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mysteria157 · 1 year ago

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Moment Two: Your Daughter's First Pair

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

CW: fluff, profanity (not really), sexual suggestion, slight angst (very minimal).

Word Count: ~3.4k

Summary: Nanami joins you and your daughter for a family tradition, but he may not be as strong as he thinks.

Set in the It Had To Be You universe but you don't need a lot of backstory to follow along.

Notes: This was a random thought that I had based on something that has always been a thing in my family that I wanted to write out. There is nothing significant about this, I have not written Nanami in a LONG time, so I'm trying to warm myself up again. I am so rusty but I'm using fleeting moments of inspiration and taking advantage of it.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome! Happy reading!

Divider: @saradika | Header: myself

MINORS DNI

“You don’t need to hold her so tight.”

“I’m protecting her.”

“And what am I, a goat?”

He raises a brow at your jest, autumn wheat and elegant but nonetheless annoyed as he glares at you. He doesn’t mean it, you know that—it’s all nerves.

“Ken, we don’t have to do this you know? If you’re against the idea, we can wait a few more years.”

“I’m not against it,” he reassures you, adjusting your daughter in his arms. Ulani babbles up at him, her chubby hands digging into a sharply cut cheekbone. He carries on without complaint, already used to her behavior. “This is a tradition, and I understand it but…”

You turn a key chain in one hand, your thumb smoothing along the glittery face of a dog—or is it a cat? The rack is filled with key chains of different colors, animals and objects, bringing back memories of middle school when you would drag your best friend Omelia into this same store in Sendai before it closed down. Despite the many years that have passed, the store chain still has its subtle hues of purples and pinks, earrings punched through purple cardboard paper, pens with wonky erasers, and headbands of different designs.

“But what?” you try to finish for him, smiling up at his nervous form as he lets Ulani talk to him in her own baby language.

Kento pulls in a deep breath as if to steel his nerves and prepare for the inevitable. He’s praying to whoever will listen, trying to use every coping mechanism in the book. He’s wearing jeans that hug his fit thighs and a dark blue short sleeve that shows too much bicep for your liking (you should give him a dress code). There are only so many single and married women and men that you can glare at in a day, and the redhead over by the register is pushing it.

“Will it hurt her?” your boyfriend’s low timber pulls you back, filled with apprehension, and he keeps mahogany eyes on his daughter to avoid showing you just how scared he is. You rub his back to soothe him, tracing the bands of muscle that are tense behind the soft fabric.

“I-I’m worried.”

“And you shouldn’t be. It’s a simple thing, lasts two seconds. Just like when she got her first shots.”

That’s not enough for him, because now Kento furrows his eyebrows in frustration, bouncing his daughter in his arms to entertain her and also soothe himself. “There are a lot of things to consider. The risk of infection. Rejection. What if she hates them? What if they get caught on her clothes? Or her curls? Or—”

“Are we ready?” one of the employee’s sing songs from behind you both, walking towards the singular chair perched against the glass wall of the store.

“I—” Kento croaks, clearing his throat and swallowing loudly. He looks down at you. “Are we?”

In the time you’ve known him, you’ve only seen Kento visibly nervous a handful of times. That stoic demeanor is a smooth, stone-like shell to everyone else besides family and close friends, but you know the weak spots and have glimpsed into the fragmented sections only visible to your eyes. Right now, he’s nervous and fearful beyond belief. That all encompassing love and attention that he shows you from sunup to sundown extends to his daughter as well. If there is one person besides you, who can make Nanami Kento show his emotions freely and without reservation no matter the date, place, or time, it’s Ulani.

“How about you hold her?” you suggest and give him a small push towards the black chair. Two employees work at the small kiosk next to him, unwrapping sterile materials and cotton swabs. Kento’s eyes watch every movement, searching for any sign of threat that can give him the ammunition to take his daughter and never come back. You can practically hear his thoughts:

“Is that up to code?”

“How long has that been sealed?”

“What is the name of the manufacturer so that I can ensure it’s reputable?”

Your roll your own eyes, knowing how right you might be.

When you found out your pediatrician would be on her own maternity leave, you let Kento research every establishment in Tokyo until he found one in Shibuya. Reputable, good reviews, and well-practiced in this procedure.

Of course, you’re nervous too. She’s your daughter, a combination of you and Kento, conceived from a very drunken night of disdain but grown out of eventual love and adoration. The thought of her crying in pain makes that maternal part of you flare with anger and the consuming need to protect her forever. But you’ve prepared for this for awhile.

Kento? Not so much.

“Is that clean?” your boyfriend asks one of the employees, clutching his daughter a little tighter. It’s a little rude, but the employee smiles at him in a way that conveys understanding of his trepidation. This isn’t their first rodeo.

“Completely sterile from the package. I promise she’s in great hands.” Deep eyes free of steampunk-esque glasses flicker up at her in doubt, but he simply sniffs and looks back to his daughter instead to withhold a scathing remark. “How about one of us on each side, and we do it at once?” she suggests, addressing him directly. It helps, as he gives her a somber but curt nod.

He situates Ulani in his arms so she’s sitting fully on his lap, his large hands holding her up with a slight tremble. The sight is enough to remind you again that this is new territory for him. What has always been a normal tradition for you and the other females in your life, is a foreign concept for him.

Ear piercings are a milestone in a young girl’s life. You got yours as a baby, and so did your mother. Omelia got hers as a baby, as did all her female cousins, as did her mother and the mother before her. If you interacted with your mother’s side of the family, then maybe you would know if your cousins also did the same.

But that’s another thought for another time, and you refuse to let painful memories tarnish what should be a memory you are crafting on your own, right now.

You step closer and run your hands through thick blond locks that are free of gel. You brush the strands from his forehead, letting the soft texture slip past your fingertips as he relaxes instantly. With his place in his chair, he’s at the perfect height to rest his head on your stomach, and he does so a second later.

One of his hands brushes light brown curls from his daughters ears. You can feel the unease radiating from him with every deep breath he takes, and you scratch that spot at his nape that makes him shudder, hoping it will help.

The muscles in Kento’s neck bunch together instead when one of the employee’s leans toward Ulani to make marks in deep purple, and even your own stomach turns in response at what’s to come.

“Okay, we will do this on three. How’s that sound honey?” one of the employees coos at your daughter. Ulani, who is a carbon copy of her father, stares up at her, observant and sinking into her daddy before offering a gummy smile. “She’s so pretty.”

“She’s beautiful,” Kento corrects, slightly rough but still appreciative of the compliment. “Aren’t you, my dove?”

He tickles her side and offers a rare chuckle as she squeals up at him, wiggling in her father’s embrace. The sight makes your heart do flips because this is your world, day in and day out. Just you, Kento, and the person you’ve created together.

You step around to squat in front of him so you’re eye level with your daughter, a hand coming up to wiggle the toes covered in a tan sock. Her eyes catch you immediately, and she holds your gaze long enough for the two employees to position themselves on each side of her.

Kento holds his breath.

“Alright, here we go. One. Two. Three.”

They both move in sync, pressing down on the plastic gun so the studs slide through the soft lobe of Ulani’s lower ears. Kento’s eyebrows furl together immediately. Ulani’s eyes widen for a second before her face contorts, her mouth opening in a silent cry. Your heart hammers and your chest tightens in an sudden flood of sadness and desperation that crashes against you like a tumultuous wave when Ulani takes one heaving breath in….

And screams.

His reaction is quick. Kento bounces one leg at a tempo that alarms you, his handsome face flying through different stages of grief, anger, and pain as he watches the employees adjust the diamond earrings to ensure they heal without complication. His mouth opens and closes, jaw grinding to keep his rudeness in check, because you know what he wants to say.

He was the same way when she got her shots; all glares and sharp stares at everyone else because they were the source of her discomfort. But like that time before, you are the cooling balm for his hot anger as you wiggle your daughters toes and murmur soothing words at her, to show him that she’s going to be just fine.

“It’s okay, baby,” you smile softly and it’s enough to capture her attention even though she’s squealing and crying from the sharp but quick pain in her ears. But all too quickly, you’re not enough for her, because the daughter that you carried for almost ten months turns away and reaches for her father, crying loudly in his arms. It’s a sting that you prepared for, but nonetheless hurts with a severity that takes a few seconds for you to recover from.

By the time you pay one of the employees and exit the store, Ulani has already calmed down. Kento digs into the diaper bag on his shoulder and pulls out a cotton cloth, wiping her nose as she sniffles and whines into his shoulder.

“I know honey, I know,” he coos to her, wiping the tears from her light brown skin and swaying back and forth. “But you were so strong, weren’t you? Hmm? A lot stronger than me.”

He pulls her away from his neck, smiling softly at her, and that one smile makes your chest bloom with satisfaction. It’s times like these that remind you how your life has surprisingly fallen into place. Who would have thought that the man who used to drive you insane would be the only one fit for you?

That small twinge of hurt you felt minutes ago when Ulani turned away from you resurfaces, but reassurance cools it’s prickly edges. Even though this is a moment you may have been more connected with, it’s Kento who feels the painful side of it a lot more.

So you give him his own moment. You watch quietly as he kisses her chubby cheeks repeatedly, smiling into her skin at the giggles that leave her. You fall into the hum of the world around you as you watch him tuck away the cotton cloth and smooth the curls away from Ulani’s ears, finally admiring the diamonds that twinkle on each side. The lobes will be red for a few days, but for Ulani, she will never think of them again until she’s old enough to pay attention. Until she’s old enough to change them out to match the outfits she decides to wear, different colors and gemstones, and multiples if she ever has a streak of expression in her teenage years. Like you did.

Kento finally looks down at you, chestnut browns sparkling as he takes you in from head to toe. The harsh Shibuya sun beats down on bustling city square, but the rays are soft when they touch him. Tan skin is illuminated gold on his cheekbones, his hair luminous in the sun. You reach up to run a hand through his locks for the second time this afternoon, your heart still not used to the incessant hammering that arises when he leans into your touch.

You lift an accusatory eyebrow at him and hold back a chuckle when you speak. “Our daughter was the soldier this afternoon, and yet I’m coddling you?”

“Keep coddling,” he demands, voice tinged with mirth as he turns to place a kiss inside of your palm and then leans back into your stroking. “Today was very painful for me, have you no shame?”

You snort and dig your nails into his scalp in retaliation, enjoying the groan that rumbles in the air from your ministrations. “Don’t blame this one moment on your entire day. You had a great run, remember?”

“My slowest three mile run yet.” Quick on the draw, and you already know where this is going. Kento rarely complains, but when he does, it is about the most trivial things as a means to get and keep your attention.

“You made me pancakes this morning.”

“Not my best work. Too much cinnamon in the batter.”

“We made out two hours ago?”

