victims. From the moment you meet John and Arthur, you know that death is inevitably approaching just a step behind, waiting to strike you down.

Whether it's the religious or musical side, we can see that John and Arthur are the literal embodiment of these allusions. They carry these powers and ideas in their every action and word, in their every step, in their very breath and blood.

Arthur and John. The hands of God's justice. The enactors of divine fury.

Arthur and John. The hosts of blight and destruction. The partner of death's song.

The man himself. The voice inside his head.

The Day of Wrath. The Dies Irae.

#this is late. like. really late #and canon is clearly lining up for an actual plot point related to this title #but ignore that!#and just think about the themes guys. the allusions. the symbolismmmm #(humor me here)#also i am. so sorry. for basically posting an entire informal essay #that appeals specifically to just me. and maybe two other people in the whole world #but the worms in my brain demanded that i yap about this #malevolent #malevolent podcast #malevolent analysis #malevolent meta #dies irae #arthur lester #john doe #cherrys rambles

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delirious-donna · 11 months ago

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The Oral Lesson

an: the amount of time I spend thinking about these two men and how badly they might share a lover would probably see me on some kind of watch list… it’s more than time I put pen to paper, so to speak. This could be a series, maybe? Perhaps..? Depends on engagement (and I don’t mean likes alone!)

premise: It was meant to be a forbidden fantasy, one that would never become reality, but when you open your eyes to find the Hokage’s loyal guard dog on his knees before you, you know things have changed. However, it would be some time before you realise the enormity of this moment…

pairing: Hokage Kakashi x female reader x ANBU Obito

warnings: canon divergent (Obito always lives in my fics), NSFW throughout, without spoiling everything - its reader receiving oral, power play between the men, reader is married to Kakashi, reader is assumed curvy, touch starved is not the potential name of the series for no reason

There were no two ways about it, this had to be a dream.

The pinnacle of wet dreams that you would reminisce about for months, perhaps years, to come. Except the hand curled lightly around the column of your throat was all too realistic to be fantasy. Too familiar with roughened callouses covering the fingertips and edging the broad palm.

Kakashi Hatake—your husband.

His unique scent of oak-smoked wood chips, and that subtly sweet hint that you had never been able to give a name, filled your nose. At times, you would swear his scent reminded you of the scorched earth after a lightning strike, and it was true right now.

Your eyes flickered open, audibly gasping to see an ANBU shinobi sitting on his haunches before you. The mask was one you were all too familiar with, the painted whorls of the Hokage’s personal guard and you were privileged to know his true name… Obito Uchiha.

This couldn’t be happening. The teasing from moments ago felt like a lifetime passed and you squirmed atop Kakashi’s lap but were unable to escape.

Did you really wish to?

A small voice in your head said that you should, that what was being suggested was wrong but how badly you had desired this very outcome blew away those prim and proper reservations.

“Her pulse shot through the roof when you looked at her, Obito. I told you that she wanted this…”

You gasped to hear your husband speak about you like this, though the words were not untrue. The hollows eye holes shifted from deep midnight pits to blazing crimson orbs that seared your skin with tantalising warm fire without so much as touching you. His breathing was becoming laboured as he sat there, hands laying flat on his thighs in a position of submission.

Obito was only this composed and subservient for one man—your man—and it aroused you to see that there was a strain in his posture to maintain his stance. The threads of his compliance frayed beneath the weight of his desire.

“Kashi,” you breathed, voice barely more than a whisper though your gaze never left Obito’s. Your tongue felt thick and heavy in your mouth, the thin cotton of your dress smothering despite being lightweight and flimsy on your body. The heat of Kakashi’s body beneath you certainly didn’t help matters, nor did the intense fiery blaze you were captivated by.

He hummed in response. “Hm? Something to say, sweetheart? Weren’t you just finishing telling me that you’d let him put his hands and mouth on you if I agreed?”

With an embarrassed moan, you tried to hide your face in the crook of his neck. Mortified beyond belief that Kakashi would so openly admit the hushed words of your most forbidden fantasies, ones you never thought would come to fruition.

“Don’t be shy, my love. Obito feels the same way, although I guess you didn’t know that,” Kakashi drawled with such measured control that you were reminded exactly how he reached this position of power. Not many could act so calmly in high-pressure situations, but Kakashi excelled where others failed. Simply another reason to love him as much as you did.

Obito hadn’t said a word up to this point, not even the smallest sound escaped his mouth and you marvelled at his self-control. The metal arm guards that normally covered his forearms were nowhere to be seen, the same for the grey flak jacket you were accustomed to.

Now, he knelt on the floor in only the standard ANBU dark pants, a black sleeveless compression shirt that covered up to his throat and equally black gloves that ended halfway up his biceps.

You were endlessly fascinated by those biceps.

The way they bulged when his hands curled into fists only to flatten back into some semblance of submission seconds later. Your breathing became harsh watching the action be repeated in an endless loop. Without realising, you pushed yourself upright on Kakashi’s lap, your fingers curling into his forearm each time Obito made his own fists until you made indents with the edges of his nails.

Behind you, Kakashi smiled. “You’ve been rather quiet, Obito… don’t you have anything to say to my wife?”

“I… don’t know if that would be wise, Lord Sixth,” Obito muttered after a long drawn-out moment of silence. His voice was deeper than Kakashi, rougher around the edges and you could hear the forced formality enough to know it grated down his spine to speak this way.

The three of you had shared many casual moments, it was a given since the two men were friends and rivals from years gone past. Heavens, you had cooked for this man. Shared stories of their youth over bottles of wine. Patched rips in his uniform.

Kakashi clicked his tongue. “Lose the airs and graces, you’re not here as my guard. Speak freely and tell my wife how much you covet her.”

You gasped, turning your head to meet charcoal eyes filled with humour, but while you stared, you could make out a darkness that spoke of something else. A power play? It should make you feel vulnerable… used, yet it was quite the opposite.

To be desired by two powerful men, one the Hokage and the other the current highest-ranking ANBU captain in Konoha. Your beloved husband and his best friend, though both would try to deny such a claim. You were damp between your thighs, arousal pooling into the seat of your underwear and it warmed your cheeks until you were certain it was obvious.

“It’s true. I’ve wanted a taste of what you have for some time now. Not that I would have ever done anything about it!” He asserted, eyes never leaving your face whilst he spoke to the man at your back. “But if she is willing and you… are willing to share—”

“Under my supervision and guidance only. Take off the mask, let our pretty girl see you without the guise of an animal,” Kakashi interjected whilst pressing a kiss to your neck.

The animal mask fell to the side, skittering across the floor and out of sight. It left only the man. The scars on his face from years gone by did nothing to detract from how handsome he was. His lips were pleasingly plump, nose nice and straight and those eyes—those beautiful expressive eyes—were easy to fall into and lose yourself entirely. Even without the Sharingan activated, you were drawn to those dark, all-seeing eyes.

“May he touch you, sweetheart? Shall I teach him how to please you? Let us see if he can make you mewl as I can,” he hummed, nipping at your ear and drawing his hands higher to paw lightly at your breasts.

A nod was all you could manage, followed by yet another gasp of alarm when Obito leaned close and kissed the outside of your knee. He’d moved so swiftly that following the movement was impossible.

His touch was delicate, careful as if he worried you’d break if he were to show his true colours. With his assistance, you spread your legs until they bracketed the outside of Kakashi’s beneath you. The man in question gripped at your dress and bunched it higher until your underwear came into view.

Obito appeared transfixed and a vein popped in his temple from how tightly he held his jaw. The muscles of his biceps bulged against the snug hold of his long gloves and when he raised a hand to touch your pubic mound through the cotton fabric, you sighed breathily and shifted your hips.

“Is she wet?”

His crimson eyes shot up to yours, searching for permission to reply, and you smiled kindly, a wave of affection forming in your chest. “Y-yes. Right here…” Obito stroked his gloved fingertip over the small damp patch.

“I’m not surprised, she’s been squirming ever since you came in. Perhaps, I should have arranged this sooner,” Kakashi mused quietly whilst leaning back in his chair so your butt was in the air. “Take them off her, please.”

“Kashi, I can…” You tried to free your arms to help shimmy out of the troublesome underwear but a bite to your collarbone silenced you. The sting of sharp canines elicited a slow pant from your throat, your sight growing hazy and before you knew it, a cool breeze played across your bare pussy.

The chill wind didn’t last, it was replaced by warm lips on the inside of your thigh, thick black hair obscuring your view and you clung to Kakashi at the shiver that rippled down your spine. His breathing was steady in your ear, the feel of a smile on your skin whilst Obito pressed kisses, which started gentle, to your plush flesh until they were messy and open-mouthed.

“You can be a little rough with her, she likes it… don’t you, my precious girl?”

Despite his continued presence and hold on your throat and breasts, you jerked in alarm when Kakashi spoke. The implication of the statement had you clenching around air and you heard Obito’s muffled groan when he too noticed.

“Mhm. Please. I’ll tell you if I don’t like something,” you managed after licking your parched lips.

Obito wasted no time in nudging his nose along your labia, smelling you until he couldn’t stand it any longer, and parted your folds with two thick fingers. You could feel all the blood in your body zero in on your core, skin becoming puffy in anticipation. Scintillating wet warmth sent a hiss through your clenched teeth, the path of his tongue along the full length of your slit arching your spine and forcing your heaving breasts further into your husband’s grasp.

The man on his knees glanced up at you through his eyelashes, careful to judge your every movement and noise for possible signs of distress but he found none. The strong muscle created wave-like patterns over your achingly empty hole and passed it to just below your pert clit. It was a sensation you were unaccustomed to, but it scratched an itch you didn’t even know you had.

Your eyes flickered shut, bottom lip caught between your teeth. You were ready to absorb every stroke and touch, every wet-sounding kiss and the melody of three people breathing in tandem, but Kakashi had other ideas. How he even knew your eyes had fallen closed, you weren’t sure, but he withdrew his hand from your chest to click his fingers. It was a soft click, enough to cause your eyes to spring wide and you tilted your head back to meet his hooded gaze.

