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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 7 months

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Hii! I'd really appreciate if you could recommend me fics where Stiles leaves Beacon Hills and makes new friends. (He may or may not return to BH later) thank you!

I do!

The Truth of It by alisvolatpropiis

(1/1 I 2,158 I Mature I Sterek)

Derek took the picture late one night the summer between Stiles’ junior and senior years of college, the last of their four summers together.

Or not-together. The last of their four summers of whatever it was they were to each other in those years, fucking nonstop and spending nearly every waking moment together for three months at a time, both of them aggressively maintaining the it’s-just-sex-it-doesn’t-mean-anything rule they set their very first time together, the night of the pack’s high school graduation party when, slightly drunk, Stiles kissed him for the first time, determined and eager, heart pounding in Derek’s ears.

Not Your Emissary by sapphireginger

(1/1 I 2,428 I Teen I Steter)

Stiles squeezed his mate’s hand to soothe the angered alpha and watched Scott puff out his chest in a pitiful attempt to be intimidating. “No.”

“NO?!” Scott growled. “What do you mean no? This isn’t negotiable. You're my pack!”

“Am I?” Stiles asked calmly.

Scott hesitated and nodded firmly. “Yes.”

Stiles shrugged one shoulder. “I love Peter and he loves me. I’m not leaving with you, and you can’t make me.”

“Wanna bet?!” Scott snarled.

Peter’s control was rock solid, airtight, never faltering. His presence alone was enough to drive fear into the hearts of most. It was always a turn on to see the alpha put people in their places.

We'll be Better Around the Second Time by Cantabo

(12/12 I 26,589 I Mature I Sterek)

It's been months. Months of fading contact with the pack. Months of the silent treatment from his father. Months of nothing but himself and the occasional lesson with Deaton to entertain him.

It's too much, and eventually, Stiles leaves.

For years, everything goes great, until of course his dad gets injured, and he is suddenly forced to deal with people he thought he left behind in his past for good.

OR: Stiles gets pushed out of the pack, hits the road, makes new friends, learns how to grow up, and falls in love.

Abraca-Fuck-You! by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

(1/1 I 28,906 I Mature I Sterek)

“Who needed you?” Stiles asked, uncapping his water.

“Hm?” Cole had been looking out at something in the field, and he focussed back on Stiles then. “What?”

“You said it comes about when someone needs us. Who needed you?”

He probably shouldn’t have asked, because Cole looked sad all of a sudden. Like he hadn’t thought about becoming a Sorcerer in a long time. Stiles could see that being what he was had cost him greatly, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to run into the same problem.

“A friend,” Cole said quietly. “Someone who was very dear to me. But I didn’t get there fast enough.”

Stiles paused in recapping his water, pressing his lips together. “What happened?”

“I waited too long to help them.”

At Our Ex-Spence by sapphireginger

(26/31 I 41,923 I Explicit I Steter)

Stiles is ready to leave Beacon Hell Hole-Beacon Hills-behind. An offer to join the FBI is his ticket out of there. A blue eyed wolf follows along, and Stiles doesn't mind a bit.

On the other side of the US an amber eyed man puts on his glasses and gets out of bed. His first day at the FBI is almost here. "Stu?" the man's girlfriend calls out. "Coming!" he replies and rejoins her in their bedroom.

Stiles is about to start his FBI training. He meets two people of major significance on his first day. Life gets even more complicated, and he has so many questions. However, he's not sure who he trusts to give him the correct answers-to give him the truth.

I've Been Everywhere With You by Leslie_Knope

(10/10 I 61,551 I Explicit I Sterek)

“Dude, you should totally come with me.”

“What? Like on the road trip?"

“No, come with me. To Austin. Get out of Beacon Hills.”

Derek paused. “What?” he asked again.

When It Comes To Being Lucky by sterekcrush

(46/? I 157,701 I General I Sterek)

Derek Hale doesn't do love. He's tried twice; the first time it made him a killer, and the second time cost him his whole world.

So he doesn't do love, and he definitely doesn't love Stiles. He doesn't care about Stiles' new powers or the fact that Stiles has been talking to Derek's dead mother, or even the fact that for some reason supernatural creatures from all over the country are sending Stiles offers of courtship.

But when Stiles claims he's not part of Derek's pack and takes off for parts unknown...well, maybe Derek cares a little after all.

Guardian by Lerya

(100/100 I 202,041 I Mature I Steter)

After Stiles finally realises how little he means to Scott, and how little his opinions and even his research mean to the 'true Alpha', he's had enough. With most of the original Hale pack getting away from the Hellhole that is Beacon Hills, he prepares to do the same. The extra addition wasn't planned, but most welcomed, as was an invite by the counsel.

He could do this, going around the world, helping other Supernaturals, getting to know the world, and learning about himself and the community.

Manipulated by DearDaisy (Scribblesnpaws)

(30/30 I 221,251 I Mature I Sterek)

Nine years ago, Scott kicked Stiles out of the pack. Stiles left and never returned. But now his dad has been hurt, so Stiles returns to take care of him. No one knows the truth of what happened back then, not even Scott or Stiles. But that's about to change.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #road trip #steter #peter hale #magic!stiles

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gimmethatagustd · 26 days

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collard greens | kth

Working as a counselor at a summer camp for kids isn't the most exciting job, but hanging out with Taehyung makes it worth it.

○ Pairing: Taehyung x trans man!Reader

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: A classic Jai weed fic, friends to lovers, summer camp au, smut, fluff

○ 13 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Camp Counselor)

○ Word Count: 3,670

○ Warnings: Some body/gender dysphoria, reference to top surgery, reference to hormone therapy, marijuana, oral sex, (self) hand job, Jai didn't proofread this jhsdkjfsk sorry friends

○ Notes: Today is International Transgender Day of Visibility, created to celebrate trans and nonbinary people worldwide. Particularly on Tumblr and with reader-insert BTS fanfic, there is little representation of trans and nonbinary characters. Readers are often written as AFAB and use she/her pronouns and traditionally feminine terms to describe their genitalia (even when listed as gender-neutral readers). I wanted to share a story that explicitly focuses on a trans reader. I welcome everyone to read this story, regardless of gender or sexual orientation. As F. Scott Fitzgerald once said, "That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you’re not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong."

○ Disclaimer: The trans community is diverse, and this fic doesn't represent all trans and nonbinary people's experiences. If you'd like to learn more about how to be an ally for trans and nonbinary people, check out this article from the Human Rights Campaign.

○ Post Date: March 31, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Crosspost

○ What was Jai listening to? A weed playlist

“Did you know that smoking weed makes your sperm count decrease?”

You scrunch your nose at Taehyung’s vulgar question, but he doesn’t notice. He’s nearly cross-eyed as he licks along the edge of the blunt he just rolled with expert fingers.

“Not me,” you challenge. “Maybe you.”

Taehyung stares at you for a moment. You can practically see the gears turning in his head before he sticks the blunt between his lips and speaks around it.

“Shit, yeah.”

The summer air, thick with humidity, doesn’t help when your face heats up from Taehyung’s mistake. It’s funny how seemingly inconsequential moments—like Taehyung forgetting that you don’t have the same parts as him—can bring you such euphoria. Taehyung has always been good at that, though. He’s never treated you differently, singled you out, or made you feel like you aren’t enough or are too much.

You’re just two dudes perched on a mossy rock in the middle of the woods, smoking a blunt while the camp kids you’re supposed to be taking care of are asleep in their cabins.

Simple as that.

Taehyung pauses to light the end of the blunt and inhales deeply, drawing smoke through his pink lips and exhaling it slowly. The thick cloud doesn’t have a chance to disappear into the night sky before Taehyung breathes it back in through his nose.

Rolling your eyes at Taehyung’s unnecessary display of stoner prowess, you take the blunt from his pinched grip and curl your lips around the tip.

“Are you trying to say weed is, like, male birth control?” you ask, smoke coming out of your mouth in disjointed puffs and streams between your teeth while you talk.

“It basically is.”

“That feels very unreliable.”

Your fingers brush against each other every time you pass the blunt between you. The contact makes your arm tingle, and the feeling wiggles down the right side of your body the more times you reach for the blunt.

“I mean, I smoke, like, every day, and I haven’t knocked anyone up yet,” Taehyung admits with a shrug.

You nearly choke.

“You’re fucking people raw, Tae?”

“Shhh!” Taehyung giggles with his index finger to your lips. You grab his wrist and try to push him off, but he doesn’t budge.

“Taehyung,” you whisper, but he pinches your top and bottom lips together to keep you quiet. It’s useless; his giggles are louder than you are.

“Listen,” Taehyung grins as he brings the blunt to his lips. Yours are still pinched together with his other hand. “I got tested before camp started, and I got no babies.”

“That’s not–”

“I know the test is for STIs, not babies, obviously!” Taehyung squawks, shoving you hard on the shoulder when you finally free yourself from him with a giggle, almost sending you flying off the rock. “I’m just saying I got neither.”

“Alright, alright! I believe you. No STIs, no babies.”

“Exactly.” Taehyung winks at you as he exhales a thick cloud of smoke.

Since you’re sitting next to each other, it’s impossible to escape the shy embarrassment Taehyung triggers in you. He has no business looking as good as he does when he smokes. It’s his lips and eyes, you think, watching him take another hit. The perfect pink bow of his upper lip and the plushness of his bottom lip make his mouth look pretty when the smoke swirls out of it.

When he looks at you through the smoke that surrounds you, his eyes are dark and lidded, a heavy gaze that weighs on you as you bring the blunt to your lips.

“Do you want me to roll another one?” Taehyung asks, his voice rough and thick, after a few more passes of the blunt between you.

It doesn’t feel like you’ve been outside for a long time, but a quick glance at your phone tells you it’s way past time to return to your cabin.

“We should head back, unfortunately,” you say with a sigh, “Waking up in the morning is going to fucking suck.”

“There’s probably just this last hit left.”

You wave away Taehyung’s offer of the blunt now smoked down to a pinched nub.

“I started it, so you have to end it,” Taehyung insists.

“Fine, come here.”

You’ve shotgunned weed with someone before. Although people may call it a shotgun kiss, it isn’t a real kiss. The person who inhales the smoke is supposed to blow the smoke into the other person’s mouth. Sure, that requires getting close to the other person, but it doesn’t require mouth-to-mouth contact. Everyone knows this, especially someone who smokes as much as Taehyung does.

So why does Taehyung lean in too close to press his lips against yours when you blow the smoke into his mouth?

It’s quiet outside, just the chatter of insects and other forest dwellers breaking the still summer night, so you easily hear the breathy way Taehyung inhales the smoke you’ve passed to him. It’s a soft, gentle sound that makes your entire body tingle, starting where his plush lips connect with yours.

Have you wondered if Taehyung’s lips are as soft as they look? Of course, you have; who hasn’t? Taehyung is easily one of the most gorgeous people you’ve ever met, but he has always been just a camp friend.

You’ve known Taehyung for years, spending half of every summer together at this camp since you were kids, eventually becoming counselors once you aged out of the program. Despite living in different cities and attending different universities, you’ve maintained an unlikely friendship through camp.

However, now you’re wondering if you’ve been reading your relationship all wrong.

Taehyung pulls away and turns his head to the side to exhale the smoke before cupping the back of your head and leaning in again. He’s pretty like this, with his eyes closed and expression relaxed.

“Is this okay?” he asks, and for some reason, it feels like the hottest thing anyone has ever said to you.

“Yeah,” your voice is hoarse when you respond, scratchy from the smoke making your throat raw and your mouth dry. You made the rookie mistake of not bringing anything to drink.

When Taehyung slips his tongue in your mouth, you can taste the smokiness of the blunt. He cups your face with both hands and deepens the kiss, tilting his head slightly and causing your noses to brush against each other. Making out while high comes with an indescribable pleasure, something airy and electrifying that washes over your entire body in waves. It isn’t like normal arousal that you feel throbbing from your core and spread throughout your body. Kissing Taehyung while high makes your entire body tremble.

You twist your fingers into the sides of his baggy t-shirt to have something to hold onto as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, eliciting a low groan from you. The old camp shirt is faded and soft from years of going through the wash. You’ve got an identical one in your dresser at the cabin.

“We have to go back,” you insist weakly once Taehyung releases your lip from between his teeth.

“I forgot.”

“Of course you did.”

