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cicerfics · 3 months

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Q's 10 Favorite Jumpers, Rated and Reviewed By 007

With Rebuttals (and Revised Rebuttals) from the Quartermaster Himself

Gifted to @foxsoulcourt over on Station Pacific, just for being awesome!

Fits Q like a glove and the shade sets off Q's lovely winter complexion. 9/10.

Didn't this ridiculous business of seasonal color analysis go out when I was still in primary school? You're dating yourself, 007.

Well, somebody has to, since you wouldn't let me take you out for a drink last night.

...

Color less garish than usual, but fuzzy texture makes Q look like he's growing mold. Off-putting. At least, as off-putting as is possible for a man of Q's caliber. 6/10.

It's mohair, you heathen, not mold!

And stop talking about my 'caliber' if you

...

The color washes out your complexion. You ought to stick to darker shades, dear. Still, this one fits you snugly and the knit is thin enough that I can see your nipples when it's chilly in the server room. 8/10, it'd look even better on my bedroom floor.

You are no longer allowed in the server room when I'm in there, effective immediately, lest I file a complaint with Human Resources. Stop looking at my nipples. (And there's a phrase I never thought I'd have to use when addressing a colleague at Her Majesty's Secret Service.)

I live to defy expectations.

Color does marvelous things for Q's eyes but the squiggles give me vertigo. 5/10.

Get your eyes checked, old man, and stop blaming my jumpers for your vision difficulties!

Ranking has dropped to 4/10 due to Q's insolence. Be nicer to me, or I'll be the one to file a complaint with HR. Age discrimination is against regulations, my dear.

Stop calling me that

I don't really think you're that old

You do need reading glasses though

I never thought I'd see the day 007 cites regulations to me.

Why are there so many bars and blocks? Why isn't the jumper one harmonious shade of gray? Atrocious. 3/10.

It's comfortable

It reminds me of that time you

Don't lie, I've caught you looking at me when I was wearing th

It's considered artistic, 007, but of course you wouldn't know anything about that.

Grand old warship, Q. Nothing more.

Don't be ridiculous, of course you're more than

...

Reminds me of my grandfather. Deeply disturbing that I still want to shag Q even when he dresses like my grandfather. 2/10, will be reporting the quartermaster to Dr. Wilson for damaging my psyche.

You will do no such thing. That poor woman has enough to bear as it is. Overseeing your routine psych screenings is enough to warrant hazard pay.

I've caught you looking at me in this one too

You don't own this one, but you should. Let me buy it for you, darling. 10/10, would tug you into a broom cupboard during your lunch hour and undo the buttons with my teeth.

What is your obsession with Tom Ford

I don't see why

You say things like this but then you never follow throu

Why did you cancel our dinner the other nigh

I am not the sort of gentleman who permits himself to be despoiled in broom cupboards, thank you very much.

Puts me in mind of those odd little sailor suits posh people used to make their children wear. I think someone put me in one, once, ages ago. 1/10, you already look young enough to make me feel like a filthy old man, no need to make it worse.

I wouldn't mind if you were a bit 'filthier', actua

Well, if the shoe fits.

And you scold me about wasting money with damaged equipment and bloodied suits. Look at the price tag on this. Outrageous. 10/10, worth every penny, you're delectable in this one.

I only bought it to treat myself after

It was my birthday and i

You said you were taking me out for dinner for the occasion but then you

…Thank you.

I'd ask what I've done to deserve this torture, but I suppose I already know the answer to that. 0/10, I will have burned this one by the time you've read this list, and I apologize for nothing.

You know exactly what you've done, yes.

Three million pounds of my department funding for heaven's sake

Not to mention the fact that you canceled our dinner after I

And I hardly bought this to torture you. I don't buy my clothes with you in mind, 007. Don't be so arrogant.

And if that isn't an empty threat and you've actually broken into my flat and destroyed my personal property, I'll have your head.

My. How forward of you, Q. Well, I'll have to insist you take me out to dinner first. Then you can have whatever bits of me you like.

Don't be vulgar, you menace.

Not unless you're going to follow through on

You're the one who backed out of the dinn

Did you really burn it?

It was a threat to national security. Could sear a man's eyes right out of his skull. It had to go.

The cats agreed with me. They didn't put up any protest when I pilfered from your wardrobe.

For heaven's sake.

Then they're getting their least favorite flavor of tinned food for supper. And you're not getting dinner from me at all.

Now, I hope I'm not being punished for cancelling on you last week.

Of course I'm not

I don't see why you

You

...

You're being punished for wasting your day reviewing my jumpers rather than completing your overdue AARs. Please allow me to direct your attention to the rather large pile of paperwork with your name on it.

Sod the paperwork.

Q. I'm sorry I cancelled. You have no idea how sorry. But something came up.

I'm sure it did.

Something to do with the job.

...

Some internal business. Something had to be taken care of.

Somebody had to be taken care of.

...

Mallory told me not to discuss it with any of the department heads just yet. I handled it, but the job won't be declassified until tomorrow. Expect Tanner to call you and the others in for a meeting in the morning.

...Oh.

Well.

You should've told me sooner.

Q, I'm shocked! You're saying I should've gone against Mallory's direct orders and disclosed classified material to you against his will?

Of course that what I'm saying, you filthy hypocrite. You could've told me. I would've been discreet.

I know you would've been. That's not the point.

...

...Bond?

I'm trying to keep you out of trouble these days.

Trying not to be the man who ruins your career.

You've never

If that's how you feel then why

Even if you did, I'd

Rather unflattering that you assume I can't take care of myself.

I can, I'll have you know. And I never asked you to protect me. I can protect myself...and I can protect you in the bargain, thank you very much. I'm rather good at it, in fact.

Well, I can't argue with you there.

...

...?

Suppose we don't wait for tomorrow's meeting.

Suppose I take you out to dinner and tell you all about the whole sordid business tonight.

...You're planning on disclosing confidential intel in the middle of an Italian restaurant?!

Suppose we skip the restaurant.

Suppose I bring a couple of curries round to your flat and we talk about it there.

The flat you recently burglarized.

Let's not dwell on the past, dear.

Besides, I think the cats are warming up to me.

And I've got an overdue birthday present for you.

...Dare I ask what it is?

A replacement for the jumper I burned. A whole new ensemble, in fact.

Something much better than anything in your wardrobe. Much worthier of you. Something to show off those good looks of yours.

Will you let me give it to you this evening?

...Ah.

Well, I was going to ask what I should wear when you come over, since you have such strong opinions on the matter.

But if you're bringing a new outfit along, perhaps I shouldn't bother to put anything on at all?

Darling, I always said you were a genius.

19:00 tonight, your place. I'd say 'dress to impress', but I think your idea is best.

There's no improving on perfection, after all.

Do you really

I want you to

For God's sake, if you don't make good on your promises this time, I'll

19:00, then. I trust you know the address

Please try to be on time, 007.

For you, Q?

I'll be early.

#007 fest 2024 #00q #my fest creations #james bond #station atlantic #silliness

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kissingghouls · 6 months

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'leave me behind' and Terzo if I may ☺️ you can chose if you want to break my heart or just let him be the drama queen we know and love 💜

Oh my goodness Cake this took so long! I am so sorry 😭

Here's 1k words of Drama Queen Retired Terzo Fluff 💜 (Terzo x Reader [gender neutral reader, but there is a mention of wearing a dress], established relationship, relatively SFW but suggestive, MDNI, not beta read)

Terzo Emeritus is a magnificent bastard. Magnificent and beautiful. The warm light of the morning shines on your lover’s bare face—a luxury very few are allowed to see even now in his retirement. Trouble is, he’s as charming as he is handsome. The Third has completely stolen your heart and—if you were inclined to search through his room—probably some of your clothes as well.

The suite is just as dreamy and over-the-top as he is, all luxe velvet and silk in the deepest violet built to house royalty. An opalescent gleam dances over every surface thanks to the large stained glass window on the far wall. Touches of gold and marble from the fireplace to the valet where his suit waits for him seem to sparkle at this hour. Even the bed feels softer than the night before—as if Papa Emeritus III would sleep on anything less than a cloud.

It's hard to leave this place. As much as you’d love to dramatically drape yourself over every opulent piece of furniture in the room and pose like a Victorian woman waiting for a letter, there were things to do. You were happy Terzo was enjoying retired life—even more so that he was spending his leisure time with you—but he’s been pretending to be asleep for a half-hour and you really need to get out of this bed.

You’ve tried wiggling, huffing, and physically trying to pry his fingers away from you, but Terzo will not let go. Normally you think it’s sweet the way he clings to you, but he knows you have important meetings to attend. And he knows exactly how it will look if you are late.

“Terzo, please,” you finally try, your voice hitting a pitched whine you hadn’t intended. You hope it helps to make your point.

“Amore,” he whines back. His eyes are still shut tight, but he’s fighting that sweet Terzo smile you usually enjoy.

“You have to let me go, Terzo.”

He groans in response, tightening his grip on you. “I will never.”

“Terzo, darling, I need to get dressed. You know how they get if I’m late for a meeting.”

He sighs heavily and slowly releases his hold. Before he can change his mind, you slip from the bed and gather your clothes for the day. He watches you dress, eyes following the line of your body as you move through the room. He knows every part of you now, loves every part of you. There isn’t a dip or curve he hasn’t traced with his fingers or his tongue. He’s committed each freckle and scar to memory, knows them better than all those songs he used to sing. Songs he’d still sing at your request, but only for you.

Maybe he is a selfish man, but he can’t help but want you to stay in his arms. If not forever, then at least ten—no—sixty more minutes.

“Go on then,” he laments, dramatically throwing his arm over his eyes. “Leave me behind.”

The mattress dips under the weight of your knee as you sigh and climb back onto his ridiculous bed. You straddle his waist, leaning forward to press a kiss against his chest—that perfect pretty space right over his heart. “Terzo?” Your voice is soft, but you know he can hear you. You repeat his name, but he doesn’t respond, doesn’t move at all. “Terzo, look at me.”

“I can’t,” he pouts, his bottom lip jutting out a little more as he keeps his arm in place.

“Why not?”

“You’re too beautiful. Like staring into the sun,” he admits with a sigh. “And if I look at you now, you will never make it to that meeting. What kind of man would I be then? Contributing to your delinquency?”

You bite your lip and pry his arm away from his face, pinning it to the mattress instead. “I think you would be the same man you were last night—the same man who spent the entire evening with a hand up my dress.”

“Well, that’s not my fault, amore. You have bewitched me, temptress. I’m nothing more than a possessed man.”

“I wasn’t complaining.”

“Oh?” He asks, his left eyebrow quirked up. “Perhaps you could tell me what you meant, so I can understand.”

“I like you. I like being with you. I like being around you. I would rather stay here with you and let you worship me than sit in that stuffy conference room for even one second.”

“Sì, sì. I like where this is going,” he teases, raising his hips under you.

“But—” You pause to pin his other arm to the bed, holding him firmly. “If I miss this meeting, you better make it worth it—”

“Oh, amore, I—”

“And you are coming up with a much better excuse this time.”

He frowns. “And what was so bad about the last one?”

“Telling you brother I ‘choked on something’ isn’t exactly subtle.”

“Copia? He wouldn’t know an innuendo from his own fist.”

“You know the Siblings call him ‘Fuck Machine’ right?”

“They what—”

“It doesn’t matter, but you should be very proud.”

“Ah, sì, good for him I suppose…Why do you know they call him that?”

“Shush darling, it’s just girl talk.”

“Wait, what do they call me?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m going to work.”

His body shifts and twists until his hands are free. He grabs your waist, easily pushing you onto your back before he climbs over you. He softly traces his lips over your jaw as he speaks. “You said you’d stay.”

“I said if I stay. And that you better have a good excuse.”

“Hmm,” he hums, drawing a hand between your legs. “I don’t know, amore. I think it feels like you might be getting a fever.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhmm, Hell Flu is deathly contagious too. We should quarantine for at least a week I think.”

“A week, huh?”

“At least. You may need even longer to recover. I’m afraid you are very, very ill. I’ll call Copia and let him know you aren’t feeling well. You go ahead and get undressed, amore. Let me take care of you,” he says with a wink and hops up to call in sick for you.

#my writing #prompt request #terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #reader insert #the band ghost fanfiction #terzo fanfiction #papa emeritus iii fanfic #x reader

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searchingsomewhere · 4 months

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All Too Well, Part 10

{"Stay in the light, my dear. Until the love you crave falls in your arms."}

poly!Gojo x OC x Geto

Part 1

We're finally at my favorite part of this story.

The flowers she picked out for her mother's grave were lilies. Miho bent down, gently laying the stems down at the base of the headstone. Cold air brushed against her legs and she smoothed out the skirt of her black dress when she stood.

"Thank you for coming with me, Satoru," she said softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. It fell back into her face when she looked down at the flowers.

Behind her, Satoru pushed his dark glasses further up his nose. His black dress shirt and pants made his white hair stand out even more than it already did. "Of course. You know Suguru would be here if he could."

She laughed a little. "I know. It's like they sent him out on purpose."

