#jest headers

[evacrstairs]

heartless (cathjest) headers. like/reblog if you save or use. 💔

[themetropolisborough]

seeing unfinished backdrop library den scene mock-up in the latest update made me so happy, i dove right into editing and never looked back 📚

[oneforthemunny]

funny bunny |older!dilf!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: a halloween couples costume that's inspired by yours and eddie's relationship, and his special nickname for you.

@eddiemunsons-missingnipple big creds for the older!eddie pic used in the header!!!!

contains: age gap relationship. eddie is 43, reader is 26. everything is consensual. language, drinking, filthy filth ahead MINORS DNI 18+, oral fem receiving v and a, ass play, plugs, fingering v and a, praise kink, p in v sex, creampie. role-play-ish. not really rough mainly just kinky freaky but some aftercare after.

"You look so good!"

You squealed from your place at your vanity, pulling the hot rollers out of your hair.

Eddie pouted slightly, brows creased in a deep furrow on his forehead. Looking down at the Burgundy, velvet robe with black trim, he let out a small huff. "I look ridiculous." He muttered.

"No, you don't." You giggled, running your hands over the silk trim, fixing the collar. "This looks so good. I can't believe how close it looks to the real thing." You grinned, eyes gleaming when you looked up at him. "You look just like Hefner."

Eddie scoffed, shaking his head slowly so his curls bobbed, inked hand rubbing across his beard. "I think that might be more insulting than you mean it to be, bunny." He grumbled, plopping on the edge of the bed. "I'm not that old."

You laughed, sitting in his lap, arms around his neck with a wide smile. Eddie couldn't help but smile back. How could he not? With how your warmth just radiated out of you and into him. Infectious happiness.

"I meant the robe." You reassured, running a hand down his chest. "We're going to look so good tonight. Steve and Nancy aren't gonna know what hit them!" You squealed, smacking your lips to his cheek in a quick, loud kiss before scampering back over to the vanity.

Eddie groaned. It had taken you weeks of convincing for him to agree to this costume. Hugh Hefner and a Playboy Bunny; a classic- well, maybe more for frat boys, but when the idea came to you, you just had to do it. A light jest to the clear age difference in your relationship, a way to poke fun at the obvious, but also a nod towards your beloved nickname Eddie had given you: bunny.

A sweet, innocent little nickname, that had been given to you at a completely un-innocent moment, and it had stuck. You were Eddie's little bunny, his golden girl. His.

"Will you promise you won't post any pictures tonight?" Eddie asked for the tenth time that night. "I don't need Brielle seeing that shit or- fuck- or Gina. She'll probably take me back to court."

You nodded. "Eddie, I promise, baby, I won't post anything. I don't need to get fired over a Halloween costume. You know how those parents are." You teased, looking at him through the mirror. "And I highly doubt you'll be deemed an unfit parent for a Hefner costume."

Eddie nodded, looking down at his watch. "You almost ready? We're supposed to be there at seven."

You sprayed the final spritz of hairspray around yourself, smoothing and setting your styled hair. "I just gotta get dressed." You grinned, slipping towards the bathroom, throwing him a playful wink. "I'll be right back, Mr. Hefner." You dropped your voice to a sultry, low voice, batting your eyes before shutting the door.

Keeping your costume a secret for as long as you did was the hardest part. Eddie had agreed, eventually, but only with some persuasion, bribery. He had been dying to see your costume since you first announced it had come in. While his costume was nice, very close to the replica robe that the Playboy founder always wore with a matching pipe, it was nothing compared to yours.

Black nylon tights that were just sheer enough. Black pumps that Eddie loved on you anyways, he loved how they made your legs look- long and endless, his hands always trailing up your calf, squeezing your ankle. The corset, body suit was risqué. High cut and covering just enough of your ass that it could pass as barely not lingerie. Strapless and low in the front, tight enough to hold your breasts up in just the right way. You'd ordered white cuffs and a bowtie cuff choker to really complete the look, the authentic Playboy Bunny look.

Then of course, what kind of bunny would you be without ears and a tail? Black, silk ears that stood tall and slightly crooked on the headband, adjusted so it bent just barely. The tail, a black, faux-fur attachment you pinned just on your tailbone.

Your heart thumped rapidly in your chest, smoothing your clammy hands over your bodice. You had been so excited to show Eddie just moments ago, but now... you wondered if it was too much. If he'd like it. If he'd yell at you, accuse you of wanting unwarranted attention that wasn't his, demand for you to change, tell you that you're embarrassing him like your boyfriends in the past did. 

"You need any help in there?" Eddie's voice called from outside the door, making you jump slightly, ears falling forward gently.

"No! Just finishing up." You grabbed the hair pin, securing the ears back into place.

You checked your reflection one last time. Hands smoothing down the corset, turning in the mirror to make sure your attached tail was in the right place. Your heels clicked across the tile floors of the bathroom.

"Close your eyes." You called, barely cracking the door before you walked out. Eddie chuckled lightly and you could hear the bed creak, shifting his weight on the mattress. "Are they closed?" You asked, squinting out the small sliver through the door.

"They're closed, baby." Eddie reassured, his voice low and gravely. It made your stomach flip. "C'mon, show me Playmate."

Pulling the door open slowly, the hinges creaking ever so lightly, you stepped on to the shag carpet, steps muted by the material. You walked slowly, hands twisting and wringing in front of you before stopping in front of Eddie. You knew by the way his smile grew, dimples deep in his scruff and lines by his eyes crinkling, that he could feel your presence.

"Ok, open them." You smiled, placing your hands on your hips playfully.

Eddie's eyes opened, brows raising in amusement. "Oh-oh-oh, bunny." He laughed, moving closer, his hands reaching out for yours. You blushed under his gaze, how he roamed over your legs, tongue poking his cheek in a sideways smirk. Eddie looked at the cuffs, took extra time looking at your bodice and collar, calloused hands gliding over you.

"You've outdone yourself." Eddie smirked, looking up at you from his place on the edge of the bed. "Definitely getting the front page."

"You didn't even see my tail." You grinned, spinning and shaking your hips towards him, the attached tail bouncing with the movement.

Eddie groaned, low and deep, but playful. "Jesus, baby bunny, you're killing me. You know that?" He smacked your ass playfully, right beneath the tail, making you squeal. "I don't know if I'm gonna make it to the party with you looking like this."