Your laugh is full of anxiety as you look away from Taehyung’s heavy gaze. His eyes are blazing red. You wonder if he kissed you because he’s high and if he’s going to wake up in the morning and pretend it didn’t happen. Is that better than the alternative outcome where Taehyung is weirded out because, well, you’re you?

“Shut up,” Taehyung grumbles, but he wears a grin as he digs the toe of his hiking boot into the ground, twisting it to make sure the blunt is put out.

“First one to the cabin gets to shower first,” he declares.

“Taehyung!” you hiss, but he’s already crashing through the forest brush with flailing arms.

It takes a few seconds for your brain to get in sync with your body, still foggy from weed and Taehyung’s kisses. You scramble to get up, having to adjust your pants with a tug to your crotch as you jog after him. Bottom growth is affirming, but it’s also a pain in the ass sometimes. You can’t imagine how cis men deal with all that.

Taking off in what you hope is the direction of the camp, you quickly realize there’s no way you’ll make it to the cabin before Taehyung. The forest floor is uneven, and you’re an idiot and didn’t wear your hiking boots. Your smooth-soled Converse slide against mossy rocks and get caught on raised tree roots, nearly sending you flying as you try to catch up with Taehyung.

When you finally reach the cabin, you’re wheezing, and your entire body is sticky with sweat. Taehyung is already in your bedroom, whistling as he rifles through the dresser like he’s having a grand time despite his hair looking like a rat’s nest and having welts on his legs from running through bushes in shorts.

“Took you long enough,” he grins as you stomp through the front door and head straight to the bedroom.

The cabin is small, with a living room big enough for a couch and a coffee table, a small kitchenette off to the side, and a door to the bedroom you’re sharing with Taehyung. You each have a twin-sized bed that sits across from the other in the small room, and you share a large dresser placed in between your beds against the back wall. On the opposite side of the room is the door to the bathroom. Everything is a tight fit, but you don’t mind. The two of you are hardly ever in the cabin anyway. Being a counselor requires long hours full of activities, meaning you’re only in your cabin to sleep unless you have an off day.

“I’m gonna go enjoy a nice, warm shower now.” Taehyung rubs his victory in your face, his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, and his eyes glittering like fire embers in the cabin’s pale yellow lighting.

“Dude, fuck off,” you give him your middle finger as he shuts the bathroom door with a cackle.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for Taehyung to finish showering. You trade places silently, your red eyes avoiding Taehyung’s because the time you had alone made you paranoid about what happened in the woods.

The paranoia only gets worse while you’re in the shower. There’s no need to scrub yourself with your washcloth so aggressively, but you feel like your entire body is crawling. It isn’t the discomfort you once felt when you looked at your naked body. It’s been a while since you felt discomfort when touching your chest or washing between your legs. No, this feeling you’re experiencing now is something different. Rather than feeling the urge to hide, you want to be seen. You want to be seen by Taehyung, and you don’t know what to do with that desire.

Showering doesn’t calm the need pulsing through your body. You feel a little less high, but you’re still buzzing with electricity, still incredibly sensitive as you dry yourself with a fluffy towel. With your brain still floating in the clouds, you almost think you’re hallucinating the slow opening of the bathroom door. Quickly, you wrap your towel around your hips and stare at Taehyung, whose head pokes through the door crack.

“Hellooo,” Taehyung drags out the word, low and slow, as his eyes sweep over your body.

He’s blatantly checking you out, and you feel your cheeks heat up from arousal or shame; you’re not sure which. You may not experience dysphoria anymore, but that doesn’t mean you’re running around shirtless, sporting scars where most guys’ pecs end. It was never “okay” to be shirtless with the chest you had before; it’s taking a while to feel “okay” doing it now.

You take a deep breath and remind yourself that Taehyung has never cared. He watched you blossom for over a decade as you shaped yourself into your most authentic form, and he kept up with every change, no matter how different things were from the summer before.

“Do you need something or…?”

Blinking, Taehyung’s face turns pink, and he shakes his head.

“No. Well, I mean, sort of?”

Taehyung laughs at himself, and you can’t help but laugh, too, because who can hear Taehyung laugh and not want to experience that same joy, even if it’s twinged with nervousness?

“What do you sort of need?” you finally ask with a grin, that shared joy warming your chest.

“Can I come in?”

“You’re already halfway there.”

With a cheeky grin, Taehyung slips into the bathroom and closes the door so you’ll stay warm. He’s wearing loose boxers and a tank shirt because the cabin’s lack of central air conditioning makes it hot at night. He’s cute like this, soft and domestic.

“Did you like it?” Taehyung keeps his hand on the doorknob as though preparing to leave, but his voice is steady when he asks the question.

“Like what?”

You know what. Taehyung knows you know what.

He clarifies anyway.

“When I kissed you, did you like it?” Taehyung switches between focusing on your eyes and your mouth. “Because… I want to do it again.”

It only takes a slight nod for Taehyung to crowd you against the bathroom counter. The kiss feels confident this time, no longer an accident or hesitant test ride. Taehyung holds your jaw to tilt your head up and kisses you hard enough to leave you breathless. You noisily inhale whenever he lets you.

“I didn’t want to wait,” Taehyung explains against your lips while you moan against his.

“For what?”

“You to finish showering.” Taehyung’s free hand runs down your side to squeeze your hip, part of his hand slipping under your towel. “Is this okay?”

You don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you let him unwrap your towel and drop it on the slippery tile floor. Maybe it’s the weed making you feel reckless, letting this boy see you in a way you haven’t let a boy see you since you started your transition. Maybe it’s just because it’s Taehyung.

“You, too,” you groan when you feel Taehyung’s clothed cock press against your thigh.

Taehyung doesn’t need to be told twice, reaching over his shoulder to pull his shirt over his head by grabbing the back. Once he’s shirtless, his mouth finds your jaw, kissing across to the sensitive spot just below your ear while you tug down his boxers so he can kick them off.

Beneath the arousal building inside of you are nerves you can’t seem to shake. They’re making it difficult to concentrate on how fantastic it feels to have Taehyung’s soft lips kissing and sucking your neck. All you can think about is how you’re afraid that Taehyung will freak out, that he keeps forgetting, and how it feels nice when he forgets when you’re talking about guy stuff, but it’ll feel devastating when he realizes he has forgotten now.

Slowly, Taehyung’s fingertips skirt your torso, creeping down your side to swipe over your waist and trail along the crease where your hip meets your thigh. You hold your breath as he ventures further, eventually shooting your hands out to squeeze his biceps when his fingers dip into your hole to gather your arousal and drag it upward.

“Can I suck your cock?” Taehyung breathes, hot and ragged, against the curve of your ear.

Jolting back, you stare at him with wide eyes and feel your heart flutter painfully in your chest because you still haven’t started breathing again.

“W-What, what did you say?” you stammer, holding Taehyung’s red, lusty gaze.

“Can I suck your cock? I want to suck you off.”

Taehyung says it so simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He slid his fingers through your arousal and didn’t refer to it as your pussy or clit, as if he already knew those words would make you feel disgusting.

“You, how did you know… why did you call it that?”

Scrunching his eyebrows and frowning slightly, Taehyung pulls his hand from in between your legs.

“Uhh… you always call it your dick when we’re talking about stuff with the guys?” There’s a panicked edge to Taehyung’s voice, each sentence coming out like a hesitant question. “But, uh, I feel like most of society agrees that dick isn’t really sexy, so… I thought cock would sound better…”

When you don’t respond, Taehyung’s face shifts from pale with panic to bright red with embarrassment.

“Shit, should I not have said that? Should I have asked first? I’m sorry I—”

You kiss away Taehyung’s embarrassed babbling, your fingers dug into his hair, and your body pressed flush against his. His hands curve around to hold your lower back and pull you closer as if it’s even possible. You want him to try, to mold you into him.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

When Taehyung smiles, his teeth press against your bottom lip.

“You don’t need to thank me. I just wanna make you feel good. Will you let me?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You bite your bottom lip and squeeze the edge of the counter on either side of your waist as you watch Taehyung get on his knees. The bath mat protects his knees from the hard tile when he kneels in front of you.

“You’re so pretty,” Taehyung says softly as he rubs his hands up and down the inside of your thighs with slight pressure to push them apart a little bit more, “Pretty boy.”

It’s hot watching Taehyung lick the tip of your cock, the hormones you’ve been on making it stick out beyond your folds. Taehyung is gentle when he presses your lower abdomen with his palm and uses his fingers to pull your lips back slightly to expose more of you. He gets you nice and wet before he wraps his lips around your cock, suckling it and flicking it with the tip of his tongue.

“Oh fuck,” you moan, grabbing Taehyung’s head with one hand so you can run your fingers through his bangs and push them away from his face to see his eyes better.

Taehyung hums in response to your moans, and you feel the vibration rumble through your groin. He’s skillful as he licks and swirls your cock with his tongue and keeps a tight suction around it with his lips and hollowed cheeks.

For a moment, you tip your head back and try to regulate your breathing because how is Taehyung about to make you cum already, just from his mouth? Sure, your body has been more sensitive since you started your hormone therapy, but fuck.

To make matters worse, when you look back down, you notice that Taehyung’s free hand is wrapped around his cock. He pumps his cock at the same rhythm as he begins to bob his head as if he’s sucking even more of you than there really is. You can say, without a doubt, that no one has ever tried to affirm you and make you feel as complete during sex as Taehyung is.

“Fuck, yeah, Taehyung,” you adjust your grip on Taehyung’s hair and start guiding his movements, pulling him up and down by his hair, “Just like that, shit, your mouth feels so fucking good.”

You aren’t pulling his hair hard; you’re really only following the pace he’s already established, but it feels good. It must feel good for Taehyung, too, because he whimpers and jerks off faster. His body trembles just like yours does, and it doesn’t take long for both of you to be panting and frantic.

“Gonna cum, fuck, fuck.”

You squeeze Taehyung’s hair and the edge of the counter as you buck your hips, coming right as Taehyung adjusts his angle to lap at the gush of arousal at your hole, painting his mouth and chin.

“God, you’re so hot, you have no fucking idea,” Taehyung groans into the inside of your thigh, where he nuzzles his face.

His breath is hot and wet as he pants, trembling for a few seconds longer before he finally cums, too. Some of it leaks between his fingers and lands on the inside of your leg, but you don’t care; you just caress his hair from his face while he breathes slowly to calm himself down.

With trembling legs, you twist around to collapse onto the closed lid of the toilet, unable to stand any longer. Your head feels spacey and throbs, likely because you’d been holding your breath too much. It’s okay, though. It makes your body feel all warm and jiggly.

“We have to shower again,” Taehyung says quietly.

He looks just as fucked out as you feel, his eyes wide and staring out into the void as he continues trying to relax his shuddery breath. You can’t help but laugh, throwing your head back and letting it out, like whatever other pent-up energy you had left over after you came needs to escape somehow.

“Yeah, we do,” you wheeze even harder once Taehyung’s face cracks into a boxy smile, and he starts laughing, too.

“I got cum all over the floor,” Taehyung cackles, falling back on his bare ass and holding up his cum-covered hand.

You wipe the tears collecting in the corners of your eyes and shake your head. “That is something I don’t envy.”

“It’s so fucking inconvenient!”

Taehyung grins up at you with crinkled eyes, and you don’t know why you were so nervous before. He’s so perfect it makes your heart hurt.

“Next time, I’ll be the one to swallow,” you promise slyly, pleased when Taehyung lets out a weak moan in response.

“Bro, don’t do this to me,” Taehyung throws his head back and whines at the ceiling. "I’m gonna fall in love with you if you’re not careful.”

Grinning, you shrug. Tonight has been pretty reckless; there’s no use in being careful now.

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie).

#diverseinsertknet #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #collard greens

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wexhappyxfew · 6 days

Note

31. pinky swear from the touch prompt list please!! really i’d love this prompt for all three pairings but maybe carrie and dougie?

- @parajumpboots 💜💜

HI PERI!!!!! ( @parajumpboots ) 🥹 thank you so so much for stopping by and dropping this wonderful little prompt in - it was so fun to fill and write, especially for carrie and dougie!! they’re so fun to write and play around with in context! :) thank you again and please enjoy! <3

you pinky promise?