“Ulani woke from her nap and interrupted what would have been a very enjoyable afternoon.” That complaint leaves his mouth in a grumble, and you purse your lips to hold off the laughter that sits in the back of your throat. He’s truly pouting, and god do you love him.

“And now seeing your daughter cry from her first ear piercing was icing on the cake of a bad day, I imagine?”

“Exactly.”

You finally giggle and playfully pull a strand of his hair. He narrows his eyes at you, mischievous yet still carrying that ingrained indifference that you know and love. Ulani shrieks in his arms, finally past her blip of crying and now ready for her parent’s attention. You take in her drool of a smile, slightly red ears, and brown onesie-dress, and the possibilities flood your mind. It’s…very overwhelming when the thoughts hit you: how she will grow into herself, develop her personality, her wants and desires, her hobbies and her dreams.

“Pay attention to me,” he interrupts your thoughts, and you can’t help the bark of laughter that you give him in response. Ulani mimics you, completely oblivious.

“You’re such a baby, and we have a baby,” you tease, snorting at his level expression and dusty cheeks, slightly shy but absorbing your presence. “You and Ulani have had it rough today. So how about a reward?” You look to your daughter when you ask, knowing damn well she has no idea what you’re saying but you want to include her anyway.

“How about frozen yogurt?” I.e., the unsweetened applesauce in the diaper bag for Ulani and matcha-flavored frozen yogurt for Kento from a favorite vendor a few blocks away. It’s an obsession of his that’s been appearing in the freezer with numbing regularity.

Kento remains unphased by your suggestion, though his lips twitch with the desire to smirk down at you.

“Seeing our daughter in pain was more heartbreaking than I thought. Food may not help, I’m afraid.”

Kento is milking his “pain” at this point, and you’re far too in love with him not to entertain the idea you know is floating in his head. You love this about him, just how playful he is when it comes to you.

“You’re a tough nut to crack.” You tap your chin as if you’re thinking hard, humming in contemplation. “How about…” you trail off, a hand sliding up a muscular bicep before massaging his nape again, relishing in the shudder he gives in response, his eyes twitching to hold back the urge to roll into his head in satisfaction. “Since you’ve suffered so much today…we can go home…and I’ll do that thing you like.”

You have the privilege and skill of being able to read Nanami Kento like a book. You don’t miss the glee that dances across his features—the uptick of one side of his mouth, the slow brow lift, the darkening of his irises. He knows exactly what that thing is. You’re pretty good at it—a master at it—and he made you promise that the day he ever turns that thing down, is the day you can leave him.

His cheeks explode in blush, jaw ticking before he clears his throat and smooths a sweaty hand down the dark blue of his shirt.

“I see,” he ponders, looking up to the sky as if in deep thought, and you know if you roll your eyes again, they’ll get stuck. “Well.” He situates Ulani in his arms and presses a few kisses to her cheek again to pull those giggles from her that you both love. “Who am I to deny your mother?” he suggests to his daughter. “Not a moment to waste, Ulani.”

“You’ve got to be kidding—”

“Quickly, before you change your mind.” He slides a hand to the small of your back as a means to hurry you along, pressing softly and turning you in the direction of the car.

You try to bat his hands away from you, giggles growing in volume as he dodges all your attempts to get rid of him. “I’m not going to change my mind, Ken—”

“Quickly.”

He takes your hand and you let him pull you, beaming at his back as he increases his pace. Ulani is happy as can be in her father’s arms and babbling as he talks softly to her.

“A snack before nap time sounds good, doesn’t it? What kind of applesauce would you like today?” She gurgles. “Cinnamon again? Hmmm, we should always try new things, Dove. What about the strawberry ones I bought you yesterday?” A squeal. “Strawberry it is. I think…”

The rest of their conversation fades into the background as you walk with them, warmth coursing through your veins with each step. It’s a warmth that catches you off guard, but has been ever present since Ulani’s birth. And you love every bit of how it feels. How it flows through you with every breath you take. How it only grows every minute, every hour, every day that you create a life with them.

After Ulani is buckled in her car seat and you slide your seat belt into its latch, Kento leans across the armrest, a warm hand sliding against your cheek in a gentle caress before he slants his lips against yours. It’s a surprise, but the shock dies as quickly as it forms as you melt into his touch—full lips that know your own and soft blonde locks brushing your face.

That affection that he pulls from you every day is given back in this moment—freely and without restraint—in the parking lot of Claire’s in Shibuya, where your daughter got her ears pierced for the first time.

When he pulls away and whispers his love for you against your lips, you repeat it back to him without thinking. It’s a motion that you both carry out whenever you can.

“No more piercings. My heart will probably give out.”

“Do you feel better?” you ask in a tone that is filled with the teasing nature that sticks to you like a second skin.

He loves it, but doesn’t take the bait, and instead kisses your lips again, each cheek, and the tip of your nose. “I will soon.” The innuendo is so obvious you can taste it. He’s been with you too long to be a blushing and awkward man. “Once Ulani is asleep.” You push him away with a giggling huff and savor the deep chuckle that falls from his lips, permeating the air of the car.

As Kento drives through the crowded streets towards your shared home in Nakameguro, the hand not on the steering wheel envelops yours, a thumb stroking the skin of your palm. You look out the window and observe the colors and cars that zoom by, and the sound of a deep breath behind you makes you look back. And when you do, your heart gives a painful but welcoming lurch as you gaze at her. Your daughter already asleep, her head dipping to the side—curly locks askew and sticking to the drool on her face, and her new diamond earrings shining back at you.

Thanks for reading!

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munsonhoneybaby · 5 months ago

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Sneak Peek

i wanted to share a few little snippets from the sequel to three's company since i'm taking all four of the evers to finish it, so here's a couple paragraphs from here and there!! be warned these are very selective, i wanted to save anything important or particularly dear to me for the full release!!

the dividers are from @strangergraphics and i'll be using them in the fic too <3 and the edit at the end is the header i made for it!!

“So, you haven’t told anyone?” Eddie asked his drummer in confirmation as they found themselves sitting in his bedroom once again. Nearly a month had passed since your little crossfaded adventure, but things had essentially returned to normal the next morning. Now the two of them sat across from one another on the bed, lighting up the new strain he had just gotten from Rick.

Gareth let out a retching cough as he handed the bowl back to his frontman, shaking his head until he finally caught a breath. “No, ‘course not,” He croaked. “Told you I wouldn’t, it’s your guys’ private business. ‘Sides, I wouldn’t do that to her– I mean, I wouldn’t want anyone to think less of her ‘cause of us.”

“Well, your discretion is appreciated,” He jests before pausing. “Can I ask you something? And you can answer me honestly, I’m not gonna kick your ass or anything.”

“That definitely sounds like you’re gonna kick my ass, but go ahead.”

Gareth wasn’t expecting him to say your name softly in response. “Are you into her? Like, have feelings for her?”

Focus snapping back into gear, his eyes widened startlingly. “Hm?”

“Moving up at work?” You explicated questioningly. The thick carpet was soft against your feet as you shuffled to the stereo, rifling through a few cassettes until you found another one of your mixtapes.

“Oh, yeah. Little bit of a pay raise, few more responsibilities. I’ll get to choose what plays in the shop now, so that’ll be a little fun.” Absent-mindedly running a hand through the thick waves of his hair, he didn’t notice how your gaze danced across his frame.

“That’s great, Gare,” You cooed. It was then that Eddie walked back in, but Gareth didn’t need the wine in his hands to feel warmth creeping into his chest.

“You probably didn’t need to get a bottle in every color, babe. Respect the dedication though, I know you don’t want any of ‘em to feel left out.” He set the bottle of rosé down on the table, followed by the glasses, and fixed you with a teasing glance.

Though his hands yearned to wander their way beneath your shirt, they simply squeezed your sides again, impatiently waiting for Eddie’s permission to explore further. Meanwhile, the older boy had sucked your lower lip between his. His hips pressed into your backside, forcing you more firmly against Gareth, in turn.

Your boyfriend’s hands traveled freely across your body, one of them settling on top of his friend’s. He plucked the roach, which had long since gone out, from his fingers and tossed it on the dresser– you’d weakly scold him for that tomorrow– before covering the boy’s hand with his own again. Slowly, Eddie guided his hand up your side and around to the front of your breast, making him squeeze gently through the padding of your bra.

Lips trailing across your cheek, he murmured in your ear. “Think we should take some’a this off, baby?”

#sneak peek #three’s company #munsonhoneybaby #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x reader x gareth #eddie munson x gf!reader x gareth #gareth x reader #gareth x reader smut #gareth emerson #gareth emerson smut #gareth emerson x reader smut

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fairy-writes · 3 months ago

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CHASING MOMENTS

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

____________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Solo Leveling

Prompt: “May I have this dance?”

Pairing(s): Min Byung-Gyu x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Teacher!Reader, Bars, First Meeting, Blind Dates, First Kisses

Notes: I’ll just say this now… I have no idea what I’m doing. Like, legitimately, I’m an anime-only watcher and am on… like… chapter six of the manhwa.

This is a collab with my good friend @straykidsnerd255 :) Her oneshot is HERE

Basically, we both had the same character, the same prompt, and wrote something!

Based vaguely on the song “Lipstick” by Dan + Shay and also “Fly Me to the Moon” by Frank Sinatra

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“How’re you holdin’ up sweets?” Your fellow teacher asked as you walked in for the school day.

It was Monday, fresh off the weekend, fresh off a breakup. You shrug non-committally, set your stuff down at your desk, and slump down into your chair. Your coworker leans against the classroom door, looking at you with pity, making your heart burn with hate toward your boyfriend. Or… you guessed, ex-boyfriend. Your makeup is already somewhat smudged from your crying session in the car, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Your students can make fun of you for all you care.

“Good? Bad?” The teacher prompts, and you dab at your eyes.

“I was broken up with by my boyfriend of six years. How do you think I’m doing?” You snap, and your friend just sighs.

“I just had t’ ask. Is there anything I can do to help?” She asks, and you sneer.

“Find me a new boyfriend that won’t break up with me.” You say half in jest. But when she gains a look in her eyes, you feel your heart freeze.

You jab a finger,

“Don’t you dare—”

“We’re supposed to get a new history teacher as soon as he gets credentialed. He’s a former Hunter. He’s pretty cute from what I’ve heard.” She says and pulls out her phone. It was almost ten minutes before kids started filtering in for the day so she wouldn’t get in trouble with other staff.

“You don’t have to. Seriously, I was joking—” She cuts you off again by walking forward, turning her phone around, and showing you a news article.

IS THE THIRD JEJU ISLAND RAID A FAILURE?!

You are almost distracted by the text before she taps on the photo and pulls up the picture that serves as the article's header.