Miho was only half joking. She had exploded on Yaga when she got back. Threatened both her own life and his, and everyone working above him. She didn't know if she really meant it. Seeing her withered mother dying in her sleep brought back every pain she felt before meeting Suguru and Satoru. Every lonely day, missing her parents, missing her childhood friends. Watching the other students enviously from her window. The agony of lying in bed with a welted back. Hiding away in the library. It wasn't really Yaga's fault, she knew. But he was the first faculty member she saw when she stormed back into the school. Had Suguru not been there to grab her up when she lunged, Yaga might have gotten hurt.

"If you happen to sneak out on the day of the funeral, I'll be out of the office that day. So no one will know." Her teacher told her.

"You ready to go?" Satoru asked quietly, gently touching her shoulder.

"...Yeah. I am," Miho said. As she turned to him, she added, "What did my dad say to you?"

She was only mildly concerned he had said something embarrassing. Since meeting them, he had consistently gotten their names mixed up. Tell Suguru I said hello. He's the one with the glasses, isn't he? Satoru is the one with the dark hair, right? Your boyfriend?

"Just asked me to take care of you. I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm Suguru," Satoru said.

"He gets you two confused," Miho sighed.

"It's cause we look so similar, right?"

"Your names are just similar. Japanese is his second language, so-"

"Miho," Satoru said, grabbing her face in his hands, "I'm joking."

His icy blue eyes flickered across her face teasingly. Her face grew warm under his touch and she pulled away. "Sorry."

He threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "Quit apologizing. Let's get something to eat."

---

Satoru walked her to her dorm. The sun had already gone down, The orange glow of the street lamps being the only light guiding them. It was strange, walking so quietly beside her. Satoru allowed himself to enjoy her company more than he should have. Pulling her close like he did earlier had made his heart skip a beat. The hair falling into her face taunted him, and his heart begged him to tuck it behind her ear. He was dancing along dangerous territory.

Miho seemed less than thrilled that he was leaving. Satoru noticed her sudden silence and tilted his head curiously.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She tucked her hair behind her ear again. It fell into her face anyway.

"It's just... Suguru isn't back yet," she said, deflated.

An idea popped into his head. One that he might regret, depending on the outcome of the night.

"I'll wait up for him with you. We can have a movie marathon."

---

Suguru quietly opened the door with a click. It was well after midnight, and he had only just returned to campus. Nights like these, when he'd been gone for days and returned late, made him glad Miho had made him an extra key for her room. He rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes and slipped his shoes off.

The small tv was on, flickering through a DVD menu screen. Blue light illuminated the space.

Satoru was slumped over on the edge of Miho's bed, still wearing his sunglasses even in his sleep. Miho was lying behind him, her legs sticking out of the blanket. She was sleeping heavily. Both were still wearing their funeral clothes, now rumpled and wrinkled.

Some might have been upset to see their best friend asleep with their girlfriend. Instead the feeling swelling inside his chest was the opposite, a warm, soft feeling that left him whole. He gently removed Satoru's glasses and set them on the bedside table. His friend didn't stir, even when he lifted his legs to lay them on the bed. Satoru sighed heavily, turning to snake his arm around Miho's waist.

Dark hair fell to Suguru's shoulders and framed his face as he pulled the hair tie from his bun. He yawned as he removed his school jacket and tossed it on the chair.

He crawled into bed from the bottom, squeezing between Miho and the wall. It really was a tight fit, the three of them on there. As if sensing him there, Miho roused in her sleep to rest her head on his chest, giving him more room on the small mattress. He slid his arm under the pillow Satoru was using.

A softly glowing blue-eyed gaze met his own hazel stare.

Suguru felt his friend's hand move away, ashamed, as if he'd been caught doing something wrong. He gently laced his fingers with Satoru's, pulling his hand back to rest on Miho's side. Satoru didn't pull his hand away, and neither did Suguru. It occurred to both of them then, how this just seemed the right thing to do. Something clicked in their minds.

Unspoken, and yet well understood.

Soon that warm, comforting feeling took over his mind, and Suguru fell into a dreamless sleep.

Part 1 Part 11

#jjk #geto suguru #gojo satoru #gojo x oc x geto #jjk gojo #jjk geto #jujutsu kaisen #fanfic #satosugu

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khaire-traveler · 4 months

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Will the gods mind if I go into periods of stagnancy where I can do little to no active worship? I struggle with a lot of mental illness and am typically very busy so there are periods during which I cannot do my typical prayer and conversing and such

Hey, Entity,

I feel this post by @doves-of-aphrodite puts my thoughts on this matter the best. I feel that the love and care of deities are not so surface level as to disappear when someone isn't able to actively worship.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I feel every worshipper should go a period without giving offerings. For me, it changed my perspective on worship entirely. Just as you ask for help from loved ones without always giving immediately in return, I feel we are allowed to ask for help from deities without being able to give immediately in return. Kindness that is only given with the expectation of receiving in return shouldn't be the cornerstone of a relationship, in my opinion.

Of course, it's healthy to return the favor, especially to show appreciation and care, but that shouldn't be an "always expectation" that happens every single time you ask for help. The relationship becomes more of a formal exchange to me, and that's personally not what I look for when interacting with deities. For me, when a deity relationship is built solely on offerings and nothing else, there is this neverending pressure to give and give and give, and it discourages me from reaching out when I need help because I'm unable to give in that moment. That discouragement isn't a good thing if it prevents you from communicating with your deities. They aren't a bank that keeps a record of the debt you pay back to them; they are beings with the ability to care for and love humans, and the maturity to understand that humans sometimes don't have the ability to immediately give back.

All of this is to say that I don't think it's healthy to put so much pressure on ourselves to immediately provide an offering of thanks. It can easily consume a deity relationship, in my experience, and make a relationship feel much less personal and much more conditional. It's ok to take your time with things. If you feel guilty, maybe just let the deity know that it will take you some time before you can give an offering directly. I'm certain they have the ability to show you some grace for that.

Also, I believe it's extremely important to remember that worship doesn't always come in the form of giving a physical offering. Worship can be subtle, such as listening to a playlist you create for them, saving pictures on a Pinterest board that reminds you of them, or even just taking care of yourself as an act of devotion. You could even just offer a glass of water and proceed to drink that water, and that can be an act of worship. It doesn't need to be this huge and elaborate thing where you dedicate some lengthy ritual and a luxurious offering. It's ok if your worship is much more subtle for a time. You're allowed to worship in seemingly small ways. Those small things add up to a pretty solid relationship built on genuine care - enough care to think of a deity while going about your day.

Even with this idea of subtle worship, however, you still are not required to give a ton of offerings or put a ton of effort into worship when you're unable to. I believe that deities would prefer us to take care of ourselves first, rather than expending every last drip of energy on devoting ourselves to them. Take care of you for now. Your deities aren't going anywhere.

I hope this helped you. This is, of course, based on my personal practice, and there is no right way of going about worship or anything of the sort. There are no rules or guidelines that we must follow; we make of it what we see fit. Take care, and have a good day/night. 🧡

#asks #answered asks #deity worship

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farity · 1 year

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Let’s Pretend, part 2

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x you

Summary: The pretend engagement trope courtesy of Aemond and you

Warning: Smut.

Part 1

“Daughter, I swear I know you less and less each day.”

You were breathing hard from running back to the carriage. And from the kiss you’d just shared with Aemond. You sat on the long bench facing your father and slid down to place your feet next to him.

“Here,” he moved one of the trunks underneath you so you could stretch out. “Get some sleep. Or try.”

“Is Lord Stoughton visiting this weekend, papa?”

Your father gave you a look, but nodded. “Yes, we shall share the news with him.”

You smiled at your dear father and closed your eyes, trying to not think about the tall prince and how you would miss his kisses.

* * * * *

“She will have to be schooled on proper behavior,” queen Alicent said, walking back into the keep.

Aemond smiled to himself but said nothing.

“We will also try to inform your father, if he has a few moments of awareness,” she continued.

“I am sure he will be delighted by the news,” Aemond snapped, and walked past his mother and Ser Criston Cole.

“Brother, she is lovely,” Helaena said, walking up to him as he headed to his quarters. “I had no idea you were in love.”

Aemond turned. “I am as much in love as you are, Hel,” he said, and immediately regretted it, the look on his sister’s face turning into one of infinite sadness. “I’m sorry, sweet sister. All I mean to say-”

“You are a fool, Aemond,” Helaena whispered, “you are playing games you do not understand.” Her eyes filled with tears and she turned away, walking down the corridor and Aemond watched her until she disappeared around a corner.

He wanted to hit something, someone. Maybe he could find Aegon and goad him into an insult or two so he could punch him in the face. He considered his options, then switched directions to head out the back of the keep.

He walked and walked until he heard her rumblings, tried to calm himself so that she would fly steady and true, unburdened by his confusion and his sadness.

By the time he climbed up her side, he could feel her getting ready to soar, the anticipation in her breathing, and securing himself to her, let her fly free.

* * * * *

“Something has arrived for you, my lady.”

Your maid stood at your doorway, holding a wide, flat box, a smile on her face.

“Thank you, Milla, let’s see what it is, shall we?”

You’d practically grown up with Milla. Her mother had been your mother’s maid and when your mother had died from sickness, the daughter had become your companion until you were old enough to need a maid. Your father, never a strict head of household, had allowed you two to play together, eat together, although Milla always kept to her side of the line.

“Oh, this is beautiful, my lady.”

Most of the box was taken up several lengths of fabric in various shades of blue. The most elegant one was a shade that matched the sapphire in your pendant. It was plain silk but there was an embroidered panel for the bodice and two smaller, similarly adorned panels for the sleeves.

You noticed that aside from those pieces, everything else was plain, but the fabric itself was clearly of the highest quality and you ran your hand over each and every one. None of them would scratch your skin, none of them would be too rough or stiff or uncomfortable.

There was also a smaller box and when you opened it you knew who it was from. A small piece of cloth with an embroidered bee in gold thread.

Helaena.

“I can find a frame for it,” Milla said. “There is something else.”

A much smaller box, and you knew instantly what it would be.

“Earbobs,” you said before opening it. “He said he would get me earbobs.”

Indeed, two pretty sapphires on a gold setting, to match your pendant. “Let me, milady.”

You let your maid put them on you, let her bring the looking glass so you could admire them. “I should write to him,” you mused, “to thank him for all of this.”

“I will set out your paper and ink, my lady, and I will get the seamstress as well.”

“Thank you, Milla.”

“This is very thoughtful,” she said, “he wants you in his personal colors and he’s sent enough for half a dozen dresses. The realm shall call you The Princess in Blue,” she added dreamily as she left.

You wondered wryly if after your little pretense was over, you would have to send all the dresses back to be remade for someone else.

* * * * *

Aemond waited until the servant left before he unfolded the piece of paper.

“My dearest love,” it began, and he found himself shaking his head, picturing her writing it. “An ocean of gratitude for the very fine fabrics you have sent, as well as the earbobs, they are all too much for the humble likes of me, but I shall do my best to wear them well. Since you seem to have a predilection for the color of skies and seas, I have recently found a new dye called Yndigo that does not anger the skin, so I might try to match myself to one of the fabrics you sent. When you grace us with your presence next week, do not be alarmed when you see me fully striped in various blues from head to toe as I will wish to know which shade is your favorite. Papa has ordered the barren field to the west to be fenced in and will make it comfortable for your stay. For the dragon, not you. I must go now to console the maid as I am, of course, trying the skin dyes on her first. Faithfully, adoringly, and unabashedly,”

He traced the highly decorated script of your name, contrasting with the neat and tidy handwriting of the rest of the letter.

“Brother, brother, are you well?” Aegon rushed in and Aemond shoved the paper into his pocket.

“What do you want, Aegon?”

Aegon walked in, looking around, then pulled back a panel of curtain to look behind it. “I heard a noise.”

Aemond stood, already on guard. “What kind of noise?”

“I haven’t heard it in a long time,” Aegon said, looking under tables, “it sounded, almost, maybe, in a way-”

Exasperated, Aemond stopped, glaring at his brother. “Aegon, what noise?”

Aegon looked at him with wide eyes, “it sounded like a . . . laugh?” He put up his hands in front of him, “of course, I knew it couldn’t be you, I haven’t heard you make the sound in years, so I knew there must be an intruder,” his attempt to not smile was fading, “and I shall slay whoever it is hiding in my brother’s room!”

Aemond sighed and went up to his brother. “Get the fuck out.”

“Why were you laughing?”

“I wasn’t.”

Aegon wrinkled his nose and nodded, “yeah, yeah, you were, little brother. So tell me, why were you laughing?”

Aemond grabbed his brother by the arm and pushed him out of his room, closing the door behind as Aegon burst out laughing.

“I will find out!” he heard him yell.

He had much to do this day, but he smiled and touched the piece of paper in his pocket before heading to the lists.

* * * * *

“You look very fine, daughter.”

You smiled at your father, touched the pendant to ensure it was facing the right way. Which it had been the previous four times you had checked.

There had been a great noise which you knew was the roar of a dragon a few minutes earlier, and a servant had been dispatched with an extra horse to the field that had been prepared for Aemond’s dragon.

“Will the guest chamber be adequate?” your father asked.

“Papa,” you said kindly, “it is our best room, I would say better than the rooms we were given during our visit.”

You could see the two horses approaching, and soon caught sight of Aemond’s silver hair, glinting in the sunlight.