(a/n): this can be seen a bit as a part 2 to THIS piece i wrote a little while back, but they don’t have to be read together at all, so! please enjoy carrie and dougie and their antics hehe :)

Day was fading to night and she was still feeling like she'd been run over by a truck.

Everything ached, her head was woozy, her throat dry and scratchy, her nose running like it was something fierce, and everything just seemed so loud and in her face. It had been only a matter of time before she would get sick with something like this - even as a kid in school, she'd catch anything that ran through that building, whether from other kids or the seasonal changes of the weather.

And now, she was here, trapped in a cot in the Med-Bay, listening to distant screams from people in Triage or others in the sickness wing launching up lunch. Curled on her side, she stared lazily up towards the window where the sunset was starting to dance across the sky, a beautiful array of colors flickering across, mixed with clouds and nightfall, the blue and purple hues dotting with stars.

At least the sky was having a grand old time.

"How ya feeling, Bergie?" Carrie stiffened for a moment and then shifted, glancing up and over her shoulder to see Dougie. Dougie. Surprise-surprise.

"Okay." she answered, before turning back and resting her swimming head against the pillow and staring up at the sky again, "Queasy." She heard Dougie let a puff of air leave his lips in a response for laughter before a chair screeched against the floor and was pulled up at her side. Slowly, she looked towards him, sat in the chair, lighting up a cigarette and letting the smoke blow upwards.

"You serious?" she murmured.

"Ah, c'mon, just for a sec." he said, talking around the cigarette on his lip, as she rolled her eyes and adjusted onto her back, looking towards him.

"Just a sec, huh?" she said, "I bet even if I could pay you the largest sum of money in the world, that thing wouldn't leave your lips."

"Since when did you become so concerned with me and this cigarette?"

"Because I feel sick enough as it is, Dougie, and you're lighting it up in front of me." she said with a deadpan stare and he raised his hands in defense and then popped it off his lip and stubbed it out.

"Better?"

"You're a real sweetheart, ya know that?" Carrie murmured and he made a face, which she mocked back, "So. What's up?"

"Figured you wanted to hear about Lieutenant Bradshaw nearly throwing me overboard." Dougie offered rather expressively as his eyes grew wide and he held out his hands, "I promise, if you want to have a laugh, I am more than willing to offer it."

"At your own humiliating expense?"

"Precisely." Carrie laughed and then sighed, before smiling slightly.

"Well, go on, then," she urged him on, bringing the blanket up over her form a bit more, "you've got me invested now. There's no backing out."

"I can never back out of these sorts of things, can I?"

"Dougie. Story. Now." Dougie smirked and then leaned forward against his knees, before chuckling.

"Well, first-off, she called me Bergie I don't know how many fucking times-"

"That's because, uh, hello genius, I'm usually the bombardier here, alright-"

"Anyway," Dougie said, sending her a look, which made her smile slightly, "after calling me Bergie, I started making jokes back, ya know, try to give the feel that you probably give Lieutenant Bradshaw, when she basically has to hand the fort over."

"So you're saying I'm funny." Carrie said, with a soft smirk his way, "Thank you for that." Dougie looked to her and for a moment, they just watched each other, before they both broke out into laughter.

"That's a bit of a stretch, Bergie-"

"No, it ain't, you said it with a straight face!" Dougie looked to her and raised a brow and she raised her own back.

"Fine, yes, I realize that you usually try to get people laughing and I figured Lieutenant Bradshaw would appreciate it, so…." Dougie shrugged, "whatever makes you sleep at night."

"Asshole." Carrie murmured, before grinning, "So, what she'd say?" Dougie leaned back in his chair and then smiled wide.

"Well, we landed, right?" he said, "Bes is well, to be the nicest I can be, looking at me like I just bet on a losing horse, and then Lieutenant Bradshaw comes down from the cockpit and chews me out. Pretty sure Bes and Francis got front row seats to my funeral on that one." Carrie let out a bark of laughter and cough rather wetly, which wasn't the most pleasant sounding, but Dougie seemed to hardly care less, as he shook his head with a chuckle.

"God, she went 'Why do I have you doing Bergie impressions in my ear, Douglass! We're here to drop bombs, not put on a show for rich-fucks!'" Dougie said with a laugh and Carrie let out a string of laughter, her head falling back, just as the sight she got in her head,

"It was bad, I gotta admit."

"You really outdid yourself there." Carrie said with a snort, "C'mon, show me it." Dougie looked at her and raised a brow, and with what strength she had, she reached forward and punched his shoulder.

"Your impression of me, asshole," she said, "c'mon, I know it oughta be good enough for 25,000 feet in the air, huh?" Dougie looked to her and his face softened for a brief moment, before he gathered his bearings.

"'This shit tastes like it was cooked on the goddamn barnburner you call an engine!'" Dougie said, in a ridiculously accurate, rather high-pitched voice that made Carrie wheeze to the point all she could was cough wetly, and had to recover.

"I do not sound like that." she managed out, wetly coughing again and pointing a finger at home, "But that is absolutely something I'd say."

"See?" Dougie said leaning forward, grabbing the cup of water at the side of her cot and handing it to her, "No wonder I pissed off Lieutenant Bradshaw so much, she probably thought I was trying to make her lose her mind." She took the cup and drank some water down slowly, and then smiled.

"Got that right," Carrie said with a laugh, before catching his gaze, and placing down the water, "that or you hang around me far too often." Dougie smirked, watching her for a moment as it grew quiet between them. But then he shrugged and she looked away and he scratched his neck.

"Listen, I don't want to bother you much more, you're not feeling great so…." Dougie made to stand, but Carrie looked up at him, before reaching out and grabbing at his arm.

"It's okay," she said, her grip loosening on the sleeve of his A-2, as she realized how suddenly desperate she looked for him to stay (she didn't want to come across like that good Lord), "I'm not exactly tired yet, so….don't feel you have to go." Dougie looked down at her and then smiled softly, before she let go and he settled himself down into the chair again.

"Well, you better heal on up quicker then if I decide to hang around a little while longer, got that? I think Bes was gonna sucker-punch me in the nose of Silver Bullets," Dougie said, "she missed you." Carrie smiled warmly at the thought of Bessie and pulled the blanket tighter around her form and nodded.

"I can promise you, right now, not focusing on the fact I feel like shit is probably the best thing for me," she said, in a slightly joking tone, but genuinely honest one as well, "but I promise, alright?" Dougie watched her and then sent her a look.

"You pinky promise?" he asked her, holding out a pinky towards her. She stared between his pinky finger and his face and felt her shoulders loosen.

"Fine, yes," she said, looping her finger through his and smirking, "you just miss me out there in the chow line messing with your coffee that bad, huh?" Dougie looked at her, pulling a face in her direction.

"Where the hell would you even get that idea?" Dougie said, "And plus, when you do mess with my coffee, and let's just say it isn't entirely detrimental, adding more cream or sugar isn't exactly a negative in my sense."

"It's going to clog up your organs with shit." Carrie said and Dougie raised a brow.

"And here we are. Back again to Bergie Achterberg being so wonderfully concerned with my health," Dougie said, "you wanna write to my Ma? Ask for my birth forms too now, huh? That or you really are trying to get your karma out on me? Clogging up my organs with shit, huh?" Carrie watched him and then unlooped her pinky and sat back against the bed.

"Clogging up your organs with sugar and unhealthy stuff, Dougie," she said, before pulling the blanket up more, "must I repeat it?"

"Please do." Carrie cracked an eye open and watched as Dougie started chuckling and she did her best to hide her smirk.

"You absolute asshole."

"Oh c'mon, you love it."

Both her eyes opened and she looked over at him for a moment. They lingered in silence for a moment - somehow it always seemed to happen. One of them saying something that sent them both, separately reeling in a sense neither could quite compound in their minds. Especially when it was supposed to be something casual, something that rolled off the tongue and was in fact normal to say to friends.

But whatever was going on in this war and between them, it wasn't normal.

And something like that made them go silent.

Carrie watched him for a moment, as he seemed to smile, more to himself than her, and then looked at her.

"Get some rest, Bergie." he said softly, before leaning forward and patting the edge of the blanket where her you could see her legs outlined by the fabric, and then stood, "Need anything?"

Carrie looked at him rather quietly, suddenly feeling like a child again, watching him stand and ready to leave, except in a much more pleasant manner than anyone at home had ever been like. Because at home, it had been people leaving without explanation or well-wishes.

"Just some crackers maybe? Please?" she asked him quietly, her voice sounding more youthful than anything else in the past few days. Dougie smiled at her, that gentle grin rising on his face and he nodded.

"I'll be back, alright?" And she watched him give her a smile, before wandering away, finding a nurse and engaging in conversation.

And after that. He came back. With crackers.

#masters of the air #mota #mota writings #silver bullets #carrie achterberg #james douglass #carrie x dougie #THESE TWO!!!!#he got her WATER without saying ANYTHING #just on instinct #and he STAYED #and got her CRACKERS #(because her home life was never like that)#sobbing over them continually #fangirling like these arent people that live in my head lmfao #BYEEE #please enjoy!! :D

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mlm-writer · 5 months

Text

The Mountain God (Choi Soobin x GN!Reader)

Pairing: Choi Soobin x Gender Neutral Reader Rating: Mature Words: 1998 POV: Second Summary: The Big Tober Day 31 - Folklore Note: Inspired by this song (open after reading if you don't want any spoilers). Reader is an adult and is mentioned to have dating experience. Check out this cover of the song btw. Tags: horror(?), maybe more of a thriller?, some action, first meeting, kissing and dancing under the moonlight<3, fluff and mentioned character death

The dry leaves crunched under your foot as you found your way into another clearing. Cold air hurt your throat as you struggled breathing from your hike. Once again your tent and your friends were nowhere to be found. “It was somewhere around here…” You mumbled to yourself. You moved your torch around, the bright white light only showing you more and more trees. “Taehyun-ah! Yeojun-ah!” You called out for your friends. No one answered your call under the tall trees and light of the full moon. A puff of air visualised itself in front of your mouth. You trudged on to the closest path. It was supposed to be just a quick piss, so you didn’t bring your phone. Kakao maps would’ve been great by now.

In the distance your light reflected off white strips of fabric hanging from the low-hanging tree branches. You squinted your eyes, double-checking their presence. Then, a large blob of white seemed to move under one of the trees. You cautiously slowed your pace, narrowing your eyes in the dark in the hope of acquiring a clearer vision. When you discerned a vaguely human shape, you felt relieved. Surely the other guy would have a phone. Who nowadays did not have one?

You quickened your pace. “Excuse me? I’m lost, can you help me?” The figure, which sat on his knees by a large tree, turned towards you as you approached. His handsome and innocent face greeted you with a big smile. White teeth that matched the strips of fabric around him welcomed you on this cold night. Though the smile was such a stark white, it warmed your chest.

His beauty was so unexpected, you slowed to a still. “Lost? This late? You are really fearless,” he commented. He let out a chuckle and grabbed a wooden cup from next to him. “Come have a drink, how long have you been lost for?” You frowned at his odd behaviour, but you slowly walked closer nonetheless, your grip on your torch tight. If he turned out to be a creep, you could whack him across the head with it. At least that was the plan you had cooked up in those few seconds you had to come up with one.

When you stood next to him, you saw the cup held some liquid with leaves floating on top. They did not seem like tea leaves to you, but rather like the leaves that scattered the ground as well. There was no steam coming from the liquid either. “No thanks, I’ve only been walking around for a few minutes. Can I use your phone to send my location to my friends?” You looked him over. His white clothes looked like that of a buddhist. The red beads around his wrist confirmed it. The clothes were a little dirty, indicating he had been a while in the mountains as well.

The man kept that same sun-blessed smile on his face as he put the cup down. “My phone? Sorry, I left it at the temple, since I just came out to pray.” He gestured to the stone statues that sat by the large tree. He had indeed been kneeling right in front of them.

“Oh sorry, I interrupted your prayer,” you quickly apologised with a polite bow. You took a step back and gestured for him to continue. You didn’t know there was a temple on this mountain that was still in use. Most of them were historic sites that were just used to attract tourists. Mostly artists came to them nowadays to draw and paint the well-preserved temples of the mountain god.

The man shook his hand and stood up. “Don’t worry about it. A traveller in need is more important. Not helping you would be more against my beliefs.” Now he was standing, you realised he was really tall. His lips were stretched in a smaller, but no less kind smile. “I’m Choi Soobin. If you come to the temple, I can lend you my phone.” You bowed to him and gave him your name. He repeated it with his gentle voice. Your name had never sounded this heavenly.