You recognized some S-Rank hunters like Baek Yoon-Ho and Choi Jong-In. But there was one you didn’t recognize. The picture did nothing to help with the graininess of the hunters getting off the boat to Korea, but if you squinted, you could essentially see this mysterious man’s face. He wasn’t as built as Baek or as lanky as Choi, but he was lithe and handsome. He had dark eyes and a gentle smile as he listened to something Baek was saying.

He was… actually pretty cute…

Your friend noticed the look on your face and grinned,

“I’ll set something up. How about Friday at seven?” She chirps, and she's gone before you can refute what she said.

You stare stupidly at the door where she just was and can’t muster anything to say, even as the school day starts and students start to file inside.

Before you knew it, Friday was upon you, and you were standing in your bathroom, applying lipstick as you waited for the text from your friend that he was at your apartment.

Was red lipstick too much? What about pink?

Oh, who were you kidding? This was going to go horribly. Why were you even trying?

A ‘ding’ from your phone got your attention, and when you picked it up, your heart stuttered.

He’s outside! Good luck, sweets! ;)

You let out a squeak as someone knocks on the door. You quickly decide to apply a nude lipstick, straighten your black dress, and hurry to the door. You’re slightly breathless from wrestling your heels on when you open the door.

Dark eyes, slicked back dark hair, dressed in a simple black jacket and button-down shirt with some slacks. He’s handsome, and even though you’d just been broken up with, your heart skips a beat.

He says your name, and you feel your ears burn.

“That’s me. I’m guessing you’re Min Byung-Gyu?” You reply, and he smiles that gentle smile and nods.

“Please, just call me Byung-Gyu. Are you ready?” He asks, and you hesitate before nodding. He steps to the side and lets you grab your purse and keys before locking your apartment and following him downstairs. The elevator in your apartment building is broken, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Of course, he wouldn’t. He was a former Hunter, after all.

His black SUV is in the visitor's parking area of the parking lot. Byung-Gyu opens your door for you, and you slide inside onto the leather seat. He gets in, starts the car, and it rumbles to life. You’re silent as he pulls out of the parking garage and onto the street.

“I thought we could go to a bar just down the street. It’s kind of small and homey. I go there all the time with friends.” He says conversationally, but you just nod and stare at your clasped hands.

It had been forever since you were this nervous.

Byung-Gyu is right; the bar is a little hole-in-the-wall place with few patrons. There is a dance floor, and a small local band performs some sort of jazzy song that people could dance to. He again, opens your car door and then the door to the establishment. You are flooded immediately with warmth, and you find your nervousness melting away as he leads you to a booth.

“Would you like a drink?” He asks, and you offer a hesitant smile.

“Just a seltzer water, thanks.” You say, and he offers a salute that makes him seem young, almost boyish.

“One seltzer comin’ up.” He chirps and leaves you alone as he heads to the bar.

You put your head in your hands as he walks away.

What were you doing? You had just been broken up with! You shouldn’t be dating this quickly! You needed time to process, as your therapist had said.

You pull out your phone and text your friend that you had made it to the bar safely. She sent back a thumbs-up emoji and a winky face with “Make good choices, sweets!” You rolled your eyes but turned the screen off as Byung-Gyu returned with two drinks—a whiskey on the rocks for him and the seltzer water you had requested.

“A drink for the lady.” He said good-naturedly and slid into the seat across from you. You smiled and accepted it, making sure to sip carefully so as not to disturb your lipstick.

“Thanks Byung-Gyu.” You said quietly, and he smiled gently,

“It’s not a problem. Is this the part where we ask each other twenty questions?” His tone is joking, indicating he wouldn’t be offended if you didn’t want to.

But you found yourself wanting to. You wanted to get to know this handsome stranger.

“I suppose we can.” You say, a slight teasing slipping into your tone, and his smile turns into a grin. It warms his expression, and he looks even more handsome than before.

The night turns around after that. You find yourself smiling more, laughing even! You forget all about your ex as Byung-Gyu jokes and asks friendly questions, never probing but ever curious.

“So, what do you do for work?” He asks as he swirls his drink in his hand. It’s his second drink, and he’s not a lightweight by any means. His words aren’t slurred, and he’s still wholly coherent. But he’s more relaxed than he was before.

“I’m an art teacher at the local high school.” You say simply, and his eyes light up.

“Like pottery?” He asks, and you shrug,

“Sometimes. Right now, we’re working on a unit on oil paint.” You explain, and he leans back in his seat,

“So, like…” He pauses, gathering his thoughts, “Like Bob Ross?” He asks, and you snicker. YOu had actually watched a Bob Ross video with your classes while they worked on their projects.

“Bob Ross, Van Gogh, da Vinci, there’s plenty of artists to choose from. What about you? My friend said you were trying to be a history teacher.” You reply, and he nods, sipping his whiskey.

“I take the test next year.” You offer him a hopeful thumbs up,

“You’ll do great!” You say, and he just chuckles,

“Thanks. I’ll let you know how it goes.” You feel a zing of hope run down your spine. You mean he wanted to talk to you some more?

The date ended with a kiss.

Byung-Gyu drove you back home after a couple of hours. You ended up ordering another seltzer water but promised Byung-Gyu that you’d drink it with him next time. He had assured you it wasn’t necessary, making you feel almost… happy? Your ex-boyfriend had always pressured you to drink when he was drinking.

“Thank you for tonight.” You said quietly as he leaned on the doorframe of your apartment. He had a relaxed smile on his face as he watched you.

“It’s not a problem. I had fun. Can I text you later?” He asks, and you nod, waving your phone,

“Of course. You have my number now. Text me whenever.” You say, almost giddy at the prospect of someone wanting to talk to you.

He straightens up and goes to leave, but your body moves before you can stop yourself.

“Wait!” You cry, and he turns around, eyebrow raised, but he freezes when your lips touch his cheek in a quick peck.

You shut the door before he can do or say anything else.

What had you done?!

You had probably just ruined any chances of a relationship with this man.

You peek out from between the blinds as he stares at the shut door for a second before he moves.

He let out a quiet whoop and pumped his fist in the air, an ecstatic grin on his face as he all but skipped down the hallway and to the stairway. Your ears and cheeks burned at the display. They stay that way until you’re in bed and ready to sleep. You cup your cheeks and barely hold back from kicking your feet in sheer joy.

Your relationship with Byung-Gyu progressed quickly.

One date turns into two, turns into six, and soon enough, you’re dating steadily six months into a relationship. You text daily, sometimes late into the night when you’re grading projects. You help Byung-Gyu prepare for the exam to become a teacher, and he helps you with your lesson plans for your classes.

It all changes one day in the kitchen.

You’re washing the dishes after he cooked dinner. He’s fiddling with the radio in the corner. You look over your shoulder as he flips through the stations, tongue peeking out from his lips in concentration. A smile curls the corners of your mouth.

He looks up and catches your eye, offering you that gentle smile that makes your heart skip a beat. The one you fell in love with. The one that makes him look so content and happy.

“What are you looking at?” He teases as he gets up and meanders his way over to your side. The chosen radio station is a jazzy one, like the one that played when you went on your first date.

“You.” You tease right back, and he chuckles as he leans his chin against your shoulder, hands going to your hips. You lean back against his chest and press a kiss to his temple. You feel him hum against your back more than you hear it.

He pulls back after a moment of watching you scrub at a particularly stubborn stain on the plate. You continue on for a moment before putting the clean dish on the drying rack next to the sink. When it goes quiet, you frown, turn off the sink, and turn.

Only to see him with a hand extended toward you, bowing slightly at the waist. He offers you that boyish smirk that has your cheeks burning.

“May I have this dance?” He says, and you let out a surprised laugh.

“I’m covered in dish soap and water.” You say, and he shrugs,

“I think you’ve never looked more beautiful in my life.”

You unexpectedly feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“My ex never said anything like that.” You say, and Byung-Gyu’s smile fades a bit.

“Well, he couldn’t see how beautiful you are.” He says earnestly, and you just swallow a quiet sob by sniffling. You rub at your nose with your arm, your soapy, gloved hands dripping onto the mat at the base of the counter sink.

Byung-Gyu opened his mouth as he straightened and was about to ask you something but you just peeled off the gloves and put your hands in his.

“Dance with me.” You whisper, and his solemn expression warms into something so full of love you could cry.

“Of course, m’lady.” He says, and you giggle, the feeling of tears disappearing as Frank Sinatra’s voice sounds through the speakers.

“Fly me to the moon

Let me play among the stars.

And let me see what spring is like

On a-Jupiter and Mars…”

He spins you around as the jazz music plays throughout your apartment, and you can’t help but lean your head against his shoulder. He tilts his head against yours as you listen to his heartbeat. It’s strong and steady and real. It proves this isn’t some elaborate fantasy. It proves that he’s here and loves you and cares.

The song ends with him pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, and you can’t help but think…

You live for chasing moments like this.

#min byung gyu x reader #min byung gyu x you #min byung gyu x y/n #min byung-gyu x reader #min byung-gyu x you #min byung gyu #min byung-gyu #solo leveling #ore dake level up na ken #solo leveling x reader #solo leveling x you #solo leveling x y/n #fairy writes

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vampirzina · 1 year ago

Note

Could you do MK11 Fujin and MK1 Syzoth with a reader who has piercings on her tongue and eyebrow?

tw: she/her (but mostly you) pronouns, mdni, sfw (intended), established relationship, hcs, piercings and the like

notes: i didn’t put a header for this just in case. i also had been racking my brain for fujin content after seeing an edit of him w the caption asking for fic content. i’ll think of more ideas later i swear but for now happy happy happy

masterlist : divider credit

Fujin isn’t a stranger to piercings, at all. He’s seen plenty of them in his time, in all kinds of places—so not the one to judge if she has one either. Fujin finds the piercing on your eyebrow rather cool, having noticed that first about you but doesn’t ask anything about it. But when you stick your tongue playfully out at him once, he can’t help but ask about both of your piercings.

When kisses with Fujin get deep, he tries not to make it obvious that he’s fiddling with your tongue piercing. Not only is it fun, but he loves your reaction when you finally realize. His face is already flushed from the act, but the cheeky smirk he gives you in return makes you playfully huff at him.

Naturally, thoughts wander through Fujin. Though they are mostly innocent, none of them really see the light (carried into the wind rather), out of respect for her, to spare her from the littlest bits of selfishness, and the tiny tiny part of him that fears her response to him—even if it’s not a bad one at all. He rather not play russian roulette with words.

،، ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

Fujin, tangled in the sheets of your shared bed and awaiting you there, watches you at the vanity as you undid your look. You rub the tip of your index over the slightly sore spot of your undone eyebrow piercing, hissing lowly.

