#I would never frame that sweet cinnamon roll!
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Hey Jenna would you rather fill every single sock the Batch owns with (crunchy) peanut butter and frame it all on Wrecker flawlessly and you are not allowed confess OR be on the ship ride home only to realize you left Crosshair back on the planet and now you have to turn around and confront that whole situation AND YOU CAN'T FUCK ANYONE
Oral doesn't count as fucking. I'll make it up to Crosshair later
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Hi! Saw you in need of some fluff, and I gotchu :)
Imagine Miguel who stress bakes. Like a good half of the baked goods in the cafeteria are made by him. And he’s just so weirdly good at it that there’s a noticeable difference between some of the baked foods. But then imagine reader, who’s also a stress baker, finding him in the kitchen with flour in his hair, cocoa smudges on his apron, and with a bowl that looks tiny in his hands scrambling eggs. Those two are a power duo. Now all the baked goods are literally “sold out” everyday, and no one knows still who tf is making them bc holy crap gimme the recipe-
But it’s sweet bc the reader gets to see how Miguel unwinds and just relaxes into the baking role, and how they can move around each other so flawlessly around the kitchen. Anyways some nights end in too many baked goods, and some with more than enough flour and sugar spilled to make an entire kitchen cry.
Hope you feel better!!! :3
@nekoglasses thank you so much for your idea this is soooooo—
gn!reader × miguel o'hara (fluff)
you've made it your habit to go into the kitchen of the cafeteria after a particularly stressful and incredibly long day.
you knew no one would be inside around that time because, well, it's 1 in the morning and all the spiders usually go back to their home dimensions by 11 maximum.
so you let yourself in like you normally do, but you notice that the lights are switched on, and there is a gentle melody playing.
a familiar, smooth voice hums along the lyrics, you see his frame and you're unsure what he's doing this late at night. And...here. out of all places.
The lack of Miguel's spider senses really served you right now, because you couldn't stop looking at him.
He'd taken off his suit and was wearing his casual attire. Grey pants and that white high collared shirt with the thumb holes, but over them, he wore a red apron, with blue text reading 'Kiss the Spider' on it.
He held a bowl that looked entirely too small in his large palms, but you knew if you held it, you wouldn't be able to hold it with just one hand like he was.
He was whisking something, looking a bit too concentrated. There were other bowls with the same substance he's been whisking sitting on the white counter, along with trays.
You've never seen him so relaxed before. He seemed so into it that you didn't dare disturb him.
But he spotted you.
Frozen, he stopped whisking, the calm look on his otherwise always stoic face began turning into an embaressed one.
"So, those really good Tres Leches cakes that showed up out of nowhere were all you?" You tease, picking up an apron from the nearby hanger. Miguel grumbles, but he nods.
"I'm assuming the cinnamon rolls they serve from time to time are your recipe."
Not that long ago, mysterious baked goods began appearing in the kitchen, left to be freshly served the next day. No one really knew who was baking them but you knew for sure that some of those items did not belong to you.
And now you knew.
"I'm making Pan Dulce. Want to help?"
You smile at him, and get to it almost immediately.
This becomes your little routine after a while, baking with Miguel at 2 AM after everyone was gone. It was almost natural how you acted in the kitchen together, completing each other.
It felt domestic. To both of you.
And it made you see a different side of him, a side you didn't know he had.
"There is flour on your face."
"What are you talking about—" A fistful of flour hurled at him, covering his handsome face with the white substance. He'd open his eyes to see you laughing and he can't help but bite his cheek to stop himself from smiling.
"Oh, you're going to get it for that."
You two ran around the kitchen for 15 minutes having a flour fight. Loud, almost childish laughter filling the room.
"Okay, Okay, stop, you win!" His hands are on your waist when he catchs you, and he hoists you up on the counter to avoid any attempts at pranks on his expense.
Still giggling, you'd put your hand on his cheeks and clean him up with the kitchen towel nearby. He'd surprisingly stand still, skin heating up under your touch.