“So what did you come to do here? Just camping with your friends?” Soobin asked after a minute of silent walking. He was holding no torch. You assumed he was used to walking the path to the temple and needed no visual aide aside from the moonlight that reached the ground with ease during this season.

“We came to see the total lunar eclipse. The best view is away from the city. You live in the temple?” Soobin hummed, confirming your assumption. He then asked about your friends, your life. It was easy to talk to him. He did not share much about himself, other than his age and the first time he went to the mountain. They said the mountain god guarded the mountain, but even a god got hungry. Soobin’s friends dared him to spend the night, but he left his tent halfway through when he heard a growling in the distance. When he got you on the proverbial edge of your seat with his scary story, he gave you a jumpscare. You hit him and laughed.

You almost forgot you were not on a beautiful and romantic night stroll when the old wooden gates appeared at the end of the small mountain path. This place was long due some renovation, but you didn’t mention it. “Here we are,” Soobin stated as you stood before the closed doors. He seemed almost sad that you had arrived.

“Are you a priest?” You asked out of nowhere, the look on his face all too familiar to you. You had your fair share of dates and that was the face of a man who wanted to kiss you.

Soobin shook his head, his fluffy black hair flopping around with the movement. “No, just… a pilgri-” You did not let him finish. You found the way to the back of his neck; you pulled him down, your lips meeting his. He was cold, extremely so. Not surprising, since his white clothes seemed to not be all that thick. You were happy to warm this poor pilgrim up. When you pulled back, your eyes met his wide-spread ones. “Traveller-nim, let me dance with you.”

You laughed as you took a step back. “With what music?” You questioned him. He seemed to clearly have no answer to that. “Besides, you’re ice cold. You should go inside to warm up.”

Soobin swallowed thickly. Then his frigid hand took yours. He started singing, swaying you around on the small path. You turned your torch off, letting the moonlight show you his captivating eyes and alluring lips. Soobin’s voice could be deep and intimate or light like a fairy. Your heart swayed along with each step taken. It was when the night got a little darker, that you remembered your friends. “Oh! The eclipse will start soon.” You stopped to look up at the sky. Soobin quickly opened the temple doors and gestured for you to enter. He seemed to remember your friends waiting on you too.

You followed him inside, but when the gates closed behind you, something seemed off. There was only light from the fires that surrounded a large courtyard. Two glistening red lights seemed to watch you from the darkness inside a building. “Is everyone else sleeping?” You inquired, turning around to face Soobin. He was leaning against the doors, his head hung low and his black bangs covering his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Soobin whispered, voice quivering. The moonlight drained away and was replaced with the red light of the total lunar eclipse. In the light of the blood moon, everything was different. Soobin looked up, but his face was no longer what it was. Those captivating eyes that looked at you like he wanted to kiss you forever under the moonlight were now glowing red, the sclerae all black. His deep-sunken eyes stared directly into your soul. A second pair of slightly smaller eyes appeared underneath the first pair, just beside his nostrils. They all stared down at you as a smile forced itself onto his ghastly face. You had seen many smiles from him, but nothing like this. It turned your own blood cold, all heat draining from your body. You took a step back in fear, but froze when there was a voice behind you.

“Well done, Soobin-ah. It seems you finally will be able to move on to the next life,” came the growling voice from the building where you had seen the red lights. You dared to glance around. From the darkness stepped a monstrously huge tiger into the red light. Its great fangs were bared for you to witness. You backed away, your back eventually hitting Soobin’s cold, rigid body.

“Soobin-sshi, what’s going on?” His ghoulishly icy hands grabbed you by the shoulders. He whispered another apology, before pushing you towards the tiger. The beast circled you, a deep, mocking chuckle coming from its hungry mouth.

“You had me concerned there for a moment, Soobin-ah. You have backed out so many times. You really want to pass on, don’t you?” You were hugging your torch to your chest, trembling in fear as the tiger spoke. “And such a nice, young prey you have chosen for me too… I can see your long life thread and I will delight in snapping it.” You repeated your earlier question, screaming it now with more panic in your voice. The tiger laughed at you derisively. “Let me explain it to you, traveller.” Every word coming from the mountain god gave you the shivers. “Soobin was once like you, unafraid of me and my lands. He died that night he told you about.” You swallowed thickly, casting glances at the ghost that you kissed. “Those that find their end in my stomach must serve me for eternity. The only way for them to pass on to the next life is to bring me a prey that will replace them.” The tiger took a deep sniff of you, like you were a steaming pot of stew on the fire. “Do you get it now?”

The terror forced the tears from your eyes. Your voice trembled in your last plea. “Please, spare me.” You forced the words past your trembling lips, each word strained and vibrating with dread. It was the last Soobin could handle. He suddenly dashed forward, slamming his body into that of the tiger. It was taken off guard, the beast sliding away from you across the courtyard. In that small window of opportunity, the ghost took your hand and dragged you through the doors, back onto the small path you took to get here. His footsteps were inhumanly quick and you struggled to keep up. However, the growling and roaring of a tiger behind you was great motivation.

“Listen to me, go back to the tree where we met. Climb as far as you can. Amitābha protects that tree and will protect you. Stay there until sunrise.” Though he still looked like a demon, you saw the angelic man you met earlier that night in those devilish eyes. You could only nod at his instructions. He sent you ahead with a gust of wind and before you realised how, you found yourself in that tree, awaiting sunrise.

When your friends found you the next day, you did not have the words to explain what happened last night, nor why you were in the tree. You chose to say nothing, fearing that sharing the story as truth would end with you in a psych ward. You would wonder if it was all just a nightmare or hallucination, were it not for the beads that had appeared on your wrist. Sometimes, when you glanced at them and the light hit it just right, a familiar smile reflected off the red wood that adorned your wrist.

—————

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revasserium · 9 months

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the art of losing (and then, again, being found)

oikawa; 2,208 words; fluff and fluff and straight till morning -- also fulfilling my peter pan au for the 31 days of aus; dedicated to @fuckinglevi

for as long as the world can remember, there has always been a peter — a running away kind of boy — and there has always been a wendy — a learning to fly kind of girl.

for as long as he can remember, oikawa has always been lost. he’s just never been fussed about the losing bit. because you see, for as long as he can remember, there’s always been the second star to the right, the brightest on the horizon, and if he’s got that, then at least he always knows where he is — physically, he means. so he can’t be that lost, right? even if he is the head of the lost boys, and it’s kind of their thing to be — well… lost.

he meets you on a balcony at dusk, right after sunset, when the sky is still light enough to see, but dark enough for the first glimmer of stars. he meets you in the midst of your last, lingering daydreams, and it was this that drew him to you, inexplicably, irrevocably. it was gravity and dusk and the sinking sun. it was truth and wandering and knowing you’re the one.

“you look like you’re thinking about something real serious,” he says. to which you yelp and nearly stumble off your feet. you clutch at your metaphorical pearls and slate a glare at him the way you’d seen your momma do at passersby when they jeer or say something unsightly.

“you scared me!”

oikawa cocks his head, “mah — you don’t seem all that scare-able but… i might be wrong.” his grin is sly and catlike and you can’t help but blush.

“i — i’m not scared!” you puff out your chest and let yourself take him in — him and his wind-swept hair and sky-kissed cheeks, the dulcet light of fading day draped across his shoulders like a lingering promise.

“good! then you’ll do just fine,” oikawa says, jerking his chin towards the darkening sky with a toothy grin.

“f-fine for what?” you ask.

oikawa sighs a soul-shaking sigh, “for getting lost, of course!”

you frown, “for… getting lost?”

“yeah! c’mon — it’s easy — here, i’ll help you up —” he holds out his hand, crouching on the wide white banisters of your second floor bedroom, the small terrace overlooking your family gardens. you lick your lips and peer over the edge. it seems like an awful long way to fall, if you were to fall that is.

“but… what if…” you crease your brows and bite your lips.

“i won’t let you fall. c’mon — i promise.”

you look up, and your eyes catch on the crescent moon curve of oikawa’s smile. behind him, the sky is a velvet skein, studded with so many gem-like stars. you want to run your fingers over them, wonder if they’d catch beneath your palms like the tiny pearls on your momma’s favorite black dress —

“okay then.” you say, reaching up to take his hand.

he smiles, something sweet, something real — and pulls you up beside him.

that was three, or four, or maybe even five years ago. and since then, you’d learned so much from him, met all his lost boys, been to the edge of the earth and over it — to neverland and then back again.

you’d met the marveling mermaids, the nebulous tree-nymphs, the flamingo-dotted lagoons, and the treacherous trails that leads up to the ever-rushing waterfall, where legend says that the first ever lost boy and the first ever lost girl had held hands and jumped —

“ — and they were never seen again…” oikawa says, the campfire casting brilliant orange shadows dancing across the planes of his laughing face.

you laugh, rolling your eyes as you lay back on the soft grasses and cast your eyes up at the sea of never-ending stars.

a few minutes later, you feel a body settle in the grass next to you. and you don’t have to look over to know who it is. by now, you know oikawa by mere presence, by the way his body cuts through the air, by the pattern of his breaths, by the way his laughter rings against a moonless night.

“do you ever miss it?” you ask, not looking at him.

“miss what?” he asks, and his voice is light and playful, though you can feel him go still.

something — something holds him still, even when he wants to sway with the tall grasses and sing with the stars. he stays, his eyes fixed on you.

“home,” you say.

oikawa licks his lips and casts his eyes up. he inches closers to you, close enough for his leg to brush against yours. he doesn’t answer.

because how is he to tell you that he’d long since forgotten what his home had looked like? he knows he must have had one — all the lost boys do. but isn’t it their job, then, to be lost as they are. isn’t it part of who they are to be here and there and nowhere, all at once?

how’s he to tell you that ever since the day he met you — you were the only place that’d ever felt like home?

that not even this vast neverland could ever replace you?

“i…” his lips are dry and his throat is drier. he swallows hard and looks for the second star to the right and straight on till morning and —

he shakes his head, and thinks he oughta try something different.

“do… do you ever miss… home?”

you laugh, pillowing your head on your interlocked hands. and it’d be a lie for him to say that he hadn’t noticed the change in you (and the changes in himself), the way that your round, girlish cheeks had slimmed, the way his own childish jaw had hardened, had lengthened in the days and months and… had it really been years? since he’d known you?

“sometimes… the things i can remember of it, that is,” you say.

oikawa bites back a wince. because of course — of course, you’d still remember those wide, white banisters, and that beautiful rose-filled garden. of course you’d still remember the lace-trimmed curtains that had hung over your huge french windows. of course, he couldn’t expect you to forget your darling mother and your darling father and your darling, ever-so-darling life — the one that you’d left behind.

but… he’d be remiss to say that he hadn’t at least hoped.

“come with me,” you say, turning your smile at him, and he reacts too late. he knows he is helpless against it — your smile.

your smile, your smile — your smile.

the sunlight and moonlight and distilled-down starlight of it all.

he could get drunk on it — even if he’d never really know what that word had meant in the first place, he thinks — he knows. it must be something like this. something like the dizziness that fills him nearly to the brim, the weightlessness of the world, even when he’s sitting perfectly still.

“i — i can’t.” he looks down at his interlaced fingers.

“why not?”

“i’m — i’m a lost boy,” its a weak stab at his usual bravado. he knows, and yet…

you slate him a dubious glance.

“well… you found me, didn’t you?”

he gapes. he has no good answer. because you’re right — he had found you. but… hadn’t that been his job? to find you and then to lead you… but to lead you what? astray? he didn’t like to think of himself as someone who leads people astray but… isn’t that what lost-people are?

“you… i…” oikawa stutters, frowning as he tries to piece together his thoughts .

you sit up, stretching your fingers towards the endless stars of the milky way, cast about the sky like so many careless, thoughtless points of light.

“come with me. you’ll be alright… and if you ever wanted to come back here… you’ll be able to find it again.”

oikawa shakes his head, “no… neverland isn’t for those who have been found… it’s —”

you sigh, rolling your eyes, “only for the lost boys and girls and ones who never grow up… yes, yes, i know… but…” you chew on your lips and twist your fingers, “what if… what if i wanna grow up? but i wanna still be your friend too? what then?”

oikawa feels his breath catch in his chest, like a sailor on the first notes of a siren’s deadly song.