"We have to go, Eddie." You pouted. "Or else no one will see our costumes, and I worked so hard on them." 

Eddie rolled his eyes, but stood, his hands still not leaving your waist. "I'd be alright with that." He laughed. "You could get me out of this robe and show me why you're called bunny, hm? Ride me all night, how's that sound?" Eddie nipped, tongue tickling the shell of your ear making you squeal and squirm against his hot breath.

You let out a nasally laugh when he squeezed your waist, hands gliding over your hips and tummy on the corset. He kissed right above your collar on your neck. "Eddie," You whined, thighs clamping. "Stop, we've got to go."

Eddie sighed, gently but not angry. He looked at your with soft brown eyes that had you melting. "I promise, when we get back I'll put on my real costume for you." You bit your lips, eyes meeting his, playful and alluring.

Eddie's brow quipped. "This isn't your costume?" He asked, hands trailing down your waist.

You shook your head, ears bouncing. "It's one of them, but I have a special costume just for you, Mr. Hefner." You purred, leaning forward so your lips barely brushed his. Eddie growled, tattooed fingers gripping your hips, digging into the nylons.

"But," You pushed back on his chest lightly. "We have to do this first." You lifted a finger towards him. Eddie groaned, head falling back. "Put your hat on Hef, we're late." You grinned, tossing him the captain's hat and slipping on your coat.

***

"Woah-ho-ho," Steve Harrington cackled, leaning in the doorway of his Hawkins McMansion. His amber eyes were wide, amused. "No fuckin' way. Hef and a Bunny?" He laughed, clapping his hands together.

You grinned proudly, arm lacing with Eddie's as you adjusted his hat, straightening it on top of his curls. "His favorite Playmate." You winked, giggling when Eddie's hand squeezed your ass.

"That's a fuckin' classic, holy shit." Steve laughed, shutting the door as the two of you walked in. "Nance, look at this!" He called into the living room where the party rage- well, as raging as a middle aged Halloween party could be. King Steve still did his best, even without the keg, you'd give him that.

Nancy gasped, Robin trailing behind her. "Oh my God, this is fuckin' amazing!" Robin laughed.

"How did you even think of this?" Nancy laughed, looking at the two of you, touching your cuffs on your arms.

You shrugged, biting back a smile when your eyes met Eddie's. "I dunno, just seemed kind of fitting." You laughed. "Brielle and I were actually watching House Bunny and it hie me, honestly."

Nancy laughed, shaking her curls that were piled high and teased. "That's genius, honestly. Way better than the Top Gun idea." Nancy rolled her eyes, glaring lightly at Steve, or Maverick, as he was supposed to be.

Nancy and Robin pulled you into the living room, offering to get you a drink while you chatted. Steve smirked, clapping Eddie playfully on the back. "Munson," He laughed, shaking his head.

Eddie grinned, shrugging as he watched you walk away, little fur tail bobbing with every swing of your ass. Steve snorted. "Hey, you think you can talk to your girl? See if she could convince Nancy to wear something like that for next year?" Eddie laughed, rolling his eyes, following you into the living room.

***

You were tipsy, but not drunk. You'd controlled yourself, despite the flowing drinks that Nancy kept offering you. You had a promise to keep.

You sat on the bench in Eddie's truck, hands in his, thighs touching, sharing small kisses at red lights. His hand cupped your thigh, thumb rubbing small circles on the nylon.

Every passing red light, his grip got tighter on the wheel as they inched closer and closer back to home. If your current costume was any indicator of what was to come, Eddie couldn't wait. He pressed the gas further, fake pipe lying next to his cigarettes in the cup holder, captain's hat resting on the dash.

Eddie threw the gear into park, the truck stopping with a jostle that had you giggling, his hands rough and pressed against your cheeks, pulling you into a harsh kiss. You could taste the beer he'd drank on his tongue, roaming in your mouth, hands moving down your jaw to your collar.

You giggled when Eddie pulled you inside, pinning you up against the door, hands in a tight grip on your waist, his lips on your jaw, kissing just below your ear.

"Wait, wait, wait!" You squealed, eyes rolling back when he sucked on your neck. "Wait! I have to change, Eddie. I have another costume." You giggled, pulling back, your head resting against the cool wood of the door.

Eddie's shoulders fell slightly. "Bunny, this costume is more than enough." He pouted. "I've been ready to fuck you all night."

You rolled your eyes, stepping out of his grasp. "Just wait right here." You scampered down the hall towards his room. "I promise it'll be worth the wait."

And, oh, was it.

Eddie waited for twenty agonizing minutes, hearing thumps and movement from behind the closed door of his bedroom. His leg bounced, hands pressed together. He'd ditched his clothes, well, except for the robe. It was comfy, and if you were going to stay dressed up, he figured he would too.

You beckoned Eddie in, squirming with excitement, kneeling on the edge of the bed. Eddie laughed when he walked in, eyes lit up and excited. "Shit..." Eddie's eyes roamed over your frame, your sheepish smile.

You knelt, waiting in what Eddie thought was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. Black lace lingerie that left you exposed, completely see through and vulnerable. He could see your pebbled nipples through the cups, your exposed slit through the cut middle between your legs. The back was low on your spine, but high cup on the side, resting just above your hips. The best part- the slit went all the way up to your tail bone, leaving you completely exposed.

You finished off the look with two accessories just for him. A pair of matching lace ears, flimsier than the ones of the other costume, but complete with a small veil that covered your eyes, hitting the bridge of your nose. You'd tied your hair up, securing the ribbon underneath the ponytail.

Eddie's eyes traveled down next to you, where you giggled in excitement. Laying on the towel beside you, his real treat. A little tube of lee from his bedside drawer, and a fluffy, black tail attached to a plug- your bunny tail to complete the look.

You knew better than to put it in yourself and deprive him of his favorite part.

Eddie's tongue trailed over his bottom lip, picking up the shiny plug, rolling the cool metal around his fingers. You grinned, excitedly. "What do you think, Mr. Hefner?" You teased, cocking your head to the side. "Think I'll make Playmate of the month? Cover?"

Eddie laughed, deep and dark. "Oh, bunny," He brought the fur part to your now exposed neck, ticking over your collarbones so you shivered. "I think you're close, but you gotta show me you really want it." His eyes darkened, making you blush under his gaze.

"You ready to show me?" Eddie asked. Your head bobbed eagerly, obediently.

Eddie smirked. "That's my girl. Roll over for me, baby. All fours. Stick that pretty little ass up for me."