“I am glad he is visiting now, for our gardens are are their best.”

Guilt. There was guilt worming itself around you. How would your father feel when the betrothal was called off? You began to consider how you would feel and immediately dismissed the thought. It was what you wanted. Your plan, your idea.

“Thank you, Tommas, please take the horses,” your father said once both riders had dismounted. He exchanged pleasantries with Aemond, who then headed toward you.

As he neared you, you curtsied, smiling, and caught him looking at you from head to toe. He took your hand and kissed it, then offered you his arm to go back inside. “No stripes?”

“Not today,” you said easily.

It felt right to walk next to him, to have your hand on his arm, to feel the warmth of him. Would he kiss you again if he had the chance? After all, the betrothal was known and there was no real reason for him to bother any more.

“Helaena received your note as well, she kept telling everyone about it all day.”

You caught something in his gaze, almost a regret. Maybe he, too, was thinking of what his sister would think once the betrothal was over.

“I like her,” you said. “I know I only spoke with her a little, but she seems to be very kind.”

“She is.”

Dinner was lively, as it always was in your home. You watched your father and Aemond conversing easily and the more it went on, the worse you felt.

This plan of yours had more consequences than you had envisioned.

“The color suits you,” Aemond said casually as you walked outside, enjoying the early evening. There was still light and a gentle breeze and you smiled at him. “You would be a lovely addition to our family,” he added and then caught himself. “If this were real, of course.”

“Of course.”

You walked back to the house and then you remembered. “I forgot, I got you something. Not a betrothal gift exactly, but I thought you might like them.” Once inside you went to your father’s study, one of your favorite rooms in the house. On his desk was a stack of three books and you presented them to Aemond.

He looked through the three tomes, and then back up at you. “I have been searching for a copy of this for months, the original was said to be lost.”

“It is, but one of my sisters is married to a lord in Highgarden and she found an excellent copy for me.”

“This is very thoughtful of you.”

You smiled, “I do appreciate your help,” you said quietly.

He moved a step closer and took your hand. “Who else was on your list?” he asked suddenly, his voice low.

Did you even remember? “Does it matter?”

He closed the distance between you. “No, it does not.” He kissed you, gently at first, but when you parted your lips for him the kiss turned heated. He pushed you against the desk and you felt him hard against your belly. You wanted more, and you curled one leg around his thigh, your hands on his shoulders.

He lifted you up onto the desk. “Yes,” you whispered in between kisses. You wanted more, wanted everything, damn the falsehood and the pretense, you wanted him.

“I was told- oh dear.”

You pulled back, startled, and Aemond immediately turned, covering you from the sight of whoever had come in to the room.

“Prince Aemond,” a man stood at the doorway, bowing respectfully. “I will go . . . somewhere else.”

“Lord Stoughton,” you said, having composed yourself. You stepped around Aemond and gave the older man a hug. “It is good to see you. May I present my betrothed, Prince Aemond Targaryen.”

Lord Stoughton bowed again and Aemond nodded back.

“Aemond, Lord Stoughton is a childhood friend of my father’s, he lives close by. We consider him family.”

“You are very kind, my dear. Congratulations on your betrothal,” he added, “we thought our little one here would keep us old men company until the Stranger took us.”

“Thank you.” Aemond turned to you. “I should make sure Vhagar is settled, will you go with me?”

You smiled at him, glad to be free from the awkward situation. “I will see you later Lord Stoughton.”

You said nothing as you walked outside, the cool breeze a blessed relief on your heated face. Aemond was equally silent, and you had no idea what was going through his head. You knew, from your Septa’s more detailed lessons on the male anatomy, that the hard part you had felt against your stomach earlier could become so for many reasons. Lust, of course, but also fear or anger, among other emotions.

Somehow you did not think Aemond had been angry or afraid at that moment. He had wanted you as you had wanted him, and it added to your confusion. You did not in any way think yourself above other ladies of the court, there were certainly much prettier ladies, richer, more accomplished, from greater houses.

But he wasn’t interested in any of them.

You turned a corner and your heart nearly stopped.

“By the Father, she is massive.”

Aemond stopped next to you. “She will know you are under my protection.”

You looked at him, confused. “How will she know, will you put a sign on my forehead?”

“Yes. In blue ink.” He walked toward the dragon and you rushed to catch up. The dragon turned, and you heard rumblings deep in her chest.

“By all the hells, no,” you turned, but before you could escape, Aemond grabbed your arm. “I see your plan. Tragic accident, your betrothed is murdered by your dragon, you mourn forever, albeit very stylishly in all your black, and people will not question why you never marry.”

He merely looked at you, not letting go of your arm.

“I will admit, it is a much better plan than mine, except I refuse to be the one that gets murdered.”

“If she thinks you are fighting me,” he said calmly, “she might not look kindly upon you.” He ran a hand down the side of your face. “I would not endanger you.”

You already have, you thought to yourself.

“I will use you as a shield if I see any fire coming my way,” you said, and let him lead you closer.

The great beast’s eye focused on you and your fingers tightened on Aemond’s hand. He began speaking to her in High Valyrian, which you had heard of but were not familiar with. She rumbled back, as if responding to him and then the great head moved forward and around you.

“Vhagar,” he said, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders while the dragon sniffed and sniffed. “Look at me,” Aemond said.

You looked up in time to find his lips on yours. It was easy now, to let him kiss you, to kiss him back, to wrap your arms around him as if you would do it for the rest of your life.

* * * * *

Aemond heard Vhagar taking off but didn’t pay any attention. Vhagar had accepted his betrothed easily enough, and it frightened him. The dragon cared little for politics or games or pretenses, if there was a creature who would not conceal its impulses, it was her. Easy acceptance was not one of the dragon’s qualities.

When he finally ended the kiss, she looked up at him, and he could see the confusion in her eyes. He had no idea what to tell her, for confusion flooded him as well and instead he decided to kiss her again.

There was a rustling at the edge of the field and she turned. He was still looking down at her when he heard the sound of air cutting through the wide open space, and she screamed as her body moved to the right.

She jerked in his arms and then looked up at him. Her brows were knotted as if she was in pain and, slowly, she looked down, her breath escaping in short bursts.

Below her right shoulder, right under her clavicle, the bloody tip of an arrow protruded out, and a dark stain began to spread.

* * * * *

Tagging:

@arryn-nyx @girlwith-thepearlearring @greenowlfactif @hydrationqueensworld @megzdoodle @melsunshine @queenofshinigamis @throughgoeshamilton @travelingmypassion @watercolorskyy @zillahvathek

@hb8301 @kaemond-zafiro @arcielee

Tagging for this fic:

@shros3b @malfoytargaryen @fedeffy @randomdragonfires @issshhh @opheliaas-stuff @brianochka @devils-blackrose @wolflinkpaws

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orchid-mantis-petals · 9 months

Text

WHEN HOME BECOMES YOU CHATPER 5

/ Hey!! Hey!! As promised Chapter 5 is here!! I will not apologize for the length at which it took me to get it done. Or for how long it is!! hehe

/ Thank you again to @maximumkillshot and @taeminsung both are huge inspirations to my writing and now dear friends of mine. They are what help fuel some of the ideas for this story. So please give their blogs some love.

/ Lastly before we return to the scheduled programs!! I will be uploading another post tonight. In it will be the over all rules to this blog. If you wish to see my stories and participate in what is to come with WHBY please be aware of the rules.

/ Genre: Fluff, angst, comfort

/ Warnings: Nightmare, talks of body, dressing up, drinking, partying.

/ Summary:

“You’re drooling,” Lee Know stated between sips of his drink. Changbin scrunched his nose as he turned to pick back up his own glass.

“Am not,” the way Lee Know looked at him was evident of the way he wasn’t convinced. Hell, he didn't even convince himself at that moment.

Japan’s airport was just as packed as Korea. But to you it wasn’t a surprise, Like before you had it all planned out. Every step you took, was a step taken as a team. This time it all went smoothly. On one hand you had decided to move your two problem members back a few spaces. It allowed Han and I.N. to have a new pair beside them. A pair that did their job seamlessly as you walked the boys out to the vehicles. Later you’d meet them at the hotel. It seemed they had begun to show you trust. Which was more than just a little relief to you.

The week in Japan consisted of 3 broadcasts for television and an awards show. It didn’t take long for you to realize that the schedules these young men held were incredible, you wondered what time they had to rest. Or did they even want to. It was easy to see, on day one of the broadcasts they were put in front of a live audience. The ease at which each of them handled the stage and choreo was awe inspiring. All eight of them had smiles on their faces, ear to ear. Lee Know was the easiest to spot, that stage was his. To you, in the way he moved it was as though there was a fire lit inside him. Every move made with purpose, every lyric delivered with perfect ease. Seungmin, you watched as he sang with his whole heart, bore it right there for the world to see. If he messed up?? You would never know, the confidence that exudes off his body had your brain asking for more. You saw their love for this in each and every one of them.

Truly though, you began to understand why they loved it during the third broadcast. Unlike the first two this one had no audience. It was just the boys, a stage, bright lights, and the music. Each day you were witness to these shows due to your clear access as a Security Guard. A privilege you wouldn't abuse. As you stood at the back of the studio your eyes scanned over the stage. It was more sterile, there was less decor, less to fill the room. That was until Stray Kids walked onto the stage. Each of them filled the space. Each and every move they made was planned, rehearsed, and prepped. To you, they were different here. If they were having fun you couldn’t tell, not because they looked upset. But rather than that, in this studio they focused on the professionality of it all. Without an audience to rile them up you could see that they wanted to look clean. Each line was delivered with their entire chest. Changbin moved with confidence, his rap sharp, loud enough it echoed over the mics and along the studio walls. Hyunjin poured himself into every dance move. It was as though his entire body was under his control, if he wanted it he did it. It was incredible to see each of them focus on their work. With an audience you could see the freedom they allowed themselves to have fun. Here, in front of a camera, they were clean, well versed. Talent, and eagerness flowed off of them. It filled the room. Once it brimmed all of it fell in one go. They gave their all in everything they did. Plain and simple.

“Starlight!! How did we do??” it started a few days ago, Felix had begun to call you that. Asked you how they did in every performance. Though you had only seen three.

“You guys did great!! Hyunjin really put his all into it. I could tell,”

“You should tell him that. I know he would like to hear it!!” you nodded, you hadn’t quite figured out where you stood when it came to the tallest of the group. Really you weren't sure of anyone besides Felix, Chan, and Changbin. The rest were still a mystery to you.

“Lix, are you bothering Y/N again??” Hyunjin joined the two of you with a towel resting over his shoulder as he stood beside the younger blonde.

“I am not a bother Jinnie, right Starlight??”

“No, Felix. I enjoy it when we talk,” you smiled at him. The effect was immediate. His face lit up, eyebrows lifted to the bangs that hung over his forehead. That perfect smile you had come to love broke on his features. With a slight jaunt he turned to Hyunjin.

“See Jinnie, Starlight likes me!!” you and the taller both laughed at his palpable excitement.

“Alright, I believe you. But only because Y/N said so. Anyway, why are you calling her ‘Starlight’??”

“Because!! Jinnie just look at her!! Isn’t she pretty?? And, and!! She has freckles!! Just like me!! Though hers are cuter!!”

“Lixie, breathe,” you reminded the younger as his excitement raised the octaves in his voice.

“Ah, sorry!! I thought of it when I saw you watching our show the other day. And even now it's perfect for you. Our one woman audience. A shining star for us to focus on!!” you blushed at his comment. No one had ever really said anything like that to you, never in a way you felt they meant it.

“Ah thank you Felix,” deep down you wanted to question him, your broken soul begged for the assurance that he was not joking. But when you looked at him, his eyes were big and round as he spoke to you. How his smile beamed brighter than you could have ever imagined it. Your simple thank you was proof enough that he meant every word to you. “Oh, Hyunjin, you looked great out there. I could tell you really put your all into it,” honesty must run in this group, as soon as you said that Hyunjin’s face perked up. You watched as his lips ticked upward, it was slight but you could tell. And when he moved to tuck away some of his long hair you could see the tips of his ears were tinted in a slight pink.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, your compliment seemed to tug at his heart. Maybe, just maybe Hyunjin wasn’t as much of a mystery any more. One by one, with time you would gain their trust enough to let you in.

…. …. …. ….

“Y/N, my darling, oh little dove there is no reason to cry. You belong to me. Now come here, come to me,” his hand a vice in your hair as he dragged your face close to his. The soft tone of his voice was a lie, his other hand came to clasp over your jaw as he forced you to look him in the eye. “Don’t you see dovey, you belong to me,”

“GET AWAY FROM ME!!” your cries went unnoticed by the world around you. The familiar voice still rattled around in your head as you took stock of yourself. Every breath you took was ragged, your chest rose and fell with the labored effort to try and gain a steady rhythm. Rivulets of cold sweat rolled down the column of your hunched spine. One hand fisted in the sheets below you, so tight your knuckles were white. The other rested against your chest as you willed yourself to breathe. When your vision finally cleared up you recognized the unfamiliar setting of your Japan hotel room. The evening light cast a golden glow over the floor of your room. In any other moment you would have found it pretty, the way the sun set behind the tall city buildings. Right now though you found it haunting, a reminder of familiarity, one you begged to escape from. One you left behind in America. His voice pooled behind the empty space in your head. A half choked sob broke from your chest as your hands came to rest over your ears. The heels of your palms pressed hard enough you knew you’d have a headache later. But you didn’t care, all you wanted was for the voice to go away for his voice to go away. After a few minutes finally peace settled over your body once more. Your body finally allowed you to take long full breaths. With slow efforts you removed your hands from your head, every muscle sagged as the tension fell from your body. The midday nap after the awards show probably hadn’t been your best idea. But there was no reason to dwell on it now. After your muscles relaxed you slipped from the bed, a shower needed to wash away the remnants of your nightmare.