“You really should watch whilst our guest eats you out, dear, it’s only polite. How is he doing? Make sure he knows what you want.”

His voice was a whole octave lower and you could feel the rigid length of his erection pressed firmly into your lower back. He was turned on by the act he was witnessing and that only served to stoke your fires higher.

As if to prove a point before you could speak, Obito licked across the surface of your clit for the first time. It was barely a kitten lick but it was more than ample to short-circuit your brain. Your brows knitted together, mouth falling into a deep oval of enthralment at being teased like this. In response, your hips undulated only to be trapped in two gloved palms.

“So good… I-I want more,” you admitted with your shuttered stare being met with a blazing inferno that looked more than ready to blow.

Kakashi licked over a fresh mark he’d not long finished sucking into your neck, the act of possession was not lost on anyone in the room and he chuckled softly. “Mhm, give the lady what she wants, Obito. I want to hear how she sounds coming apart by your hand and mouth.”

Obito sat back for a moment, his lips swelling steadily from his actions and skin coated in a thin sheen of your slick. Strands of his black hair stuck to his forehead and you reached forward to brush them back, warmed when he nuzzled into the heart of your palm. You missed the heat of his mouth on you, squirming around to find a position that would alleviate the ache growing rapidly in the pit of your belly.

“Lo—Kakashi, I want to fuck her with my fingers. Is that… uh, is that okay?”

The furious flush that washed over his cheeks was downright adorable, as was how he refused to meet your eye while your husband pretended to ponder. You knew he’d allow it, it was something you had discussed before this even began, back when you were certain it would remain a fantasy.

“Who do you wish to fuck with your fingers?” Kakashi prompted, the smile evident in his words and you whined in protest. It earned you a pinch to your nipple, enough to silence you.

Obito cleared his throat, swallowing down his pride in search of what he wanted above all else. “Your wife. I want to fuck your wife with my fingers. Please.” The nicety was forced, his nostrils flaring as if ready for a verbal argument but none came.

“My wife, that’s right. Do as you please, just make her cum nice and loud.”

This side of Kakashi rarely came out—the cool demeanour which spoke of calculating control. It made you weak at the knees, heart in your throat whenever he set those predatory eyes on you and you could well understand Obito’s reaction to the pulse of dominant power. He too was used to being an alpha presence given his line of work, and especially since he chose to become the Hokage’s personal guard. A decision he would never have made for anyone other than Kakashi.

The power play ignited the room with thick tension that felt like swimming through honey, and to realise that you were the catalyst, the reason this was even happening in the first place… you didn’t feel worthy.

However, you had no time to process these thoughts as the man on the floor took his permission with a sharp nod of his head and lunged for you. The poor little mouse was trapped by the jaws of a lion, but this feline was far from going to harm you. Instead, he was gentle despite how eagerly he moved.

His tongue bathed your tender pearl in his spit, lapping it incessantly until he changed directions and suckled you between his lips. You cried out, only to be blindsided by the intrusion of two thick fingers. Whilst you had focused on the mouth set to wring you dry of your bliss, you hadn’t noticed the dance of his fingers which collected your nectar to coat his gloves.

The warm leather rubbed soft friction into your velvet walls, stretching you just right. It felt wonderful, but you couldn’t help but wonder if it would feel more so without the gloves in the way. A small voice in the back of your head boldly decided that you would request his bare hands the next time.

Next time… Would there even be a next time to speak of? You didn’t know, but you could hope.

Kakashi’s breath fanned your wildly beating pulse, smearing open-mouthed kisses in between words of encouragement. His voice was your guide when you couldn’t keep your eyes open. When you did finally find the resolve to pry them apart, you found your hand tangled at the roots of Obito’s midnight black hair.

He was working you closer and closer to the point of no return, wet slurps mingled with your moans of more and the steady rhythm of his fingers fucking into you. His wrist rotated suddenly, fingertips brushing that deep area of sensitive tissue that your own fingers could never reach.

“Oh! Fuck… right there. Obito, don’t stop.”

Both men jolted at your keening declarations; Obito glanced up with his chin shiny with the gloss of your making, cheeks flushed from where your thighs had crushed around his head, and Kakashi groaned deep in his throat.

His slender fingers lowered the neck of your dress and repeated the action with the cups of your bra. He licked his thumb and finger and rolled your nipple between, drawing it out taut until you whimpered and struggled. “Ah ah, don’t thrash. Look down and see how well my guard dog is eating you out, beloved.”

You tightened instinctively, squeezing around Obito’s fingers, who doubled down on the pace he stroked you to. His nose ground at the hood of your clit, tongue swiping left and right then up and down. He was losing his restraint, pushing into you only to be met by the force of you rutting your cunt into him. A growl rumbled in his chest at being called a guard dog, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

Gods, you wanted to be full. To cum around more than just fingers and feel how they would react to you orgasming on their cock. Did you want your husband or Obito or… both? The thought alone tripped your orgasm into effect. You were barely aware of Obito pulling his wet fingers from your cunt to press his tongue into your fluttering hole instead, intent on catching every drop of your nectar and swallowing it greedily.

Kakashi cooed soft words in your ear, coaxing you through your high and stroking over your hair whilst you sobbed from the overwhelming and continued stimulation from the plush muscle digging into you in search of your slick. Those wet gloved hands gripped into the meat of your thighs, keeping you open and forcing you to endure what he wanted to give.

“Obito, enough. Let our little flower catch her breath.” You heard the command distantly, twitching and still seeking out grounding from your high.

Dazedly, you blinked and moaned anew at the expression written across Obito’s face. His cheeks were ruddy, lips swollen with blood and the lower half of his face streaked with a mixture of your arousal and his spit. His chest heaved with the struggle of retreating, every muscle in his body tense and straining and how badly you wanted to reach out and comfort him.

“Kashi, sweetheart, let me go to him?” You asked softly, turning so your words were in his ear, your lips on his neck. He regarded you with a look of unconditional love, eyes softened with affection and a smile decorating his lips which was a far cry from the cool power play of earlier.

He kissed you on the forehead, fixing your dress to cover your exposed breasts and lowering the hem. A lone finger traced the curve of your jaw, moving to brush over your lips and you caught him by surprise by pressing them to his and savouring the warmth of his mouth.

Kakashi was familiar with being touch-starved, as were you. It was something that helped to bind you together in those early days and you both recognised that Obito was also touch-starved and in need of a demonstration of how welcoming love and affection could be. He nodded, his nose nudging along yours and embracing you with delicate care.

“Show him how amazing it can feel. I trust you, both of you.” Kakashi added those final words loud enough for Obito to hear. His eyebrows pinched in confusion, but he had no time to assess the meaning when you slid from your husband’s lap only to be caught by Obito.

You wound your arms around his neck and settled your head right there in the crook. Twisting your fingers into the hairs at his nape, you pressed kisses to his shoulder until he finally placed his hands on your waist. His touch was unsure, body rigid with nerves and you could understand.

“Thank you, Obito… you made me feel more alive than I thought possible. Let me hold you, it’s okay.”

His chin dipped until his cheek rested on your shoulder and some of the tension drained from his body. It had meant to be a fantasy scenario of being shared but it would be so much more than that in time and you would discover this in the months to come.

For now, you calmed your racing heart and gave the man held in your arms a piece of you that was worth more than any orgasm. All under the watchful and loving eye of your husband, the master strategist…

Taglist: @angelic-muse @actuallysaiyan @angel-teeth @adharadotcom @whatshernameis @rookie98writes @basementqueercock @valleyxdoodles @snapemalfoy @fiestynatureweeb @mel-star636 @karleequinn @he-art-pulp @half-baked-biscuit

#delirious writes #kakashi x reader #obito x reader #kakashi hatake #obito uchiha #kakashi smut #obito smut #kakashi hatake smut #obito uchiha smut #kakashi x reader x obito

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ninii-winchester · 6 months ago

Text

Crossed Allegiances

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader

Word count : 7.5k

Warnings: angst, smut, fluff, spn spoilers, language, canon violence. Not proofread.

A/n: had to split in two because the long fic has become too long.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

"Hurry up." Said the man in hushed whisper, his voice barely audible in the dead of the night.

"You're going to regret this, you know?" She whispered back, her voice was soft. She wasn't threatening him, rather she was scared for what might happen after.

"Don't make me change my mind." He replied. His words held no malice. They were more of a plea for her to hurry up. Before he could speak any further, she pulled him into a tight hug. He wasn't shocked at her action. He was used to her embracing him whenever the opportunity presented itself. Although he hated when she did so, this time he held her back and cherished these last moments with her.

"I'll owe you. For the rest of my life." She whispered lowly.

"You won't. You just be safe." He said pulling away from her. She nodded her head in a silent promise that she wouldn't be reckless and be safe. She looked at face, remembering every last detail, his short dark brown hair, the scar on his right cheek, his eyes, knowing this would be the last time she ever sees him in a very long time.

With a loud gasp Y/n sat up in her bed. Her forehead was covered in sweat as she heaved looking around. She relaxed a bit as she realised she was in her room, in her apartment.

It wasn't a nightmare per say that woke her up from her slumber. It was a memory. A memory buried in the back of her mind that she doesn't want to forget or remember. She wants to remember the last time she was with the most important person in her life but she wants to forget how she got here. She wants to forget how it was the last time she ever saw him and how she has no way of contacting him without risking his life.

With a heavy heart she dragged herself out of the bed, making her way towards the bathroom to get ready for her day.

Y/n L/n, a twenty four year old woman, who lives in Lebanon, Kansas for the past five years. She lives alone in her one bedroom apartment. Works two jobs, at the local bakery, near her place, during the day and as a bartender at the bar during the night.

She doesn't necessarily need the money. She works to keep herself busy. To keep herself from sitting idle and remembering the things she desperately wants to forget.