Your eyes hurt from today’s work, and all you wanted to do now was just… Rest. You couldn’t not address the white eyes boring into your face, however.

“Before you ask, I’m fine,” you retort, clasping the piercing together. You set it with the rest of your collection. “Just tired.”

“I’d believe you even if you told me that your skin was as colorful as a rainbow, when it is clearly not,” he jested lightly, and you missed the way his eyes flit to your lips. “I was not going to speak. I just wanted to… Look.”

“The right word is stare, I think, but if that’s what you’re doing to me I’ll take it,” you stood, strutting over to the bedside. Before you got in, “You look like you have a question.”

He hummed a bit. Then, “None.”

“You sure?” you lift the very same brow he’d been staring at, getting comfortable beside him, but suddenly your gaze hardens. “Wait, don’t tell me. If we’re getting married, don’t you dare propose right now.”

Fujin gives the heartiest laugh you’ve heard from him yet, leaning down to barrage you with kisses as he gets comfortable with you.

───

Fujin needs to kiss you at least once a day.

Syzoth doesn’t think anything of it until he really sees it. He notices it when he’s close to her, cuddling into warmth to duck from the cold night. Maybe it’s his wandering mind as he gets tired, but to say he’s intrigued in it in its entirety is a bit of an understatement from him. If anything, he finds that he likes it on her. Of course he asks about it when you wake, and he feels a bit stupid for not asking earlier. Syzoth asks why and how bad it hurt, and that’s about it. If you’re human, he learns something new when you tell him about the commonality of it between humans.

Kissing Syzoth is an experience you couldn’t get over. Unlike Fujin, he doesn’t toy with your tongue piercing on purpose, but he’s going to brush over it a couple times if the kiss gets all that heated. He’s conscious of himself and many things after that, but surprisingly enough, your piercing there makes him feel a little less conscious of his tongue when he kisses you.

Syzoth offers you jewelry for your piercings. He’s sure somewhere in Outworld and beyond there’s those who sell such things, sometimes he even confuses earrings for them. But once he finds the right stuff, it’s nearly impossible for him to not buy up the entire store. He loves to collect the shiniest and prettiest ones he thinks you’ll like, and occasionally the ones he thinks you would look good with. Syzoth comes home with at least a pair of either or once every few weeks.

،، ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

He finds you where he left her—under a tree in the shade from the sun. She sipped the cool drink as she admired the scenery of the place around her.

You’d been wandering with Syzoth through the markets of Outworld for your morning and the better half of your afternoon. Your feet ached, you complained, and being the gentleman Syzoth is carried you here. He said that you’d both go home soon… However, he wasn’t going until he snuffed out the urge by just giving into it.

“About time. I was starting to think you were halfway across the realm. Where’d you run off to?” you squinted in the soft breeze, lips pursing a bit as you watch him fumble with the bag he was trying to give you.

…You look inside.

“I didn’t buy the whole store this time,” Syzoth pouted from her months-old tease. “With the way they were presented to me, they practically begged me to buy them. Not only that, but they were so you-esque. How could you want me to resist?”

“Because I’d like to think you’d want to buy food to eat, Sy,” you joked, holding them in a hand to inspect them. You can see the way he pouts further, if you somehow couldn’t hear him mutter.

“‘M kidding. Do you think that I’m so ungrateful when I was lucky enough to find you?” you immediately follow up to put him at ease. “They’re absolutely gorgeous, Syzoth. Thank you. I’ll try them on when we get home, okay?”

Syzoth, a bit hot in the face now from her flirt, nodded fervently at her. Whether or not she wanted to be carried wasn’t up for debate.

───

Syzoth scours beaches and caves for beautiful material someone can craft into jewelry for you.

@𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐀೨

info board

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x you #fujin x you #fujin hcs #fujin x reader #syzoth x you #syzoth x reader #syzoth hcs #vampirzina #mk1 x reader

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ccgrizzy · 5 months ago

Text

First Ever WIP Wednesday

This is my first WIP Wednesday offering. I don't have a good graphic for the header. The story is called Under the Cover of Fire.

It takes place during the break up between seasons 2 & 3. It is mostly Carlos centered right now.

So, Open Tag on this. @rangersoup said to tag on new work

“REYES! MY OFFICE!” Hendricks shouts from his door across the bullpen. The bullpen goes quiet as Carlos looks up from his paperwork and slowly rises to his feet. Mitchell looks over.

Mitchell, eyes narrowed, leaned closer. “What did you do this time?”

Carlos pauses before he answers her and thinks. “Nothing.” He forces a smile even though it doesn’t reach his eyes and assures her while putting the arrest report he was working on into a folder. “Everything has been fine.”

"Sure," Mitchell scoffed, her tone laced with disbelief. "Things have been 'fine' since you've been moping around like a kicked puppy."

The mention of TK, even in jest, sent a fresh wave of loneliness washing over him. Not a gentle wave, but a crashing one, leaving him gasping for breath. He missed the easy rhythm of their life, the shared laughter echoing through their townhouse, the comforting weight of TK beside him in bed. He missed the way TK could always make him smile, even on the worst days.

"Lex, please," Carlos pleaded, his voice weary. "Can we just… not bring that up?” Carlos asks. “I’d like to go a day without TK being the subject of a discussion.”

“Anytime now, Reyes.” Hendricks's voice boomed from the office, cutting through the low hum of conversation in the bullpen.

Carlos pushed himself to his feet, his shoulders slumped. He glanced at Mitchell, a silent plea in his eyes. She sighed, the amusement fading from her expression.

"Go on," she said softly. "I'll cover your calls."

As Carlos walked towards Hendricks's office, the scent of old coffee and stale air filled his nostrils. The familiar weight of dread settled over him. What could possibly be so urgent?

He knocked on his captain’s door. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

#911 lone star #tarlos #carlos reyes #tk strand #wip wednesday #9 1 1 lone star #911 ls

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jokerfictive · 6 months ago

Text

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ intro !!

i’m akira, ren, or joker. i use he/trick pronouns, and i’m a fictive in a plural system!

we are bodily 16, and have audhd, depression, and anxiety.

i’m currently one of our most frequent fronters. i am heavily source-attached and i will interact with sourcemates with that in mind.

i interact from @wouldwulfie !!

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ in-sys info !!

i am somewhere between 16-17. i don’t have a lot of distinct memories that aren’t canon, aside from small moments between me and my friends.

i remember the phantom thieves being in a big, complicated polycule. i was dating ryuji and akechi*, and everything else sprawled out from there. i may make a post further explaining the dynamics…

i am an age regressor and i was in source, too. the fanfic series a new mask by mcschnuggles aligns pretty well with my memories.

* i will not flirt with sourcemates regardless of my memories, unless it is discussed and there is consent involved. i’m actually rather shy when it comes to romance. however, you are free to flirt with me (as long as it isn’t creepy)!

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ tags !!

#joker jests :: my textposts! #morgana meows :: we’ve got a morgana up in our head somewhere, and he may sometimes take over ^_^ #goro grumbles :: apparently we have akechi too! #fav :: something i really like! #ult fav :: something i REALLY like! #babbles :: posts made when regressed!

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ credits !!

header :: unknown top & bottom dividers :: @/boygirl-club pfp :: @/11zushu blog header :: @/eternalergo

#fictive #mixed origin #mixed origin system #median system #p5 fictive #persona 5 fictive #introject #intro #system intro #plural #sfw agere #age regression community

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dreamfyre03 · 1 year ago

Text

A Dragon's Love

Trigger Warnings: Kissing, swearing

Chapter 6: Feasts and Unfamiliar feelings

Dividers by: @zaldritzosrose

Header by: @zaldritzosrose

The day of the ball to kick of the week of celebrations for Aemond’s name day had come, and Aemond grimaced as he took in the Keep filled with lords and ladies that travelled from all corners of the Kingdom to be here. He knew these celebrations were less about him, more about it being used as an occasion for political scheming and machinations to be done behind the scenes.

He sat at his seat atop the dias, between Daenys and Aegon, his father already retired back to his rooms after his brief appearance, his health restricting him from staying long. Daenys looked a vision in a stunningly rich red and black gown, her hair flowing down her back with small braids, and small rubies set in the braids. When she laughed again at something Aegon said, she threw her head back, revealing the smooth column of her neck, that prompted unsolicited thoughts of his mouth on that neck, and tore his gaze away. Helaena was listening on from next to Aegon, occasionally chiming in on their conversation. On the other end of the table, sat Rhaenyra and Daemon, with their children. His mother sat in the middle of the table, next to the King’s empty chair. He noted how Jace’s gaze lingered on Daenys longer than was proper, and how Rhaenyra gave her an icy greeting that caused a look of rejection to linger on her face. The room was decorated exquisitely in deep red and black, with the tables piled with meats and rich foods, and the glasses overflowing with rich Dornish wine. Aemond sipped his own wine, watching as Jace got up and walked over to their end of the table, stopping in front of Daenys.

“Princess Daenys, would you honour me with a dance?” He asked charmingly.

Daenys smiled kindly, and accepted, placing her hand in his, and they both joined the many nobles dancing to the music. Aemond gripped his glass tighter as he never let his eye leave her moving figure, intent on watching in case Jace let his hand wander too low, or pulled her in too close. He wouldn’t allow that Strong bastard to attempt to seduce her and lead her to ruin, or worse, steal her away from him entirely. He knew Daenys may never feel for him the depth of which he felt for her, but he also knew he wasn’t a good man, and he didn’t care, he would do whatever to ensure no other man would have her.

“It seems our nephew has taken a liking to our dear sister.” Aegon whispered, downing what undoubtably another of many glasses of wine.

Aemond ignored him, keeping his gaze fixed on her.

“Imagine Rhaenyra’s reaction when she realises her beloved bastard had a budding affection for the sister she inexplicably despises?” He continued, clearly intent on provoking his brother.

“Perhaps she reciprocates his sentiments?” He pushed, and Aemond slammed the glass down, nearly breaking it and replied, “She does not. You and I both know he isn’t good enough for our sister.”

“That, we can agree on. I’d rather never touch a drop of wine again that see her marry that fucking bastard. Or any of those gods awful Strong boys.”

“Well finally, something we both agree on.” Aemond said.

“As much as you believe me to be a useless fool, brother, I won’t jest when it comes to our sister.” Aegon told him.

Helaena sighed dreamily from next to Aegon, and said, “You underestimate Daenys. She can handle herself, and would it truly be so terrible if they took a liking to each other? Mayhaps it might be the first step to ending all this awful infighting.”

Aegon sighed and replied to her, “We know what our sister is capable of, it is our nephew we do not trust. This is the brother of the man who took our brother’s eye, his mother has a strange bitterness against her. He is a bastard, and Daenys deserves better.” Helaena nodded, understanding him but still no doubt wishing for there to be no more conflict.