Not long after you had gotten cleaned up you heard a knock at your hotel door. Through the peephole you could see Han on the other side. You watched for a moment as he stood there hands behind his back, he rocked gently back and forth from his heels to to his toes. The face he made, lips pursed, eyebrows lifted into his hair. It reminded you of a child waiting for instructions from their parents. You opened the door seconds later, his entire body language changed in an instant. You watched as his pursed lips split up into a soft smile, his hands dropped down to his sides as he moved to greet you.

“Y/Nie why aren’t you ready??” He questioned, your appearance ready for bed in your pajama pants and t-shirt. Hair still damp from your shower. It was funny how reactive these men were, his brows set into a furrow as he took stock of you.

“Ready for what Han??”

“The after party!! Come on Y/N staff were invited to go!!” Oh right, the awards show had a private after party. It was fairly exclusive to the idols that participated and attended the event. But invitations had been extended to staff and family should they desire to attend. Parties..weren’t your thing. Most of your team had gone out for drinks while you decided to settle down for your disastrous nap.

“Ah, Han. I don’t like parties..Plus I didn’t pack anything for an event like that,” you remarked hand still on the door. You watched his expression shift into one of disbelief, then a pout. You could see why the others called him and Felix the ‘sunshine twins’ neither of them capable of hiding their emotions or expressions unless they absolutely had to.

“No!! Please!! Please come, it’ll be fun if we have you there!!” Deep down you wondered what you had done to get these boys so attached to you. Maybe it was the airport?? Either way it settled something strange in your gut. It was something odd and bubbly down in the pit of your stomach. You laughed as you shook your head at him. “Please!!” He begged eyes big and round as he pushed out his bottom lip toward you.

“Alright, alright Han. I’ll go. Though I have no idea what I will wear..” you looked back into your hotel room and the large amount of nothing that you had brought with you.

“That’s a problem I can fix!!” In his excitement he stepped into your hotel room and grabbed what he thought you might need before he took you by the hand and dragged you out. Your slippers half on as you waddled awkwardly down the hall behind him.

“Han, where are you taking me??”

“You’ll see!!” His giggles echoed off the empty halls as the two of you walked your hand in his. Just around the corner on the other side of the hall he stopped in front of a door and knocked. “Jinnie!! Lixie!! I brought a friend!!” He called out. Behind the door you heard slight shuffling before it opened with Hyunjin in the doorway.

“Han, if you brought another bug just to mess with me I’m going to cry,” the tall blonde remarked as he looked Han in the eyes. He then shifted and looked down at you, his cheeks flushed lightly at the idea that he unintentionally called you a bug.

“Jinnie, what do you take me for?? I hate bugs. That’s Seungmin’s favorite game. I brought Y/Nie!!” At the sound of your name you heard more movement before the door was shoved open more. Felix this time entered your vision before he wrapped his arms around your body.

“Starlight!!” He dragged you into the room Han and Hyunjin at your heels. “Awe why aren’t you ready for the party??” When you looked around you could tell the three boys were dressed for the party. Their attire was immaculate like they were. Han had gone with a more grunge look, skinny jeans, a cropped sweater, and a leather jacket he held onto for the time being. His accessories included a light silver waist chain, black choker and his usual style of earrings. His makeup smudgy and mostly consisted of dark browns and blacks. It was a stark contrast to his bubbly personality, but you knew that no matter what any of them wore, so long as they were confident they looked good.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, chose something more classy, clean. Like his red carpet attire for the awards show. You were sure if you looked at the tags it was all more than likely Versace attire. Being a brand ambassador he adored the clothes they gifted him to show off. His pants were a deep gray, suit style. He paired it with an obvious Versace belt that was classic to their logo and style. His shirt was a clean button up in faded white, French tucked. The top 3 buttons were open to display his choice of chains. Each one thin and delicate against his pale skin. But gold in color to stand out. A jacket on one of the beds matched his night style so you presumed it belonged to him.

Felix was an enigma to you still. His style was a mixed contrast to the other two boys. A pale colored turtleneck shirt with no sleeves. The collar folded down a touch so it didn’t cover the entire length of his thin throat. He overlaid it with one silver necklace a little gaudy for your taste but you could see the Louis Vuitton logo on it. So it clearly was a gift from the brand. Felix chose more of a ripped pants look for his shirt with a baggy flare to them. The dark gray was a nice contrast to his pale shirt. A second jacket, more of a varsity style bomber. Its colors of cream and blue fit well with the rest of his clothes. Compared to you..in your pajamas..you felt so out of touch. It was as if you fell into the grace of gods as you begged them for some kind of obligatory reward.

“I didn’t pack anything. So I wasn’t going to go,” you remarked after having spent probably far too long ogling their own clothes and appearances. You wondered why Han dragged you here, in your jammie shorts and ratty tank. Surely it wasn’t to humiliate you.

“WHAT?!?!” Hyunjin cried, disdain written over his features. Eyebrows curved upward as his eyes widened. “How could you not pack for something like a party,”

“I don’t have clothes like that Hyunjin,” a statement that baffled the rest of the room's audience. Hyunjin gasped with all his dramatics.

“How could you not have clothes for a party?? Y/N what kind of life have you been living?!?!” In his huffed disbelief he pulled you down to the office chair that was in front of a small desk. Laid out where various makeup brushes and makeup. Your nose turned at the sight. Did he expect you to do this?? No way..the first and last time you wore makeup was to a high school dance of sorts. Never again did you try and attempt to wear any after that. “Guess I’m gonna have to doll you up little Cinderella,”

“I bet I’ll have something that will fit her!!” Felix cheered as he rummaged through his suitcase for belongings. Hyunjin sat on the desk and turned on a bright lamp.

“Don’t you dare move,” he began, with a brush in hand and a pallet in the other he made slow movements to begin his work. Every now and then he looked at Felix. In his gaze you could see he was helping the Aussie decide what to dress you in. Han had stolen the mirror at your behest to keep it all a surprise. There you sat, in your pajamas, hair still damp, makeup being brushed against your skin in gentle strokes. “I don’t have your color in foundation but I don’t want to cover your pretty freckles anyway,” you simply nodded, not wanting to be scolded for talking or moving. So you stayed as still as possible. Hyunjin busied himself with your makeup while Felix and Han argued over your attire and accessories. At one point you wanted to scold them for bickering at one another. But a hearty chuckle left Hyunjin’s lips as he reached for a lip pallet. “Let them bicker. It’s all in good fun,”

“Yah!! Hannie!! Sit down you don’t know anything about fashion anyway,” Felix waved him off finally. It seemed Han relented when he scooted the loose armchair close to you.

“Hey pretty,” he leaned over the arm of the chair, his eyes blinked in wonder as he watched Hyunjin do his work. You laughed a soft little chuckle that stilled the room a moment before Hyunjin applied the lipstick. He refused to let anyone see the slight blush tint his cheeks at the sound you let out. Though you saw yet, you didn’t say a word to the others around you.

“Han, go into my case, pick out her jewelry,” Hyunjin sighed as he tipped his head toward his suitcase to get the excitable young man away from his work. “It’ll keep him busy,” he smiled down at you once Han scrambled away. You smiled back up at him. “Now what to do with your hair??” At that moment you realized none of them had seen your hair down or in its natural texture. For work you always had it up out of the way. In the week that you had begun your work with them you did just that. You kept it up and out of the way. They had yet to see you outside of work. Aside for right now.

“It’s naturally wavy. Please don’t blow dry it,” when your eyes met Hyunjin’s you made sure to give him a slight pout. By now your hair was mostly dry from the time it took for the taller male to do your makeup. He leaned back to look at your hair from where it lay against your back. With your makeup done the blonde moved to play with your hair.

“I love your natural texture, it suits you,” he remarked as he began to twist and braid some small sections of it. He pinned them back before he undid them all. With a quick look behind himself to Felix and Han he tried again. With great success he beamed turning the office chair to show the other two in the room his work.

“Look at you starlight!!” Felix bounded over scooping you into a hug. You returned it, a familiar unsettling filled your gut as he pulled away.

“Why are you guys doing this??”

“Because we want to,” Hyunjin stated as he packed up his makeup.

“To say thank you for taking such good care of us this week!!” Felix pulled you up from your seat, a wad of clothes placed in your hand as he ushered you to the bathroom. When the bathroom door closed you sighed with a shake of your head you began to change into the attire Felix had given you. When finished you exited the bathroom only to be crowded by Han who spent minutes piecing together jewelry and accessories on your body. By the end you stood awkwardly half in and half out of the bathroom doorway. “Wow Starlight!!” you blushed as they took in their handy work. Moments later Hyunjin handed you a pair of shoes and a small hand bag for your belongings.

“With that, I think it's time we get Cindy to the ball,” as he scooped your hands into his he turned you to face the bathroom mirror. “See pretty girl, we just want to show you off,” your eyes widened at the sight of yourself in the mirror. In all your years you’d been around you never once remarked yourself as ‘pretty’ but here, and now, at the sight of what the three boys collectively put together for you. You felt stunning, like never before you saw yourself in that mirror and smiled.

“Thank you,” you whispered to them as Hyunjin guided you along to the door.

“No need to thank us Starlight. You’re pretty as you are. We’re just happy you let us doll you up,” when he said it, when they spoke to you like that you believed it.

**** **** **** ****

This wasn’t his entire definition of ‘fun’. Having sat at a bar as he waited with Chan and Lee Know for the other boys to show up. An after party wasn’t his usual taste in enjoyment after a high energy awards show. But the younger four had insisted they attend. Chan, also pressed some, having stated it was a good opportunity to relax and get to know some of the other idols who attended. Changbin would rather be in his hotel room, eating crappy hotel food as he worked on the next song he had stuck in his head. Sure they just dropped a whole album but there was more. He always had more.

“Cheers to us,” Chan declared as he raised his glass. Changbin followed suit before he sipped at his own glass. On the dance floor he watched as I.N. and Seungmin made friends with some of the others their age. It was nice to see them branch outside of their own group. But that also led him to the current predicament. Where in the hell were Han, Hyunjin, and Felix?? The three of them were the most excited to participate in this party. It was odd that they had yet to arrive. He was rather irritated to say the least. Another swig of his glass before he scanned the room for the thousandth time. Finally. Finally he watched the door open and in came the test of the boys. Han skipped over, his eyes dead set on them. They glimmered in the dim light of the party. When he approached he noticed the quirked up smile as he settled beside Lee Know.

“Sorry we’re late. We had to get Y/N ready,” at the sound of your name Changbin zeroed in on Han, what had he done?? Had he and the rest dragged you out along with them. He sure hoped so. Felix was the next to appear with Hyunjin behind him. The taller stepped aside, he gave space for you to fit in the small circle of boys. Changbin nearly dropped his glass at the sight of you. Lee Know with his fast reflexes managed to scoop the drink from his lax hands and settle it back on the bar. None of them blamed him though. You were a vision.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath as he took you in. It was clear Hyunjin worked his magic over your face, the pale colors soft against your skin. It brought out the hidden tones in your eyes, showed off the scattered freckles that danced on your skin. The attire was clearly Felix. His regular brand choice alone was a dead give away. There you stood in your pleated black shorts that settled neatly over the tops of your thighs. He was obsessed with how it matched the pale blue crop top, the fabric fitted to the size of your chest perfectly. Just below your breast the fabric crossed over itself, a familiar style Felix liked. The sheer fabric sleeves moved gently as you talked, your hands captivated with the simple rings, thin against your fragile fingers. But he knew better, you were anything but fragile. As you stood there and chatted with the boys Changbin was captivated with the entirety that you were before them. Your hair down and splayed across your back the natural waves flowed with every laugh you let out, the top section twirled and pinned up into a pair of messy space buns. Gods he was obsessed, he didn’t dare say it aloud but he was obsessed with you. Right there in front of him. If only you knew what the mismatched pink and blue thigh highs did to him. How he could watch you move all day.

“The garters were my idea,” Han whispered in his ear. Damn him, damn that Quokka. And damn you in all your glory as you stood before him in the soft colored lights of the party. He kept his eyes on you as you idled amongst them. Felix was whisked away by I.N. moments after his arrival, he muttered something to you as he pulled the young aussie away. Changbin watched as your cheeks flushed in a shade of pink, and now Changbin wanted to know what the younger had said to you.

“You’re drooling,” Lee Know stated between sips of his drink. Changbin scrunched his nose as he turned to pick back up his own glass.

“Am not,” the way Lee Know looked at him was evident of the way he wasn’t convinced. Hell, he didn't even convince himself at that moment.