When you're done, you leave a kiss on his cheek, "Kiss the Spider, right?"
He'd move away just to avoid you seeing him all flustered, grumbling about how shameless you are.
But if he could, he'd wear this apron all the time, just to get another kiss.
#miguel o hara x reader#astv#spiderman 2099 x reader#miguel o’hara x reader#spider man atsv#spiderman into the spiderverse#across the spiderverse#miguel o'hara#miguel o hara#atsv miguel#miguel x you#miguel spiderman#miguel spiderverse#miguel spider man 2099#miguel x reader#miguel fluff#miguel o'hara fluff#miguel fanfic#miguel fucking o’hara
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Ok but thoughts/hc on how Spencer would react to you agreeing to go out on a date with him?
hi grecy i love you to the moon and to saturn <3
Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader
It's a given that he would be so kind and sweet leading up to it. Spencer is someone that falls hard and fast. He gets swept up in the idea of someone liking him and his mind runs away from him a little to fast.
It's hard for him to meet people organically, but somehow he found someone he knows is perfect for him.
Let's say this is...season 6 Spencer. He's slightly more confident in himself than the earlier seasons Spencer, but still nervous and a little insecure. But not choppy hair Spencer, boyband Spencer PLEASE
You met at the grocery store. In the tea and coffee aisle. He told you some fact about coffee beans. Spencer was immediately was head over heels. Too head over heels to realize you were just as head over heels for him too
Soon, you both realized you're actually neighbors. You keep strange hours, usually up when Spencer's getting home from cases. You invite him in for coffee one night, promising some cinnamon rolls and decaf with extra sugar.
One thing leads to another and Spencer finds himself falling hard and falling fast. He realizes he wants to ask you out, but can never find the courage to do it.
So he puts it in a letter. His scribble-like handwriting tattling his shaking hand as he wrote. Spencer spills out his entire heart, revealing things he never thought he'd be brave enough to say.
Spencer slips the letter under you door, the brave part of him deciding to linger by for a moment.
Spencer skips a beat when he hears footsteps behind the door. He nearly convinces himself that he can hear the envelope ripped open. His heart stops when he sees the door open a crack, letting in the familiar warmth and comfort of your apartment.
"Are you being serious?" You ask, peaking your face through the crack. You hold the door between your body and Spencer's lanky frame. Like a magnet to it's match, Spencer rushes to the door. With shaky hands, he opens the door the rest of the way. He finds it a little crazy that the door doesn't come off the hinges completely.
"Of course I am" Spencer says, "I've been wanting to ask you out for a really long time now. Since I've met you, to be honest. You're so wonderful and kind and funny and smart. And beautiful. Stunning, really, but that's the least interesting thing about you. You're so much more than a pretty face. You're...."
"Spence," you say, nearly throwing yourself at Spencer, "You had me at 'will you?', of course I want to go out with you. More than anything,"
Spencer would be blushing so hard. From his ears to the very tip of his nose, he'd be so red. He'd huff out some air, looking for something to say, despite his completely blank brain.
"That's-that's good," Spencer stammered, unable to hide the smile that's plastered to his face as you snake your hand to his, lacing your fingers together.
"I'm making you breakfast for our first date, by the way," you say, leading him into your apartment.
"Even though it's 2:17 AM," Spencer asks, not even checking his watch.
"Yup." you say, popping the last letter as you drag him in, "First breakfast in the middle of the night and then a good nap."
Spencer squeezed your hand, proudly wearing a self-satisfied smirk as he crossed the threshold trailing behind you. He thought to himself as the warm light and smell of coffee welcomed him that there was no where he rather be.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x reader fluff#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction
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Unexpected 33
Sequel to Unsolicited
Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, car sex, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
“Making friends?” Lloyd’s terse greeting is exactly what you expect.
You sigh as you approach him bracing the door frame as he blocks your way. Your other hand goes to your lower back and you groan. You just want to sit down.