Making her way towards the bakery, she was the first to arrive there. It has always been like this, she's the first to arrive and the last to leave. She fumbled with the keys, her breath forming small clouds in the crisp morning air. With a soft click, she unlocked the door and pushed it open, the familiar scent of fresh bread and vanilla greeting her.

Y/n flipped the sign from "Closed" to "Open" and stepped inside, her movements practiced and efficient. She turned on the lights. The countertops were spotless, and the display cases were lined with freshly baked goods from the previous day, waiting to be restocked.

Soon her coworkers arrived and the bakery came to life with the customers filling in, and the aroma of rising bread and sweet pastries, filling her with warmth she lacked in her life.

Y/n's day went as usual, being in the back, finding solace in the warmth of the kitchen and taking pleasure in baking goods.

"Hey Y/n." James, her co-worker called out. "Can you take the counter please? Ellie isn't back from her break but mother nature's calling me!" Y/n laughed, nodding her head. "Thank you you're a life saver. I owe you." He yelled running towards the bathroom and she just grinned. She didn't mind helping out.

Y/n made her way outside and stood behind the counter. Rush hour had passed and there weren't many people in the bakery. Just an old man enjoying his cupcakes, and a young couple having donuts with coffee.

The front door opened and the bell chimed indicating someone had walked in. Y/n prepared herself to greet the customer but the minute she looked at him, the air was knocked out of her lungs. He was gorgeous. She stared as he came closer, noting his eyes were the greenest eyes she'd ever seen.

"Hello!" The man said as he finally stopped in-front of her. His voice snapped her out of her trance, it was velvet smooth.

"Hey, what can i get you?" She cleared her throat flashing him a smile.

"Pie." He said with a childlike excitement. "The banner outside said it's Special Pie Day."

"Sure is. And it seems to be your lucky day mister, we're down to our last slice." She smiled before moving to get him his pie. She placed it in a takeaway box and gave it to him and he thanked her before paying for it.

"Have a nice day!" She said to him.

"You too." He replied before walking out.

The rest of the day Y/n spent thinking about of the handsome stranger. After closing up, she went home, she ate the leftover pizza and took a shower. Dressed in her jeans and a blue crop top she left home for her other job.

Time went by as usual, drunk fights, pool hustling and bad karaoke. After serving another patron Y/n wiped the counter top. She threw the paper towel into the bin it missed, so she squatted down to pick it up and throw it in properly this time. She jumped a bit when she stood back up and saw green eyes sitting on the stool.

"What can i get ya?" She questioned the handsome stranger. He recognised her from earlier.

"A beer please."

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you're stalking me." She teased him putting the bottle in front of him.

"Nah, sweetheart. You just happened to be at two of my favourite places." He flashed her a charming smile.

"I haven't seen you around here before." She leaned a bit on the counter trying to remember if she's ever seen him before.

"Just passing by. But a good pie and beer, key to my heart." She nodded her head in understanding, it wasn't the places that were his favourite rather the items.

"Did you like the pie then?" She couldn't help but ask. She knew she was at what she did but it never hurt to ask for a bit of validation.

"Best damn pie I've ever had." He exclaimed.

"Then I guess I've unlocked your heart." She grinned at him.

"You made it?" He questioned and she nodded eagerly. She didn't know what it was about this stranger that made her act like a high school girl but she was having fun. She liked that she had his attention. She wanted to get to know him, even if he was just passing by.

"Well it was some pie..." he trailed off looking at her, hoping to get a name.

"Y/n." She filled in.

"Dean." He introduced himself.

"So what brings you here Dean?" She asked hoping to find more about the extremely gorgeous man sitting in front of her.

"Work." His vague answer told her he didn't want to talk more about it. So she dropped it. He asked her a few questions about her life here, he didn't ask her any personal questions so she was happy to indulge him. After he was finished with his third beer, he got a call and had to leave, much to her dismay. Fifteen minutes after he left, her shift was over and she headed home.

It was a silent night as she walked in the dark. She could feel another presence behind her and she knew she was being followed. Whoever it was, it's his bad day. She wasn't just a girl and she was really waiting for him to jump her just so she could beat the daylights out of him. But he didn't, and she couldn't risk him follow her all the way to her home so she slowed her steps, and then completely stopped.

"I know you're there." She called out. She moved towards the alley behind the dumpster and saw a figure in the shadows. The figure moved back as she approached him. Another pair of footsteps could be heard from outside the alley. She grabbed the shadow's arm and placed her forearm over his neck, pressing him into the wall, slightly cutting of his oxygen. As she pushed him to the wall, the light from the street lamp shone on his face. "Dean?" She questioned. "So you are stalking me!" His eyes widened as she said that.

"No, this isn't what it looks like!" He replied in a hushed voice.

"Three time's not a coincidence, Dean." She snapped. The sound of another pair of footsteps was getting louder. Dean rolled his eyes, not at her but the approaching footsteps. Soon enough a man appeared in-front of them and Dean managed to break free from her hold and pushed her behind him. The man in front of him snarled as he barred his teeth in a menacing display. They weren't teeth Y/n noticed. Fangs.

The vampire lunged at Dean and the hunter was quick, getting his machete out of his jacket he charged at him. The vampire pushed at Dean's chest, throwing him against the wall, his machete slipping off his hands. The creature, closed in on Y/n. With calculated moves, she kneed the monster in the stomach. The green eyed hunter watched as she reached over and picked Dean's machete, beheading the monster in one swift motion. Dean stood up but his jaw was still on the floor.

It was true that he was following her but the other two times he met her was purely coincidental. When he met her at the bakery, he just thought she was pretty. The next time he saw her at the bar, it was pure coincidence, after talking to her, he found her enticing. But then he got the call from his dad asking about his hunt and he remembered he was here for work. So he went back to his motel for research, however during his research he noticed that vamp was taking a certain type of females. Girls with Y/e/c eyes, y/h/c hair and the ones with a specific body type. His mind flashed with an image of Y/n and he immediately left his motel. His assumption had been true since the vamp actually came after her but he didn't expect her to do what she did.

"What did you do?" He asked her.

"Killed him, obviously! And saved your ass." She snapped folding her arms across her chest.

"Damn it Y/n, I could've followed him to his nest." He argued. "I'm gonna have to start over now."

"You wanted to use me as bait? Are you fucking kidding me?" She glared at him. "Stop hunting if it's such a bother to do your job in the first place."

"I wasn't using you as bait, I came to save you. If you hadn't killed him, I would've made him tell me where the rest of them are." He retorted. "Are you a hunter?" He asked after a moment of silence.

"No." She replied unfolding her arms and walking over to the dead creature's body. She patted his pockets hoping to find something that could lead them to his base. Dean scoffed at her response.

"Are you seriously going lie to my face after I just saw you decapitate a vampire?"

"I'm not a hunter Dean." She answered through gritted teeth. She found a cellphone in the vamps pocket, she threw it at Dean who caught it effortlessly. "That might help you." She said walking away.

"Hey.!!" He ran behind her and grabbed her arm as he caught up to her. "I could use the back up, you know." He tried to convince her with his captivating smile. She gave him a deadpan expression. "C'mon sweetheart, I'll owe you." He didn't give two shits about back up. He just didn't want her to leave too soon. Now that he knows he can be himself in front of her, he just wants to spend a bit more time with her.

She narrowed her eyes at him, he fidgeted under her scrutinising gaze and she smirked. "C'mon, out with it, sweetheart." She demanded in a teasing tone. Dean let out a huff.

"I thought you were pretty. But now I think you're smoking, you're badass and it's hot so can you blame a man for wanting to spend some more time with you?" He rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. "Besides you seem to know about this stuff and it's just a cherry on top."

"You could've just said so. Besides now that I think about it, you actually might need backup." He rolled his eyes at her teasing, knowing he's completely capable of holding on his own. "Lead the way." She motioned him to lead the way.

He took her to the Impala and she settled in the passengers seat. It wasn't long before she found herself out a cheap motel. He guided her inside his room and she could see the beds were still made, a few empty beer bottles were placed on the table with his laptop sitting on it.

"May I?" She gestured to his laptop and he shrugged. She took a seat on the chair, before she could open the computer he jumped a bit before snatching it from her. He gestured her to wait a minute and closed all the tabs before giving it back to her. She gave him an amused look and he looked sheepish. "The phone." She raised her palm out in front of him. She went through the messages, the recent one stating,

Get back ASAP. -Rick

Y/n quickly traced the number and a few minutes later the computer pinged. "I got it." She turned the screen towards Dean and he was impressed by how quickly she found their target.

"Let's go, sweetheart."

It didn't take them long to arrive at the vampire's nest. They quickly sneaked inside the abandoned building, Y/n's grip tight on her borrowed machete. She scanned the area before moving in stealthily. Dean right behind her. As they ventured further into the building, a bit of chatter could be heard over loud music coming from upstairs. The duo nodded at each other and made their way upstairs. It all happened in a flash, Y/n noticed they were seven of them and charged fearlessly. Slashing heads after heads. One of them had managed to knock the machete out of her hand but she didn't falter, she jumped a bit and spin kicked the vampire which made him fall a few feet away with a loud thud. That gave her the opening to grab her weapon and end his life.

Y/n and Dean panted, covered in blood with victorious grins of their faces. Dean had witnessed how she'd kicked the vamp and he was impressed. This girl was astonishing him every second. He wanted to know her, he needed to know the girl who denied being a hunter but fought better than one.

"I believe a celebration is in order." Dean said holding his hand out to her. She grabbed it without hesitation.

"My place, Deano." She whispered in his ear and he swore he felt his blood rush to all the right places. After burning the bodies the two got into the Impala, driving to her place. She let him inside her apartment and closed the door behind her.

"Drink?" She questioned walking into the kitchen. Dean nodded. "Have a seat, make yourself comfortable." She gestured to the couch.