“If you don’t go dance with her I will,” it was an obvious threat, there was no way Changbin would fall for the bait. His Hyung had a goal in mind, but there was no way he’d fall for it. Lee Know hated these parties more than himself. There was no way he would drag himself off the bar stool, away from Han just to fuck with him. Right??.. Wrong, in his hesitance he watched as Lee Know settled his half empty glass into Han’s hands as he unwound himself from the side of the younger. In his confidence he approached you. “Y/N let's dance,” he didn’t ask, he wasn’t the type. Changbin watched as his elder deposited your own drink into the hands of their tallest member as he walked you to the dance floor. His hands splayed over the hem of your shorts, ever the gentleman.

“You can’t be shocked, Hyung. We got her all pretty, someone had to show her off,” Hyunjin giggled as he sat beside Changbin. The older mumbled under his breath as he turned to face the taller.

“Oooo, he's ballsy” before he could say anything his head whipped to the dance floor, his eyes landed on you as you moved your body in time with Lee Know his hands skirted your frame. Even from this distance he could see the twinkle in your eyes as you laid your arms on his neck. Changbin felt an unfamiliar feeling settle in his guts. You were stunning as you danced alongside a man he knew incredibly well. Yet the subtle feeling of what he could have only described as a rock in his stomach. The chatter around him disappeared as he watched you on that floor, your hips swayed in time with the music. He watched as your eyes slipped closed, there was no thought behind the beauty you were as you swayed to an easy rhythm. He wanted to watch you all day, everyday.

“Fuck it,” with a heavy clink Changbin abandoned his drink. A silly little whoop from what he assumed was Han and Hyunjin, he stepped onto the dance floor and beside Lee Know. The older looked over his shoulder to smirk, the usual crooked smile he used when he won a bet or got what he wanted. His eyes narrowed before he stepped out and let Changbin take up the space in front of you. As he passed by he made sure to give one more sly remark.

“Good luck, don’t let her eat you alive,” if you did, he would die a happy man. With the elder gone he finally allowed himself to take you in. Your eyes were still closed as you let your body move to the music around you. He wasn’t sure what cheesy remix the DJ was playing. Though he was sure he didn’t care. Not when you opened your eyes to look at him. A sparkle settled in them, he noticed the hidden green in the deep brown of your irises.

“Changbin!!” you shouted over the music. “Dance with me,” when your hands touched his he felt a spark zip up his spine. But he had just been there standing awkwardly as he watched you move. The least he could do is dance alongside you. This scenario wasn’t the best for idle chit chat. He knew that. Truly he did. But he tried anyway. When you set the meat of his big palms over your hips he couldn’t help but drag you close to his body. He desired to feel every inch of you against him. He knew it was wrong, he'd only known you for such a short time. But the desire to know you was a flame that slowly burned brighter with more of the time that passed between the two of you. When the music settled into something softer, still styled to an after party he allowed himself to speak. Having trust that his voice would not fail him he leaned in close, his lips inches from your ear as he spoke over the noise of the room.

“Why Korea??” you took a moment to ponder, he watched as you danced eyes off to the side to think of an answer. When you had it you moved closer to him, your soft lips brushed the shell of his ear as you spoke to him.

“It was time I tried something new. I am so happy I did. I got to meet you. All of you. Something along the lines of ‘leaving my past behind me’ you know??,” he blushed at your words, your honesty refreshing to hear. And yes, he did know. He often worked hard to continue to move past whatever was left behind, the what ifs and whens never bothered him. Not when his goal was so clear ahead of him. This time when he leaned down to speak to you he made sure to keep you close against him.

“I hope we don’t disappoint you,”

“You never disappoint me Changbin,” you smiled at him when you pulled away, your cheeks rosy as you put some space between the two of you. He let you go, but only so far. His hands rested against the bare skin of your back as the two of you moved in sync to the music. The room was crowded around the two of you. Occasionally he bumped into another person, but he didn’t care. Not with you right there, his entire world zeroed to focus on you as you danced with him. Nothing, no one else mattered. Not with you at his side.

**** **** **** ****

13 missed calls: Caller ID Unknown

1 missed message: ‘I will find you Dovey,’

TAG LIST:

@taeminsung @maximumkillshot @feybin @alex--awesome--22 @liknws @palindrome969 @newbbystay @highlydestiny

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horatio-fig · 3 months

Text

Seeing as it’s Disability Pride Month and I’ve been having a pretty rough time lately I thought I would share some pictures of what my life is like to see if I can feel less ashamed. I tend to hide my disorder because I’m worried people will judge me, but I wanna try sharing for a while.

My brain doesn’t always process feelings in a safe way. The Logical part of my brain and the Emotional part of my brain don’t communicate very well and so I’m more likely to jump to the worst case scenario (and in every scenario I believe everything is my fault) and make an impulsive dangerous decision based on that.

So, I have to live with constant distractions and safe things to keep me safe and calm me down when the bad thoughts start, here’s what some of that looks like.

This is my floor time blanket. I’m safer on the floor, it’s easier for me to lie down and wrap myself in a safety burrito if I need to and it’s harder for me to get up and do something dangerous.

These are my distraction games. We discovered it helps me to get lost in a large immersive open world games (Skyrim survival mode is the most helpful, but anything Star Wars is also great)

Speaking of Star Wars, luckily something about the world of Star Wars creates a pleasant feeling in my brain, so when in need I can always hang out with my best friends.

These are what we call “safety snacks”. If I start to spiral then a sharp flavour can sometimes shock me out of it. This is anything sour, vinegary or spicy.

(It’s gonna get a little bit dark now and I’m gonna mention suicide)

This is the view I have of the city. I love living here and it helps sometimes to rest my head on the glass and remember all the things I still have to experience before I die. Sadly, the door is always locked and I’m not allowed out there unsupervised for obvious reasons.

I also have a view of the river, the bridges, and that little gap in the fence I know a person can fit through, which as you can imagine can be a bit of a problem. This is a bowl of cold water I always have on hand. In extreme situations I need to hold my head under freezing cold water for at least 30 seconds with no breaks. Suicide attempts are usually brought on by extreme adrenaline rush that triggers my fight or flight. If I simulate drowning it can trick my body into thinking we have acted on this and bring my adrenaline down.

I don’t really tell people about this because when I do the reaction is very “Oh you just get to play video games and eat snacks all day, must be nice 🙄”. And yes, under some circumstances that is nice, but a lot of the time I am doing this under very very unpleasnt circumstances. I don’t live like this all the time, this is only when it’s a must.

I’m not sharing this for sympathy or clout, I just don’t think masking and hiding this part of me is very healthy and I thought maybe during Disability Pride people would be a little more open to this sort of stuff. I’m not really allowed to leave the apartment unsupervised and I don’t get much human interaction. It feels a bit like a prison at times and I’m tired of feeling so alone in all this. (Don’t feel sorry for me! It’ll just make it worse. Just tell me I’m a stinky a lil guy and drop a game recommendation or something)

Any way thank you for listening, this was really more for myself than anything and I already feel a bit lighter 🥰 Be safe out there x

Here’s the T-shirt I made after I got diagnosed.

Coz even tho I’m ill, I’m still just a silly little guy x

#disability pride #personality disorder #borderline personality disorder #emotional instability disorder #personal i guess #I will be back to posting Star Wars shit post soon I promise

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mikrowrites · 1 year

Text

fate goes pt. 6

marc spector x avatar!reader

summary: y/n is reunited with someone she never thought she’d see again; as shait and khonshu fight against ammit, y/n, marc, and steven fight to stop harrow

warnings: angst, fighting, violence, fluff, language, dark themes, death, EPISODE 6 SPOILERS

a/n: the last part! thank you so much for the love for the series! also warning, this deals with someone dying in a hospital, so if that’s a trigger be warned!

“fate goes as ever fate must

fate is the only one that’s just and i trust

fate goes as ever fate must

ashes to ashes

dust to dust” - fate goes, the ninth hour

Y/n pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, humming a gentle lullaby as she sat next to the bed, her other hand grasping that of the patient.

Her internship at the hospital brought her to the hospice wing, where death surrounded her daily. Yet, she knew in her gut that their times were set and she couldn’t change it; instead she could respect the process and the execution of fate.

Y/n had begun to believe in fate as her studies in medicine continued. Science was factual, but fate was sacred. It was unmoving and constant, and perhaps that was a comfort to her in a way.

She continued her humming, gently rubbing herself the patient’s hand as they slumbered. Unlike many other patients, this one had no family photos, no flowers or gifts or get well balloons. Y/n had noticed this and found herself frustrated by the idea of a patient seeing the end of their days alone. So she had sat for hours with them, awaiting their fate.

“You care so much, don’t you child?”

Y/n gasped, the chair screeching across the linoleum as she bolted upwards. The patient’s eyes were open, glowing a golden light, their lips moving with every word. She backed away slightly, her voice quivering. “Who-who are you?”

The patient cocked their head to the side. “You’re a curious one, Y/n L/n. I’ve been watching you for a while now. You care for people so much, yet you don’t fear death. Curious indeed.”

“What do you want from me?” Y/n asked quietly.

The patient’s head turned to face her, the golden eyes boring into her. “How rude of me. I haven’t introduced myself.”

The gold flickered out, as well as the lights as the room was plunged into darkness. Y/n used her arms to cover herself, as if the room were to implode into her, crushing her. Her breathing was erratic as she squeezed her eyes shut.

“Don’t be scared child. Open your eyes.”

Y/n slowly lowered her arms, as a hand rested gently under her chin, guiding her gaze upwards. She met the gaze of a seemingly humanoid person, decked in gold and jewels. Below the waist was a serpents tail, the scales shining with every movement as the being cracked a smile. “I am Shait, the god of fate and fortune.”

She was shell shocked, staring up at the god in their splendor. All she could muster out was a quiet peep of: “Hi.”

The god seemed amused, “You are the most unusual being I have ever met, Y/n.”

“Is um, that in a good way or a bad way?” Y/n questioned.

“A good way, I assure you.” The god responded. “What do you know of the gods of Egypt?”

She shrugged, a little less tense. “Not much, sorry.”

“The gods are very much around and existing in your modern human world, but we do not interfere with earthly events. We instead rely on avatars to carry our will.” Shait explained. “We look for those who exemplify our morals and relish our beliefs. You, Y/n L/n, are who I am looking for. You are kind but resolute. Gentle but passionate. Intelligent and level-headed. You accept the tides of life and how the rivers of fate flow.”

“What does this mean?” Y/n seemed to plead.

Shait faced Y/n. “Y/n L/n, I want you to be my avatar.”

“Me?” She sputtered, her brain clouded with confusion. “I can’t be the best choice.”

“I have seen billions of people on this earth, read their hearts and seen their inner thoughts. You are the best choice. We can allow peace to those who fate commands, and allow for the fortune to bless those who deserve it.” The god spoke.

“Y/n L/n, will you be my harbinger of fate, my disciple of fortune, and guide to those who pass through the river of life? Will you protect fate with you might and see to the people around you justly, to become my avatar?”

She thought for a moment, before meeting the gaze of the god.

“Yes. I will.”

Suddenly she was plunged backwards into darkness, flinging out her arms and crying out as the void swallowed her whole, a warm feeling blossoming in her chest as she felt her retinas burning with a spectacular light. Her body fell backwards down, down, down, her limbs flailing for some kind of control.

Y/n sat up with a start, gripping the side of the hospital bed as she breathed heavily, gathering her bearings. She gasped, holding out her hands as she watched her veins course with golden light.

“Go on. Rest your two fingers upon their forehead.”

She perked up at Shait’s voice in her ears, turning to the patient as Y/n realized the room was filled with the sound of a monitor flatlining. She reached forwards, pressing her index and middle finger onto the patient’s forehead, Y/n’s eyes glowing as suddenly numbers began to appear in her vision, counting like a time clock until they finally clicked into place.

Y/n stepped backwards, the golden glow dimming before disappearing from her eyes and veins. She exhaled, before wetting her lips.

“Time of death, 3:25 AM.”

Y/n soared through the night sky of Cairo, her golden feathers gleaming in the moonlight. Her eyes widened. “Holy shit.”

Three large gods grappled slowly with each other, Khonshu and Shait vs Ammit. Y/n was almost in awe watching it, if it weren’t for the fact she needed to find Harrow and end this once and for all.

Her peripheral caught a glow of purple, Y/n immediately positioning her wings to dive down into the streets, setting her sight on Harrow. She soared down, positioning her body as she rammed her feet forwards, slamming them into the man as she sent him flying. She cast her eyes down to see a figure on the ground before her feet, suddenly her mind reeling in recognition.

The Moon Knight, Marc Spector, looked up at her in a reverie, the girl fixing him with a smirk as he uttered her name. “Y/n?”

Oh if they weren’t in a war, Shait would be chewing her out on this one.

Harrow stood angrily, directing a blast of purple light from his cane to her. Y/n turned to him, using her golden wings to shield herself, instead sending the blast back into him. sending the man tumbling back. She glared at Harrow before letting the wings retract, lowering her arms.

Y/n barely had time to turn before she was met with Marc, his face revealed, racing to her. “Y/n! Y/n, oh baby.” He pulled her into his arms, the woman grasping for him like a lifeline. “Thank god you’re okay.”

“Marc.” She sputtered out, the man pulling away to hold the sides of her head in his hands, taking in every aspect of her. “How’d you get back?”