You shifted quickly, arching deep and low, pressing your hips up and your shoulders flat against the mattress. You could hear Eddie behind you, rummaging through his drawer.

"Gotta find my fuckin' camera, holy shit." Eddie muttered, pushing his socks and belts around in the drawer. "Gotta capture this, bunny. Can't believe you did this for me. All for me, huh?"

Your thighs clenched together, throbbing at the praise. Eyes pinched and you were sure he could see your slick already spreading, the cool air making goosebumps trail down your shoulders and spine.

Eddie pressed the film in, the whirl of the Polaroid starting up. He moved to the front, kneeling on the bed, camera pointed at you. "Look at me, bunny." You lifted your eyes, rounded and awaiting for him. The flash of the camera blinded you for a moment, making you blink under the lace mask over your eyes.

Eddie chuckled to himself, shaking the photo a few times before setting the camera back on his nightstand. "'M keepin' that for fuckin' ever." He groaned, hands trailing over your thighs and hips. "Gettin' that shit tattooed on me right now."

You giggled, arching into his touch on your ass. His hand trailed down your thighs and towards your aching center, gasping when he slid his pointer finger through your slick folds. Eddie hummed, pressing his face forward, licking a long stripe from your clit to your ass, collecting every drop of you and his tongue prodding your tightest hole.

You gasped, low and growling, clenching around nothing, head tilting back. You fisted the sheets, pushing your hips back even further when his touch returned to your aching clit, circling it with just the right pressure and speed that had your head spinning.

Eddie toyed with you, kneeling down with a groan, knees cracking so he was eye level with your sopping cunt. He pushed his fingers in, two pumping slowly. His other hand pulled your ass apart, tongue lapping and sucking at your clit.

You whined, legs trembling and clenching as he sucked and curled at just the right pace. He always had you coming undone so easily when he wanted, like he knew exactly what to do to make you wild. He did, clearly, playing your body perfectly like it was his guitar.

Your high pitched whiny cries floated towards the ceiling, head tilted back so far you were sure you'd just bend in half. Eddie's free hand caught your release on his fingers, spreading them over your ass hole, circling it gently before barely pushing the tip of his finger in.

You two had plenty of experience with ass play since the first drunken night, a favorable past time for the tow of you. Eddie had bought you toys, trained you up until you could finally take his cock. You loved how good he was at it, too good. You weren't exactly sure how someone could be so good at everything, and when you told Eddie that he laughed, telling you, "been around the sun a few more times than you, baby, I've got some more experience than others."

Your eyes pinched, falling face first into the duvet. The lace of the mask over your eyes rubbed against your lids and forehead when you pressed yourself against the bed, writhing and crying out when he pushed you over the edge again. The sensation of his fingers and tongue on both your holes mixed with your previous orgasm had you cumming quick, gushing around him.

Eddie grinned, standing with a low huff. Your knees were falling underneath you, leaving you spread, nearly rubbing against the duvet. "You ready for your tail, lil bunny?" Eddie asked, popping the top to the tube open. The plug looked small enough he could probably have you stretched out with just two fingers to the knuckle and the lube.

You sighed, whining slightly as you shifted, wiggling your still shaky legs back up into position, Eddie's hand on your waist guiding you back up gently. He ran a hand down back gently, pressing a kiss to space of your spine where the lace of the lingerie and exposed skin met.

Eddie squirted the cold lube making you clench. He cooed softly, trailing kisses down the dip of your spine over your hips, finger circling your tight hole. "You gotta relax, remember?" Eddie cooed when you clenched, pressing a kiss to your hips, his scruff tickling the delicate skin. "You need me to loosen you up a little more?"

You shook your head, dazed and hazy, pushing up on your forearms gently, looking back at him. "'M ready, I promise. 'M ok." You muttered, giving him a small smile.

Eddie returned it, leaning forward to kiss you, hard and deep, teeth clashing. "Fuck, bunny, you're too good to me." He muttered, lips still brushing yours, rubbing his nose to yours.

You looked at him, glassy eyed and dazed already even through the veil he could tell that, lowering your back so your ass arched farther, pressing your face to the side of the mattress. You watched him through the vanity mirror, the low lights of the room illuminating his figure.

Eddie pushed his first finger in, slow and gentle, circling you just expertly to get you ready. You moaned, clenching your legs when you throbbed. Eddie grinned watching you grind down, slowly wiggling back for more before he added the second, getting you nice and loose.

Eddie leaned forward, muttering in your ear little praises while he pushed in the plug, his lips against your lace covered temple. Eddie looked back when you shifted, the little puff of fur plugged in you making the cutest little tail.

"Look at you," Eddie cooed, laughing to himself, he kissed you deeply, wiping his hand on the towel you laid out. "God, baby, stay right there, ok? Arched just like that."

Eddie grabbed his camera, the flash going off rapidly. Eddie was making sure his spank bank would be full for a long time, drooling over you. He tossed his camera carefully, before climbing on top of you.

You twisted, his lips crashing and needy into you, grinding yourself down on his bare, inked leg when he wedged it between you, hands moving down to his boxers. You could feel his cock straining against his black briefs, hard and begging to be released to you.

Eddie moaned onto your mouth when you squeezed him through his underwear, your tiny hands expertly rolling and working him through the fabric. You could feel his pre-cum seeping through the material, leaving a wet patch.

Eddie's hands moved up to your tits, palming them through the material, squeezing and rolling your nipples. You whined, grinding down further on his leg. "Fuck, bunny, I gotta get this off you." Eddie muttered, pushing the straps down to your waist, leaving your top part exposed.

He kissed, sucked, bit all the way down, leaving trails of little bruises and red marks onto your skin. Your neck, collarbones, chest, breasts, tummy. He wanted to kiss every inch of you after you'd done all of this for him.

You whined when he turned you over, hovering so you were on your back, the tail of the plug shifting and moving with the duvet. Eddie pulled you carefully by your waist, brows furrowed slightly. "Here, let me help you out of this alright? I'll be careful."

And he was. So caring and gentle, pulling the straps of the lace down your body, until it was a puddle on the ground. You told him he didn't have to be so careful, but your heart was swelling at the gesture, how sweet he always was to you.

You went to move the ears off, but Eddie stopped you, running a hand down the nape of your neck. "Leave that on, please." He asked, eyes dark and lust blown. You just nodded, mouth salivating when he pulled his boxers down, throwing them next to your lingerie.