"Nah, don't wanna ruin your couch, sweetheart." Dean replied as she came back with two bottles of beer. He took one graciously and took a big swig.

"Then why don't you strip, sweetheart." He mentally groaned as he's never met a woman like this before. He swore if he was capable, he would've fallen in love with her. Her eyes watched how his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. Leaving her bottle on the coffee table, she moved toward the bathroom. She tossed her top at him before disappearing inside.

"Fuck, this woman." Dean groaned before joining her inside. She was waiting for him under the shower in all her naked glory. Dean didn't waste anytime before stripping off his clothes and joining her. He stepped under the warm water his chest pressing against her back. She could feel his length pressing into her back. She turned around, slamming her lips into his. He grabbed the back of her head, pulling her closer, their lips met in an incredibly intense kiss, charged with a raw, electric heat. The kiss deepened, becoming fierce, that left them both breathless and craving more. He groaned into her mouth.

"Fuck i gotta take you to bed." He growled. As much as he loves a good shower sex he needs to take her to bed, he needs to have a taste of her sweet nectar, he wants her to fall apart on his tongue at least twice before has his way with her, before he spilts her open. Most of all he wants her to enjoy this as much as he does, he wants her to be comfortable.

She nodded before turning off the shower. He picked her up effortlessly, and threw her on the bed. He kissed her once before making his way down between her legs. He buried his head in her core. Lapping at her juices like a starved man. As much as his body ached to be inside of her, he needed her to come undone on his tongue. And she did. Hard.

"I could eat you all day, fuck you're sweeter than any pie I've ever had." He praised kissing the inside of her thighs.

"Dean." She whimpered. "Need you." She was needy for him, she had never wanted a man as much as she him and she didn't even know his last name.

"Patience, baby." He rasped. Fuck, his voice alone was enough for her to lose every last thread of her sanity. And his expert mouth and fingers had her wanting, begging for more.

He hovered above her, his hand resting beside her head. His other hand tracing all over her body as his mouth left open mouth kisses over her neck and chest. Although she was loving being submissive for him, she was running out of patience. Pulling him down slightly she flipped him on his back, moving up to straddle his waist.

"Easy, princess." Dean teased as she positioned herself and sunk down on him. He groaned loudly as he sheathed inside her completely. "Fuck baby." He grunted as she started moving.

"Dean." She gasped as running her hands all over her body. Throwing her head she moved faster.

"Say my name, just like that." He flipped them over so she was under him again. Pulling her legs over his shoulders, he pounded into her. She didn't remember the last time a man had her screaming his name over and over until it was the only thing she remembered. He pressed his lips onto hers, one of his hands wrapping around her throat, adding slight pressure making her roll her eyes in the back of her head. She kept repeating his name like mantra, with each snap of his hips.

After hours of immense pleasure, she'd lost sense of her surroundings, lost count of the times he's made her come, she didn't even know if it was night or day anymore. All she knew that this enigma of a man was making her feel things she'd never felt before. She came back to her sense as she felt Dean rub gentle circles on her skin.

"You okay, sweetheart?" She nodded slowly. "You were amazing baby girl." He grinned at her handing her a glass of water he brought for her.

"You were fantastic." She responded as he settled in the bed with her. He laid back pulling her down to rest her head on his chest. Pretty soon the day's exhaustion took over and she drifted off to slumber.

"We have to. I have to." A blonde girl muttered with no emotion.

"No we don't." She replied looking somber.

"You don't understand, there is no other way." The blonde girl took a step closer.

"We will find a way. This doesn't have to happen.!" She exclaimed walking backwards.

"I am sorry." Was the last thing she heard the blonde girl say.

A loud scream, woke Dean from his slumber. He shot up and watched Y/n sit up beside him. Her eyes were wide open and she was out of breath.

"Hey hey! Sweetheart, just a nightmare, yeah?" Dean nodded at her, slowly coaxing her.

Not just a nightmare.

"Yeah!" Dean gathered her in his arms, placing a kiss on her head. He didn't know why but his is heart was aching for the girl in his arms. He felt the need to protect her. He gently laid her back on the bed, his arms tightening around her. She felt safe in his arms. She wanted to ask him to stay forever. But she knew she couldn't and she knew he wouldn't.

Dean's woke up as he heard vibrations coming from somewhere. He snuggled into her neck further, but his eyes flew open as he realised it was his phone buzzing. He slipped out of the bed, tripping on his feet as he rushed towards his phone. He somehow managed to pull it out of his jeans before it stopped ringing.

"Fuck." He cursed as he saw the called ID. It was his dad. "Yeah Dad!" He said answering the phone. "Yeah. No, I forgot. It's done." Dean waited for his father to finish speaking so he could go back to the baddie in bed, cuddle her, wake her up with his head between her legs. But his father ordered him to be back in three hours. Since there's no use for him to stay there if the job's done. "Yes, Sir." Dean muttered before hanging up. He knows it's a long drive and he'd only make it in there in three hours if he left right now. There's no time for a quickie and the thought made him groan.

Y/n yawned and stretched as she woke up to an empty bed. She tried not to feel disappointed that he was gone; she knew he would leave eventually. But she had hoped for at least a goodbye. She heard footsteps approaching. Dean emerged through the doorway and flashed her a smile.

"Good morning."

"I thought you left," she mumbled, pulling the covers closer to her body. He inched closer, then kneeled on the bed before her.

"You really thought I'd leave without saying goodbye?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with surprise and amusement. He nugded her nose with his before pressing his lips to her. She gasped as he slipped his tongue inside her mouth. She pulled him closer, pulling him above her, but he pulled apart. "As much I'd love to, I have to leave. My dad called." He explained kissing her pout.

"Alright."

"This is goodbye?" Dean questioned.

"You can stop by whenever you want." She shrugged. Dean nodded.

"Do you think I can call you for backup?" He asked getting dressed.

"Don't you even dare." She threatened even when they both knew they hadn't exchnaged numbers, they didn't even know anything about each other apart from their names. He chuckled placing one last kiss on her lips before leaving her house.

Over the years Dean often thought about Y/n. She was the only woman ever that made Dean's heart leap out of his chest. He was beautiful, fierce, a badass when it came to hunting, but still had a graceful feminine touch to her personality. He was pretty sure she had ruined every other woman for him. His hookups were all meaningless and never enticed him to go for another night. He had every intention to go back to Y/n, visit her, maybe beg her to come with him. But due to this life, he never got the opportunity. Part of him stayed away because she didn't want to do anything with hunting, and he wasn't sure if he could bear her rejection. So he never tried.

Ten years had passed the bakery owner Mrs. Reed passed away and left the bakery in Y/n's name as she had no kin of her own. And she loved Y/n dearly. The old woman knew she was passionate about her job and was worthy of owning the place.

Dean never came back. Y/n never expected him to or even remember her. Y/n was thirty four now. Dean had managed to leave an impression on her. She tried not to think of him often. But this is life. You meet people, you remember some, you forget some. But there's some people she desperately wanted to forget but yet her mind wouldn't let her.

She stopped working at the bar ever since she inherited the bakery, but she still visited the bar on weekends. Having a drink or two. Had she known what awaited her, she would've never left her house that day. Y/n was by the pool table, a glass of whiskey in her hands as she watched the game between between two bulky men.

Her eyes wandered around the place ever so often. Her breath caught in her throat as she made eye contact with those blue eyes. She gulped down her drink in one go. She hoped he didn't recognise her but the smirk on his face said otherwise. She watched as one of men was positioned to take his shot, she accidentally stumbled into him ruining his shot. The large man turned to her and she cowered back in fear.

"He told me to do it." She pointed to his opponent and the large man turned to him. Grabbing him by his collar he threw a punch at his face. A fight broke out, creating enough diversion for her slip away.

"That was clever Y/n." A voice said from behind her as she walked out of the bar. "But you should know it isn't enough to outrun me." She stepped dead in her tracks as turned to face him. There was no way to run. Now that he knows she's alive, there's no way she could ever run.

"Mr.Ketch." She stuttered taking a step back.

"I never believed you died." He took a step forward. His thick accent still the same as she remembered. "Even if you were nineteen, you were one of the best." She watched in anticipation as he inched closer. "Though I never thought I'd run into you in America."

She was terrified of him. If it had been anyone else, she would've tried to run. If it had been anyone else, she might've felt relieved that they hadn't hurt her yet. But this was him—ruthless, calculating. The more he stalled, the more her fear grew. He liked to make his prey think they had a chance to escape. He liked the chase.

"Mr.Ketch." She spoke again, but she didn't even know what else to say.

"I just don't understand how'd you do it? How did you run from the Men of Letters. And more importantly why?" He circled around her. "Ah you know what, don't bother. I'm not interested."

"Why are you here?" She finally mustered the courage to question him. "I have been living a normal life, I haven't told anyone anything about the Men of Letters." She added feeling the need to explain.

"Don't flatter yourself, darling." Arthur snipped in his usual tone. "I'm not here for you, though it is a pleasant surprise to see you here." A moment of silence passed and Ketch gripped her arm tightly. "Now that I think about it. You're coming with me." She knew struggling against him would be a waste of her energy. He dragged her towards his vintage looking motorcycle.

The ride was short, she didn't recognise where he was taking her. They stopped in front of what looked like a base, located in a hidden bunker. It appeared to be deeply hidden and fortified. He placed his hand on the biometric scanner, the security gate opened and he dragged in her inside the by arm.

He nudged her move on her own, he opened a door to what seemed to be a briefing room. There were screens placed all over the place, some showed maps, locations and security footage of God knows what places. A huge table with chairs was set up in the middle. The door opened for a second time and someone entered the room while her back was to the door.

"Look what I found." Ketch announced, turning her around forcefully. Her heart stopped for a minute when her gaze landed on the newcomer. Those eyes, the ones she memorised fifteen years ago, stared back at her with an unreadable expression. That scar across his right cheek was the same as she remembered.