They watched as Daenys laughed at something Jace said, as he spun her around gracefully.

“Alright, that’s enough of that.” Aegon said, getting up and going down to them, and Aemond and Helaena watched as Aegon cut in the dance, and Jace let Aegon take her hand instead.

“She is the thing that binds us four together,” Helaena said to him.

Aemond nodded, knowing she was right.

“But I know your love for her runs deeper than I can fathom,” she finished softly.

Aemond turned to look at her, but before he could deny it, Helaena laughed faintly and whispered, “You are my brother, and she is my sister. I’ve always known, brother. I notice more than you think. Don’t worry. Your secrets are always safe with me.”

Aemond just nodded, trying to hide his shock at the way he felt as the words were spoken openly for the first time.

After dancing with Jace, then Aegon, Daenys was tired out, and walked off the dance floor and took a glass of wine from a servant passing by.

“You’re quite the dancer, Daenys.” Jace said as he walked up to her.

She chuckled, “Yes well, when it’s one of the few things princesses are taught to excel in, you find yourself to be rather skilled at it.”

“I’m sorry my brother cut off our dance so abruptly. Aegon is a good brother, regardless of what might be said of him.”

“Well, there is much that is said of him.” Jace replied, shifting so he stood closer to her.

“He has his faults, as do we all. But he is my brother, and I love him dearly.” She said.

“I understand. I love my family, but they are not without their own faults.” He responded.

Daenys eyes flickered over to the table, where Helaena was speaking to Aegon, and Aemond eyed Jace harshly before abruptly getting up from the table and storming quietly out of the great hall. She quickly excused herself to follow him, but was detained multiple times by lords or ladies to greeted her and pulled her into unwanted conversation.

Finally, she escaped the room and traversed the halls to the library, where they always found each other. Ever since they were children, they found solace in books, both loving the histories, and Aemond philosophy and Daenys any work of fiction where the dashing knight fell in love with the princess.

He sat in their corner, on the settee, his face fuming.

“Brother?” She called him softly, drawing him out of his thoughts.

His expression softened slightly when he saw her, and she came and sat next to him. “What’s troubling you?” She asked quietly, reaching out to run her fingers through his hair, an act she knew always calmed him since they were children.

He shook his head, closing his eye, relishing in her gentle touch.

“Tell me, brother, I saw you at the feast. You looked terribly angry. You still are. Have I upset you?” She asked.

“That stupid Strong boy,” he murmured under his breath. “Jace?”

He grumbled something indecipherable.

“Aemond, it was just a dance.” She reassured him.

“Aegon didn’t like it either,” he said suddenly, causing her to laugh.

“I know. But he didn’t look at him as though he wanted to skin him like a deer, did he?”

Aemond sulked and tried to turn away. She didn’t know why his reaction that could be mistaken for jealousy made her feel so satisfied.

She turned his head back to her, and as his hand touched the one that was in his hair, she felt herself growing warmer in her dress.

“I’m sorry I upset you so.” She said.

“I’m not upset with you. I could never be upset with you.” He replied lowly.

They kept their eyes locked on each other, and Daenys felt the tone of the room shift into something she had never felt before. Something so strong, so intense, it felt as though she were being pulled towards him. His hand that was over hers burned to the touch, and she didn’t even realise that their faces had gotten closer.

“You are so beautiful,” He whispered, his breaths becoming ragged.

“Aemond…” she was speechless, he had never spoken to her like that before, never looked at her like that before, like if she was all he could see, yet she found that in that moment, she never wanted him to stop.

His hand free hand came and gently held her in place by the chin, his thumb running over her bottom lip. The touch was so minimal, it was not the most extreme, vulgar thing that could be done, and yet…

Yet it made her ache for more.

But before anything could happen, a familiar voice called their names, and they pulled away instantly, and Aegon entered to room, eyeing them suspiciously. “Brother, mother’s looking for you. She says you can’t leave in the middle of a feast thrown in your honour.” He said.

Aemond just nodded, sparing her a glance before leaving.

Daenys remained planted on the settee, her mind still spinning at this newest interaction with her brother.

“Are you coming?” He asked.

She shook her head, “I’m quite lightheaded, actually. I think I should retire to my rooms, to lie down. Would you let your mother know for me?”

He shrugged, “Very well. I’ll not be here for much longer, I’m going into the city soon.” Daenys nodded as she got up and they began to walk.

“You seem a bit disoriented. Did you and Aemond have an argument?” He asked as they walked to her rooms.

“No, no. Can you just- please look out for him while you’re still at the feast. Ensure he doesn’t let his anger lead him to do anything he might regret.”

Aegon smirked, turning to face her as they reached her rooms. “His anger towards a certain bastard nephew of ours? Trying to protect him from our brother’s mighty wrath?”

“Hardly, I’m trying to protect Aemond from himself.” She replied.

“Very well. I suppose the fun would end too early if Aemond killed the fool before the night is over.” He said.

She rolled her eyes, before biding him goodnight and going into her rooms, undressing and slipping into bed, trying to read a book to distract herself, but she couldn’t focus on the words on the pages.

All she could think about was what would have happened if they weren’t interrupted, how his lips might have felt on hers.

The next morning, as she took her breakfast in Helaena’s rooms, thinking about the night before, a servant came and sent a message for Daenys. Rhaenyra wished to speak with her, in her chambers.

Daenys dismissed the messenger and continued eating, and Helaena whispered, “The blood of the dragon will run true, when it is bonded by shades of blue.” Daenys was used to her sisters ramblings by now, even if she didn’t understand them, and simply nodded, wondering instead what her sister could want.

After finishing breakfast with Helaena, and returning to her chambers to reply to a letter from her brother Daeron in Oldtown, she made her way to her sister’s rooms, nervously knocking the door. Rhaenyra’s voice called out for her to enter, and she pushed the door open, to see her sister and their uncle Daemon sitting at the table in their rooms, while little Aegon and Viserys played on the floor.

“Sister, Uncle.” She greeted them.

“Sister, it is good to see you. Please sit.” Rhaenyra greeted in a surprisedly not cold manner, and Daenys sat with them at the table.

“Congratulations, on your pregnancy, sister.” Daenys broke the silence by saying.

For the first time, Rhaenyra’s expression softened as she touched her belly affectionately. “Thank you. How have you been?” She asked.

“Well.” She replied, trying to ignore her uncle looking at her intently.

“It’s a relief to see you in red and black, niece. I should hate to have seen you in green, of all colours.” Daemon finally said.

Daenys wasn’t surprised by his boldness, she knew of her uncle’s reputation, and of his brass and abrasive manner, even if she hadn’t spent much time around him.

“Yes, well it seems wearing green apparently gives people the assumption that they might presume one’s political alliances, within the clear divide in our family.” She responded. Daemon surprisingly grinned at her answer.

“Where do your loyalties lie then, sister?” Rhaenyra asked.

“My loyalties lie with what is right. I’ve no wish to play this game of politics.” She said.

“Then your loyalties would lie with me, as the true heir?” Rhaenyra pressed.

Daenys nodded unsurely, wondering where her sister was going with this.

“That is good to hear. I’m sure you are aware, sister, that the minute our beloved father passes, the Queen and the Hand will undoubtably seek to crown Aegon. In such a scenario, anything could happen, and we must be prepared for when the time comes.” Daenys nodded, unsure of what to say.

“And so, Daemon and I have spoken and we believe you must marry to secure allies for the cause. We will need men, resources, anything to ensure we are prepared for whatever Otto Hightower and the Queen have planned.” Daenys was shocked at her sister’s boldness.

“Aegon has no wish to be king.” Was all she could muster.

Daemon laughed. “You think it matters? That cunt Hightower will drag him up to be crowned against his will if that is what it takes.” He said.

Daenys felt herself become overwhelmed with anger. Her sister never cared for her, never treated her with love or kindness, and now she wanted her to marry, to decide the course of her life solely for the benefit of her cause? She never wanted to make amends.

“You’ve some nerve, Rhaenyra.” She said her name as though it were venom in her tongue. “You despise me the moment I was born, blame me for our mother’s death, mistreat me, and show nothing but callous cruelty, yet here you stand, entitled enough to ask me to chose how the rest of my life will be, all in service to you?” She asked incredulously.

Rhaenyra sat there, stunned. “If your loyalties lie where you say they do, you will do this.” Was all she finally said.

Daenys got up and felt the fiery anger coursing through her veins, “How can you call me sister, when you only seek to trade me like a piece on a board for your benefit? You truly are entitled, Rhaenyra. How sad it’s taken me this long to see it.” She said, before slamming the door shut behind her as she left.

Her anger turned to tears of hurt, and rejection once again, and she quickly made her way to the hidden room, sighing in relief when she found it empty.

She sat on the settee, crying, feeling like a fool for trying with her sister all these years. She never wanted to make amends, for Rhaenyra didn’t think there were amends to be made.

She cried for what felt like hours, and barely heard the door slide open, until she heard Aegon’s voice. “Sister? What’s happened?” He quickly came to her, placing the jug of wine he brought with him on the floor and sitting next to her, helping her sit up.

She shook her heard, sniffling as she wiped her tears. “Did someone try to hurt you? Did they touch you?” He asked worriedly, and she kept shaking her head.

He pulled her in until her face was buried in his chest; he smelled like wine and dragon. She felt him stroke her hair as she cried, a reverse of the position they often found themselves in. She kept crying, years of pain from her sister’s treatment of her coming out, until the wall opened once again, this time Aemond entering, being greeted with the sight of the pair.

“What’s wrong?” He quickly rushed over to them, sitting on the other side of Daenys.

“She hasn’t said.” She heard Aegon say.

She raised her head up and hiccuped through her cries, trying to steady her breathing. She saw the distraught look on Aemond’s face, and the concerned look on Aegon’s.

Aemond took her face in his hands, and forcing her to look at him. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?” He asked, eye roaming her body in search of blood or wounds.

She shook her head. “Rhaenyra,” was all she managed to get out, her voice hoarse from crying.

The brothers exchanged a look. “What did she do?” Aegon asked.

So she told them, how she met their sister at her request, thinking she wished to move forward, only to be met with talk of where her political loyalties must lie, what will happen when their father dies, and Rhaenyra wishing to marry her off for her cause.

Aemond’s face turned to one of stone cold fury, while Aegon shook his head and said, “I’ve no wish to be king. That is grandfather’s dream, not mine.”

“I told her that. Daemon said it didn’t matter.” She told them.

Aegon scoffed, “I shan’t be king. I’d soon put my head to the sword.”

Daenys looked over and Aemond, who hadn’t spoken. “Brother?” She rested her hand over his.

He turned to look at them both, and said, “I’d sooner put King’s Landing to Vhagar’s mercy than let our sister trade you for an army.”