He pumped himself, pushing himself to the headboard, leaning lazily against it, lip tucked beneath his teeth. You blushed, squirming under his hungry gaze, slick and throbbing, nails digging into your palms as you shifted from foot to foot.

Eddie grinned. "You gonna show me why you're my bunny, aren't ya?" He asked, cocking a brow. You nodded. Eddie moved his hands, cock freeing from his grasp and lying against his tummy.

You grinned when you climbed on top of him, straddling him gently. "You wanna see my tail while I ride you?" You asked, loving the way his Adam's apple bobbed when you did.

"Fuck, please," Eddie groaned watching you shift, moving so you wiggled your ass in his face, squealing when he cracked a hand down on your cheeks.

"You better ride me good, lil bunny." Eddie warned, gripping your hips. "You want the front page, you better show me how badly you want it."

You giggled, looking over your shoulder, pumping his cock in your hands. "I will, Hef, I promise." You sunk onto him slowly, squeezing his dick the whole way down.

Eddie groaned loudly, grip on your hips tightening when you ground against the hair on his base. "Fuck, fuck, just like that." Eddie groaned when you started circling slowly. You always started slowly like this, working him up before you really rode him.

Then you lifted slowly as you bent forward, gripping Eddie's knees lightly when you lifted off of him, bringing your hips up and down over and over again.

"Fuck bunny, just like that, bounce on my cock, baby. You're just so good aren't you?" Eddie sucked in a breath, hands pulling your cheeks apart so he could get deeper.

The scene in front of him was too much, he was ready to bust already. Your little plug, bouncing and moving, tickling his pelvis with extra deep strokes. Your creamy spend smearing over his cock already, excess from the lube mixing with your slick pussy making the room fill with the squelching sounds. 

You could feel his hips meeting yours, squeezing your ass, stroking your tail and moving it so you'd moan deep. You dipped lower, nearly lying between his legs, crouching so you lifted quickly and deeply.

"Fuck, look at you go." Eddie laughed in between a low growl. "You are my little bunny. My perfect little bunny. You just love bouncin' all over my cock, don't you? You'd bounce for hours for me, wouldn't you?"

You whined, his words making you clamp and gush, his cock brushing the sensitive spot deep inside you with the position. "Yes." You cried out. "'M your bunny."

Eddie grit his teeth, coil in his belly getting tighter and tighter with every pump of you around him. "Fuck, bunny, wait," He huffed, chest heaving. "Turn around f'me, ok? Let me see your pretty face."

You stuttered in movements, pushing up with shaky arms, squeezing with him still inside you. You pulled off just for a moment, adjusting yourself carefully so your legs were on either side of Eddie's hips. You lined him back up inside you, sinking down much faster than you did last time.

Your nails dug into Eddie's inked chest, clawing into him when he gripped your ass, hips thrusting up to meet yours. Your mask and ears were starting to slip, you were sweaty on your hairline under the band of the material, but you didn't care. Your hips lifted, slamming back down on him, pressing into his chest with a cry.

You kept your pace, fast and quick, Eddie's hips meeting yours. "Y'a little jack rabbit for me, huh? Bounce and bounce and bounce, look at you." Eddie cooed nearly mocking through grit teeth.

You whimpered, eyes pinching together. You were so close, the coil in your belly growing and growing. "My little bunny just loves to bounce all over my cock, doesn't she? Just my cock, right?" Eddie growled. You nodded, whimpering. Your thighs burned, but the burning in your belly was worse, hungrier. You slammed faster, desperate to chase that high that you were so close to.

Eddie was close, teetering on the edge, but he wanted you to finish first, you always finished first with him. "Look at me." Eddie grit, hand finding your jaw, holding it lightly. He moved the veil up when your eyes met his, seeing your rounded, desperate eyes, glazed over and nearly teary.

"Y'gonna cum? Cum all over my cock? Yeah? Go ahead, you earned it, bunny." Eddie grunted, lifting his own hips to meet yours, punishing pace meeting yours.

You cried when his calloused thumb circled your clit, nearly falling on top of him with how your legs shook. Eddie held your hips, fucking up into you. He didn't mind the burn forming in his lower back, especially not when he emptied himself in you, warm, thick ropes spurting deep inside of you.

Your chest heaved together, his breath, your exhale, sharp and desperate. It was like you were sharing breaths with each other, and maybe you were. Sticky, sweaty skin, hot and molted together. You slid further into his lap, the top of his thighs, Eddie's hands moving to cradle you instinctively.

Your ears were around your neck, still tied but fallen to hang off your shoulder. Your plug was sticky with his cum when he pulled out, wetting the bottom of the faux fur. Your face was on his chest, his heartbeat thumping against your ear, his rough hands on your back.

Neither of you spoke for a while. Small shallowed breaths, deep sighs, little groans. You looked up at Eddie, feeling his gaze on the top of your head. His hands untied your ears, unraveling the ribbon so it fell beside you. He grinned down at you.

You blinked up at him, swirling with emotions and warmth. "Did I make the cover, Mr. Hefner?" You grinned.

Eddie snorted a laugh, stretching to grab the developed polaroids on the bed side table. "You sure did, bunny." Eddie smirked, showing a rather vulgar photo of you, arched with the plug in your ass, pussy shining from the flash, and ears high over your ass. "This right here? This one's the cover."

You laughed, pushing up on his chest, moving so you hovered over him. He looked at you, gooey and lovestruck, pushing a hair behind your ear. "Thanks f'dressing up with me." You smiled.

Eddie gawked lightly. "I think I should be thanking you." He chuckled. "Thank you for dressing up for me." You giggled, his lips capturing yours sweetly.

Eddie pulled back, nose to nose with you. You could see his wrinkles, the grey hairs in his temple and in his eyebrows. His skin showing signs of age, freckles from time in the sun. His beard was scruffy, a little longer than usual but trimmed. You ran your hand down it, trailing your thumb over his bottom lip.

"You're my best bunny, you know that?" Eddie whispered.

You pulled back, raising a brow. "Best? I better be your only bunny, Mr. Munson." You looked at him carefully.

Eddie smirked. "So I'm not Mr. Hefner anymore?" He asked playfully. You shook your head. "Good. That motherfucker wasn't nearly as lucky as I am."