"Mick." She breathed out. He was frozen in his place. He never thought he'd ever get to see her. He had always hoped and prayed for her safety. Seeing her back in the same hell again, the one he rescued her from, he didn't know how to feel.

She didn't care if she shouldn't have done it in front of Ketch but she ran straight into his arms. Her best friend. The one that helped her when she it needed the most. The one who risked his life help her run. As the initial shock wore off, Mick wrapped his arms around her. Hugging her tightly, not wanting to let go. He'd missed her.

"Well, isn't it heartwarming." Ketch said sarcastically, from behind her, making them pull apart.

"What do you want from me?" She snapped, her fear now turning into anger and frustration.

"Now that is a very good question, darling." Ketch clicked his fingers before towering her. "What do you think will happen when the Elders find out a rogue hunter is alive?" He sneered as he spoke. "They'd issue your death warrant. And trust me I would love to carry out those orders."

There was no doubt that he was right, Y/n knew and Mick did too. They would have her killed. The main reason Mick declared her dead was to ensure they would never look for her ever again. And that plan had been successful for fifteen years- until today. Until Ketch found her.

"I have a job for you. Complete it, or you won't live to see another sunrise." Ketch said retrieving his gun from his gear. "So what's it gonna be?" He questioned pointing the gun to her head.

"What's the job?" Ketch smirked at her answer and Mick let out a resigned sigh.

"Eliminate the Winchesters. From within."

Y/n didn't know who the Winchesters were or why the British Men of Letters were so concerned about them. But knowing Ketch as she did, she was sure he wouldn't hesitate to assassinate the Winchesters if it weren't so complicated.

"Mick here will tell you whatever you need to know," Ketch said, grabbing his stuff. Turning to her, he added, "And Y/n, one wrong move." He warned, pointing his gun at her to emphasize that he wouldn't hesitate to shoot. She nodded meekly before he left.

"Oh god." She let out a breath as the menacing man left the room. She turned to Mick embracing him again. He patted her back, calming her down. "How have you been?" She asked pulling away to look at him.

"I've been better. I'm ecstatic to see you, but I'm terrified for what might happen to you." He replied, his familiar accent soothing her. She gave him a small smile.

"Don't worry about me, Micky." He rolled his eyes at her for using his old nickname she'd given him. "I've had a great life thanks to you. After I'm done with these Winchesters, I might end up killing Ketch and maybe we can run away. I'm not leaving my best friend behind this time." She said sounding determined.

"Sure thing kiddo." He ruffled her hair. She pouted slapping his hand away. She hated when he did that.

"Fill me in about these Winchesters." She said plopping down on one of the chairs.

"They're brothers. American hunters, currently residing in a Men of Letters bunker in Lebanon, Kansas." Mick stated sitting beside her.

"What's Wretch's beef with them?" She questioned. Mick let out a laugh knowing who she was referring to.

"It's not a personal conflict. They're meddling with business." Mick replied.

"Such as?"

Mick gave her a look. She immediately understood that the Winchesters weren't fond of their methods. The British Men of Letters had no regard for collateral damage, as long as their goals were achieved. It was one of the reasons Y/n got out. She had had enough of having innocent blood on her hands.

"And why can't that cunt deal with them himself?" She asked.

"They've proven to be a bit unpredictable. They've outsmarted him. And they're resilient as hell." Mick informed her, a smirk appeared on her face.

"I like these Winchesters. At lease someone gave Wretch hell." She snickered. Mick chuckled before dropping a file in front of her. The file was labeled as 'Winchesters'. She flipped the file open and read through it.

Sam and Dean Winchester. The name Dean brought back memories, her mind flashed with the images of the green eyed hunter. Her eyes widened as realisation hit. Dean, American Hunter. She flipped through the file for a photo. When she found one attached to the page with a paperclip, she removed it and inspected closely. The man in the photo looked familiar, he no longer had that boyish charm on his face, he looked her older. But those eyes. Those green eyes.

Son of a bitch.

Y/n mulled things over, he probably won't even remember her. But does she want to play puppet for Ketch. She ran away from this god forsaken organisation for a reason. But then she knew Ketch wouldn't just kill her. He would torture her, mentally and physically. She could bear the physical pain being inflicted onto her but she knows he would drag Mick into this to break her. And she can't let that happen. She owed him her life, her happiness, those fifteen years she spent as a normal human being. He'd always treated like a little sister and she'd seen him like the big brother she never had. She can't let anything happen to him. She won't.

"I guess I got work to do." Y/n mumbled closing the file. "Call Wretch." She told Mick. The man nodded and called Ketch. The man came back with a stoic look on his face. "Final goal?" She questioned.

"On our side or dead." Ketch replied.

"When I do this, you'd better keep your pestering ass out of my way. And don't you dare show up anywhere near me!" Ketch scoffed at her threat. "I'm serious, those guys hate your guts and I don't want to be seen with you. Don't want your incompetence to mess up my work." This triggered Ketch and his face twitched a bit but he held back.

"Be my guest." He taunted before leaving again.

Mick helped her get back to her apartment. She dropped on her bed as she formulated a plan.

Plan A, get them to be partners with the British Men of Letters.

Plan B, Elimination.

She hoped it never came to Plan B.

Y/n knew her best shot at getting close to the Winchesters would be Dean. She'd read about them, the British Men of Letters had kept an eye on them for a long time. She knew Sam would be a bit suspicious of her but given her past with Dean, she could manage to accomplish her mission. Out of all the places in the country, Y/n never thought Dean would settle down here, in Lebanon. How come she never ran into him she wondered, but then again, she never went out much, just the bakery or the bar. It makes her question why he never visited her. Maybe he did forget about her.

Y/n visited the bar Dean visited frequently, according to the files. She'd been here for the fourth day in a row and he hadn't showed up yet again. She wanted to run into him accidentally, just so he wouldn't get suspicious of her. It wasn't unlikely for him to bump into an old fling at the bar. It would be completely coincidental. The door to the bar opened and walked in the green eyed hunter she'd been waiting for.

If he looked gorgeous back then Y/n didn't know how to describe him now. His features a bit more rugged, his hair a bit tousled, a bit of stubble present on his jaw and she pressed her thighs together, wanting to feel that scruff between her legs.

She downed her drink quickly as she watched him take a seat on one of the stools by the bar. She quickly made her way towards him. She lightly tapped on his shoulder and waited for him to turn around.

Dean wasn't in the mood to be bothered by anyone, and he certainly didn't want to deal with an annoying woman clinging onto his side. He presumed if he'd act uninterested, whoever it was, would leave him alone. But they persisted, tapping on his shoulder once again. He grumbled before turning around, ready to tell the intruder to fuck off but time froze as he did.

Dean didn't believe his eyes, it was Y/n. She was right in front of him. In the flesh. She logged a bit older than the last time he saw her. Her y/h/c was a bit longer, her body had grown, in more ways than one. She was a pretty girl but she's turned into an even more beautiful woman. He blinked a bit when he heard her call his name.

"Dean? Dean, you zoned out."

"Fucking hell. Y/n!" It wasn't a question. It was an exclamation. He remembered her. "Goodness, sweetheart. Look at you." Dean beamed. "Still beautiful as ever."

"And look at you, still charming as ever." She replied with a grin. He missed her. He missed this. She was the only woman who could tease him and match his flirty banter.

"How have you been?" Dean asked her.

"Been good. Though I'm a bit upset." She pouted. Although she was doing a job, she couldn't help but say what she felt.

"Why is that, sweetheart?"

"Well you're here, and you didn't visit." She replied honestly. He hadn't expected her to say that. He never thought she'd want him to visit her. "Is there a girlfriend or a wife I should know of?"

"None." He replied. At his answer she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, his arms immediately circling her waist.

"Missed you." She whispered in his ear making him shudder. The woman that has been invading his dreams for the past ten years is back in his arms and he was losing control. He dragged his nose through the column of her neck, inhaling her scent.

"Missed you too baby." If she was being honest, being back in his arms made her forget why she was there in the first place. Although she'd barely spent 24 hours with him in total, she'd missed him immensely over the years. "Let's get out of here, yeah?" She nodded, he turned and threw a few bills to cover for his beer. His arm never leaving her waist, he pulled towards the Impala. "You still live at the same place?" She nodded again as he pulled the car out of the parking.

They reached her place soon enough but none of them were eager to rip their clothes off of each other. With his hand tightly clutched in hers, she pulled him to the couch Dean's strong arms encircle Y/n, holding her close against his chest, where they can feel the steady beat of his heart. His warmth surrounds her. Dean's fingers lazily trace patterns on Y/n's back, his touch gentle and reassuring. Y/n nestles her head against the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent she missed so much. It hasn't even been an hour since she was back in his arms, and she's already considering telling Ketch to fuck off.

"What have you been up to these days?"

"Hunting. What about you?" Dean shifts slightly, pulling Y/n even closer, and presses a soft kiss to the top of her head. There's a quiet contentment in the air, the kind that comes from being with someone who makes you feel safe and cherished. Neither of them knew just how desperately they wanted each other, until now.

"Ah same old. I'm the owner of the bakery now. And i stopped working at the bar."

"That's amazing, sweetheart."

"When are you leaving?" Her question echoed through the quiet apartment. He tensed slightly; he hadn't told her he lived here now. He wasn't ready for her reaction upon discovering he'd been living here for years and never bothered to visit. Not this soon But he knew he had to come clean sooner or later. If he wanted something more with her—something real this time—he needed to tell her the truth.

"I'm not." She looked at him with curious eyes, although she knew he was living in the Men of Letters bunker with his brother. She knew almost everything about him— yet here she was, pretending. She hated doing it. "I live here with my brother. Have been for a while."

"I see." She replied looking down at his chest. A part of her was hurt that he had been living her and he didn't come find her. If Ketch hadn't appointed her with this job, she would've never met Dean again.