She smiled through her sadness. “I know I must marry soon, but for Rhaenyra to come and wish to determine the course of my life when she’s never cared for me, it feels incredibly cruel.”

“Rhaenyra won’t care if she marries you off to a fat drunkard, or a fucking rapist. She won’t look out for you, not like we will.” Aegon said.

“You are the blood of the dragon, sister. We won’t let her try to ship you off to any old lord for her benefit.” Aemond said quietly.

She nodded and said, “I won’t marry for her own cause. I will marry and perform my duty, which is the marry for the good of the realm, not Rhaenyra’s benefit. She is not entitled to use me for her own.”

Her brothers nodded, saying nothing, but she noticed Aegon and Aemond exchange a quick look, before she yawned, the events of the morning tiring her out. Instinctively, she laid her head on Aemond’s shoulder, and Aegon gently let her legs lie on his lap. Her eyes grew heavy, soon closed, falling into sleep to the sound of her brothers quietly conversing with each other.

“Our sister has some nerve, you must admit.” Aegon told him quietly, as Daenys slept below them.

Aemond was furious upon hearing Rhaenyra’s intentions. He spent the rest of the night before thinking of the moment in the library, over and over, taking himself in his hand and bringing himself to release just thinking about how her eyes grew dark, how her lips felt so soft and delectable under his finger. He intended to speak to her the next morning, even though he didn’t know what to say, but there were more pressing matters now.

“Our mother was trying to match her with Linus Tyrell.” Aemond told him.

“What? When?” Aegon asked.

“Months ago.” Aemond replied.

Aegon looked at him expectantly, and he said, “Before their courtship could begin, I simply let him know that our sister deserves much better than frivolous gardens in the Reach to be satisfied, and let him know that his attentions weren’t welcome.”

Aegon snickered, “I never much cared for him.”

Aemond stroked her hair as she slept, and Aegon said, “You should marry her. It would keep her safe, and we would all be together. If she got sent away, Helaena would be heartbroken.”Aegon’s words were true, Aemond knew that Helaena and Daenys had a sisterly bond that took them both through difficult times, including her marriage to Aegon.

“Who’s to say she would want to? I won’t force her into anything.” Aemond replied.

“I know you’ve always wanted her, brother. It’s why when I took you to that brothel on the Street of Silk, you didn’t do anything, because it was our sister you wanted.” Aegon said.

Aemond didn’t wish to remember the awful night Aegon took him with on his nightly excursions, and said quietly, “She deserves better than I.”

“Yet you won’t let another have her.” Aegon finished his thought aloud.

Aemond knew his feelings were selfish and complicated, but he chose to deal with them another time. Right now, he had to make sure Rhaenyra couldn’t use their sister for her political machinations. Aegon took a swig of wine and passed him the bottle, to which Aemond drank. He wasn’t a drinker like his brother, but on occasion he gave in and drank with him, as did Daenys.

She looked so beautiful while she slept, almost angelic, the way her lips formed into a small pout, her small breaths making her move slightly, her hair splayed out around her. He reached down and wiped the remaining tears staining her face, drinking in the sight of her beauty as they sat in silence together.

That evening, he went to his mother’s chambers, intent on speaking with her about Daenys. He passed through the doors as Ser Criston held them open for him, and his mother greeted him, her face tired from the activities of the day. “My son, what troubles you?” She asked as they sat down, noting his grim expression.

“Mother, we must speak about Daenys.” He said. Her eyes furrowed in concern. “Why? Has something happened to her?’

“She was summoned by Rhaenyra this morning. Apparently she and Daemon wish to marry Daenys off to gain more allies for Rhaenyra. Daenys was distraught, she assumed Rhaenyra wished to make amends.” Alicent’s face grew serious.

“Rhaenyra may be the heir, but she has no authority to dictate who your sister might wed. It is high time she was, but I’m afraid in the midst of all that his happening, the matter of her marriage has taken lesser priority.” He nodded, as she continued.

“I’ve broached the subject with your father in the past. She’s received offers for her hand, but he’s rejected them all, his reasoning is entirely lost on me.”

“She’s a good girl, Daenys. Sometimes I wonder what our family would be were she not here.” His mother said wistfully.

Aemond nodded, knowing she was right. His sister held them together, they were by no means a happy, functional family, but she made things better simply by being her. She was important to them all, but she was priceless to Aemond.

“In any case, you were right to let me know. Now I know Rhaenyra is here with more intentions that to simply see her father, or partake in festivities. You are a good son, Aemond.” His mother said.

He bid his mother goodnight and left, walking to his own chambers at last. He knew his mother relied on him, especially since Aegon almost never performed his duties as expected of him as the eldest son. He always stepped up, always did more than was required of him.

He shut the doors to his rooms, and nearly jumped when he heard a voice call out him name quietly. Daenys sat on the settee in his rooms, her hair loose running down her back, yet faming her face giving her a soft, delicate beauty. She was in her blue nightgown, with her robe hanging loosely off her frame. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” She said.

“You didn’t scare me.” He grumbled, causing her to chuckle.

“Whatever you say, brother.” She grinned.

“To what do I owe the honour of you visiting my chambers?” He asked, taking off his belt that held his sword and dagger.

“Well, in the midst of all the celebrations for your name day, I almost forgot to give you your gift.” She told him. She held out a package wrapped in parchment, tied with string and a little flower tucked under.

He sat next to her and opened it, truly surprised at the sight. It was a rare, uncensored copy of the Mythology of Old Valyria. He’d reached out to countless scholars, to no avail. Yet she got it. For him.

He was dumbfounded, and looked up and her smiling face. “Well? Do you like it?” She asked shyly.

“I love it. Thank you, Daenys.” He said. He truly believed in that moment, no one would ever know him like she did.

“How- how did you manage this? I have been trying for months,” He passed his hand over the old, worn leather cover.

“I have my ways, dear brother.”

Their eyes locked again, and her breath hitched as he leaned in closer to her, setting the book aside. The air in the room immediately shifted, his breaths grew heavy as he brushed a strand of her hair that fell into her face.

Her scent consumed him, the scent of jasmine and lilies, and when her hand reached out to touch his face, he felt every inkling of self control beginning to dissipate within him.

“Aemond,” she whispered his name, almost luring him with her voice. She would be the death of him.

He brushed his fingers over her lips again, and she closed her eyes, her breaths becoming shaky under his touch. Her skin was burning, and the room felt engulfed with a heat that he knew was not as a result of the fire burning in the fireplace.

He leaned in, his lips brushing over hers, and it was utterly euphoric. He didn’t ever kiss her yet, and he was addicted to the feeling.

“Kiss me, Aemond.” She said lowly.

With that clear indication of willingness from her, he crushed his lips to hers, tasting her lips for the first time. When he nipped his bottom lip with his teeth, she gasped, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in her mouth, fulling tasting her.

She was addictive.

Delicious.

He was drowning in her, her hands taking initiative and going to the back of his head, pressing him deeper into the kiss, if that were possible. Her fingers laced through his hair, and his hand slid up her neck, lightly wrapping his fingers around it.

She was so innocent, yet so sinful. She was temptation, and he was ready to be led into sin.

She softly moaned into his mouth, and the sound was glorious, and he wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life eliciting it from her lips.

They finally pulled apart for air, and Aemond felt himself burning through his thick leather clothes, sweat forming on his brow. He had never been so utterly taken apart by a single kiss.

Her face was flushed red, her hair messy, and her lips wet with his saliva. He knew if they were alone for a moment longer, he would lose himself in her, claim her maidenhead, then claim her as his.

She clearly sensed this too, and said, “I ought to get back.

”He nodded, and got up to walk her to the other end of the room, where his secret entrance to the tunnels was.

He turned her to look at him once again, and she smiled nervously at him.

“Ñuhon” (mine) he whispered to her.

“Aōhon” (yours) she replied in a shaky whisper.

He leaned over her and pressed on the panel in the wall to let it slide open, and then took her hand, and gave it a chaste kiss, utterly contrasting the kiss they shared seconds ago.

And with that, she walked through the secret entrance, and the panel shut close, leaving him with the tingling sensation of their kiss on his lips, and the smell of jasmine and lilies in the air.

#aemond targaryen #aemond fic #aemond smut #aemond one eye #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #prince aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #alicent hightower #helaena targaryen #aegon ii

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beermencjs · 1 year ago

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endgame

header by @/earlgreymon

for @ashxketchum!! requested some time ago and finally got to finish it (there's a part that just won't write itself!). i know you asked for takari but your takari for me, my mimato for you (even though it's a little unfair since i love mimato, too). i still do hope you like it! i had a lot of fun writing this and it kinda went on and on as i typed once the part finally wrote itself. anyways! enjoy (i hope)!!

endgame | main characters ; yamato ishida, mimi tachikawa, some taichi yagami and sora takenouchi, can't forget gabumon, palmon, agumon, and piyomon | universe ; au / can be placed anywhere after 02 | ships ; yamato x mimi, taichi x sora, takeru x hikari | genre ; fluff, humor | word count ; 2,235 | rating ; 13+ | edited ; three times - forgive me for any mistakes

Yamato was never in the mood for flirting. He knew people fawned over him, he knew his band was worshiped by those his age, and sure, he did “have a feeling” that flirting was going to be part of his life. But he never even tried to flirt back. Well, maybe he did, but it was usually against his will.

The band was not together anymore, having to go their separate ways, but he still loved them. The flirting, however, did not stop. He knew he was a good-looking guy but now that he was living a life that did not involve anything that required him to “go out there and fly”, maybe a life without people flirting with him 24/7 would be nice.

He and Taichi were having a meal in a small diner with Gabumon and Agumon hidden beside them. The digimons were enjoying their food while their partners talked about school.

Although they took up different courses, they still had some minor classes together, which, despite Yamato not admitting it, was a relief from all the other students they swarmed with. He had made some friends, but no one at the same level he had with Taichi. Everyone came from different backgrounds, and if they were to be honest, it was a little overwhelming, especially since it was their first year in university.

“Are you going to Shinichi’s party on Friday?” Taichi asked.

“Who’s Shinichi?” Yamato questioned, not bothering to look up from his food.

“He’s in one of our minor classes,” Taichi responded, “cool guy. But this party is a little too early, don’t you think? It could be a way to make some friends, I guess. Wanna go together?”

“Can we go?” Agumon asked.

“A party’s always fun,” Gabumon said.

Taichi smiled at them and then looked at Yamato. “What do you say?”

Yamato looked over at the smiling Gabumon and Agumon and sighed. “Okay, let’s go.”

“Great!” Taichi exclaimed.

“But you’re driving,” Yamato said.

“Sora will.”

“Sora?”