“Neighbour saying hi,” you match his tone, “excuse me.”
You gesture past him and take a step forward. He doesn’t budge and you lean back on your heel. He stares off over your shoulder.
“Lloyd, please, I was only being friendly–”
“Well, you shouldn’t be friendly to him. Tight ass and his goddamn hedges.”
“What? Would you please move? I need to sit down.”
His eyes fall to you and he squints, “what did he say?”
“Please,” you growl between your teeth, “your daughter is about to break my back.”
Exactly as you expect, the mention of the baby defeats him. He relents but not without an air of reluctance. He lets you through and closes the door slowly behind you. As you waddle through, you pause and glance back at him. He continues to watch through the window beside the door.
“Jeez,” you grumble and carry on, the cinnamon tempting a growl from your stomach.
You find the table already set for two. You’re even more surprised by that. You sit and struggle to get comfortable in the stiff seat. You’re almost out of breath as you try to adjust your posture around your stomach. You still have a few more months to go. You’re going to get even bigger.
Lloyd enters as you reach for the platter of pancakes and he swipes them up before you can. He puts three on your plate as you watch him dully. You feel that familiar twinge in your back. You should’ve stretched a bit longer this morning.
“Orange juice?” He offers.
You nod and plant your elbow on the armrest as you cradle your stomach. You don’t think you’ll be doing too much today. You don’t have the energy or the tolerance.
“You okay, peaches?” He asks as he pours the juice.
“Fine, just… damn kid likes to sap up my lifeforce,” you huff, “a lot like her father.”
He smirks proudly. It wasn’t meant to be a compliment but he takes even the merest mention of himself as such.
“So,” he sits, pulling up his chair as he fills his own plate, “names? I’ve been thinking of names. Now we know it’s a girl.”
“Lloyd, we have time,” you add a pat of butter to your stack, “can’t it wait? Preferably when I’m not eating?”
“No time better than the present.”
You hover your hand toward the syrup, just out of your reach the table presses to your bump. Lloyd shifts to help and slides it closer until you grip the neck. You notice how he eyes up your stomach. Ugh. Men are so fucking weird.
“Please don’t start with all those cliches,” you sniff as you drizzle the syrup, mouth watering at the scent of sweet blueberry.
“Look, I gotta be ready. Every dad needs a repertoire of jokes and–”
“Do you think you're cute?” You interject, “because you’re not. We both know this isn’t a goddamn sitcom. Neither of us is cut out for this.”
“Speak for yourself,” he says as he cuts into the fluffy pancakes. They are surprisingly well done. “I’ve been on some dad forums, you know? Trying to brush up. You see, peaches, I’m a Harvard man. I don’t do anything without extensive research. My job ensures that I always have the relevant intel.”
“That’s all fine and dandy, but babies don’t abide by whatever’s written in books or on forums,” you cut out a triangle and bite into it. Oh my god. You nearly roll your eyes back in delight. So fluffy and tasty. “Is this buttermilk?”
“Uh, yeah, mom’s recipe.”
“Wow, pretty good,” you shove a forkful into your mouth. You focus on your urgent hunger, smothering your agitation with the flavour of cinnamon and berries.
“Thanks, uh… well, anyway, names. How do you feel about something old fashioned? Like Elizabeth or–”
“Marion?” You offer.
He grimaces and drags the tines of his fork around the edge of the plate, “okay, fine, how about something more modern.”
“How about we table this talk until I care?” You ask, “apparently you’ve been thinking about this for a while and I haven’t even had a chance.”
“You haven’t? Not at all?”
“Not really,” you shrug as you shift in the chair, “you know, I’ve had other things on my mind.”
“Besides our daughter?”
“No, just… the name, that’s not exactly the most important part– Arghhh.” You drop your fork as you back spasm, “fuck me.”
“Gladly,” he kids even as he gets to his feet, “peaches?”
You sit back and touch your back, “it’s fine. I’m fine. It’s just this damn– stomach. Pulling on my muscles.”