"Cmon, don't be like that, sweetheart. I wanted to come see you. I just thought maybe you'd moved on, had someone in your life. We didn't exactly make any promises." He rubbed the back of his head. "Besides, I don't think I would've been able to handle seeing you with someone else." A smile broke onto her features at his admission.

"There hasn't been anyone. No one was the flirty green-eyed hunter." She grinned up at him. It was the truth, she did meet other people over the years but they weren't Dean.

"I was wondering, if you'd want to give us a real chance? I know this is sudden, we just met again-" she didn't let him complete, she stopped him mid sentence by pressing her lips to his.

"I'd love to." Y/n was now questioning her own skills; she hadn't been on a job for fifteen years. The lines were blurring for her. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to complete this job or get herself killed by Ketch. Whatever it was, she didn't care in that moment. She wanted Dean. And he was willing to himself to her.

Dean stayed the night but nothing happened. Y/n served Dean the pie in her fridge, she loved how his face lit up like a child. Even after years his love for pie was still the same. The curled up in bed, catching up on each other's lives they missed over the years.

"Your best friend is an angel?" She looked at him incredulously. He chuckled at her reaction and nodded.

"Yeah. He's more like a baby in a trench coat."His laugh made her smile sadly. The more he told her about his life, the more she was second guessing this job. Is she really going to kill him and his brother if they don't cooperate with the British Men of Letters.

"I'm sorry Dean." He looked down at her with a questioning gaze. "The years haven't been kind to you." She pressed a soft kiss to his chest. "I can't even imagine how you'd felt, going to hell, purgatory. I'm so sorry." She cupped his cheek, staring in those green eyes that'd seen so much. There's pain but there's adoration, for her.

"It's in the past." He shrugged nonchalantly. He didn't know what possessed him to tell her his life story but he wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to be emotionally connected with her, he wanted it to be real, more than just a physical relationship. "Go to sleep, sweetheart." He kissed her forehead as she snuggled closer to him.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #sam and dean #spn fanfic #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader fluff #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester x reader angst #jensen ackles #jensen fucking ackles #jensen ackles characters #nini writes

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cabi-leodrann · 4 months ago

Note

hi!! hello!! I've read throw the thab comic this morning and it got me audible gasping and saying "my god it's so good why is it so good it's" out loud, absolute 10/10 reading experience thank you thank you you made my day honestly

my question is this – is there anything you'd like to infodump about in thab au (characters, lamb's past, wordbuilding details, that fact that narinder's third eye seems to be much more emotional and honest than narinder himself)? I've skimmed through tags and didn't find that mush info (outside the comic itself) and im very intrigued, so maybe you'd like to share anything! it would be cool!! if not that's cool too, i hope you have a good day<3

hrvnuhrg Thank you so much! I can't wait for the comic to continue and see yours and everybody else's reaction =D And even then, it's a bonus, knowing you like the project is already very cool ngl For the info-dump! A lot of what you put in parenthesis will be brought up in the comic, and I'm the kind of mf that likes to keep surprises >=3

BUT

I can give you THaB's cast! Not everyone is here, because some characters are not very important and/or not very developed. As a bonus tho, you'll get everyone's name in the Lamb's conlang I made =D

COtL characters:

Lamb and Nari! The two most important characters of the comic! Since the bullshit revolve around their relationship. No anecdote for them, because everything can be spoiler-

It comes as a surprise to no one I think, but the bishops will be there =D Fun fact, in this image, I put them from younger to older, based on one of the co-writter (@wowowhy) head-canon that the more eyes the bishops have, the older the are! Making Narinder the middle child-

Mystic Seller, Claunek and Ratau wont be seen very often! They'll have more of a technical roles in the story. Giving key information, giving state of things. But I try to keep wiggle room in the writing, so things might change!

THaB characters:

Lamb's disciples! Put from older to youngest. Salky is Lamb's right hand. She was the Hathor demon in Nari's fight! Loki loves to look for frogs from time to time. Deimos sometime sneak some alcohol from his bar-tending job. Pixie likes to drink a cup of tea when she get the time. Nimwé goes to the cemetery pretty often to change the flowers of the graves.

Have some of the followers we'll see! Litsy loves everyone (to everyone's dismay). We saw him as an Orcus demon during Narinder's fight! Purna likes how lively her kitchen get when it's time to prepare dinner. We saw her as a Vesta demon earlier! Nysus is the self appointed resource manager of the flock. But some people would just call them a thief. Meralon, the flock undertaker, he is also Gérard drinking buddy. Gérard is the unluckiest person you could ever found in the Land of the Old Faith, which makes him a very good janitor.

I might reblog this post to put more characters in the future, stay tuned!

#cabi ask #through hell and back cotl au #thab au #cult of the lamb #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #cotl leshy #cotl kallamar #cotl heket #cotl shamura #mystic seller #cotl clauneck #cotl ratau

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kayr0ss · 1 month ago

Text

around the heart

[Gundam: The Witch from Mercury / GWitch, Sulemio, Fluff, post-canon, married, domestic, light angst, tying a tie for ur wife (TM)] AO3 Link

Summary: Suletta bought Miorine a tie and really wants to tie it for her before work.

“Look, I got you something!”

Well. At least it wasn’t in polka dots. Given Suletta’s stylistic preferences, it likely almost was. Instead, she was holding up a length of cloth in two shades of deep blue: navy with metallic stripes.

It was a necktie. A dated fashion choice, but not necessarily unheard of. “I can see that.”

Suletta pouted. Miorine felt something unravel in her chest.

“I think it would be cute!”

“You think anything I wear is cute,” she laughed.

Suletta sputtered, flustered. Her beautiful, green eyes flitted away from Miorine’s and towards the side of the room. Unfortunate. “True, but still.”

“I don’t think anyone wears those anymore, Suletta.” Miorine stepped closer anyway, her hand coming up to take the soft, silken cloth between her fingers and thumb. It was wonderfully made. It looked like Suletta had gone shopping somewhere nice.

Suletta’s eyes were back on hers. Her eyebrows creased upwards the slightest bit and—dammit. She sighed, the thin press of her lips softening into an exasperated smile.

“Fine.”

Suletta smiled, did a little giggle, and in a flurry of motion leaned down to press a soft kiss on Miorine’s cheek. Whatever warmth her wife exuded was contagious: it filled Miorine’s chest, floated around her like bubbles in their bedroom.

“I picked out a few! There’s a dark red one too, and deep purple because I figured that would be more your style.”

“And what might be ‘my style’, exactly?”

“Huh,” Suletta stopped in her place, licking her lips in thought, brows furrowing. “I didn’t really think about the words to describe it, but the vibes—” she made a vague motion towards Miorine “—make me think ‘serious’ and ‘uncolorful’.”

Miorine snickered, tugging on Suletta’s shirt to bring her closer so that she could wrap her arms around her waist. “You make me sound so boring.”

“N–Not boring!” Suletta whined, leaning into Miorine’s hold. “More like, classy! Sophisticated!”

“If you say so,” Miorine leaned up, got on her tiptoes, and stole a small kiss.

“I do,” Suletta kissed her back. “So stay still for me, won’t you?”

“Okay, okay.” Miorine pulled away, bringing her hands up to her own collar. “Let me just—”

“Um,” Suletta said softly, nervously. “I’d like to do it.”

Miorine stopped reluctantly. “Are you sure?”

Suletta took a shaky breath, and nodded. She moved slowly, bringing both her hands up to Miorine’s shoulders, her fingers undoing the crease that folded her collar in place. With her collar sufficiently popped, Suletta gave her a beaming smile. The early morning sun was filtering through the half-opened blinds behind her, almosting giving her a halo that set the tips of her hair—wispy, flame-like—on fire. It took Miorine’s breath away—and so did the way that Suletta successfully draped the slim tie around the back of Miorine’s neck, hanging over her shoulders.

Miorine, surprised, let out a sigh of wonder. Suletta was grinning. “That—that was—”

“Stay still,” Suletta whispered excitedly, apparently still not done. Miorine could only stare in awe, and nod.

Suletta brought both of her hands to hold each side of the cloth, carefully moving the wider end until it stopped halfway down Miorine’s thigh. Up and down her hands had moved, carefully and gently. Miorine audibly gasped. She could see Suletta biting back a smug smile, as if it was just the reaction she was waiting for.

(The doctors told them that dexterity would come last—much later than gripping, or standing, or even walking. But the doctors told them a lot of things, one earth-shattering piece of news after another, and Suletta had borne it all with more strength and grace than Miorine thought possible.)

“I, um. I’ve been working really hard during my sessions.”

“I can see that,” Miorine said breathlessly, unable to keep her own smile back.

Suletta, happy with her progress so far, took the wide end of the tie and crossed it over the narrow end. With a bit of effort she tucked the wider end behind the loop that had formed around Miorine’s neck. She brought her other hand to pin the intersection point in place, and Miorine could feel Suletta’s hands start to shake, could see her eyebrows furrow a little.

She stomped down the instinct to take over, pressed her fingernails into the palms of her hands to keep them still. “You got this,” she whispered. The tip of the wide end finally made it through, and Suletta was able to fish it out and pull the length of it all the way out until it fell back to Miorine’s waist.

Miorine didn’t realize she was holding her breath.

“That was the easy part!” Suletta laughed sheepishly. But she looked so genuinely happy that Miorine wishes she could bottle the feeling up, keep it close to her forever. “I have to, uh, wrap it horizontally around the knot, which might be a little hard, but—”

“You can do it,” Miorine said simply. Her eyes were stinging, which felt really melodramatic over a necktie, but… but still. Her hands found the hem of Suletta’s shirt, gripping on to them for any sort of contact. “I’m relying on you.”

Suletta kept staring at the knot, chewing on her lip. With a different kind of strength, she looked at Miorine’s eyes. “I need help.”

“Of course.”

“Could you pinch this part?” Suletta tapped onto the triangular knot beginning to form.

“I got it,” Miorine moved to help her.