“t-then… i guess you have to choose…” but even he can tell that there’s no conviction there, that doubt has already seeped the cracks and crevices of his wandering heart.

you heave a deep sigh and knit your arms, “well, that seems like a raw deal to me!”

oikawa blinks, startled at the hardness to your voice. and then, he starts to laugh, a bright, orange peels and sunrise kind of sound, a light, owl-feathers and starlight kind of sound. he laughs and laughs, and eventually, all his lost boys are laughing with him, holding their bellies and rolling on the soft, tall, flamingo-grazed grasses.

“i-it’s not funny!” you insist, your cheeks burning as you watch them all, rolling around in laughter, great, sharp peels of it echoing towards and eternally lightening horizon.

“b-but it is! a-and you’re right!” oikawa finally wipes at his eyes, still grinning wide as he straightens up again, dusting his clothes of the stray bits of grass, “i think it’s time for me to take you home.”

he reaches out a hand and for the first time in forever, you hesitate.

how many times had you reached out to take his hand? how many times had he held you strong and fast — just like the first time he’d taught you how to fly.

“c’mon… trust me.”

you smile, and you take his hand.

later — much later — when walking the moonlit paths of your very own rose garden in your very own home, you’d wonder about the miraculous days you’d spent in neverland. about how surreal they seemed, even now, like the frames of a long-forgotten dream.

“darling, what are you thinking about?” oikawa smiles as he hooks his chin over your shoulder and loops his arms around your waist. his voice is sweet and light and husky as the dusk, settling over the far horizon.

“nothing… just… wondering…”

“about what?”

you let your head fall onto his shoulder, letting your gaze trail upwards towards the first of the flickering stars.

“about… the flamingos. and the mermaid lagoon.”

“oh, i’m sure they’re being well taken care of,” his voice is rich and full of laughter, even as he spins you round to brush his lips against yours, his eyes are the color of glowing amber, sharp and hard and everlasting, “i left very specific instructions to iwa, you know.”

you roll your eyes, “i know, but…”

“ah, ah — no but’s — except maybe this one —”

you squeak as his grin twists lascivious and his hands wander south.

“darling!” you collapse into oikawa’s chest, laughing as he swings you around, dipping you low to capture your lips, kissing you sweet, kissing you full, kissing you till your breath is nothing more than a hummingbird-yearning in the center of your chest.

“yes?”

you licks your lips, your cheeks warm, “do you… ever miss it?”

“what? neverland?”

you shrug, casting your eyes up towards the now star-strewn sky.

“i suppose sometimes… it’s hard not to, isn’t it? but…” he grins again, tugging you to him as he stars to hum and your steps fall in line with his, the pair of you swaying in the light of the shy, waning moon, beneath the silver-kissed hems of silken clouds.

“but… what?” you ask, pressing your cheek to his broad chest, counting the steady badump-badump of his very solid heart.

oikawa wraps his arms around you and holds you tight.

“you found me… didn’t you?”

you smile; you nod; you keep on dancing in your moonlit garden.

“do you regret it?” you ask, after a long, long while.

oikawa scoffs, “do you?”

“do i what?” you look up.

“do you regret it? being found?”

you lick your lips as you consider his question.

“no,” you say, “not one bit… because i got to get lost with you.”

“then… there’s your answer,” he says, as he leans down to press his forehead against yours.

and far, far above you, the second star to the right flickers and winks and shines, acting as a guide for all those who are lost, and all those still in the process of being found — it shines and it shines, bright and bright and bright.

the second from the right, and straight on till morning light, right on to a promised ever — neverland.

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toongirl18 · 6 months

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Day 16: Cream Puff Cookie

#halloween #31 days of halloween #cream puff cookie #cookie run kingdom #cookie run ovenbreak

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executables-sims · 4 months

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2023 WIP Graveyard

I made a ton of stuff this year, but not all of it made the cut for Occtober! Here lies those attempts:

AF BG Cargo Pants

My plan for the year was to complete a project a week for 31 weeks, but some were faster than others, and some (like this one) ran over:

I couldn't quite get the texture I wanted for these! I also split the inner side seams slightly off for some reason, which made adding that camo print an exercise in patience. x) Will definitely be unwrapping and painting again in the future!

AM/TM Geometric Glasses

I tried to finish a 2022 project of some glasses modelled from reference, and got all the way to the preview stage before noticing the broken alpha layering! As far as I can tell it's due to unconnected mesh parts, maybe?

Off-shoulder Panel Dress & Heels

An attempt at making a dress I own irl- I repainted the wrinkles on this sooooooo many times...

Also reshaped some TS2 Store heels to go with it, but ultimately ran out of time again.

Pet Water Bowl

A first poke at BHAVs/anims to add the 'drink from puddle' interactions to bowls. Dogs worked out great, but cats…

…were cats. xD

Afro Puff Redux

Another low-poly experiment to try and recreate ModishKitten's 'Cloud Puff' hair. Two texture styles looked strange together, but I'm not feeling the all-over texture either? One day…

EF Above-Knee Skirt with Cardigan & Boots

Technically this shouldn't be here, but it almost got some woollen tights! Very cosy, but figured grandma could show some leg. xD

Would love to make some tutorials in the coming year to share the meshing/painting knowledge I gained over this time!

#The Sims 2 #WIP #Wishing you all a lovely 2024! 🎉🥳

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iboatedhere · 8 months

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Thank you @cha-melodius and @orchidscript for the tag.

Gonna be tricky to share what I'm working on since most of what I'm working on will be on the shorter side since I'm going for 31 fics in 31 days in October (using this prompt list) but I'll share what I can.

There is a man who runs in Central Park every morning.

He passes the bench that Henry claims as his own between the Bethesda Fountain and the Bow Bridge every morning at seven fifteen on the dot.

He’s always wearing compression leggings beneath his shorts and shirt that clings to his body, outlining every muscle in his chest and back. His cheeks are always pink from the cold and the curls in his hair are always ruffled from the wind.

Henry doesn’t know his name.

They’ve never spoken.

They’ve only made eye contact once, which Henry immediately broke, overwhelmed by the man’s dark eyes and unfairly long lashes.

But still, Henry loves him with all that he has.

Summer was a brutal thing, filled with heatwaves and rainy days that left both Henry and David holed up in their tiny apartment, praying that the ancient aircon unit survived the season.

October finally brought relief in the form of cool air and clear skies and Henry was up with the sun, clipping the leash to David’s collar with a novel tucked beneath his arm and a thermos of Earl Grey in his hand.

Together they make their way around the lake, Henry sipping his tea and David sniffing at bushes and barking at squirrels before they take a breather on the third bench on the right side of the path. David tucks himself against Henry’s feet while Henry alternates between reading a page and checking his watch, waiting for the most beautiful man he’s ever seen to round the curve of the path.

Henry’s heart clenches at the sound of the man’s feet against the pavement. The way his breath comes out in short puffs as he runs and how it curls above him in the cool air.

Some days the man will pull at the hem of his shirt, unsticking from his body and giving Henry a glimpse of toned skin. Other days he’ll run his hand through his sweaty hair, making Henry long to bury his fingers in it.

In the second week of October, the man stopped on the other side of the path, a grimace on his face as he reached back for his ankle, stretching out his quadriceps. When that didn’t seem to do it, he propped his foot up on the bench and leaned forward, giving Henry a perfect view of his back and ass.

The novel tumbled out of Henry’s hand and the man carried on as if nothing happened because to him, nothing did.

Each day, the interaction—or non-action—lasts maybe thirty seconds. The man continues on with his run and Henry continues on with his book until the path gets too crowded with joggers and dog walkers and he and David make their way home so Henry can sit in front of an empty word document that mocks him.

Tagging: @liminalmemories21 @lemonlyman-dotcom @basilsunrise @beautifulhigh @lightningboltreader

#firstprince #firstprince fic #rwrb #rwrb fic #wip wednesday

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thefangirlofhp · 6 months

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31. what if: croissants and paintings (a short what-if version of apaixonar)

“The toys, too, Winnie.”

“Really?”

“You haven’t ever touched some of these. They’re going in the pile.”

The five year old twists her mouth, dropping the t-shirt she’d been making a sorry job of folding in order to huff and puff her way across the crowded mattress and climb off. Azriel doesn’t comment on her undoing some of the folded piles as she approaches the open closet, and assesses the chaos of remaining clothes, toys and little girl accessories that Azriel never imagined would end up being what bankrupts him but after embarking on this little discovering adventure in his daughter’s room, he’s realized most of his wallet’s emptied itself right here.

“Is this cause I didn’t tidy up?” Winnie cranes her neck as she looks back up at him. He sets down a folded red shirt that she’s probably worn once as a two-year-old and tilts her head back up.

“Will you keep it clean if I say yes?”

Her eyes glimmer. “Maybe.”

It’s only through the grueling and gruesome process of being a single-father every consecutive day for nearly five years now that Azriel manages to steel his facial expression. Of course, prior to this permanent occupation, he’d been just as capable of doing so—for different reasons. Poker games, lies, and the general detachment of society that comes from introversion, but he’s had to learn to keep a particularly tight lock on his reactions in-front this mini-human copying and pasting every behavior of his into her own system.

He’s not sure how happy he’d be if after all this toiling and hardwork, his daughter would follow in her uncle’s footsteps and end up a corporate lawyer. Oh God, he’s terrified of the shark-like gleam in her eyes turning its attention from animal species towards corporate law and finance.

Winnie grins at the flat expression he gives her. At least he still has the I Raised You card in his arsenal.

“I pwomise to keep it clean. Don’t throw away all my things. Petty please?”

Azriel slides a dress off its hanger, tosses the plastic away into the growing pile on the floor and flaps it out. “I’m not punishing you. We’re donating what we don’t need to people who’ll need them. And Aunt Feyre is going to need some of your baby clothes for their baby.”

“Cause of the baby in her tummy?”

“Uhu.”

Winnie steps into the closet, larger than any child’s closet reasonably need be, and crouches before the shelves. “Why won’t they buy?”

“There’s no need, if your clothes are hardly worn. It’s a gesture, and Feyre said she’d love to take some.”

“Gesture?”

Azriel’s eyes flutter for a second as he breathes in. It’s really therapeutic, possibly—maybe. A chore he can turn his mind off whilst doing, to busy his hands without having to think about anything. Until the chatterbox decided she was done with her coloring, and that shadowing him around the flat was much more entertaining.

“Yep,” he rubs his face, assessing the carnage that is his little girl’s room. On a good day, it is akin to a battlefield. A time like this, where she’s taken it as free reign to open everything that had a lid or door or drawer and throw the contents of everything everywhere? He imagines an escape room is simpler.

But if he’s honest with himself, which Azriel likes to think he is, her presence is something that had made him nearly sigh with relief. If he can’t hear himself think, then he won’t think, and then this will just be a trivial cleaning out of a room that is long overdue such treatment. The clothes in his hands are items to fold up, with no sentiment, and put in boxes for donation. They are not Winnie’s first dress, or the outfit she’d worn to her first visit to the lake. They are not one-month old and two-month old clothes that Ellie had cried over, somehow moved by rampant hormones to find such small items tear-jerking.

“Are we gonna give away my drawings?” Winnie suddenly asks fearfully, shooting to her feet after coming across a container of old art-supplies.

“No, no,” he instantly reassures her before her hair can turn grey. “Who’d we give them to?”

Winnie stares intensely at him. “People want ‘em.”

He holds back his mouth from twitching. “Do they?”

It’s eerie, how her eyes get so large and round and earnest. “Right?!”

“O-Of course, yeah. Definitely.”

“Aunnie Fey-Fey said they’re art. And-and people want art, right? We gonna give ‘em away?”

“Well do you want to give them away?”

“NO!”

“We’re not, then. Calm down, Picasso.”

She lets out a comically exaggerated sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I was worried there for a second!”

“Sure thing, Bunny.”

It’s probably a sad thing, spending his Saturday clearing out his daughter’s room and his own wardrobe for the donation Feyre’s asked him to contribute to, but what is probably sadder is that he’s relieved and very much content with staying in, cleaning and doing chores. Cassian has such an opinion.