“Yeah. She wants to go. But she wants to bring her car so that she can leave anytime she wants.” Taichi shrugged. “Her mom’s car. And she said walking would be a pain, Shinichi’s venue is a little far.”

“We can always ask Birdramon to fly us away,” Agumon jested.

Taichi chuckled, Gabumon laughed, and even Yamato gave a smile.

“So what time do we meet her?” Yamato asked.

“Not sure yet. But we’ll ask her, or message if we don’t see each other anytime soon.”

Yamato smirked. “Right. Anytime soon.”

When Friday arrived, Sora, Taichi, and Yamato, along with their digimon partners, were packed inside Sora’s mom’s car. It was just a four-seater after all, it would only be Mrs. Takenouchi, Sora, whenever Mr. Takenouchi would come home, and Piyomon. And of course, Piyomon rode shotgun, while the men were cramped at the back.

“I think we’re here,” Sora said, looking out the window.

“Finally,” Yamato sighed in relief.

“The place is packed and in full swing!” Taichi said.

“Let’s just find a place to park. Doesn’t look like there’s a lot of cars.”

As they drove around, Gabumon pointed at a spot and Sora immediately swirled to get to it. Both Taichi and Yamato looked at each other, surprised by the speed and sudden jerk of the ride.

They got out of the car and Taichi whispered how his soul nearly left his body after that short ride. Yamato rolled his eyes and stated that he was overreacting.

“His place isn’t that big up-close,” Taichi observed. “It’s just the garden.”

“You think there’ll be beer?” Yamato wondered.

“You three find a spot,” Sora ordered. “Somewhere we can see each other.”

“I don’t think there is a place where we can see each other,” Yamato said.

That could be true. The house was packed. So far, the three have not found anyone they knew. But they were just outside and there were not many people around, perhaps they would find more people inside.

“Think you three can go around without being seen?” Taichi asked.

“Of course!” All three digimons grinned.

The group dispersed, the digimons to the right and the Chosen Children straight ahead.

When they reached inside, they looked around for anyone familiar. After a minute of standing by the door, Sora was called by another young lady and she excused herself from the boys.

“We’ll leave at midnight on the dot,” she told them as she walked away.

“Yes, ma’am,” they both murmured.

After some time of just being together, people-watching, someone came up to them. Taichi straightened up while Yamato raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, glad you two can make it!”

“Thanks for the invite, Shinichi,” Taichi said, smiling.

“Yeah, the party’s great,” Yamato said, although he actually did not find the party that great.

“I’m glad you think so, Yamato. I really wanted your approval.” Shinichi grinned. “I heard you were pretty popular back then, I know you are right now. I wanted the approval of someone who knows how to party.”

“I don’t know how to party,” he replied. “I was in a band, but that didn’t mean we were always partying.”

“I see.” Shinichi pursed his lips. “I’m sorry for assuming. But anyway, enjoy the party.” And he waved goodbye as he disappeared into the crowd.

“I think he likes you,” Taichi joked.

Yamato sighed. “I don’t regret the band.”

“I know you don’t, we all do.” Taichi placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “But come on, enough of this. Time to have fun before the old lady tells us to go home.” He snickered.

Yamato scoffed. “I’m going to tell her you said that, I’m sure she won’t like it. At all.”

They both laughed.

The two did enjoy the party. They made new acquaintances and even stuck with a group. They invited Sora in and the three were glad they had new people by their side.

At some point, as the group was talking, Sora paused mid-sentence and everyone waited for her to continue.

“So—?”

“Mimi!”

Both Taichi and Yamato immediately looked to where Sora saw Mimi, followed by the rest of the group.

“What’s she doing here?” Sora wondered, her voice filled with worry.

“Why?” One of the members asked. “What’s wrong?”

Sora shook her head and headed straight for the young girl. Taichi and Yamato followed suit.

“Mimi,” Sora called her.

Mimi looked back and grinned. “Sora!” She stepped forward and gave her a hug, which Sora returned. When they let go, Mimi hugged both Taichi and Yamato as well. “I’m sure Palmon has found the others already.”

“Mimi,” Sora said softly. “What are you doing here?”

“I was invited,” she smiled. “They said there was going to be a party here and I thought it might be fun, you know. And Palmon’s with me.”

“Mimi,” Taichi started. “Who invited you?”

“Shinichi Ozawa did,” she replied. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“Well, no…” Sora said, tilting her head a little. “But, this is a college party. Does Shinichi know that you’re not a college student yet?”

Mimi began to think. “I went to your campus one time, and that’s when he invited me.”

“What were you doing on our campus?” Yamato asked.

“I wanted to surprise you all,” she answered, grinning at him. “But then I asked if you three were coming to the party. He said he wasn’t sure but I wanted to take my chances and surprise you here instead! Isn’t this fun?” Though she sounded unsure when she said the last part.

Yamato sighed. “I don’t think asking you to leave is an option, especially since you’ll be alone—even with Palmon.”

“So what do we do?” Taichi asked.

Sora licked her upper lip. “Babysit.”

Mimi’s eyes widened. “No!”

“Mimi, we don’t know these people. We don’t know these people. Please, stick with at least one of us. We’ll make it up to you, we promise. Just please, Mimi?” Sora pouted.

Mimi looked at all three of them but focused on Sora last. After a few seconds, Mimi sighed. “Okay. I don’t want to admit it but I am a little nervous about this.” She frowned. “Especially since I wasn’t even sure if you guys would be here.”

The three older Chosen Children sighed in relief.

Just then, the group that group the three were talking to appeared and asked what was happening.

“This is Mimi,” Sora introduced. “She’s one of our closest friends.”

“Really?” One of the guys asked. “I’ve never seen you around campus. What course are you in?”

“She’s from another university,” Yamato said quickly.

“May I visit you there?” the same guy asked, his voice a little flirty.

Yamato was suddenly feeling very protective of the younger girl. He did not like the thought of an older stranger visiting her. “Not at the moment,” he said.

“Why don’t you let her answer for herself?” the guy snapped.

Mimi smiled. “Yamato’s just always been protective of us. I don’t mind him answering for me…sometimes.” She giggled.

Yamato knew she was lying so he wondered why she was playing along.

The party was in even fuller swing about forty-five minutes later. Although the three knew Mimi was not too happy with the situation, they also saw that she was having a good time.

At the stroke of twelve, Sora ordered everyone out of the house after thanking Shinichi for the invite. As they headed for the car, the four digimons arrived by their side.

“Yamato, would you take the car and bring Mimi home?” Sora asked.

“Sure,” Yamato answered. “But what about you guys?”

Taichi intertwined his and Sora’s fingers and smiled.

“Got it.”

Mimi squealed. “You two have fun!”

“Agumon, Piyomon?” Palmon looked at them.

“We’ll protect them,” Piyomon said. “But we won’t ruin their moment.”

When everything was set, Yamato, Mimi, Gabumon, and Palmon entered the car. They were quiet for a while until Palmon asked Gabumon how Takeru and Hikari were.

“They’re still very shy,” Gabumon replied. “But that’s expected, right, Yamato?”

“Either very shy or very guarded,” he said with a laugh. “Taichi is still all over them.”

“And you’re not?” Mimi asked, smiling.

Yamato smirked. “Takeru can handle himself. Even if this is his first relationship.”

“Everyone knows Takeru and Hikari would be endgame,” Mimi said with a giggle.

“And Taichi and Sora, too,” Gabumon added.

“Yamato, didn’t Sora have a crush on you before? Mimi said that she gave you something special for Christmas one time. What happened?”

“Palmon!” Mimi chided.

Yamato sighed. “I’ve only told Taichi what happened.”

“I’m sorry,” Palmon said, bowing her head. “I was just very curious now that the topic came up.”

“I knew that Taichi had feelings for her, and I couldn’t do that to him, especially since I only ever felt feelings of friendship for Sora.”

“And Sora gradually had feelings for Taichi, too. And he didn’t even have to try too hard despite having strong feelings, correct?” Mimi grinned as Yamato nodded. “It just means they’re meant to be!”

The four talked more about their friend’s love lives. Mimi’s home was a little on the farther side so they had a lot of time to gossip.

Finally, Mimi had a mischievous look on her face. “What about you, Yamato?”

Yamato smirked. “What about you, Mimi?”

“Don’t turn this in my direction. I asked first.”

“If there’s nothing to say then it only makes sense the question goes back to you.”

“Oh please, someone like you is bound to have someone in mind.”

“There’s no one, Mimi. And again, what about you? If I remember correctly, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic.”

“I still am,” she admitted. “But my goal is different now. I want to play Cupid.”

“Don’t force it though.”

“I know the limits. Now c’mon, Yamato. Answer me.”

“There’s no one, Mimi.”

“Do I have to play Cupid?”

“If it’s with you then I don’t mind.” A smirk on his face.

“I’m serious!”

“Oh look, we’re here.”

Mimi looked up and sighed when she saw the building she lived in. “Okay, fine. But you owe me an answer, Ishida.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolled his eyes, but a smirk appeared on his face. “It’s time to go, Tachikawa. It’s getting late. Too late.”

“Will you bring the car back to Sora’s?”

“Yes. And then Gabumon and I will walk home.”

Mimi smiled. “Okay. Thanks for the ride.” She turned to the back seat as Palmon went down. “Goodnight, Gabumon.”

Yamato raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll say goodnight to you if you give me an answer.”

“The gas is running,” Yamato said, looking at the meter. “Goodnight, Mimi. Goodnight, Palmon.”

“Goodnight, Yamato,” Palmon said with a wave.

Mimi chuckled. “Okay. Goodnight, Yamato. Goodnight again, Gabumon.”

“Goodnight, Mimi. Goodnight, Palmon,” Gabumon said.

Yamato looked at her and smiled. “G’night.”

Mimi smiled once again and closed the door.

Once Yamato saw that the two had gone inside the building safely, he drove away.

“Yamato,” Gabumon said.

“Yeah?”

“You were flirting with Mimi, weren’t you?”

Yamato choked. “Flirting? Me? I wouldn’t say so.”

“You were.”

“I was not.”

“You even said—.”

“Gabumon,” Yamato said in a warning tone. This only made his digimon laugh. “Gabumon!”

“You won’t admit it, but you were!”

Yamato sighed. “You’re not letting this go, are you?” Gabumon shook his head. “Just don’t mention it to anyone. And no, I was not flirting.”

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unstxblesystem · 2 months ago

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"where's your father at?"