You howled in laughter, blushing and rolling your eyes at the cheesy line. Eddie helped remove your plug, cleaning you up gently in the bathroom, soft kisses and little giggles echoed through the space. You pushed the top sheet off, hoisting it to the laundry room to deal with tomorrow, Eddie bringing in two spare blankets from the linen closet.

He smelled like the cigarette he'd been smoking outside, the comforting scent lulling you to sleep, while Eddie snored beside you, arms wrapped around your waist, heavy like weights on you but comforting.

[mysteria157]

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

| Twitter | Ao3 | Masterlist | Moment One | Moment Three...Eventually

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

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!

[drivestraight]

anatomy of a joke, AKA "oscar's six-year long con ruined by a dutch sim racer," my commentary

first things first: section titles.

originally the section titles were going to be like, "the set-up" "misdirection" "assumptions" "the inciting incident" "misdirection revisited" "assumptions revisited" etc. but then i think that that definitive structure was limiting me so i instead pulled some of my favorite phrases from infinite jest... which i'm only like 1/5 way through haha. but ANYWAY YEAH! i tried to match the vibes of the section with each header.

the vignette-ish style of the fic, which is something i don't really do/am not used to, is framed by these little section titles, and i think it kind of helps set the tone for each section.

/

the place where things break down

aka, where it all starts

imagine being drunk off your face at a club and you accidentally stumble into the darkrooms without realizing they're the darkrooms and u see your teammate pressed up against his friend's side as the friend is very obviously giving him a handjob under the table. imagine that.

but, yeah. the first threesome offer that max extends. and a sort of introduction to whatever the hell the sexual dynamic between norstappen is. re: max initiating things, and lando going along with it no matter what it is. and also their exhibitionism kinks...

/

that most angelic of distortions

assumptions, introduced

i think it was really important to put the first scene into context. norstappen aren't dating, lando's on raya, and max is happily with kelly. kind of important in that it makes oscar question if he really saw what he thought he saw

/

like chess on the run, beautiful and infinitely dense

misdirection, landoscar flirting, but max being present. "infinitely dense" aka oscar being dense throughout this whole thing man

from the "not my fault you're so small" to "flirting with me, piastri?" and "you like how i'm smaller than you" to "think you like it, mate," i wanted to set up the flirty landoscar vibe but in a way that's like - toeing the line, almost too casual to be something real. and then, of course, max comes in, interrupts, and oscar's stomach drops. i think this is the first allusion to oscar's feelings. i wanted to keep it, at this point, as vague as possible. he doesn't address any of his feelings until much later in the fic, but the descriptions: oscar's gaze constantly straying, looking at lando's neck, his sweat, his frame, how he smells, the moles on his face, etc. and how he reacts and gets a bit prickly when max comes in... yeah that's the stuff.

and the whole. max being so physical and taking up the space. and his "i dont mind sharing"... and oscar pulling away. Crazy stuff man.

also lando is chewing gum here... important... i'll explain at the end...

/

something bigger than the self

an interlude

this section kind of stands out but i think it's thematically probably the most important section. it's the clearest, in my opinion, way to understand what's going on.

the whole mclaren / oscar / lando discussion, about mark telling oscar he needs to start fighting for equal treatment, to be smart about it is a parallel to the lando / oscar / max dynamic of the whole fic. don't be soft. they'll eat you alive. oscar wants it (to win with mclaren, to have lando) so badly, but he puts on this air of not caring, when he deeply, deeply cares. mostly out of self preservation, and because he thinks that if he lets people know how much he wants it, he'll end up losing it. it's better to not make an idiot of yourself trying, than to try and fail. he rationalizes the decision with the upgrades too much, and mark reads that as him letting mclaren/lando walk all over him. whether that's true or not, well.

/

the self you cannot live without

the inciting incident

classic carlos. bathroom handies. not much to say here.

/

reducing chaos into pattern

oscar's rationalization

this is where it starts to get a bit more complicated.

“Just good fun,” Lando says, shrugging casually. His voice betrays him. So does the flush on his cheeks. “Like, after races, and stuff.” “Yeah?” Oscar asks. “All it is?” Lando purses his mouth. “All it is,” he repeats. “We’re friends.” Oscar breathes out a sigh. “Friends, right,” he says stiffly.

and then, lando saying that he and oscar are friends too. it's a really tense section, of oscar not saying any of the things he really means, and lando being vague and weird and sort of in denial about what's happening

Oscar thinks about how good their car is this year, especially after the upgrades; how it’s better than the simulations projected; how it’s better than the RB20; how Lando could have won today, but didn’t. Thinks about Max’s rough hand squeezing the back of Lando’s neck in Melbourne; thinks about his palm covering Lando’s mouth in Miami; thinks about how Lando met his eyes and came all over his stomach; thinks about how he instantly called an Uber back to the Hilton and shoved a hand down his trousers before he’d even managed to get the door locked behind him; thinks about Max saying he doesn’t mind sharing. Thinks about Mark telling him to fight for equal treatment. He thinks about Mark telling him to be smart.

oscar thinks... he is a thinker... but yeah after miami he literally just went home and jerked off and felt horrible about it all.

/

that kind of animal grace

intimacy from the outside looking in

obligatory jimmy'z moment. norstappen shotgunning hookah in the most strangely intimate way, as oscar voyeuristically watches, and hates what he sees.

They’re both wearing matching black hats, but Max’s is on backwards. He breathes out a cloud of smoke, and then dips down until his mouth hovers next to Lando’s ear. Lando throws his head back, shoulders rising and trembling. Oscar catches the crinkled crow skin around his eyes and wonders what Max said to make Lando laugh like that. The lights are epileptic as the beat accelerates, punching, synths shrill, ear-grating tremors. The crowd is animated and frantic all around him. Oscar feels deep underwater, heart muffled but startlingly vivid in his ears. He feels frayed, pulled apart, in pieces, fragmented.

he has a cwush... but still at this point, i made sure not to ever, like, say it obviously. just aiming to show oscar's feelings through what he pays attention to, and his physical reactions. he sees them there, and it's probably even worse than what he saw in miami. it doesn't just seem to be something physical, doesn't just seem to be good fun or casual. but if it was just good fun and something casual - it's like, he knows that he couldn't do that. couldn't give lando what he wants, if that's what he wants.