“I can’t tell what’s sadder,” his friend remarks on the phone as Azriel loads the washing machine, boxes all taped and labelled and Winnie’s room unrealistically clean. He’d forgotten the color of her carpet was such a beautiful tone after he vacuumed it. “This being the highlight of your day, or the poor kid locked up in there with you.”

“Rhys is going to take her and Felix out in an hour,” Azriel turns the machine on. “They’re having a sleepover.”

“Sweet! Let’s get together and have a drink, then. Come on, night out.”

“Nah, man, I have assignments to mark and an exam to write.”

And isn’t he ecstatic about it. He’s been looking forward to this particular day since such sleepover’s been arranged, and he realized that all his chores and tasks neatly lined up to clear this day for catching up on his job and staying in. Maybe he’ll watch trashy reality television, or an even shittier crime show without having to worry about the Eavesdropper Supreme absorbing everything like a fucking sponge.

The possibilities excite him.

“Every word coming out of you is just sadder than the one before,” Cassian sighs, as if he heard Azriel’s thoughts.

“Give your liver a fucking break,” Azriel snaps, defensive over the impossible breach of his private thoughts. “You’re getting married in two fucking weeks and you’ve drunk more alcohol than your fiancé has in her entire alcoholic years.”

“Hey.”

Azriel takes the call off speakers and puts the phone to his ears as he walks out the room. “Speaking of, have you spoken to the resort?”

“That’s why I called. I did, and they’d be more than happy to keep you lot for a few more days. I think dropping some names did the trick.”

“Whatever gets you there,” he replies, entering the living room and immediately feeling his eye twitch at the sight that greets him. “Oi, Winnie, Rebel, off the iPad. Now. Read a book or something.”

Both girls turn their guilty eyes to him, as Winnie slides the device away underneath a cushion as if she wasn’t just caught red-handed. “Sorry, Daddy.”

He throws himself onto the couch next to them with a rush of breath whooshing out of him. “Are you happy with everything? No-one’s being a menace? Cake’s fine? Venue fine? No hurdles?”

“It’s going perfect,” Cassian answers, with the smile audible in his raspy voice. “Don’t want to jinx it, but there’s nothing to complain about. I really got to thank you properly for that wedding planner—she’s a gift from God.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty good.”

“Didn’t she do your wedding?”

“Mhm.”

Ellie’s best friend, Cressida. It’s Azriel’s genius gift to the couple; instead of having to worry his over-worried mind over a meaningful gift, he got Cressida to plan their wedding from A to Z. Nesta got uncharacteristically quietly when he let them know the famous planner had taken them on—he cannot take entire credit for the idea, even though he knows Cressida to be one of the top sharks in her industry; he’d overheard Nesta and Feyre after the engagement announcement discussing it and, well, for what it's worth he’d always meant to call his late wife’s best-friend.

Azriel breathes in, reaches out a scarred hand that fusses with Winnie’s fine hair as she flops across his lap, listening in on his conversation.

“She did a great job on yours.”

“Mhm.”

He focuses on Winnie’s tresses.

“You all-right?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“You’re just sounding a little mono-syllabled.”

“Nah… I’m…Just a little busy. Hey, Bunny, don’t fall asleep. Uncle Rhys will be here any moment.”

“Sure,” Cassian replies smoothly, in a way that says roger that to whatever he’s interpreted in his tone with his freakishly peaked emotional insight. Sometimes Azriel wishes Cassian would spare him some, but then tells himself that what little sensitivity he possesses provides him with enough grief. “Anyway, the resort will have you for the week, same rooms. How’s that sound?”

“Brilliant,” Azriel replies, looking forward to the week following Cassian’s wedding, already feeling himself relax a little at the prospect of napping under the sun at the beach, getting to subtly pass Winnie on to his brother and sister-in-law, finally getting to read that interesting-looking book one of his students left behind in his class that was never collected. Fresh drinks, shorts, loose white shirts and permanently hiding behind a hat and sunglasses to nap all day without being severely judged, everyday. Not having to worry about cooking, washing, or tidying up. He does appreciate some time off, and with the semester he’s had, he’s more than looking forward to it.

___

“What d’you mean you’re closed?”

“We’re very sorry, Mr. Bougainvillea, but some of the kids got sick and it’s protocol to stay home for a few days to prevent it spreading to other children and the staff.”

Azriel can’t believe his ears, or the preschool teacher’s sweet voice. “They’re kids, they’re supposed to have their faces sneezed on.”

“We’re very sorry, Mr. Bougainvillea. After the pandemic, we’ve had to reinforce some stricter protocols.”

He blinks at the fridge covered in magnets holding up drawings, grocery lists and some photographs. Winnie stares at him, unblinking, as she chews on a sliced apple half-heartedly. He turns to his daughter, as the preschool hangs up, and it’s all he can do to not hysterically laugh at his misfortune like a madman.

“Imma stay home?” Winnie hopefully asks.

“Dream on, Bunny,” he mutters, dialing Feyre’s number.

“Hello?”

“Please tell me you can have Winnie for the day. Her preschool’s running a self-imposed quarantine because a kid coughed yesterday.”

“Told you not to put her in a pretentious fancy school like Velaris Stars.”

“Well?”

“I’m sorry, I really can’t; I have meetings with clients and I need to finish a commission before noon.”

Fucking hell.

“Why don’t I call Felix’s school, see if they’ll take her for the day? The principal loves me.”

“Would you, please?” he glances at his wrist-watch, and realizes he’s already cutting it close. “I owe you.”

“No problem.”

He slides his phone into his pocket, gulps down a bitter mouthful of yesterday’s cold coffee and clicks his fingers at his daughter simultaneously while dumping the remaining coffee in the sink. “C’mon. Shoes.”

“I really don’t think we should leave Rebel alone,” Winnie protests as she skips out the kitchen. “She’s sad all alone, maybe I’ll stay with her?”

Azriel snatches his suit jacket off the back of the couch, grabs Winnie’s yellow and green backpack and her lunchbox as he follows her to the front door of the penthouse. “Rebel’s being left alone unsupervised all day in an entire flat, Winnie. I think she’d be sad at you joining her.”

Winnie humphs, taking her sweet time in stomping her feet into her Velcro shoes. “But what if—where am I gonna be all day?”

“Let me worry about that, Bunny, all-right?” he opens the door, and locks it shut behind them quickly. Feyre brings no good news, as Felix’s school has a strict policy against such things and Azriel really wants to write a memo for all preschools and primary schools to remind them not to take such a big fucking piss of themselves—strict policies and protocols, his ass. He wouldn’t bat an eye if a random person sat in on one of his lectures. Back in his day, he wasn’t even in preschool. Preschool was Mom’s shitty two-bedroom apartment and their shitty neighborhood block. And back then, school was an even shittier public school full of kids that no-one noticed if one was missing.

“Hey, heard you’re in a bit of a pickle,” Rhys pipes on the phone, while Azriel and Winnie sit out their options in a quaint familiar coffee shop in the city while Azriel plots his escape. “Preschool bailed on you?”

“Mhm,” Azriel monitors the trickling bleary-eyed morning crowd out in the street, mouth smudged in the palm of his hand. “I’m waiting on Cassian to see if he can help me out. Wait, hold on.”

His friend’s voice trickles in through the second line. “Sorry, man. Schedule booked the entire day, and we don’t have any kid activities before 2pm.”

“Thanks anyway, Cass, sorry to bother you this early, I’ve got Rhys on the other line. I’ll get back to you. Yeah, Rhys, it’s no good with Cassian either.”

His brother-in-law tuts. “Why not take her with you to work? Would your Dean mind?”

“Looks like I’m going to,” Azriel realizes, loathe to let his daughter tag along to his classes which are nowhere near suitable for her to listen in on.

But surely he is overestimating Winnie’s mental capacity to understand university-level criminology classes when his own students struggle on good days to wrap their heads around what he’s teaching? Azriel fucking wishes. The kid soaks up everything she sees, hears and touches, with whatever degree of understanding she’s reconciled it with—he’s terrified what she’ll make of his material. “It’s not the Dean I’m afraid of, Rhys. But having her tag along…”

“Yeah…leave her in your office?”

“I freaked out about leaving her asleep in her crib the first years of her life, you want me to leave her in my office at the university for five hours?”

“Put on a movie, headphones, give her a coloring book and she’s all set for the entire day. Trust me.”

Azriel lets loose a whistling breath, slumping back in his seat and threading his fingers into his hair. “Sure.”

“Hey, you can always bail on your classes.”

“I kind of used all my excuses when she got sick last month and it’s revision week today. The only time these kids actually show up to class.”

“I don’t know what to say, you’re in the deep end, mate.”

“Yeah, I know. Anyway, I’ll call you later.”

“Say hi to her from me.”

“Bunny, Uncle Rhys says hi.”

“Hi, Uncle Rhys,” Winnie grins. “I miss our sleepover already!”

Rhys laughs. “Me too, kid. We’ll do it again sometime soon.”

Azriel lets his phone clatter on the small table, and rubs his face roughly before standing up abruptly. “C’mon, let’s order.”

Winnie trails after him dutifully, reaching out to grab hold of his scarred hand as they wait in line at the counter and study the glass display in the meantime.

“Daddy, am I a bourbon?” she asks, as her eyes roam over all sorts of muffins and pastries.

“Come again?”

“A bourbon,” she repeats, looking up. He frowns. She raises her eyebrows. “You know, like-like a problem.”

“Oh, you mean burden.”

She stares up at him. “That’s what I say.”

“No, no, you’re not,” he stops himself from smiling. “Why’d you think so?”

“Cause I’m giving you a headache.”

He lets his smile loose. “Your socks are a problem. But Daddy’s just cursed with constant cluster headaches, so don’t take it personally.”

“You look kinda mad,” she points out. “And sad.”

“I didn’t get enough sleep, that’s all,” he turns to the barista taking orders and gives her a smile. “Morning, Cer.”

“Morning, Az,” Cerridwen smiles, and leans over to give Winnie one. “And good morning to you too, Winnie. How’re you?”

“I’m good today,” Winnie nods seriously, thumbs hooked into the straps of her backpack as she assesses the pastries. “But Daddy stayed up all night watching bad movies and didn’t get sleep so now I’m his bourbon.”

Cerridwen’s dark glimmering eyes turn to him, begging for an explanation as she holds back a full-blown grin.

He shrugs. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

“Well, Winnie, what would you like today?”

His kid tilts her head. “Not sure. What do you condom, Cer?”

“Recommend,” Azriel hisses immediately, feeling himself flush hot and red, and pointedly ignores the stare from the old lady waiting behind them.

Cerridwen, to her credit, only softly giggles. “I like the lemon tarts.”

Winnie’s eyes widen. “Uncle Rhys says that’s a bad word!”

“Oh that he told you not to say?” Azriel grits his teeth. “Black coffee for me, Cer, and a chocolate croissant. Bunny?”

“I wanna cold milk and that one.”

“Coming up.”

Azriel promptly steers his kid back to their table after paying and collecting their order, and plops her straight in her chair without a word. Winnie swings her legs back and forth patiently while he cuts up her puff pastry into manageable pieces, looking around her. All of a sudden, she gasps, and points at the front door. “Daddy, look!”

He looks over, instinctively, to see her pointing at two women walking into the café and he’s about to tell her not to point or stare, but somehow the words slip his mind. His everything slips his mind, as he watches Nuala stride in through a door held open by —quite frankly—the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on.

Father and daughter ogle as the pair walk up to the counter, chatting animatedly together, and greeting Nuala’s twin cheerfully—a sin some would say, as no dignified person is allowed to be so cheerful, even on a bright and sunny morning such as this. The other woman’s taller than average, with a couple of inches on Nuala, her golden-brown hair tumbling in gentle waves from a ponytail down her back. Azriel doesn’t know when his mouth eased open, but he promptly snaps it shut and turns his attention back to the task at hand, while Winnie continues to openly stare.

He blinks the remnant image from his eyes, shakes the snug black leather jacket and skinny blue jeans out his mind and tells himself he’s just sleep-deprived.

Then, Winnie beams and does the worst thing a child can do in a public space. Calls out.

“Nain!”

Azriel freezes, and looks over his shoulder again to find that the woman had turned at the call, and that her brown eyes were fixed on them. His stomach flips on itself at the smile that blooms on her lips, before she briefly squeezes Nuala’s elbow with a word and comes over.

Comes over.