Slowly, Suletta continued her work, lifting up the shorter, narrow end so she could horizontally wrap the wide end around the knot Miorine held.

“Thank you.”

“For?”

“Helping me during the hard parts,” Suletta whispered.

It was so loaded that Miorine had to swallow and could feel her heart swelling in her chest.

“Do you remember what I said all those years ago, at the incubation party?” Miorine started.

The cloth was now almost at the other side. “Which one? You said so many things!”

“I sure did,” Miorine laughed. “But I told everyone: ‘I’m that girl’s bride!’ You remember?”

Suletta blushed so prettily it almost made Miorine laugh again. “Y–Yeah!”

“Despite the situation, I… I really liked getting to say that.”

“Did you?”

“And now I get to say, ‘I’m that girl’s wife’,” Miorine slipped her fingers off once Suletta had properly wrapped the cloth. “Which is even more satisfying.”

It made Suletta chuckle, despite her shaking hands. They were a little exhausted by now, and Suletta looked like she was having a hard time keeping them up. Miorine’s were there to catch them. She cradled them gently in her own hands, running her thumbs along her knuckles, offering a moment of respite. “I’m going to be by your side, when it’s hard, when it’s easy.”

“I know,” Suletta leaned her forehead against Miorine’s. “I already know that.”

“Good.” Miorine leaned up, pressing a kiss onto Suletta’s forehead.

Suletta leaned back, flexing and unflexing her fingers. “I’m okay to continue now.”

Miorine was happy to comply. This time, Suletta threaded the wider end inwards over the triangular knot, leaving the center of the tie shaped like a heart. Slowly, she once again wrapped the wide end around the center knot, keeping her index finger pressed against the knot to leave space. She struggled a little to reach for the cloth on the other side, especially with one hand having to do two things, but eventually she was able to grip the tip of the wide end enough to pull it out from behind. The last thing to do was to tuck the wide end into the loose knot—something that proved more difficult than she thought, with only one hand free.

But Suletta always persevered: both in the big things, and in the little things. And in every instance, Miorine fell in love with her a little more.

The wide end finally came through, and all that’s left is to pull the tie firm and snug.

“You know,” Suletta started a little shyly, “I honestly saw this in a movie I watched at the hospital, way back before we were discharged.”

“Uhuh?”

“Just a classic scene of a wife tying a necktie for her spouse,” she blushed. “I thought it was really sweet, so I made it a goal to be able to do it for you!”

Suletta took her time. She pulled on it properly—making sure the knot didn’t go lopsided and that it fell centered on Miorine’s perfectly-pressed shirt—careful not to overexert her healing fingers.

“Which, I know is a little silly, but sometimes small goals like those kept me going, you know?”

Once everything was done, she regarded her work with a sense of relief and accomplishment, and folded Miorine’s collar back down again.

Miorine saw Suletta look towards her face, undoubtedly about to ask her what she thought, but Suletta stopped, confused, and—

Oh. She’s crying.

“Miorine?”

“Thank you,” Miorine whispered, her hands finally coming up to hold Suletta’s arms. “It’s perfect.”

“It’s no trouble, really—”

She shook her head, leaning forward onto Suletta’s shoulders, catching her in a hug. “You stupid idiot,” Miorine cried a little more. She doesn’t mean it. At this point, they both know how Miorine sounds when she’s completely, blissfully happy. “You must have been pushing yourself so much during therapy.”

“I promise I didn’t overdo it!”

“You save the world,” Miorine whispered, overwhelmed with emotions she didn’t know what to do with. “And pay a price so steep I will never understand its depth, and yet you pull miracle after miracle out of thin air—and now you’ve just tied me a necktie, when they said you wouldn’t be able to do more than managing a grip for several more months, and—”

She grips onto the back of Suletta’s shirt.

“—and I love you. Oh, I love you.”

Suletta softened at that, whispering her reply on Miorine’s head as she let herself be held.

Finally, Miorine pulled back to look at her. Her eyes were a little puffy.

“Oh, no.” Suletta gasped. “You are so late for work.”

“I don’t care.”

“We should get you ready to go!”

“Suletta, there’s really no need to rush.”

“Oh!” Suletta blinked at Miorine, apparently having remembered something very important. “I did work really hard on my grip strength so that—”

“Huh?”

Suletta gave her a cheeky grin, grabbed her by the tie, pulled her closer, and kissed her.

fin

A/N: i love them *sob*

#sulemio #miosule #gwitch #gundam witch #suletta mercury #miorine rembran

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kikis-writing-world · 9 months ago

Text

Espresso

Or: She needed to come back down to earth

Chrissy Cunningham has tickets to see her favorite pop star perform. It's a concert she'll never, ever forget.

Past Eddie/Chrissy, current female Pop Star!Reader/Rockstar!Eddie

*In the 3rd person, can also be read as an OC

Word Count: 3k

Rating/Warnings: Reader is female presenting and performed Espresso originally by Sabrina Carpenter, and I describe her as moving and posing, but possibly with the aid of dansers? - blank slate otherwise. No Upside Down. Could be read either canon!AU (mid 90s or so as they're adults now) or modern!AU. If I missed anything AU wise or blankslate!reader wise, please let me know kindly <3 I'm only human.

This work is rated PG but this blog is always 18+

A/N: The song got me, what can I say? Somewhere in my head Espresso mixed with Sk8er Boy by Avril Lavigne and here's what you get. A little fic to whet your appetite. Not edited, not betaed, written in about 1.5 hours while also at work- but I hope you enjoy it anyway <3

divider by @saradika-graphics

“Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso-

Chrissy giggled as she sang along to the track floating from the state of the art boombox on her dresser. Her best friends, Cindy and Linda, danced around the bedroom with her, feeling like teens again as they got ready for the concert that evening.

“I can’t get enough of this song,” Linda gushed as she leaned close to the mirror above Chrissy’s vanity. She stopped singing along with the other girls long enough to apply her shiny lip gloss to perfection.

“She’s the best.” Chrissy agreed, turning the volume up even farther, hitting the threshold as the boombox reached max volume.

“Can I borrow this?” Cindy asked, picking up one of Chrissy’s eyeshadow palettes.

“Of course,” Chrissy agreed without thought, only to pause. “Wait- as long as you use that pink,” Chrissy amended, pointing to the neon hue. “Because it’s perfect with your outfit.”

The girls all laughed as they agreed on it being the perfect shade.

“How did you even get these tickets, it’s been sold out for months?” Linda asked, turning away from the mirror, bopping in place to the music.

“Daddy has a client whose son’s fiance got mono on her bachelorette vacation, so they canceled the wedding. They sold her tickets to afford the cancellation fees.” Chrissy explained as she compared two necklaces against her outfit. The girls cringed in sympathy, but the mood was quickly uplifted as they all tuned back into the music, forgetting the unknown couple’s problems. The tornado of excitement and glitter moved through the room until suddenly the girls all stopped what they were doing to sing along in tandem.

“I'm working late 'cause I'm a singer Oh, he looks so cute wrapped around my finger

The three faced each other as they sang, sharing the moment as they each performed their hearts out as if they were the one performing on stage tonight. The three danced, twirling their hips and waving their arms the way they did as teens, trying to get all the boys’ attention. Not the three grown adults they were, with homes, partners and responsibilities. It was freeing to feel so young again.

“My twisted humor, make him laugh so often My honey bee, come and get this pollen-

The three all shrieked with laughter as they reached the end of the verse, laughing at each other’s lewd dance moves in camaraderie.

“Oh shit, is that the time?!” Cindy gasped, cutting off the raucous laughter. The other two girls turned to the clock Cindy was staring at, noticing time did indeed fly when you were having this much fun. If they didn’t finish getting ready soon, they would be late and then have a hard time finding a good spot to watch the show from.

“Shit!” Chrissy cursed, barely audible over the blasting music. She jogged over to the boombox, turning it down a few notches to a more reasonable volume.

All three women snapped back to task, perfecting their make-up and concert looks. It wasn’t long before they were running out the door and into Chrissy’s powder blue Beamer. Chrissy hadn’t even backed out of the driveway before Linda had the car stereo blasting the album, right where they had left off in the house. The three women sped down the highway, singing along to the tracks they would soon be hearing live.

Chrissy was sure her perfectly coiffed hair was falling and frizzing up, her carefully applied make-up turned into colourful smudges across her cheeks, the boots styled to match her outfit splattered with dirt and mud - but she couldn’t care less. She was having the time of her life at the concert. The singing was amazing, even better than the album. The dancing, the choreography - the hunky dancers. She was having the best time, dancing and singing along with Cindy and Linda.

“This is AMAZING!” Linda shrieked as the song ended. Chrissy clapped and cheered while Cindy jumped up and down.

“Alright, alright,” the woman on stage spoke, waving off everyone still cheering after the last number she performed. Her chest heaved as she caught her breath from the singing and dancing, skin glistening with sweat under the stage lights. Her hair hadn’t fallen and her make-up hadn’t budged. Chrissy watched her in awe, quieting her own thrilled cheers to hear what her favorite artist had to say next.

“Oh my god, Indiana, you guys are crazy!” She laughed, waiting for the crowd to die down. Unfortunately, the comment made them cheer in agreement. Chrissy and her friends jumped up and down, cheering along.

The performer on stage dropped the microphone to her side as she laughed again at the crowd’s reaction. She looked off stage and made a little shrugging motion, a smile on her face all the while. Chrissy couldn’t see who she was looking at from her angle - someone on her team, her manager, someone running the equipment; she wasn’t sure. She kept looking between the crowd and the wing of the stage until they quieted enough for her to speak once more.

“See I have a friend,” the singer started, roaming the stage with ease. Her presence filled the large space as the crowd - Chrissy, Linda and Cindy included - took in each word with bated breath. A field full of fans waiting to see what she would say or do next. “A very good friend, you might say.” The singer admitted with a sly smirk.

The crowd exploded - some cheers, some boos of disappointed fans.