Suddenly Steven took control, looking her up and down. “Wow, you look amazing! What are you wearing?”

Y/n smiled softly at the man, before they turned, noticing Harrow rising from the ground and his men ready for a fight. Steven turned to her excitedly. “Hey, I’m really jazzed about showing you these new skillsets we have.”

“All right, show me what you’ve got.” she nodded to the men.

“Yeah?” Steven asked with a gleeful smile.

“Yeah.” Y/n affirmed.

Both of them dove into action, Steven into a sprint and Y/n soaring forwards, careening into the fight. They both fought against the forces, as their godly counterparts battled above them.

A while into the fight, Y/n found herself pinned against a car, using one of her wings to shield herself from an onslaught of bullets. She squeezed her eyes shut, the violent clinking of metal invading her hearing until--it didn’t. She looked up to see Marc causing a complete massacre. He cut down man after man, until it was him and Harrow, the man continuing to beat the other avatar down until he was bringing the staff down to his head. “No!” Y/n cried out.

Suddenly Marc stopped, his body going rigid and the blade of the staff mere millimeters from Harrow’s forehead. The man looked around, seemingly horrified at the scene around him.

“Marc?” Y/n called, sheathing the wing she was previously using as protection. “What was that?”

“I blacked out.” Marc was confused, his eyebrows furrowing.

They both suddenly looked up to see Ammit best Khonshu in battle, Shait being thrown to the ground. Y/n’s chest clenched in fear when the god did not rise back up. “Get Harrow. I know how to stop Ammit.” She quickly ordered.

Marc nodded and grasped Harrow’s shirt in his fist, Y/n leading them as they both soared into the sky, racing to the pyramid to save their gods and their world.

Once inside, Marc threw Harrow’s body onto a piece of debris, stepping back to Y/n. She sighed, stepping towards them. “The power of the room will help us bind Ammit to Harrow’s body. Quick, grab my hand so we can start the spell.”

The man was quick to grasp her hand, relishing for a moment in the familiarity of their touches intertwined, before he followed her lead in reaching their free hands upwards. Y/n’s body jerked slightly as her arm began to glow purple with a sacred energy, Marc the same. And as though they had practiced it every moment of their lives, they began to chant a spell.

They stopped when Harrow’s eyes opened wide, a voice not of his own emitting from his lips. “You can never contain me. I’ll never stop.”

Y/n and Marc gasped in relief and release when the spell ended, binding Harrow and Ammit. The woman heaved for her breath, feeling Marc’s hand gently on her back as he also regained the air in his lungs.

“Finish it. And leave neither of them alive.”

Both looked up to see Khonshu tower over them, Y/n feeling Marc stiffen. She looked over to him as she felt his palm leave the small of her back, the man stepping up to Harrow, hovering above him as he unsheathed a blade. Marc gripped the man’s shirt, reeling his arm back to end the task. “I have to finish this. If not, I’ll never be free.”

Y/n stepped forwards, calling out his name. “Marc!”

Marc turned to look back at her, lowering his arm slightly. She stepped forwards, resting her hands carefully and softly on his limb which tightly grasped his blade. It was then he noticed Shait standing some feet from them, watching idly as their avatar spoke once more. “You have a choice. You are free. This is your chance to determine your fate.”

“The fate is vengeance.” Khonshu chided. “We cannot take the chance that Ammit finds a way out. She will kill again.”

“Now you sound like her.” Marc responded to the god, letting Harrow’s body drop. Y/n lowered her hands away, allowing the man to approach his god. “You want them dead... do it yourself.”

Shait lowered their head in acknowledgment. “Fate goes, Marc Spector.”

Marc nodded to the god, before turning to Khonshu. “Now release us.”

Khonshu turned, meeting the cold stare of Y/n. The god took note of how the avatar of Shait could pose a threat; whether it be her control of fate and fortune or her fierce, protective love of Marc. He looked to Shait, as if to ask the fate of this outcome. The god simply nodded.

He turned to Marc. “As you wish.”

Y/n watched as the control of Khonshu began to wash from Marc, the room building up into a blinding light. Marc caught one last glance of the love of his life before he was thrown into his head once more.

His eyes flicked open, dim sunlight cracking through the windows as he gathered his surroundings. Marc once more laid in his bed, in his flat in London. He sat up groggily, speaking up. “Steven? You there?”

“Mmmhmm.” Steven tiredly responded, the men taking in the room around them as though it would disappear at any moment. “Can’t believe it worked.”

The man was quickly frightened by a sudden movement next to him, turning to his left. His face softened, Marc taking over the body as he stared down next to him, a slight smile on his face. Y/n turned over in the bed towards him, her eyes fluttering open as a yawn escaped her mouth. “You’re both so loud, five more minutes of sleep please?”

Marc chuckled, leaning forwards and pressing a sweet kiss to her forehead. “Sorry. We’ll make you some breakfast then, yeah?”

Y/n smiled blissfully, her eyes closing as she snuggled up into the blankets. “Sounds amazing.”

He smiled back, before standing from the bed and muttering to Steven. “I can’t believe you live in this fricking mess. Y/n’s gonna whoop your a--”

Suddenly his ankle restraint pulled against the frame, knocking the man over and off his feet, slamming into the ground. He looked up briefly, groaning in pain. Quiet giggles could be heard from the bed behind him, and though he was annoyed and his body hurt like hell, he couldn’t help but crack a smile.

Looks like Y/n’s fortune-luck-shit didn’t rub off on him.

Harrow was shoved into the limo, letting out a laugh at the sight before him. “Khonshu. You can’t hurt us.”

Khonshu sat across from him, a pressed white suit clothed him as he sat cross-legged, casual before the trapped goddess. However, it was the person next to Khonshu that Ammit noticed with curiousity.

She sat next to the god, seemingly human, yes, must be an avatar. Her eyes glowed a shining gold, her veins running like rivers under her skin and coursing with the same glowing hue. She was expressionless, her glowing empty eyes boring holes into Harrow.

“Yeah. You wanna know something?” Khonshu spoke. “Marc Spector truly believed that after he and I parted ways, we would be done. That I’d be done with her?” He gestured to the girl.

Harrow rolled his eyes, making the talking motion with his hand annoyedly. Yet something unnerved Ammit as the girl narrowed her eyes at him.

“Why would I ever need anybody else when he has no idea how troubled he truly is?” Khonshu remarked. “And don’t worry; Y/n isn’t home right now. She won’t know a thing that happens here.”

“Ah... Shait’s doing.” Harrow noted, the girl, Y/n, raising her fist up to knock on the window, as if giving a cue.

“Meet my... friend,” The girl spoke in a foreign voice. “Jake Lockley.”

The divider in the limo rolled down, revealing Marc Spector. But no, this was not Marc Spector, Ammit saw that clearly. He was different. This man--this was anger, vengeance, and violence incarnate. Jake spoke in a dark tone, the Spanish rolling off his tongue. “Today is your turn to lose.”

Jake raised a gun, giving a sickening smile as Harrow and Ammit begged him to wait, to reason.

Y/n did not flinch as the gun went off, splattering a minimal painting of blood onto her face. She leaned forwards, her fingertips glowing as she rested them upon the mutilated forehead of the body, her eyes seeming to glow even brighter, her veins like a golden fire. “It is done.” She spoke to Khonshu.

The limo drove off, with a fate met.

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letterstoear · 11 months

Text

Our days in the past~

Notes: A letter from Jade Leech where he thinks back about the beginning of your relationship, fluff, romance, Jade x Reader, GN reader.

Check out my shop here: Shop — Letters to Ear (squarespace.com)

To my dear _______,

Do you remember when we first met? You had been tumbling off the mountain and I was trying my very best to help you. As you know I’ve never been one to help someone just because I felt like doing so. Helping someone means you’re also granted help from them, but I found myself opposing this very idea. Before we met, everyone would gladly offer their help, with the exception being Azul and Floyd of course. To have someone reject this, why it was a very bad decision you made. My curiosity was full latched onto this someone who didn’t follow the same behavior.

What caused you to deflect my poor self? Perhaps I failed to hide my emotions or as one would call it my true intent. It felt as if I was made of glass with how you saw through my every move so easily. Not only that, but you figured out a solution to each task I requested help for. Recall when I asked for you to work at the lounge, why you offered a way to get things done with less people. That idea was quite exquisite, if I may say, we made great use of it that day.

Sooner or later, I figured I would get bored of you and eventually go back to being lovely classmates. However, I was wrong, I became even more intrigued as time went on. Despite being able to see through me when it came to business, you still had moments of obliviousness. How shall I put this? You are a joy to tease because I never know how you’re going to react. There are times when you expect it and scrunch up into a ball. Other times you talk back to me with your own version of teasing. Yet, I also get the occasional ________ who is naive enough to fall for my tricks. Truly adorable. Looking back at the earlier stages of our romance sure brings tears to my eyes.

Sometimes I wonder what would happen if you were the one doing the chasing in the relationship. Would you fight for my attention? Or perhaps you made the bold decision to ask me out upon seeing me. Love at first sight you may call it.

That’s not to say all our moments together were filled with happiness. No, not at all. Especially during our fight on our first trip together. We fought over plans, between going by the dot or simply floating by. In the end it was thanks to our compromise that we could get over this bump in the road. Now we don’t run into such problems anymore. I’m quite lucky you’re my partner.

______, I know I asked you this many times, but when you’re done reading this, could you give me a kiss. I’m craving your love so badly right now. Just writing a love letter isn’t enough for me. I really want to see you, of course, there’s no way I could be irresponsible. There is no other option than for me to carry out my services with Azul and Floyd. Poor lonely me getting worked to the bone and away from my lover at that. How cruel the world is.

To close off my letter, allow me to thank you for loving me. You’ve given me so much love. There are times when I don’t feel worthy, but you’re quick to retaliate against my statements. I’ve never been happier than I am with you, I value our relationship greatly because I love you. My time is always here for you, there is no other exception than you. _________, I’ll never get tired of saying this, I love you.

So, how was my letter? I’ll be waiting for your response.

P.S Please feel free to give this a five-star review, especially since it’s your lover~

Love,

Jade Leech

#twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #octavinelle #ツイステッドワンダーランド #オクタヴィネル寮 #jade x reader #fluff #romance #letter #gn reader

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justabigoldnerd · 4 months

Text

Find The Word Tag Game

Oooo this is interesting!!! Thank you so much @the-golden-comet for the tag!!!

Rules: Share snippets of your work containing each of the words the previous poster selected for you (optional addition: if you can't find the word in your WIPs, or you simply don't have any WIPs, you can just write a sentence around the word)

My Words: car, bright, stand, live

Your Words: rock, deny, sweat, trail

Car: (From an untitled PWP ficlet)

The day was beautiful and serene– a rarity as precious as a gemstone. A rarity that deserved celebrating. So Solo brought out an expensive bottle of champagne, put it on ice to keep it cool, rolled up his sleeves, and tied his most sentimental apron around himself to get started on an elaborate meal. Gaby was on the other side of London working on her project car in a garage U.N.C.L.E. deemed safe, and wouldn't be home until just after dinner was complete. Illya had been gracious enough to run to the grocer down the street from their apartment for an ingredient they were missing, but he wouldn't be gone for longer than ten minutes.

Bright: (From "The X-Men From U.N.C.L.E.")

Solo set his jaw, but said nothing. The woman was seeping stress that was simultaneously metallic and electric, like licking a live wire. She didn't bother with greetings, she just threw out her arms and demanded, “Where’s Lehnsherr?!” “He'll be joining us shortly,” Charles closed his eyes and pressed two fingers to his temple, “In approximately thirty seconds, to be exact. He's been to pick up a last minute addition.” On cue, another car rumbled into view, rolling to a stop near them. The car had waves of coppery anger rolling off of it. Anger and grief and the barely-there, rotting taste of fear. Its source thundered out of the passenger seat with every predicted emotion etched onto his beautiful face. Charles rushed the absurdly tall man brightly, increasing the fear stench, if only briefly. “What a pleasure to have you change your mind, Illya,” he trilled, shaking the newcomer’s hand, “Truly a delight! Please, allow me to introduce Moira MacTaggert, Napoleon Solo, and Gabriella Teller.”

Stand: (From an untitled Library AU)

Illya looks up from the newspaper he's stamping and nods curtly. She calls out a whispered thank you and hurries towards the auditorium while he neatly stacks the papers and magazines into piles of “Checked In” and “Not Check In”. He stands from the rolling chair and reaches the wire rack where they keep the book lists in one step. A low whistle and a laugh from behind him makes him roll his eyes, fondness warming his chest all the same. “I'll never get used to that,” Cheri teases from her desk, leaning to the side to see around her monitor, “You sure you don't wanna coach my son?” “I did not run track, you know this,” Illya reminds her. “Whatever you say, Mr. Six-Foot-Five,” Cheri chuckles to herself, then disappears behind her computer screen again.

Live: (From "The Most Dangerous Game", a Whumptober response I am expanding on!)

"Gentlemen, I cannot begin to properly express my apologies for this mess I've made. My misguided intentions could have cost you your lives, and for that, I am deeply sorry," Waverly removed his glasses as he stood and cleaned them with the handkerchief in his breast pocket, "I'm afraid I've overstayed my welcome. You're free to discharge yourself whenever you're ready. Please take care of yourselves. I'll see you three in office in a few weeks. Or less, if you're up for it."