“Hi,” Elain Archeron, Feyre’s sister, greets with a soft sweet voice. She hasn’t got any makeup on that Azriel can see, and he thinks that it’s surely witchcraft how good she looks. “How are you doing, Winnie?”

“I’m good today,” his daughter reports seriously. “But Daddy—“

“Is pleased to see you again, Elain,” Azriel quickly cuts in, standing up abruptly, discovering that Elain’s taller-than-average height still means she’s quite shorter than him. “Uh, Azriel, Winnie’s dad. We ran into each other a few times.”

“Oh I remember you,” she pleasantly says, shaking the hand he absent-mindedly stretched out. “Wow, it’s been, how many years since I last saw you? I think Felix’s second birthday party?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, nodding. Probably too much. He stops his head. “This one was just a baby.”

Elain’s eyes soften, glancing at his daughter. “Time really flies. You should have seen my shock when I ran into her at Feyre’s place the other night. They were having a sleepover.”

“We colored dinos!” Winnie excitedly says. “Nain said I’m an artist, Daddy.”

“That you are, Bunny. So, uh, what-what brings you to town?”

Elain’s brows furrow in confusion for a brief second. “I work here. The precinct down the street?”

He blinks. Right. Criminal investigator—Nuala’s co-worker. “Right, sorry. It’s been a day.”

Her eyes dart to the clock on the wall. “It’s not 7:40 yet,” her lips faintly smile.

“And I’m ready to call it quits,” he nods. “So, uh, Nesta’s wedding—are you a… bridesmaid? Cassian mentioned something about the rehearsal—are you my bridesmaid?”

Elain tucks her lower lip between her teeth and slowly tugs on it, her face sobering slowly. “Ah…No, I’m not. Nesta didn’t ask me.”

He’s just going to have a quick lie-down in this grave he’s dug for himself.

“Oh,” why the fuck did he even ask? He didn’t give two shits about the groomsmen and bridesmaid pairing. He didn’t give a shit, point blank, about anything beyond his friend’s happiness. “Sorry, I don’t even give a shit about the wedding.”

Winnie gasps. “Bad word!”

“Put it on the tab,” he absent-mindedly tells her, followed by Winnie’s rustling through her bag for a little notebook into which she draws a new shaky strike. “Uhm, it was lovely to run into you, Elain. I don’t want to keep you.”

Elain sticks her hands into the pockets of her skinny jeans and shrugs her shoulders. “Nu and I are actually bailing on the morning briefing. Shouldn’t you be taking her to school?”

“They cancelled,” Winnie answers, tucking her little flip notebook back into her bag. “Cause someone coughed.”

Elain blinks. “That seems…precautious.”

“Paranoid,” Azriel sighs.

“Where are you putting her then? You’re a lecturer at VU, right?”

He nods. “I’m taking her with me.”

Elain glances at his daughter, warily. “Don’t you teach criminology and penology?”

He grimly smiles. “Yeah. It’s…not ideal. I’ll ask one of the staff to keep an eye on her during my classes.”

Elain tilts her head then blinks. “I could do it for you.”

He freezes.

Winnie’s head snaps up, eyes wide as full-moons. “Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. Pretty, pretty, prettiest please, Daddy?!”

“Sorry?”

Elain’s eyes widen. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intervene. I was just offering to help out. I could watch her for you on campus. I’ve been meaning to check out some books from the library there, anyway.”

Is this what angels look like?

“I…aren’t you busy?”

“Honestly, it’s been a little slow, not to jinx it. And I was the detective on call last night, so I’ve got no intentions of hanging around for Helion to assign me any new cases.”

“You know, not to sound desperate or anything, but you could ask for my liver right now and I’d hand it over, no questions asked.”

Elain grins, something gorgeous and wide, and one that makes Azriel’s heart thump erratically against his will and he feels physically ill. “How ‘bout a coffee, instead?”

________________________________

the end. October 2023

#apaixonar what if #see this was meant to come out months ago but I forgot about it #:D #and with this we conclude fictober 2023 lads #flufftober 2023 #fictober23 #elriel fic #winnie archeron #rhysand #cassian #elriel #azriel #apaixonar #goodbye

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thewintersoldier · 2 years

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31 DAYS OF HALLOWEEN ↳ DAY #24: MY BEST FRIEND'S EXORCISM (2022) • dir. Damon Thomas

"Your friend, did she get sick? Really sick, like physically? She get all grotesque and gnarly? She say really depressing things? She maybe try and hurt herself? But then she got better right? Better than before? She looks copacetic, but up here, she's freaking cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. Am I right? "

#**#*tb #*my best friends exorcism #*horror #halloween2022 #horroredit #filmedit #usersavana #userkraina #filmgifs #moviegifs #fyeahmovies #useroptional #film: my best friends exorcism #horror tag

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to-the-stars8 · 2 years

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Learning to Love Slowly

Jason Todd x Reader All Chapters AO3

31- Jaybeans and Big Macs

Over a year ago...

“And can I get a, uh,” You turned to Jason in the passenger seat. “What’d you want again?”

“A Big Mac--Wait, no, two Big Macs. And fries. Get me a milkshake, too,” He said between puffs of a cigarette.

You finished the order before leaning back in your seat to look at Jason; he was already looking back at you. Before you could even tell him to hand you your wallet, money from his back pocket was already in your hands.

“I told you,” You said, pushing the money back at him. “I was paying for lunch today--”

“It would be great if I actually cared. Take my money, sweetheart,” You hated and loved when he talked to you like that.

Jason had a naturally deep voice that sent shivers down your spine whenever he said something even remotely sweet, like all the nicknames he gave you. Sweetheart, by far, was your favorite. You didn’t know why, but it filled you with butterflies every time he said it.

When you thought back on it, it was weird how in the few months the two of you had known each other how quickly he started to call you that. You remembered when he first experimented with the nickname, using it with everyone once in a while, but when you started actually to respond to it with more enthusiasm, he didn’t stop.

“I wish I had a nickname for you,” You said suddenly, really just thinking out loud.

Jason was quiet for a second, looking away from you to look at the cigarette in his hand then he said, “You call me Jay.”

“Everyone calls you Jay, though,” You said, laughing just a bit. “That’s like an inherent nickname for the name Jason.”

“What do you want to call me?” He asked quietly, looking away again.

My boyfriend. You could have said that, but you weren’t willing to put your friendship on the line. You decided it would be better to answer later as you pulled up to the pay window and Jason forcefully put the money into your hand, then refused when you offered to pay him back.

He seemed to forget about the nickname as you handed him the bag of food and started to drive to the nearest parking lot to eat. Still, you kept thinking about it. There were so many nicknames that came to mind. All of them are so generic, Jace, Jay-Jay, Bluejay. None of them you liked.

Then, something clicked. You didn’t know if it was the fact that you noticed a stray jellybean on the floor of your car or the taco place across the street with the sign that just said beans, but you knew what you were going to call him.

“Jaybeans,” You said confidently, looking Jason in the eyes. With a mouth full of hamburger he tried to ask what, but it came out jumbled. “That’s what I want to call you. Jaybeans.”

“That’s,” He swallowed the last of his burger. “Unique.”

“It is! I think it’s like a very poor play on jellybeans,” You said. “Jaybeans. I like it.”

“Jaybeans,” Jason repeated. “I think I like it, too.”

You settled back in your seat, staring forward with a sense of satisfaction and triumph at the day's accomplishment. Jaybeans was the perfect nickname, and you hoped to one day tack on the name ‘my boyfriend’, too.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd x you #romance #jason todd fanfiction #jason fluff #robin jason todd #red hood x reader #red hood #red hood fanfiction #dc comcis #batfamily #jason todd fluff #jason todd fic #jason todd headcanon

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pacthesis · 11 months

Text

áo dài overtime - week 5

day 29

embroidered flowers!

iconic raglan sleeve!

iconic high collar!

iconic long silk panels!

im a big fan of áo dài of this style and material!

while i enjoy pretty prints and embellishments- solid colors and simple designs look so cool!

day 30

ditched the raglan sleeve for a sheer puff sleeve!

but still kept the iconic high collar!

crystal beading along neckline and sleeves!

double layered chiffon!

looks cinderella imo!

day 31

áo dài month! day 31‼️

iconic long panels and high collar!

multi-layered sheer panels!

floral motif with 3d flowers, a beaded bird and butterflies!

on my trip last year there were many other southeast asian travelers but i was kinda surprised NONE of em recognized áo dài!

day 32

floral print!

sheer raglan sleeve!

taffeta long panels!

anyway because vietnamese is a tonal language- i literally don't understand ppl when they speak with a northern accent!

it sounds like a completely different language!

even my parents struggle!

day 33

no embellishments! sleek!

iconic raglan sleeve, high collar and long panels!

my mom says white áo dài look like a school uniform and áo dài were always custom tailored when she was a kid!

nowadays there are many ready-made áo dài!

day 34

knee-length panels! round collar!

jacquard!

sakura, butterfly and dove print!

maid cafe who?!

shorter panels are more practical for movement!

the iconic long panel tunics look so cool but they can trip me up!

especially on stairs!

day 35

double layered chiffon!

iconic long panels and raglan sleeve!

floral print with subtle paisley!

cool off-center high collar!

another one of my favs!

anyway thats all of em!

for now!

Bonus!

i tried out some looks cause we’re planning a vietnamese tea ceremony!

thinkin definitely the gold khăn đóng cause its my fav!

(my mom also insisted on gold for herself despite naysayers!)

i like how the off-shoulder tunic has pearls cause my mom also wore pearls!

im thinkin a red or white áo dài cause its iconic and classic!

my grandma isn't around anymore but thats ok cause her idea of a beauty is one who wears the red headpiece AND red tunic! no exceptions!

#ao dai #áo dài

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belphegorspillow · 1 year

Text

Obey Me! Harry Potter Au [1/?]|

Mc x Obey me Brothers + Dateables + Non-Dateables [minus luke] MC referred with Mx. and They/them Pronouns! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mini note: This is a short[ish] story. Also for easiness sake: Lucifer , Diavolo, Barbatos, Mephisto, Simeon- 4th years Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Thirteen, Raphael - 3rd years Asmodeus, Beelzbub, Belphie - 2nd Year Solomon, Mc, Luke - First Years Putting everyone around about the same year [though Luci is still oldest, Belphie youngest, ect] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mc would find a letter in their letter box as owls surrounded their family home. As they picked up the letter they would look at the back and the front before tearing the top open.

'Dear Mx [Last Name],

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress'

Mc would stare at the letter confused before going inside. "Mama! Mom! I got a weird letter!"

. . .

That was the day you learnt your Mom was a witch - your other Mom was definitely surprised at that news as well. You would learn a lot about yourself that day. Your Mom assumed you wouldn't make it as you are a muggle - adopted into their family. Your biological parents were unknown - so no one really knew your heritage - the conversation left at that.

You would find yourself entering inside of a placed called "The Leaky Cauldron" before going to the back and entering inside of a street hidden by a wall.

"Woah..." Mc's eyes darted from place to place - seeing how students would wonder around the area. "It's been so long since I've come here." Your Mom sighed and smiled. "I remember my first time visiting here." Your Mama huffed. "I still can't believe you kept it from me dear." Your Mom grinned and smiled. "I forgot." "You forgot?! How"

Your Mom sighed and looked at Mc. "You can go ahead towards Ollivander's to get a wand, your Mama and I are going to collect your text books." Your Ma handed over a small purse of money. "It's your money to buy something nice for school. We will get everything else for you. Have fun exploring." Your Mom would drag away your Mama who was rambling about how she was still salty her wife had been keeping the secret!

A small sigh left you as you started to wander around each location. Your eyes watched as the children would chatter about a new broom stick that came out or talk about how they got a bad jelly bean.

Mc pushed opened the door to Ollivander's before someone shouted. "Watch out!" Mc ducked as some books were flung across the room.

Mc glanced up to see 2 teens standing inside. One was older than the smaller one who was looking scared as he held onto the wand. "That one won't do." The shop keeper hummed as he took the wand away to put away.

"Sorry!" The younger boy squeaked as he looked horrified. The older one just laughed a bit. "Sorry, you are not hurt are you?" Mc shook their head a bit and looked at the place that was stocked fill of different wands.

"Are you also here to get a wand?" Mc looks at the older male. "Yeah I am..." The male smiled a bit. "Luke here, is also getting his. Though I think he is scared after that event." He laughed a bit, getting the younger boy - Luke - to puff up. "Simeon! Don't make fun! I almost hurt someone!"