“Did you know she was seeing anybody?!” Linda gasped.

“I hadn’t seen anything in The Enquirer!” Cindy shook her head, flailing her hands as if trying to fan herself. “Oh my god, who do you think it is?”

“It could be anyone,” Linda started, only to be interrupted by Chrissy.

“Maybe Leo!” She laughed, joking while all the while loving the idea that her favorite pop star might be dating her favorite hunk of an actor. Linda and Cindy agreed by way of shrieking and jumping with excitement. Chrissy joined in immediately.

“See, my very special friend is from right here in Indiana!” the star continued over the mic, halting the girls’ theorizing. They quieted down, Linda blindly grabbing for Chrissy and Cindy’s hands as she never took her eyes off the stage. No one wanted to miss a hint on who the mystery “friend” was. “He told me that you guys… Well, he doesn’t seem to like his home state very much.” The star fake pouted as the rapt audience booed. She looked off stage, pointing her exaggerated pout that way.

“Oh my god, is he here? Who is it?” Cindy nearly fell over, trying to lean over far enough to see backstage.

“I can’t see from here!” Chrissy huffed, craning her neck to get a better look. It was no use, they were too far to the same side to see into the wings.

“I know! What a meanie!” The singer laughed joyfully into the microphone. “I tell him he’s a big meanie all the time, but he doesn’t believe me.” She rolled her eyes playfully.

A dull laugh rolled through the crowd and the performer gave it a moment to breathe before continuing with her story. “I think you were all a bit mean to him too once, but maybe one day you’ll forgive each other.” She tutted. The crowd cheered their agreement - anything to make their idol happy. The reaction made the singer beam brightly, glancing over her shoulder yet again.

“This next song… I wrote it for him, and-”

The crowd cheered and awed, interrupting her briefly. She shot a wink offstage before rolling through the crowd’s roar.

“I wrote this for him, and right here in front of everyone he says he hates, I’m dedicating it to him! Let’s show him some love!” She yelled over the mic, the crowd growing louder as it fed off her excitement.

There was a short beat of silence before the opening notes to Espresso started, making the crowd go wild once more as the smash hit song started.

Chrissy, Cindy and Linda all screamed along with the crowd, jumping with excitement despite their sore, aching feet after dancing all night. Chrissy pulled her camera out of her fanny pack, snapping pics as the song started. The singer smiled and danced to the opening notes, waiting for her cue to start singing. The dancers around her grooved along with her, waiting for the choreography to start.

"Now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh Is it that sweet? I guess so Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso-

The trio of women sang along at the top of their lungs, as loud as their already sore throats would allow. Chrissy couldn’t be bothered to care that she likely wouldn’t have a voice tomorrow, it was worth it to sing along.

"Too bad your ex don't do it for ya Walked in and dream came trued it for ya Soft skin and I perfumed it for ya I know I Mountain Dew it for ya That morning coffee, brewed it for ya One touch and I brand newed it for ya

The singer and her group of dancers made their way towards their side of the stage, the crowd around them cheering for her as she approached. The three girls got their cameras ready as they snapped pictures of their favorite singer performing their favorite song just a dozen feet away from them. The male dancers fawned over her as the female dancers backed her up, dancing with her.

"Now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh Is it that sweet? I guess so Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso Move it up, down, left, right, oh Switch it up like Nintendo Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso

The singer moved back across the stage, doing her best to perform to all sides, giving each fan in the crowd a chance to see her and her dancers. She had been doing it the whole show, but the crowd predictably was even more lively for her big, hit single.

All too soon, the song ended with everyone on stage hitting a final pose. The singer was center stage, looking upwards towards the stage lights as the dancers posed around her. Cameras flashed through the people as everyone took their chance to get a decent shot as everyone stood still aside from their heaving chests as they caught their breath.

Chrissy, Linda and Cindy followed suit, cheering and taking pictures between their jumping and flailing. Chrissy was lifting her camera for her fourth or fifth photo of the pose - she lost count - when Linda grabbed her arm and her attention.

“Look!!!” Linda screamed as others in the crowd started reacting too. A tall, lanky figure had emerged from the wing, sauntering proudly towards the singer at center stage. He wore dark coloured jeans and a black t-shirt. His face wasn’t visible past the mop of inky curls when they first caught sight of him, but Chrissy felt a sinking feeling in her stomach at the silhouette. It was too familiar, a memory of her past, but surely it wasn’t-

More people from the crowd started screaming as the man crossed the stage. The singer finally dropped the pose, lowering her eyes to look at the crowd. She was smiling, face flushed from performing, but she soon noticed the crowd looking to the side.

Chrissy heard a man behind her, arguing with his girlfriend, the conversation fading in and out of the ruckus around her. “... -ed Coffin… telling you that’s him… think I know what “Shredder” Ed-…”

The pop star on stage looked surprised to see the man at first, but by the time he pushed through the cluster of back-up dancers around her, she was smiling up at him. The smile was brighter than any she’d given the audience on stage that night, a smile that shone in her eyes in a totally different way than performing on stage made them shine. The pop star started to speak, the microphone still held to her side not picking up any of the words. She didn’t say much before the man interrupted her, cupping the back of her head and dipping down to kiss her.

The crowd cheered through the passionate kiss. The back-up dancers around her reacted with joy and surprise at the public display of affection, some gasping while others applauded or laughed.

The man pulled the woman to him, holding her like he might be able to absorb her into himself in front of everyone. The singer didn’t fight, but she was obviously caught off guard at first. It barely took a moment for her to drop the microphone, a loud thunking noise booming from the speakers as it clattered to the stage. Her arms wrapped around the man, returning his embrace as she kissed him back. The sound of camera shutters nearly drowned out the voices of the crowd as everyone rushed to take pictures of the pop star and her apparent boyfriend - some to brag to their friends, some to try to sell as the first appearance of the world’s newest celebrity couple.

Chrissy stayed frozen, camera to her side as she watched who she was sure was her high school ex-boyfriend, Eddie Munson, having a heavy makeout session on stage with her favorite pop star.

“Wait, is that…” Cindy asked, starting to also recognize the man who had yet to turn his face their way. Cindy looked at Chrissy, her frozen reaction being all the answer she needed. Cindy prodded Linda, trying to get her to smarten up to what was happening to their friend.

The couple on stage finally parted, catching their breath as they only had eyes for each other. The pop star looked up at her man like he was the only person in the whole state, let alone in a crowd of hundreds. The man’s hand, covered with large silver rings, cupped her cheek gently. From where she stood, Chrissy could see his thumb caress her cheek. Despite the warm summer day, Chrissy shivered as she felt a ghost of a touch, a memory, across her own cheek.

The man leaned in, speaking directly into the singer’s ear for a few seconds. She let go a second later as he released her, bending down to pick up the microphone that was left abandoned on the stage. The man turned towards the crowd, finally showing his face to the entire audience. Some cheered as they recognized the lead singer and guitarist for the heavy metal band, while others who didn’t listen to heavy music waited for a clue to who the man was.

“Is that Eddie?!” Linda gaped, looking up at the man who was once the boy dating her friend.

He was older now than he was then, obviously. His mop of curls were still present, if possible better cared for. He had inky tattoos up and down his visible arms and some high on his neck, coming out of the collar of his Metallica shirt. He’d grown a short goatee, but the dimple in his cheek was still visible as he addressed the crowd. He looked… Great was probably not a strong enough word for how good Eddie Munson looked.

“Your Ex? Like, Eddie Mu-oof” Linda continued until Cindy elbowed her harshly in the side. Linda finally noticed the pale, frozen expression on Chrissy’s face. “Oh.” She mumbled lamely.

“Who's a freak now, Indiana?” Eddie growled into the microphone, his voice raspier than Chrissy remembered it- age, constant performing and steady smoking had settled into his vocal chords in an appealing way. It reminded Chrissy how he used to sound after a show at The Hideout, voice rough from a night of screaming into the mic.

Eddie tossed the microphone to a nearby dancer, not bothering to check if the unsuspecting man caught it (he did, barely) as he stuck his tongue out, devil horns atop his head. Just like that, Chrissy could see the boy underneath the age, tattoos and facial hair. The 18 year old who couldn’t promise her the world, but promised everything in his world, only for her to break his heart a year and some months later. Out of everyone there, Chrissy looked up and saw no one but Hawkins’ freak with a heart of gold Eddie Munson, but she realized Shredder Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin didn’t even know she was there. She hadn’t even realized he’d gotten signed, or the band was famous- when had that happened?

Eddie turned, planting another passionate, borderline messy kiss on the pop star's laughing lips. The crowd erupted in another set of cheers, harshly pulling Chrissy back to real life.

Eddie ended the kiss, resting his forehead against the singer’s. The two’s lips were moving through their wide smiles. Chrissy could only imagine the sweet nothings being exchanged. Once upon a time, in a different life, in a quiet trailer park, those sweet nothings had been reserved just for her.

Eddie patted the star on the ass before releasing her from his arms. She laughed as he jogged back to his spot in the wings, hand over her mouth like she couldn’t believe the kiss they’d just shared. Eddie didn’t bother to acknowledge the crowd as he left, no wave goodbye or lude gestures. Before he disappeared from view, he turned to blow a kiss in her direction.

Red faced but smiling gleefully, the starlet pretended to catch it, placing it on her cheek. She stared after him even once he was out of view, only remembering herself when the dancer handed her the microphone.

“Oh, um…” She stumbled her words into the mic, giggling bashfully. She lowered the mic and took a deep breath, physically shaking her limbs. “I was expecting that even less than the rest of you.” She joked once she brought the mic back up to her smudged lips. “Let’s, uh… Let’s move on with the show?” She laughed, unsure how else to move forward with the setlist. The crowd cheered their agreement as she nodded to all her dancers and musicians to get ready to start back up.

“Should we leave?” Cindy asked quietly. Linda stared at Chrissy, waiting for her response.

It was definitely a concert she’d never, ever forget.

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