/

that kind of brutish no-care

oscar is pulled in

oscar mr i hate clubbing goes to afterparty and afterparty for reasons that totally have nothing to do with norstappen, of course.

more landoscar flirting! max being flippant about what happened in miami. it's all just good fun to him. he finds it funny, what happened. and then there's the really casual sort of assertiveness when he pats the seat for oscar to sit, tells lando to sit in oscar's lap, and lando does. but lando hesitates. i think it's up to the reader to decide why lando hesitates, but the version i like the most is that oscar isn't just someone he can make a joke out of/he doesn't want to cross some sort of line/make oscar uncomfortable. but max told him to, so he does. i think, maybe, lando is a little bit aware of how oscar feels about him, but it's, again, something that he's not addressing. and he isn't even sure if oscar's into guys, at this moment.

purposeful attention and measured no-care. norstappen can get WEIRD. they're playing a weird little game with oscar, and oscar is the butt of the joke. talking to each other while he's there, but not a part of it. max is nowhere near as emotionally involved as the other two, but there are little moments of possessiveness, reasserting who he is to lando in front of oscar, especially with the hand on his hip at the end. a casual sort of power play, if you want to read it like that.

and the pouring liquor into lando's mouth, and lando just taking it. they are them... max is just very clearly vying for a threesome but oscar just is not biting.

/

to disappear inside the game

the offer

okay a big part about this setting is that. i wanted to be somewhere that wasn't a club 😭 but it also was a good opportunity for them to have a proper talk. another mention of kelly and p was important, again, to bring us back into context of max's situation. really, what's going on with him and lando isn't at the centre of his life. not at all.

meanwhile: tender ankle touches, DTS watch, oscar making fun of how small lando was, and then - lando offering a blowie... because they're frens... max says he's good with his mouth... and then oscar making it all weird. "max doesn't own me" "you sure?" for the millionth time, oscar is shooting himself in the foot. as much as he wishes it didn't, it comes back to max.

also:

“Wasn’t what I was asking,” Lando says. “Was asking you if you think it’s weird.” And Oscar knows that. All this time, he has wanted to scream, Yes, it’s weird. He has a girlfriend and you’re trying to steal a championship from him and I see you, I see you after all the races you finish second to him, beating yourself up and talking yourself down, while he just smiles and grabs you by the shoulder and shakes you around and you let him, you let him do whatever he wants to you, and I understand you’re friends, I understand that you mean something to him and he means something to you, but I cannot understand it, I cannot understand what you’re doing, and whenever I see you two together, I think to myself, There’s no way this can end well. Someone will get hurt. “I think it’s fine,” Oscar says. “You guys are friends.”

this is the first time we get any real, internal address of how oscar is feeling about everything. until now, (at least the narration would hopefully have you think), it was mostly just - him going along with everything, being uncomfortable about a lot of things, but never really expressing why, or any of the internalization of it. it bothered him, but only ever displayed in physical descriptions. here, we see just how much the entire situation frustrates him, and this is where things really start to go off the rails. someone gets hurt.

/

a toast to our knowledge of bodies

austria my beloved.

this is the switching point, of course. the logic is that: max is out of the picture. for the first time, lando and max (seemingly) aren't friends, and for the first time, oscar finds space for himself to be close to lando, without max there (kind of funny though because in the end, it all happens Because of max).

Lando just continues, miserably, to rant about how Max was moving under braking, how he was being stupid and reckless, how he ruined everything for the both of them, and Oscar gets the feeling that this isn’t just about the racing. 

there's the whole lando and max of it all, which i think is, obviously because the fic is from oscar's POV, the most unclear dynamic of it all. oscar isn't sure what it actually is between them, if it really is just casual, but there are moments, like in monaco, where there's intimacy, and there are moments, like in austria, where it feels like it's more than the racing, that oscar questions things. i think it's better when it's unclear, and you have to come to your own conclusions.

I knew it, he wants to say. I knew that something like this would happen and you’d be a wreck about it and it’d matter more to you than it does to him and you’d break your own heart over something you should’ve let go of a long time ago.

bro doesn't know he's talking about himself

/

the body betrays you

rubicons...

i mean. i think what's going on here is pretty clear. oscar likes lando, a lot. lando wants someone to be mean to him, cruel and dismissive, and oscar can only do that to an extent.

/

a kind of love, with artful care

oscar's feelings, revisited

FINALLY. i really wanted a scene like this that showed and didn't tell, but showed really clearly what oscar hasn't been addressing this whole time: since he was seventeen, he's kind of sort of had this flame for lando. maybe it didn't take root for real until they became teammates, but it was still there, a little seedling for 6 years. there's something about lando that makes you care. oscar has cared, for 6 years, and even in their first meeting, which he remembers and lando doesn't, he took care of him. if the extent of oscar's feelings were unclear before this, hopefully this section was like loud alarm sirens lmao.

/

the judgement and punishing fall

the comedown...

“We don’t—” Lando says, mouth opening and closing rapidly, the physical not caught up to the mental. Oscar doesn’t know what’s going through his head right now. He’s kind of afraid to find out. “Like, we don’t have to talk about it.” “Lando,” Oscar repeats, feeling frozen. He feels like an idiot, sitting with his dick out in the wet spot where Lando came, the car spinning out from under him, a passenger. “It was just good fun, right?” Lando asks, with a shaking smile. He’s never looked so small. “That’s all it ever is.”

this is about norstappen. their dynamic is difficult for me to just, like, outright say what it is, but these little things help give it some shape. it's just good fun, that's all it ever is.

you could also read this as lando being frightened by the care that oscar showed him, and running away, because it felt like it meant so much. because it was too much, etc. the more i try to explain what's happening here, i feel like it starts to lose its magic but. it's all there, and you can read whatever you'd like between the lines.

/

the religion of the physical

the comedown, cont.

mostly just a transitionary section. it's like it never happened. <3

/

worshipper at the temple

the reckoning

Max is smiling at him, and Oscar thinks about how he and Lando made up the day after Austria. Oscar saw the headlines all over social media, how Lando had texted Max early in the morning to sort things out, how they’re friends again. Always friends. How they’ll keep racing, hard.

the scenes when oscar realized that lando fled from his hotel room after they had sex and stayed up for hours drafting a text to max. like he's going fucking THROUGH it. and it's made worse. when max tells him that lando told him what happened. "how was he? was he good?" max might be the worst person in the world 💀 but it's another, like, show of possession. "you can have him, if you want" aka. i'll let you have him. he's mine to give.