Simeon ruffled the blonde male's hair and hummed. "It's not the worst I've seen happen. I destroyed almost a whole shelf of wands the first attempt I did."

Simeon looked back at you. "Apologies. We didn't introduce ourselves. My name is Simeon. This is Luke." Simeon jestered over to the smaller male. "I'm a 4th year in Hogwarts." "I'm a first year." Mc looked at the two.

"I'm a first year too." Mc smiled a bit. "It's nice to meet you. My name is Mc."

Simeon smiled. "Well, I wish you a good stay at Hogwarts. We'll be seeing each other around. Hopefully. Another one of our friends is starting his year at Hogwarts too. And I'm sure that the rest of our friends will be happy to meet you."

As the gentleman behind the counter came over and handed another wand to Luke to try, he nervously looked at Simeon, who nods his head and smiled.

Luke took a deep breath and flicked the wand, luckily it didn't destroy anything this time. "Thats it. The perfect wand for you." The gentleman smiled as Luke's eyes lit up a bit. As the two were finishing up, Simeon gave a last wave before leaving with Luke, who was excitedly talking about getting his new wand.

"Hello there..." The gentleman at the counter greeted you. "Shall we find you your perfect wand?"

Mc nods their head. As The male grabbed the first wand, you would flick it - causing a plant pot to break instantly, causing you to place the wand back down.

"No the wand clearly..." The male hummed as he continued to search before taking another wand. "Try this one."

Mc would pick it up and flicks it, causing various wands to fall off of the shelf. "Not it..." As the male continued to look. He started to chat with Mc a bit.

"So what brought you to go to Hogwarts?" Mc looked at the gentleman. "Well, I didn't know my Mom was a witch, and I'm not related to her or my other Mama... So I'm going to figure out what I want to do while I'm at Hogwarts... Find my own path."

The gentleman hums as he soon looked at a certain box and pulled it off of the shelf. "Why not try this one. A phoenix core, Flexible, 12 inches, Yew Wood..." He listed off the attributes before handing the wand off to Mc, who flicked it - surprising nothing bad happened.

"The perfect wand." The gentleman smiled as he took the wand and placed it into the box again and pushes it over to Mc, who took it and thanked him. "Hope you enjoy your time at Hogwarts and find out what you want to do."

Mc would continue their journey before entering inside of a store where they were selling school uniforms and different clothing items.

"Asmo, are you going to take much longer." A white haired male called out as the guy beside him was playing on a handheld console - he didn't seem to care about what was going on around him.

"Beauty takes time! I need to find the best thing to wear for my first day as a second year!"

Mc would just walk past over to the stall where the lady in front would help Mc with getting their uniform.

As they were fitting on the outfit - they chose to get a scarf as well to complete the outfit. "I'm gonna come and drag ya out of there!" As Mc left the room, they would head out before bumping into someone, slamming into their chest.

Mc looked up to be faced with the white hair male from before. Mc apologized quickly - before hearing grumbling from the white hair "Ya better be sorry."

Mc continued down and paid for the clothing and headed out quickly.

They would continue on their way through the street and stopped in front of a window to see a broomstick on that students earlier were whispering about.

"Beel, Lucifer won't be happy if you break another broom..." A male yawned a bit as he left with a taller orange hair male.

"Yeah, I know... We should go and check out the stalls. One of them were selling things from Hogsmeade." The Orange hair male commented as he held a broomstick over his shoulder. "Let's go Belphie." "Alright Beel..."

The shorter male with dark blue hair and white highlights hummed as he followed the orange hair out to one of the stalls.

They would continue to roam around before stopping at a shop with magical creatures of Owls, Toads and Cats...

"For the last time Satan, I am not letting you get a cat." Mc poked their head around the corner to find a blond hair male holding onto a black cat and glaring at the black-haired male who was crossing his arms.

"Levi got to bring a goldfish! Even though the school didn't say that he could! Why can't I get a cat?! It was even allowed in the rules!"

"You know why Satan." the black-haired male sighed as he went to try and get the cat from Satan's arms, who pulled away glaring at him. It was getting more intense, and Mc didn't know what to do so they just...

"I think you should let him get the cat..." The two males looked towards Mc who felt like they were shrinking under the glaring gaze of the taller one.

"What did you say." The black-haired male's voice deepened as he went closer to Mc.

Before Mc could speak, the blonde hair male started to speak. "They agree with me. I can get a cat."

"You are not going to disobey me Satan. Some opinion from a half-blooded witch/wizard doesn't matter." For some reason what he said irked you. You glared a bit at the black-haired male.

"Half-blooded wizard/witch? Excuse me. I'm not halfblooded or whatever you said!" The black-haired male went up to you and glared down at you, you could feel yourself sinking and shaking at his gaze.

"What are you then? Full blooded? I would have heard if there were more full-blooded witches and wizards going to Hogwarts. Both of your parents aren't Witches and Wizards are they." Mc opened their mouth but what they said came out as a stutter.

"W-well... I don't know..." "You don't know?" Mc shook their head.

The black-haired male seemed to piece some things together before standing up. "You are the mud blood student that Diavolo mentioned." The male's face seemed to change to disgust for a moment as he dusted his hands on his jacket. "I don't have time for you. Satan. We are going. And you are not getting a cat."

Mc watched as he left - dragging the blonde hair male behind him - leaving the black cat with white paws behind....

Mc only realized how scared they were as they couldn't see clearly.

"Mc! Honey! We got everything." You looked to see your mothers coming over with bags filled with different items. "You look like you got your wand." Your Mom grinned as she took the box. "Ah, its almost like mine! I had Unicorn core, and it was inflexible...and Hazel wood... okay maybe not the same..."

Mc nods their head a bit as their eyes glance at the black-haired male and the blonde hair male walking off in the distance.

"Something wrong dear?" Mc looked at their Mama before shaking their head.

"No... nothing is wrong... But...can I get a cat?" . . . A few weeks would pass before you would find yourself heading through a wall between platform 3 and 4 to find the train to Hogwarts.

Your mother would kiss you goodbye while your Mama squeezes you into a hug, not letting you go.

"Mama, I need to go." Mc huffed a bit before their Mama let go and smiled a bit. "I can't believe my baby is growing up into a... wizard/witch?"

"Yeah... a Witch/Wizard..." Mc smiled a bit and picked up their bag. They would look at the black cat inside of carrier and smiled a bit.

"Come on Mittens, lets start our first school year. Together."

Mc would head off towards the entrance, handing over the ticket to the conductor before looking for an empty stall. There was an empty room which they put their bags under the seat with the cat carrier next to them. They took a deep breath and looked out the window where they could see their mothers waving towards them. Mc blushes a bit out of embarrassment but waved back a bit.

"Excuse me." Mc jumped a bit to see two males waiting at the door. The taller one grinned a bit. "Do you mind if we join you?" Mc shook their head.

"Feel free to... Um.." "Diavolo." The red head smiled and jestered over to the male next to him. "Barbatos."

"Mc." Mc smiled a bit. Diavolo took a moment before his eyes lit up as he sat down across from Mc, with Barbatos sitting next to him.

"You're the new Muggle Wizard/Witch!" Mc looks at Diavolo.

"Um...yes? I think I am?" Barbatos cleared his throat.

"Muggle means you don't have wizard or witch parents." Mc nods their head, thanking Barbatos for the explanation. "My Mom is a witch, though I'm adopted..."

"You are the first Muggle Wizard/Witch that has been allowed inside of Hogwarts. The Past before this year, only allowed those who are half-blooded or Pure-Blooded witches and wizards"

The first...Muggle wizard\witch? You stared down at your hands.

" I hope you're excited to see Hogwarts." Diavolo smiled "You will make a great wizard\witch Mc."

Mc smiled weakly. "Thank you Diavolo..."

Soon a tram filled with sweets went by - which got stopped by Diavolo who bought a bunch of sweets for himself.

"Mc, feel free to take as much as you want. Take it as my welcome to Hogwarts for you."

The door to the tram soon opened to reveal a magenta haired male standing there. He wore an outfit with green colouring on it - unlike Diavolo who had red "There you are! I've been looking for you. I've been wanting to ask you to tell me who is the Muggle student-" Soon the male noticed Mc sitting across from Diavolo.

"Mephistopheles." Diavolo smiled at the male. "I want you to meet Mc, our new Muggle Wizard/witch."

"Hi...I'm Mc." Mc smiled a bit as they played with the bottom of their uniform.

For the rest of the ride, you were being questioned by the new presence of Mephisto.

You would stand in a group of new students as you waited outside of the great hall. "Mc?" A voice called and you turned to see a familiar blonde who you had met while getting your wand.

"Luke. Hey." Mc smiled a bit as they looked at Luke, who smiled back a bit. "How are you."

"I'm a bit nervous. I want to be in Hufflepuff with Simeon...but I can't decide that..." "Hufflepuff?" Mc tilted their head a bit. Which Luke nods his head. "Yeah, what house do you want to be in?"

"Well...I don't know...I don't know any-"

"Who are you talking to Chihuahua?" A teasing voice came from behind.

"I'm not a Chihuahua!" A huff came from Luke as he looked at a new male who entered the conversation. The white-haired male looked to see Mc and smiled.

"Mc, right? I've heard about you from Simeon." Mc looked at the new guy and they nodded their head. "My name is Solomon. I'm a first year too. You are the Muggle Witch/Wizard."

"Muggle...witch/wizard?" Luke looked at Mc. "I thought Hogwarts didn't allow Muggles?"

"There was some sort of exception this year. If you want to know more, you can ask Diavolo." Luke shook his head.

"I'm not talking to Any Gryffindor or Slytherin or Ravenclaw!" Luke huffed. "And some Hufflepuffs! Only gonna talk to You, Simeon, Raphael and Mc. Especially not the brothers.

Before you could ask questions, a new person entered the room. Professor McGonagall told everyone to quiet down as she would explain to everyone the different houses and roles.

As the group started to enter the building. Mc was shocked by seeing the floating candles above them before their eyes looked over at the different tables.

The first-person Mc saw was Diavolo who was waving towards them. Mc smiled a bit and waved slightly before noticing a familiar black-haired male beside him, his red eyes seemed to notice Mc and he watched them as they were walking with the group.

Mc would see sitting at the table behind was a group with yellow coloured uniform.

Simeon was sitting there, and he smiled a bit, Mc noticed Luke looking at Simeon and waving slightly. Though a familiar group of people who Mc met on their adventure were at the same table. The white hair who they bumped into while getting their uniform plus the guy on his console who was seemingly grumpy about something. One stood out which was the orange haired male who was looking over at the table on the other side of the room.

Mc would look at the table with Blue on their uniform. A familiar blonde cat lover was sitting at the table. While at the final table, Mc noticed Barbatos with green on his uniform and beside him sat a sleeping male with white and blue hair while a white-grey haired male was nearby who seemingly was looking at Luke as he was walking with Mc and Solomon. The final two at the table that stood out to Mc was a champagne-haired male looking at a mirror trying to fix the scarf around his neck and a girl with pink and blue hair seeming glaring at Solomon who was grinning and waving at her.

"Do you know her?" Mc asks softly to Solomon who nods his head. "Let's just say we have some history together."

Soon standing in front and Professor McGonagall was talking. "Welcome to Hogwarts. Before the Welcome Feast, we must sort all first-year students into their proper houses." As she explained how it worked, people were being called up.

As Luke sat on the chair he closed his eyes, crossing his fingers in hoping to get which one he wants. "Hufflepuff!" Luke cheered to himself a bit before getting off the stool. Once his uniform changed colours, he found his way over to Simeon, who welcomed him with open arms.

As a few more went. Solomon sat on the stool, as the hat was placed, he would wait before it shouted out. "Ravenclaw!" He would change into blue robes and find his way to a seat next to the blonde who looked up from his book to greet Solomon.

"[Last Name] MC." McGonagall called out. Mc would find themselves heading up and settling on their seat.

As Mc looked at the groups of students at each table, they closed their eyes and waited for what house they would be in.

"You are in..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fun fact: The Headmaster isn't Dumbledore as it will be the Demon Lord [I ran out of characters so I'm using most of the Harry Potter characters for those I can't replace]

Longest thing i've written WOOO

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