━━

I doubt any ccs would roll up here but whatever we just exist smile and wave

Blog for the UU introjects of the Pairidaeza System‼️ Not much about us, bodily 18, our interests/fixations vary

Other blogs we have:

@clownpierced - Pierce's main blog

@branzycrafted - Branzy's main blog

@troublex8 - Wemmbu's sideblog

@hxrpy-hxre - Minute's sideblog

—

Alters on this blog:

🃏 - Pierce [he/jest], 20, LS + KSMP + UU | [playlist]

🎭 - Branzy/Ajax [he/dice], 23, LS + EC + UU | [playlist]

⚡️- Spoke/Gremlin [he/him], 18, LS + UU | [playlist]

🗡 - Wemmbu/Crown [he/him], 19, UU + LS | [playlist]

🥚 - Egg/Ribbon [he/him], 20, UU

♣️ - Minute [he/him], 22, UU + LS | [playlist]

⚔️ - Zam/Zammy/Jaskier [he/she], 20, UU + LS | [playlist]

🧨 - Mapicc/Mason [he/him], 18, UU + LS

🐾 - Wifies/Conan [he/him], 20, UU

🎊 - Squiddo/Squish [she/they/he/it], 20, UU + LS

☮️ - Ash [he/him], 20, UU

🌻 - Rejoice [he/him], 20, UU + gen source

🍧 - Loppezz/Kat [she/her], 21, UU

❤️‍🔥 - Mane [he/him], 20, UU/LS | [Playlist]

♠️ - Mug/Gambit [he/him], 18-19, Bliss/Strength but he can stay | [Playlist]

—

> Our Simply Plural is PairidaezasDreams if anyone wants to add us go ahead

> No real DNI other than basic criteria + endos/pro endos let the door hit you on the way out, also you should know we actively dislike k*boodle but I can't really stop you from being here just know we are not fans of her in the slightest (like everything ever this does not impact introjects you aren't your source)

> Nothing outright NSFW will be on this blog but we Are collectively an adult + adults individually so there might be some things adjacent sometimes, just nothing explicit

> You can send whatever asks you want, mutuals can hit us with their cars, we don't bite we like socializing, if you're being weird on purpose I'll just publicly shame you

> If you scroll through our blog spam liking posts and reblogging random text posts of ours I'm blocking you because it's annoying to flood our notifs like that

> Most of our other socials are failureofstars (twt, discord, Twitch but we only watch a few streamers mainly the 2 we mod for)

> We will system post whenever, not all posts are signed off but all system posts are, introject memory related posts are tagged with #mems yap and system related rambles will be tagged with #sys rambles

ART CREDS - pfp and header by @/mellohiizz

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anjaelle · 2 years ago

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White Light | Part IX

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Pairing: Ghost!Aaron Taylor-Johnson x Black!Reader Warnings: Purgatory, Darkness, Death, Creepy imagery Word Count: 1.7K Summary: No one can defy the natural cycle of birth, life, and death. Except...what if you really want to? A/N: Solo!Reader chapter but SUPER necessary as we go into the final part. Plus surprise new headers for this chapter and the final chapter. Yay!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You always had the belief that the liminal space between the afterlife and the living was paper thin. It had to be. How else could someone get trapped in the space between the two?

It felt like you were falling for an eternity.

Someone was holding you. As they were roughly pulled away, they called your name...you think. But they were too far away for you to register what it was.

You just wanted to sleep, but the darkness wouldn't let you. Voices echoed around you, whispering indecipherable words in languages you barely understood. They overlapped. Some were yelling, some laughing. You heard a sob, and a scream, and angry shouting.

Through it all, you heard the hoarse, shallow breathing of an unknown thing. You could feel its hot breath on the back of your neck, you smelled the unmistakable stench of decay and blood. You remembered the image of the thing with many sharp teeth, dripping black spit, and wide yellow eyes, staring at you from the corner of a room. Lying in wait. For what? You didn't know. But it grinned at you as it passed your vision and circled you curiously.

"Oh...oh...oh...It's you, little fox...fox...fox."

Little fox...little fox.

You're not supposed to be here, little fox.

She's not sssssupposed to be here...here...here

You tried to open your mouth to speak, but there was nothing to open. You floated through the dark without a body, without pain, without care. Just thoughts. You weren't afraid, though you felt like you should've been.

You wondered how the voices knew you.

"I've always known you, little fox...fox...fox. As I knew your mother, and her mother before her....her...her."

Am I dead? Is this the afterlife?

The overlapping whispers stopped at all once, replaced with deafening silence. The many-toothed thing laughed sharply. If you could see it properly, you're sure it would've thrown its grotesque head back in jest. And when you turned to follow the sound, it merely circled you again, dancing out of reach.

"My brave girl, you know exactly where you are."

You didn't even know your own name, let alone where you were and what you were supposed to do. The many-toothed thing tsked.

"I told the boy he could not have you. His soul was mine to take," the thing let out a low, tired sigh, "Oh, but he latched onto you, little fox. As stubborn as they come. You and your mother are quite similar."

There it was again. You struggled to think of your mother, but her face was just a vague image in your memory. As if by request, an image flashed of a woman who looked incredibly familiar, sitting on the floor of a house with the apparition of a woman sitting across from her. They held hands as the woman who was presumably your mother whispered over a candle.

"She tried desperately to save her." The thing whispered, sorrowfully, "But I warned her that saving a soul would always require a sacrifice."

She shifted, and it was then that you noticed that she was pregnant.

Was that you?

"Yessss," the thing answered, circling you again, "I told her that she could save her friend. But only if I could have you. And she chose you--as any mother would. But, oh, she was not happy to lose her. It was no surprise when she stopped answering me. But I've always...always loved her. And I've always known you."

The sincerity in the thing's voice caught you off guard. Small flashes of memory resurfaced of your mother shoving boxes in the back of the closet and covering mirrors. You thought she'd gone mad.

You felt a pang of familiarity in your chest.

"You can't save the boy."

The boy? You struggled to remember a face. A name. You could only remember the feeling.

"You...cannot...save him. Let him go."

Why?

"What's gone is gone and cannot be retrieved."

You didn't believe that. You felt something shift. Like the space around you was charged with electricity. You knew you didn't have a physical body here, but you could almost feel the vibrations in the air where your fingertips would be.

Is time linear here? How long have I been gone?

"You need to move on, little fox."

No. I'm not done. I'm not ready. I'm...I have to do something. I have to at least try.

The thing sighed, the scent of death wafted over you. You'd grown used to it.

Suddenly you were blinded by a bright white light, and the liminal space was a hallway with dozens of doors lined up on either side. You could hear the humming of voices, the slamming of the doors, the echoes of passing spirits.

You looked down and found your body in its rightful place. The bloom of blood drenched the side of your shirt, though you could no longer feel the pain of the wound. The memories of what happened slammed into you and you fell to your knees, gasping for breath like you'd been submerged underwater. And as you tried to regain your bearings, you tried to remember everything you'd been taught. Your grandmother told you about this once. She told you about walking in the space between, looking through the doors.

To think you believed for years that everything about your family's legacy was bullshit.

The many-toothed thing appeared beside you, floating in a shadow and causing the lights of the hall to flicker as it passed them. Its long, sharp fingernail pointed down the hall to a door.

"Go, little fox."

"Where does that door lead to?"

It didn't answer. It simply pointed before shrouding its face in the shadows once more.

You hesitated, unsure of where this was going to leave you. You didn't have a heartbeat anymore, but if you did, you're sure you would've heard it in your ears. Your hands shook. You broke out into a run, knowing walking would just prolong the inevitable.

As the door drew closer, the air shifted. It felt warmer. Brighter. You shoved the door open and began falling again.

Down...down...down. Through a bright white light, and the overlapping voices calling your name.

One familiar voice shouted for you, but before you could answer, you slammed into something hard and blacked out.

─ ·𖥸· ─

Your hearing was the first to return to you. Sort of. The ringing in your ears made your head pang, and you didn't even want to open your eyes. A low groan escaped your mouth. The wind was inevitably knocked out of you like you'd been hit by a truck. The strange, yet familiar humid cold in the air seeped into your skin and made you shiver, and you realized you weren't wearing a coat.

Why was it so cold?

"...Darling? Sweetheart? Are you alright?" The kind voice of an older woman pulled you into the present. You just wanted to lay down forever. Maybe take a nap. A few other voices joined in, asking if you were alright. Someone gently shook you.

You opened your eyes, squinting at the five faces floating into your field of vision. Unfamiliar, but concerned all the same. It suddenly struck you that they could see you. And touch you.

So you weren't dead?

As you worked to sit up, the older woman in a thick coat and nurse's scrubs gently held your back and guided you into the sitting position. She reminded you of your grandmother which gave you a strong level of comfort.

"There you go," she cooed softly, "easy now. That was a nasty fall, sweetheart. Are you alright? Do you need to go to the hospital?"

Her badge said New York Presbyterian, so you gathered she was just coming off of work. You felt a small pang of guilt for some unknown reason.

You cleared your throat.

"Yeah I'm fine, thank you." You struggled to get it out. Once it was confirmed that you weren't on the brink of death, the small crowd dispersed except for the woman who looked you over for signs of a concussion, no doubt. She took out a small light and checked your eyes.

"Do you know your name?" She asked. You told her, happy that you could remember it now.

"Do you know where you are?" You looked around, peering at the buildings in the north. The skyline looked...off. Different. You squinted, then turned to the south. You froze.

No...no no no.

Where the fuck was the Freedom Tower? Why was there a gaping hole in the skyline where a building should be? You felt your heart begin to race. The skyline wasn't right. It didn't look right.

"I-- we're in l-lower Manhattan. Right?"

"Good! Do you know the date?" You hesitated. How long were you gone? And how did you end up in the street? You looked down at your clothes and saw they were no longer bloody. What happened?

"Um...I don't...know." You admitted, sheepishly.

"Do you know the year, at least?" She coaxed in concern, a frown pulling at her mouth as she tucked one of her gray curls behind her ear.

"T-two...thousand..." You began. Your mouth couldn't even finish the sentence before she tutted and held your elbow.

"Okay let's get you to the hospital. You might be alright, but we wanna just make sure."

As you got to your feet, majorly disgusted by the fact that you had your head and hands on the nasty sidewalk, you grasped her hand.

"Can you please tell me what year it is?" You begged. The realization hit you in the chest at full speed.

"It's 2003, sweetheart." She answered, concern laced in her tone. "It's February 3rd, 2003."

So this was where the door led you.

You didn't want to believe it. You wanted to stifle the optimism growing in your chest, but you couldn't help the wide grin pulling at your lips. You probably looked like a crazy person.

A quick glance in a storefront window confirmed this. Your hair was a mess, you were wearing summer clothes in the winter, and you had a dazed look in your eye. But you were you. And you were HERE.

You had to find him. And FAST.

You are now entering...

NEW YORK CITY. 2003.

#aaron taylor johnson #atj x black reader #atj x reader #aaron taylor johnson x black reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader #fic: white light #jae writes

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