“For what it is worth,” Max eventually says, “I think he likes you too.”

maybe this is true. i'm not sure if it's worth anything, at this moment in time.

and. mwahaha. max is chewing gum. lando was chewing gum at the start of the scene. i wonder if it's the same piece of gum. wouldn't that be gross and crazy.

“Have a lovely night, Oscar,” Max says, finally making to leave. But before Oscar can let out a breath of relief, he pauses, turning back around on his heels to add, “Oh, by the way, my offer is of course still open, if you ever change your mind.”

bro who is still vying for a threesome even after all of that 💀

/

okay. yeah. WOW! what a fic. hope you guys enjoyed it & my commentary, if you got this far.

[vampirzina]

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

[peachydarlingz]

-Memories of you- Finnick Odair

headers @attxnt @plutism @llil-liaa

Warnings: Major angst, implied character deaths.

Pairing: Finnick odair x f! reader

-

We were growing old together, of course we were dying.

We found time to talk about it, the sensitive stuff; And it always brought us closer.

Back in our twenties, we might’ve avoided the topic, finding time to ignore and argue about it instead. But when you’re old, wise and your days are spent mindlessly rocking back and forth holding hands, things become simpler, easier. Those harder conversations seem to flow naturally.

“Finn, when I die, can you hold my hand until I get to the other side?”

“How do you know I won’t go first?” Theres a jest in my voice, but I know she’s serious. Her health has been declining more and more recently. I just smile and squeeze her hand. “Of course, my blossom.”

And what a privilege it was to grow old by her side. After everything we had been through together, it was everything I wanted and more.

In my old age, years after my love died, I was often asked the question, “Will you remarry?” and I would always laugh, and it would always catch them off guard. But that’s a funny question to me; I couldn’t help but laugh, because when you’ve had everything, why would you want anything else?

But I loved that question too, because every time they’d ask, I get to talk about you.

“I remember how she could notice an arthritis flare up from the shift in the air, she knew me so well. It’s so rare that you’re connected with someone. So connected, that you can breathe their air and know what they’re feeling, exactly what they’re saying...” there’s a long pause.

“Anyways, when she would notice a flare up, she was always right by my side with a heating pad and a massage. “And I catch myself remembering what once was. “Someone who once soothed the deep pain she knew she could not heal… but would do anything to calm it. Any remedy or potion, because that’s love.” and those sentiments in our old life, and that silly question reminds me of a new memory my mind threatens to forget. but I know deep down, she is the last thing I’ll ever forget. That is something I’ll make sure of.

And every time, I am met with the same response to the same stupid question, silence.

I talk to the vision of you in my head, and I’ll often make that poor nurse pull out the photo album again. But I can’t help it, you look so beautiful in our wedding photo; Or the picture of you planting sage in the garden, just for me.

“Every morning when I’d get back from my morning swim, she would always have a fresh cup of sage tea and a hazelnut muffin waiting for me. Even on the days the bakery wasn’t open, and especially the holidays, she made sure to get extra.”

“That’s very sweet Mr. Odair, now let’s take your medicine.” And I’m pulled back into limbo again.

I seem to be rotting more and more after being the last one left. After you died, it seemed that old age and disease got our friends. You’ll be happy to know that the ‘Star-crossed lovers’ from district 12 died together from old age, just like we predicted they would. Suddenly I’m laughing to myself, remembering our conversations of the pair. Both of us agreeing that if one died, the other would soon follow from heartbreak, if they didn’t grow old together.

It seems like every little memory brings me back to her, even when I don’t mean to.

But maybe that’s my feeble mind’s attempt to keep its grasp on you.

I think the only reason I lived so long after you passed is because you’d be mad at me if I didn’t. And I would never want to upset my wife, even if it’s in the afterlife.

But once Johanna faded, it was just me left. Life just seemed a lot duller after that.

You would think being in the games, the war, all the death I’ve been through would make it easier, but somehow, it’s not. Each death just seemed to take more of the life out of me, and now, I’m the last one left. So, I lay here in this cold hospital bed drifting in and out of the labyrinth that is my mind.

From what I can gather when I’m conscious, I’m not doing too great. The doctors say I’ve forgotten how to do everything except drink water and mumble a few words. They say I can’t last long like this. But to be honest, I really don’t care. I just want to see you again.

“Pictures!!”

“Yes, Mr. Odair I’m getting the photo album, I promise.” That poor nurse, I hope she knows it’s appreciated.

When the nurse sits down next to me and starts flipping through the book, I feel grounded again. I’m looking at my favorite picture of you, how could I ever forget that memory?

We were on our honeymoon, and I just remember thinking, ‘Wow, that’s my wife.’.  I couldn’t help but snap a quick picture when you weren’t looking. Which, of course you didn’t like, but that’s exactly why I did it, and I’m so glad I did. I really do miss you.

I think the thing I miss the most about you is your smell. There was nothing else like it, because it was just so you. I could never replicate it even if I tried, and I did try.

It was the way she layered the complimenting scents after putting on her lotion. I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like. I crave for the day I get to crossover and embrace that euphoric feeling again.

I’m not scared to die; I’ve been close to death more times than I can count. But in a way, maybe I am scared. I’m scared that I won’t see you again. And maybe I shouldn’t have based my idea of the afterlife on you, but to me everything is based off you. It’s how I keep myself sane. Well, as sane as I can be.

I may not know the date, or really what I even look like in my now bedridden state, but I feel an overwhelming sense of peace and I can’t help but close my eyes and reflect on my life. My body feels heavy, I can truly say I wouldn’t trade my life for the world. The wrinkles on my face remind me of every smile and laugh I experienced and for a moment I’m ethereal.