Soooo I may have cheated a little and included plurals/adverbs but I don't have many WIPS that actually have writing in them yet lmaooo

Anyway, no pressure tagging @pippinoftheshire @huggiebird @yallwildinrn @too-young-to-fall-in-love @times-up-alone-tonight

@nicijones @cha-melodius @heytheredeann @thattripleabattery and anyone else who wants to join!! 💕💕💕💕

#tmfu #the man from uncle #tmfu movie #fanfiction #fanfic #tag game #find the word tag #find the word game

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dearest-painter · 1 year

Note

Gary from Bully with shy fem (if u wanna add: Slavic) reader please? :-) a few headcanons would be really appreciated. Just someone who’s not into fighting and doesn’t risk at all

Thank u in advance, dear. Hope you’re having a good day/night so far :-) <3

Thank you!!! So I’ll imply their Slavic as I am not Slavic but I will imply it! Also went with a platonic approach

TW/CW:Gary himself, Yandere behavior, unhealthy behavior, unhealthy relationship, abusive relationship, abusive behavior, I am not slavic myself and will just be implying they are for anon!, Gary being the shit out of people, Gary forcing you to pretend to be his sister, Someone getting beat up(it’s bullworths), basing all of Reader’s shyness off of me being shy and having social anxiety!, Insults, degrading(It’s gary), tell me if I need to add anything

Summary:We all can go a LITTLE crazy for our family every once and a while even if they aren’t related to us by blood! That doesn’t mean we don’t love them even if they don’t believe that! We just gotta ENGRAVE that in their tiny little brains! :)

-You two definitely grew up together so your pretty used to his bullshit and all his insane behavior. You just don’t say anything as he’s your first ‘long’ friend

-He definitely made sure you call him brother when others ask about your relationship as he’s the only man who’ll ever care about you in any significant way so just do what he says! No it doesn’t matter that your Slavic and he’s not he’s still your brother!

-he’ll be less rude to you but that doesn’t mean your safe, he’ll call you rude names or make cruel jokes about you but if he sees it really got to you he’ll give a half assed apology

-No your not allowed to date, he won’t let you date anyone at all! If you do they have to meet a list of acquirements they have to meet to even go on a DATE with you (which surprisingly only Jimmy fits…just don’t let him know that or he’ll add more shit)

-If he sees someone trying to fight you he immediately joins in. “Listen I’ll cut to the shit, get the HELL away from MY sister or I’m going to shove that nerds glasses so FAR UP YOUR ASS YOUR PUKING THEM OUT FOR MONTHS! NOW GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY DUMB SISTER!” He’ll then lead you away while ranting about how ‘he’s the only person who’ll ever do anything for you and that you should just rely on him!’

-Definitely uses the fact your jealous to his advantage as your to shy to communicate to anyone you don’t trust so he just makes some lies about everyone so that you only have him left!

-He’s always around you but if he can’t he has eyes everywhere so don’t think your safe! He knows every little thing you’ll do!

#✉️mail arrived✉️#genderfluid enity answers!#yandere #please don’t do this #obession #unhealthy #platonic yandere #yandere platonic #female reader #yandere x female reader #yandere bully #bully x reader #bully game x reader

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 4 months

Text

Time, Time, and Time Again - a Yellow City extra

The day of the ceremony dawned like any other day. Which is to say, there was no warning of what was to come.

The wedding we didn't get to see in Yellow City. I am allowed to be schlocky for this one. Thanks again to Kraiva for letting me play with her wives.

AO3

——-

A wedding?

A wedding.

Hastur was going to host a wedding. So went the scuttlebutt; but then he threw a tantrum, tore up the golden-grass park he’d created, and locked himself in his temple with his human pets, so. Maybe no wedding?

Tabby sat in the doorway of the Scriptorium, rubbing her temples, while Dagon sat near in silent commiseration. “Fucking drama queen,” she muttered.

“Ayup,” Dagon said, and that was the end of that conversation.

Arthur did not, fortunately, seem to be processing the delays and problems. He was just happy. “The gold is important,” he told Parker.

Parker, unfortunately, was very aware how much this whole thing was messing with Hastur’s head, and felt like the only sane person in the temple. Aw, who was he kidding? He was the only sane person, categorically, and was also outnumbered. “Sure.”

“The darker shade looks so good on your skin,” said Arthur, who was straddling him, holding little jars.

“Anything you wanna do,” said Parker, who planned on largely black on the day of his wedding, and anyone who didn’t like it could bite him. He’d bite back. Harder.

“Your lips, though,” murmured Arthur, leaning in. “That plum color, I think.”

The only sane person and the luckiest in the place. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Arthur followed it with a kiss, draped on him, fitting together better than anything or anyone Parker had ever known, and Parker let time pass.

For a while.

Until the noise got ridiculous.

Bang.

Clang, followed by the tinkling of broken glass.

Clatter—what surely had to be an entire box of silverware upended from about twelve feet in the air.

Arthur laughed against Parker’s lips. “Nervous bride.”

“Jackass bride,” Parker murmured back.

“Shall we go ease his nerves?” said Arthur.

“Sure.” Parker sat up, taking Arthur with him (he still couldn’t take his returned strength for granted, and any inclination to just let Hastur tantrum melted in the face of it). “Idiot.”

“He’s just… it’s new," said Arthur.

“And it ain’t to us?”

“We’re both a lot younger,” said Arthur. “Change is just… something we expect. And both of us have known so many people who got married, and were pressured to do it ourselves. He may not have known anyone, and it was definitely never expected.”

“Yeah,” Parker said, raising his volume. “That could be it. Or he could be a big fucking baby who wants attention! ”

The only response was another crash, distinctly that of wood shattering.

Parker peeked around the door to find less of a mess than he expected. No broken glass or shattered metal, but only one beautiful, dramatic, golden-clad, tentacled god, sitting in the center of a pile of fabrics which had definitely not been there the day before, holding a different piece of jewelry in every limb.

And after all that ruckus, Hastur had the audacity to look caught. “We should cancel.”

“Why?” said Parker, walking right in and wading over the mountain of cloth.

“Because it is unnecessary!” Hastur said. “You’re both mine. Everyone knows.”

“They do,” said Arthur, coming up behind him. “Calm down.”

“No!”

Parker plucked a set of spiky chains from one limb—a long, black and gold affair that looked designed to leave tiny, pleasing lines of red on the wearer. Nice. He shuddered once, unable to help himself, then focused up. “Not sure how good this is for a wedding, though.”

“We are not doing a human wedding.” Hastur roiled, cloth billowing around him like a golden sea. “It will be one deserving of the very stars that shine down upon us.”

“I thought it was going to be small,” said Arthur after a moment. “Just us and the Keeper and Tabby and Dagon.”

“No,” said Hastur. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Again?” said Parker.

“As many times as it takes to get it right ,” Hastur snarled.

Parker looked at Arthur.

Arthur looked at Parker.

“Outside help?” said Parker.

“I think so,” said Arthur.

“I need no help.” Hastur said this with a little flex of his limbs. More jewelry rained out of nowhere to bounce prettily (and sometimes disturbingly) against the various fabrics.

“Got this,” said Arthur, climbing physically around to the front and up toward Hastur’s mask.

“I’ll be back,” said Parker, and turned to go.

Hastur snatched him up and pulled him close. “No. I forbid it.”

Arthur looked at Parker.

Parker looked at Arthur.

They both laughed softly. “Okay, you big baby,” said Parker, and relaxed. “Later, then.”

“There is no later, ” Hastur growled, already removing their clothes and being none too gentle about it.

“Hey,” said Arthur, the flimsy thing he was wearing torn off in pieces.

“Fuckin’ lunatic,” Parker declared, and took the nearest part of Hastur into his mouth.

Later (about four hours later, if anyone was counting), Parker finally squirmed free of the temple and made his way toward the Keeper’s nearest door.

The weather had changed. Or was it climate? Keeps had explained it the other night, but it was such a foreign concept that Parker wasn’t quite clear on it yet. The point was Hastur was upset, so it had changed.

Rain. Some snow. Quite a few nights of thunder and lightning.

But the days dawned brighter and more beautiful than Parker could believe, as if Hastur’s highs over this upcoming union were even more intense than his lows. That was good. Parker was absolutely sure Hastur wanted this, or he’d have called it off himself.

Today was an exception. Perhaps reflecting the grabby-hands thing Hastur had going right now, the wind snatched at his skin, and his hair, and tugged at the simple black kilt he’d opted to slip on. It was clear, but not quite comfortable; beautiful, but not quite calm.

Dagon wasn’t in sight—probably swimming with June. Well, no matter. Parker knocked on the door.

Tabby opened it, looking distinctly un-Tabbylike in a high-collared frilly blouse and floor length skirt. “Well, hello,” she said, quirking an eyebrow. “Aren’t you cold?”

He shrugged. “Naw. Was getting stuffy in there.” He couldn’t help the little quirk at the corner of his mouth. “You guys busy?”

“Not busy enough to turn you away. Come in.” She held the door open winder, gesturing, and a pair of truly ugly shoes with holes and small, colorful decorations peeked out from beneath her skirt. “Keeps is having a weird day, so she may or may not be in attendance.”

He frowned. “She good?”

Tabby sighed. “Yeah, she’s okay. It’s… she’s not manifesting, at least not fully, and she insisted on dressing me this morning, but she’s been really peppy and excited and talked my ear off about the work on the pavilion this morning. Kind of a 'two steps forward, two steps back, we’re participating in a weird waltz, but that’s alright' kind of deal. You get me?”

“Yeah. I do. More than you know. I’m living with the drama queen of the Great Old Ones.” He followed her in, nodding in greeting at anyone they passed. “I kinda thought maybe we could make some adjustments to the big event. Get it all sorted, and the drama ends, yeah?”

“Are you asking me to be your wedding planner?” Tabby whirled. “Because the answer is yes, absolutely, I have been waiting for you to ask me. Well, more for the ‘maid of honor’ thing, but I figured you may not do that. Come on. There’s pie in the icebox. Want some?”

Pie! Parker liked pie. “Sure. I could take some of it off your hands,” he said as if it didn’t matter.

It was strawberry pie. Mentally, Parker ranked it as a new favorite in List of Pies, which was getting long enough that he might have to steal a chalkboard from Hastur and write it down. “So here’s my thought,” he said after his third slice. “We still don’t even have a date because Hastur keeps losing it, so. I’m thinking. I’m thinking we don’t do the big thing which was plan number, uh, eight? And we spring it on him. Here. Close and personal, but fancy and shiny. He gets his fuckin’... triumphal whatever, but the only people here, he actually gives a fuck about. But. That’s just an idea. Didn’t even ask you. So. Hi.”

“Hi,” Tabby said, flashing him a bright smile. “I mean, you don’t get more official than an Outer God presiding, and Keeps would really want to be there, so that works. I feel strongly we can get Dagon in on it. And fancy and shiny? I think we can make that work.” She produced a notebook and scribbled in it with a pen sporting an oversized feather, which bobbed in time with each dip. “We clear everything out of the lobby and put together some space for dancing and socializing. And maybe even…”

Parker was relieved. Beyond relieved. “Arthur’s fine with whatever. But yeah. We gotta spring it on Hastur. I think as long as it’s shiny enough, he’ll be fine.” And his cheeks warmed. “Uh. Still don’t know what we’re supposed to say to each other. Or if we say anything. Arthur kept saying Carcosa didn’t do weddings like Cloud City, but he never could manage details, either.”

Tabby raised an eyebrow. “Well, that one’s easy. One of the sixty-four marriage ceremonies Keeps and I did was a Carcosan wedding, so I have some personal experience.” She rolled the pen in her fingers, concentrating, and then leaned back. “Hey! Amalthea!”

At her elbow the pink-and-blue petal-creature (the Songweaver, according to Hastur, who never shut up about her) emerged. “Oh, hello Parker. It’s good to see you.” She turned to Tabby. “You called?”

“Yes!” Tabby turned away from him, attention firmly on Amalthea. “I was wondering if you might do me a huge favor? Like a super duper big one. Owe you big time.”

Music, Parker thought. Yeah. Hastur would fuckin’ love that. Might even want to sing his own… whatever.

“Spit it out.”

“They’re finally gonna get married, here in the Scriptorium,” Tabby said, gesturing to Parker with her pen. “Would you be willing to sing for us?”

The Songweaver took a deep, shuddering breath.

“I know it’s a big ask,” Tabby said gently. “If it were outside it’d be an immediate no. But I figured you might like to.”

“For a wedding,” Amalthea said, misty. “...I think I can manage something.”

“You’re the best,” Tabby said, opening her arms to sweep Amalthea into a hug. “It’s gonna mean the world to them. To everyone.”

Amalthea fluttered, one of her fingers curling in the silver chain draped around her shoulders. “I’d best get to composing, then. Congratulations at last, Parker.” She bowed and disappeared.

“Fantastic,” Tabby said, redirecting her attention back to Parker. “Now. Vows, and the ceremony, and everything else. We can start with Carcosan customs, but that’s just the backdrop; what do you want, bestie?”