But I guess I’ve really lost it, because I swear, I can smell the essence of you…

[corvid-language-library]

JLPT Journal 19/07 (Countdown: 135 days)

Yes, I changed the header to red because it feels better like that, might go through my previous posts and change it but I might just leave it

Today I:

Watched comprehensible input listening videos (~1 hour)

Reviewed ~70 kanji

Listened to the radio

N3/N4 vocab from today:

休憩（きゅうけい）rest, break

現在（げんざい）the present, present time, as of (after a time or date), present tense (grammar)

覚ます（さます）to awaken, to arouse from sleep; to bring to one’s senses; to sober up

読書（どくしょ）reading (books)

滅多に（めったに）rarely

以来（いらい）since, henceforth

量（りょう）amount, portion (of food), quantity, volume

冗談（じょうだん）joke, jest, funny story

逆（ぎゃく）reverse, opposite（逆に = conversely, on the contrary)

流れる（ながれる）to stream, to flow (liquid, time etc); to be washed away

拡大（かくだい）expansion, extension; magnification, enlargement

表情（ひょうじょう）facial expression, countenance

Higher level/non-JLPT vocab:

わら straw

煉瓦（れんが）brick (usually written in katakana)

狼（おおかみ）wolf (usually written in katakana)

煙突（えんとつ）chimney

梯子（はしご）ladder

サービス品（サービースひん）article sold at a bargain price

こういう such, this sort of, like this

冷凍庫（れいとうこ）freezer

元々（もともと）originally, from the start, from the beginning, from the outset, by nature

移住（いじゅう）migration, immigration

高級（こうきゅう）high-class, high-grade, high-end, luxury

大盛り（おおもり）large portion, large serving

魔女（まじょ）witch

液体（えきたい）liquid

To Review:

All recently learned grammar

Posting a day late, but here it is!

[dreamfyre03]

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.

[anjaelle]

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!

[Part I] | [Part II] | [Part III] | [Part IV] | [Part V] | [Part VI] | [Part VII] | [Part VIII] | [☁Masterpost ☁] | [♫The Crimson Zombies Mixtape ♫]

· · ─────── ·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.

[redthreadoffate]

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.”

[charlestownbound]

Profile picture is John Church Hamilton by my dear husband, @yr-obedt-cicero, as a birthday gift to yours truly

Header image is my own from my visit to the Yorktown battlefield

Falconfeather or Tracyn to most, the General to some. He, they, and it.

This be my history sideblog, where I discuss the American Revolution. Here you may find - Art - Letters - Analysis - Book reviews and whatever else catches my fancy.

While my interest rests comfortably from the battles of Lexington and Concord through to the Siege of Yorktown, you will find much of my focus dedicated to the middling years of the war.

Virginian by choice and raising

Asks are welcome and appreciated. Have you any questions on the history, or would like context to a post, or my opinions on a subject, fear not in writing me!

Turn and 1776 enjoyer. H///ilton is a cursed name within this homestead, dare not speak it here. (It has genuinely triggered trauma responses in me multiple times, please respect my boundaries and do not talk of it, even in jest)

While I have seen nor read them respectively, I hold great respect for Liberty's Kids and Nathan Hale's Hazardous Tales.

#writings - My original posts #missives - Asks #congressions - Polls

[santaespeaks]

the puffin thing is really nothing to me like i think art is dead if that's considered copyright infringement and an immoral offense. like literally that's nothing. that being said i think the nail in the coffin for me is ... $6 for a complicated header illustration. one which looks like to have taken anywhere from 3-10 hours depending on skill. out of EVERYTHING thats been talked about, that's so fucked. i cant even support this project in jest anymore cuz like sure we can wag our fingers at fomo or silly moderation decisions and thats all just saltblog discourse. but these rates are so much more serious you're not even paying the lowest minimum wage in the US which id at LEAST be slightly more okay with. like that's so serious in comparison.

.

[barkingangelbaby]

first time ever using a sideblog so we'll see how this goes!! I will talk to myself on here most of the time.

do not follow me unless I interact with you first

I just need an online space to be my silly lil self lol, if you recognize me from my nsfw account no u don't! didn't really think about this account being linked to my main one, oh well. mutuals can follow me if u want tho :)

will probably be a mix of shitposts n dumb memes, oversharing, some selfies n pet pics, some talk about my lame ass life, art if i ever make some again, dnd talks n more. who knows!! stay tuned to find out!! any self deprecation/su*cidal posts are in jest (gotta cope somehow)

header is a lil watercolor painting I did a few years ago ♡

I guess you can call me am, i use they/them pronouns but i'm really just a little worm. i'll update my tag list as i start using 'em on here lol.

as always, my little DNI: no minors, no racists, no SWerfs or Terfs, no detrans/misgendering blogs, no feederism/ED blogs, no unkind people are welcome here.

[pissmd]

GENTLE HAS COMPLETELY LOST MIND, CLAIMS CONFIDANT, O.U.S. CHIEF TINE AT PRESS CONFERENCE: THREATENS TO DETONATE UPSIDE-DOWNMISSILES IN U.S. SILOS, IRRADIATE CANADA W/ AID OF ATHSCME HELL-FANS — Header; ‘WILLING TO ELIMINATE OWN MAP OUT OF SHEER PIQUE’ IF CANADA NIXES RECONFIGURATIVE TRANSFER OF ‘AESTHETICALLY UNACCEPTABLE’ TERRAIN — Pretty Obviously Homemade Subheader.

This catastatic feature of the puppet-film’s plot — that Johnny Gentle, Famous Crooner threatens to bomb his own nation and toxify neighbors in an insane pout over Canada’s reluctance to take redemised title over O.N.A.N.’s very own vast dump — resonates powerfully with those members of the movie’s E.T.A. audience who know that this whole parodic pseudo-ONANtiad scenario is actually a puppet-à-clef-type allusion to the dark legend of one Eric Clipperton and the Clipperton Brigade. In the very last couple years of solar, Unsubsidized Time, this kid Eric Clipperton appeared for the first time as an unseeded sixteen-year-old in East Coast regional tournament play. The little Town-or-Academy-Hailed-From slot after Clipperton’s name on tournament draw-sheets just said ‘Ind.,’ presumably for ‘Independent.’ Nobody’d heard of him before or knew where he came from. He’d just sort of seepily risen, some sort of human radon, from someplace low and unknown, whence he lent the cliché ‘Win or Die in the Attempt’ grotesquely literal new levels of sense.

For the Clipperton legend derived from the fact that this Clipperton kid owned a hideous and immaculately maintained Glock 17 semiautomatic sidearm that came in a classy little leather-handled blond-wood case with German High-Gothic script on it and a velvet gun-shaped concavity inside where the Glock 17 lay nestled in plush velvet, gleaming, with another little rectangular divot for the 17-shot clip; and that he brought the gun-case and Glock 17 out on the court with him along with his towels and water-jug and sticks and gear bag, and from his very first appearance on the East Coast jr. tour made clear his intention to blow his own brains out publicly, right there on court, if he should lose, ever, even once.

— David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest

[little-world56]

Muszę się przyzwyczaić do tego, że rozmiarowo header tutaj nie jest taki sam jak header na twitterze 😩 Niby podobnie, a jednak inaczej