Parker felt like tension fell from his shoulders, and his spine straightened. Maybe it showed and maybe it didn’t. He just knew this… friend thing was honestly a pretty good deal, once a guy got used to it. “I got ideas.”

The day of the ceremony dawned like any other day. Which is to say, there was no warning of what was to come.

Hastur was in a mood (and had been since they decided to do this), and Parker thought that was going to turn out to be very, very good for all, given that the mood appeared to be possessively affectionate. Clothing wasn’t even happening yet. (It wasn’t exactly a terrible fate.)

Parker had to keep them on track. “She’s waiting,” he reminded again, having produced the brunch invitation in the Keepers’ wispy handwriting.

Hastur growled. Arthur laughed at him. (Which helped, weirdly enough.) And later, clothed, for the first time in a week and a half, the god of Carcosa stepped into the sun.

The Keeper's people had done their job; nobody knew anything, so there was no crowd, were no gawkers, no curious godlets peering and triggering Hastur into further displays. The weather wasn’t too bad, either; flowers bloomed along their path as if leading them, guiding them to this decision which would hopefully last a lifetime.

It hadn’t seemed like a big deal after, well, marking , but as they approached the door, suddenly it did?

Parker sighed at himself. Maybe he wasn’t the sane one, after all.

Arthur began to sing a song Parker had never heard before. It was beautiful; an unrecognizable style, and seemed designed to direct steps in a stately fashion. It almost sounded like worship on top of love; it was appropriate in ways Parker couldn’t put into words.

“Where'er you walk,” Arthur sang, “cool gales shall fan the glade / Trees where you sit shall crowd into a shade / trees where you sit shall crowd into a shade.”

No, Parker had never heard anything like this.

Hastur clearly liked it. “You’ve been dreaming, little detective.”

“You’re just inspiring,” said Arthur.

Parker damn well knew his heart was racing. His nerves were twanging. If Hastur paid too much attention—

Hastur picked him up. “Did I wear you out, little traitor?”

“Pfft,” said Parker, which wasn’t an answer at all.

“Yes,” Arthur answered for him, and knocked on the door.

“We can partake in brunch another time,” said Hastur.

“No!” Parker barked.

Arthur blinked at him, and might have asked just what in fuck that was about, but the door opened first.

“Hey, you’re here!” Tabby said, opening the door wide. She was dressed in a deep purple reminiscent of the purest Stygian dyes, which only seemed to bring out the rather loud blues of her hair dye. “‘Bout time. Keeps has been making waffles and they’re just starting to get cold.” She had to search a bit to find Parker in Hastur’s embrace, but she winked. “Come on in.’

Arthur walked right in. “Tabby!” And gave her a quick hug.

Parker held his breath. Here they were. No turning back now. Not that he wanted to. He just suddenly understood in a deeply visceral way why Hastur had been freaking out over the past several months—

“Are you upset?” Hastur rumbled at him as they went inside, because of course the bastard was listening to his heart rate or his soul moorings or whatever.

“Definitely not that,” said Parker, and then the door closed behind them, and it was time.

Tabby grinned like a wolf. “Got ‘em,” she announced, and suddenly the Scriptorium was flooded with light.

The dark, tattered hangings drew away, revealing windows of some sort of marbled stone that poured golden light in from outside; flowers made of paper dangled from the heights of the bookcases, golds and yellows and whites and creams dripping along the seams with golden chains dripping amidst. On the upper level a hauntingly beautiful song began, a song that begged for all to come and see, to celebrate, to know, to love.

Tabby peered up at Parker for one long moment. “You ready?”

And in that moment, he was. He was. The nerves didn’t leave, but they didn’t matter. Parker wanted this, and whatever flaws had ever existed in him, he’d never been unsure of his wants. “Yeah.”

Hastur seemed to have been stunned by the music. “What?” he said, late.

“Oh!” said Arthur. “Oh… oh it’s…”

“Yeah,” said Parker. “It is.” He wriggled.

Hastur let him slide down, still staring.

“Come on, follow me,” Tabby said, gesturing, not quite herding them but inviting. “You’ll see.”

Arthur looked at Parker. Parker looked at Arthur. Parker grinned.

Arthur’s eyes filled. Then he grinned, too.

Parker grabbed the finger of one of Hastur’s enormous hands. Arthur grabbed the nearest tentacle. Like they were pulling a boat to shore, together, they surged forward.

The music seemed to carry all of them, making Hastur weightless, making every step like part of some elaborate, beautiful spell. Paper flowers bloomed in their wake, turning their path white and gold. And oh, gold—cloth of gold draped around the banisters, hanging from the balconies, gold and onyx glittering on every surface like the shining towers of the palace itself, drawing the eye in and past the handful of congregants: Dagon and June on one side, pleased and smiling, the Endlings scattered in other gold-and-black draped chairs.

The Keeper waited next to the altar, the canopy above her head supported by the three pillars, as was traditional for Carcosa. Gauzy cloth of gold draped around it, fluttering in an unseen breeze, the Yellow Sign dotting the fabric throughout the intricate lacework.

The Outer God turned, the tilt of her head like a smile, gold jewelry tastefully draped over her head and her arms, and she gestured.

Damn , they’d gone all out. Parker couldn’t help his stupid, shit-eating grin. He’d brought them the paint colors Arthur wanted. Looks like they’d all been put to use.

“Oh!” said Arthur, who suddenly found himself bedecked in gold, light chains like cobwebs sparkling down his throat and chest, nails and face painted.

Parker checked himself. Sure looked like they’d gotten all the colors the way Arthur wanted them. Frickin’ gods. Amazing.

Hastur had let them pull him, but was stiff. Silent, too, which meant genuinely startled. “Now?” said Hastur.

“Yeah,” said Parker. “Why wait? The answer’s yes. Come on, you big galoob.”

“Show… respect,” Hastur mumbled to say something, but was tugged forward regardless.

“Did you plan this?” whispered Arthur.

“Yeah,” Parker admitted.

“Thank you,” Arthur said, cheeks flushed.

“You look good, asshole,” said Parker, and gave him a quick kiss.

The look Arthur gave in return was one that promised longer kisses later.

“Now?” whispered Hastur again.

They both looked up at him.

“Please?” said Arthur.

“Now,” said Parker, and pulled them both to the canopy.

Hastur stared at the Keeper. “You approve of this.” The tone was impossible to read. He might, thought Parker, have been checking to make sure this was okay.

“I do.” Her voice was gentle, sweet, coming fully from the manifestation in front of them. “I felt it would be uncouth to ask you to preside at your own wedding, Hastur. If you would prefer to do so, I can step aside.”

“No.” He sounded (Parker fought for the word) humbled. “I am honored by your presence.” He pulled his humans closer. (And if he fiddled with the particular bits of jewelry dangling from each, well, nobody really expected otherwise.)

“Thank you,” said Arthur. “I think we’re ready.”

They were.

To Parker, a lot of it blurred afterward. There was a lot of music, and a lot of poetry; there was a fake sword fight for some reason; there was a procession of ghostly shades as if their ancestors had come to judge them.

There was a rainstorm made of flowers, and a carpet of flowers made of what seemed to be lightning. There was vowing—

And Hastur sang his, on the spot, looking them in the eye, unblinking, and Parker grew hot and bothered and felt like this was the most intimate thing that had ever been done to him—

And then there was dancing, so much dancing, and so much music, and a lot of food (many pies!), and wine like he’d never had in his life.

After the initial nerves, Hastur was all-in (as Parker had thought he’d be). Parker kept looking down at his arm and stroking the soft ribbon wrapped around it—a shiny, smooth affair that matched one wrapped around Arthur’s forearm and, it seemed, all of Hastur’s limbs. Somehow, that had begun life as one single ribbon; somehow, when Parker touched either of them right now, it became one ribbon again, binding them together.

But binding wasn’t the right word; that sounded like trapping. This wasn’t that. This felt freeing, somehow.

He knew that probably made no sense, and determined not to try to say it. Words were… he wasn’t… bad at them (Tabby had not permitted that opinion to survive), but that didn’t mean he had confidence.

Hastur might or might not be drunk. He was certainly generous, flitting about and giving everyone shiny things (and if any ran away, he left a shiny thing on the floor or hovering where they’d been for them to pick up later).

Arthur (who definitely was drunk) leaned on Parker and watched their god, laughing softly. “He’s not so bad,” Arthur teased, fingering the ribbon with definite approval of its texture.

“Eh, he’s all right,” said Parker. “Guess we’ll keep him.”

Arthur chuckled, leaning. After a moment, he closed his eyes.

Parker rolled his own, but let Arthur rest where he was.

Tabby laughed on the lap of her god-wife, looking up at her with absolute adoration as they swayed to the music. Parker had only seen that expression on Tabby on their wedding portrait, which was likely squirreled away somewhere to permit today's celebration. Speaking of, his god (god-husband, he realized) approached the Keeper.

Fully gracious, all limbs out and curved, Hastur gave them a truly glorious bow.

The Keeper pressed her only available hand to her chest, clearly surprised, and then bowed her head. The gold headpiece she wore sparkled. Tabby smiled, warm and broad, and said something. The Keeper laughed.

Hastur gave Tabby a shiny thing, too.

Parker peered, trying to see what it was. Arthur was out like a light now (and that little buzzy snore was a sound Parker couldn’t sleep without these days), and he didn’t want to wake the guy.

He didn’t have to wait long to find out what it was.

“He is so cute,” Tabby stage-whispered over the din as she gestured to Arthur. “So? Was it everything you wanted?”

“Better.” Parker found it easier to be honest with her these days; he’d spent some time questioning why for a while. Now, he just assumed it was part of this friend thing. “Better than I imagined. Knew I’d be happy. Made them fucking ecstatic, and that made me even more happy. Thanks.” A pause. “Dunno how to pay you back.”

Arthur didn’t even stir. His cheeks and nose were red. Parker stroked his hair, seemingly unaware of the motion.

“Pay me back? Pfft,” Tabby said. A golden pen (Hastur's gift) glittered, tucked behind her ear, and she surveyed the scene. “Seeing you so happy… it’s worth it. Besides, what are friends for?” Her face was soft, warm, almost wistful for a long moment—and then it was replaced with an impish grin. “Besides. Keeps hasn’t had a project like this for ages. She’s going to be riding this high for a bit, and that means I’m going to get railed after y’all leave.” She elbowed him playfully, laughing.

Parker laughed, too, surprised into it; his cheeks burned a little. “Uh. Good for you.” That didn’t feel adequate. “Have fun?” That felt less adequate. “Think tonight’s gonna be wild for everybody.” Maybe too adequate. Well, at least he was trying.

Tabby laughed louder. “I made you blush?” She threw her arms around his shoulder, careful to avoid jostling Arthur too much, and pressed her face into Parker’s free shoulder. “Fuck, dude. I’m so fucking happy for you.”

Her voice sounded suspiciously wet.

Parker leaned into it, surprising himself. “Think it might actually be real.” A running joke. Not a dream; reality, if dreamlike. He glanced toward their third.

Hastur stood with the Keeper, talking quietly.

Tabby lifted her head just enough to survey the scene, sniffing hard, wiping her eyes very non-suspiciously with the back of her hand. “Yeah,” she said, swallowing thickly. “Maybe. I think we finally got this one on track.”

The Keeper nodded, gesturing animatedly with her hands; she seemed engrossed in the conversation, body language bubbly but relaxed.

Hastur flashed purple. Then he did something Parker didn’t expect: quietly, he sang to the Keeper.

Parker ran through his mental flash cards of Hasturian behavior. He suspected it might be thanks. “Huh,” he said quietly. “Guess it’s an event for everybody.”

And a miraculous one, too. Dagon came by and didn’t even wake Arthur up, so that was magic in and of itself.

After, much after, when they were all home, after hours had passed, after maybe days had passed (it had gotten really fuzzy), Parker lay under and on and wrapped around, and Arthur (who’d lived up to the promise of that look) might sleep for a week, Parker wondered why they’d waited so long.

This felt natural. Right as anything. Absolutely right.

He didn’t deserve to be so happy. He laughed softly.

“Something amuses, little traitor?” rumbled Hastur, who never ran out of fucking stamina. Literally.

“Just,” Parker said. “Weird. Happy. Dunno. Didn’t expect it.”

“Good things are often unexpected,” said Hastur.

“Yeah,” said Parker, and kissed the top of Arthur’s head. He did not give voice to the now unhappy thought that arose: it really was going to be a lot harder than he’d guessed to leave when the time came.

Cloud City was… it didn’t feel like home anymore. That was even weirder than the rest. And he didn’t mind going back to help save it; but… yeah. It was going to be so hard to leave. He swallowed.

Maybe Hastur knew. “We have time, time, and time again,” he rumbled.

“Yeah,” said Parker, trying not to think of time away.

Hastur cupped his face. “You will never be lost again.”

Right, so. Those were waterworks. He hadn't planned on it. Tears weren’t welcome, damn it. “Yeah,” said Parker, and pressed his face to Arthur’s head again.

Time, time, and time again. He didn’t deserve that either, but so what? He had it.

He was absolutely not going to waste a moment.

——-

NOTES:

Where'er You Walk by Handel

#malevolent au #malevolent fic #cloud city #yellow city #Hastur/arthur/parker #fluff

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