“Shit, do you need help?”
“No, I’m good,” you grit out as you sit up, shakily grasping the arms of the chair, “It was just a spasm.”
“If you need to lay down–”
“I can finish breakfast,” you insist as you grab your fork, squeezing it tight as you force your hands to stop trembling, “thanks. It’s pretty good, actually.”
“Actually?” He repeats as he lowers himself cautiously back into his chair, watching you warily, “you didn’t think I could figure it out? It’s just reading directions. I’m used to giving them but I can take some from time to time.”
“I just assumed since you brought me all the way here to do just that.”
“Easy excuse,” he smirks, “I just liked seeing you in an apron… and not much else.”
“You like seeing me suffer. Let’s be honest.”
“Depends on the suffering.”
“Mmm,” you poke the pancakes and bolster through another pang, “how about… Abigail? That’s a nice name.”
“Abigail?” He scowls, “no, I don’t like it.”
“Hmmm,” you chew your lip. You really don’t care but you don’t want him to see how much pain you’re really in. You want to finish your food without him crowding you, “Suzy?”
“Suz–” he nearly chokes, “Suzy? Definitely not.”
“Oh? You know a Suzy?” You wonder.
He smirks, a subtle slant of his lips. He shrugs and waves off the suggestion, “I just don’t think that sounds right. Suzy Hansen… ew.”
“Alright, well, you seem to have a list prepared, so let’s hear them.”
“Funny you say that, because I do,” he reaches into his pocket and takes out his phone, “let me just find it.”
You grumble and have another bite, counting the pancakes left on the platter. You’re definitely going to have at least one more. If you have to entertain his fatherly farce, you’re going to need something to make it palatable.
💎
You lay on the couch, propped up against several pillows as the television blears in your eyes. You’re not really paying attention. The agony jabbing into your spine keeps you from doing much but wallowing. Besides, you don’t really care about the show. Without Harlan there to make his wise observations about the bug eyed boy, it’s just not as interesting.
You can hear the low tone of Lloyd’s voice through the walls. He’s not loud enough to make out his words. You figure he’s on a call or something. Maybe he’ll be leaving for another mission soon. What then? Another month away and another month closer to your doom.
You close your eyes as the sky begins to dim slowly outside. The cool breeze flows in from the open windows and eases you slightly. That’s the only thing that helps is relaxing but you find it harder and harder to do.
The moment of peace doesn’t last. The chime of the doorbell goes off and you groan. You contemplate getting up but can’t. Whoever it is, they can go away.
It rings again, drawing tight the tension in your muscles. Go away! No one’s home.
You hear a door and footsteps. You sense Lloyd in the foyer and hear him snarl as his fingertips tap across the tablet. He sighs.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” He snarls.
“Who is it?” You call lazily, putting a hand up on the back of the couch.
“I told you not to talk to that fucker.”
“Lloyd,” you push yourself up slightly and bite down on a grunt, “who is it?”
He doesn’t answer you as the front door swings open and you drop your head back in exasperation. You can’t even get yourself up to follow him. You just rub your forehead and wait. Shit, you know who it is. He said he’d be dropping by but you totally forgot.
You feel awful but maybe Lloyd will chase Andy far enough away that you won’t have to worry. As nice as he is, you just don’t need another stressor. Nor do you need your husband finding another reason to gripe.
You watch the screen, trying to unravel the argument between the two blondes and huff. You wiggle your toes as your impatience builds and builds. You hope it’s okay.
Fuck, as if you don’t know Lloyd well enough. He’s probably starting a fight. He wouldn’t do too bad on one of these sleazy shows.
You hold your breath and force yourself to sit up. You better go make sure there isn’t blood on the pavement. As you get to your feet and turn, the front door slams and Lloyd stomps through with a box in his arms.
“Jerk off,” he snaps as he turns into the living room and strides toward you.
“What’s going–”
“Baby clothes,” he drops the box onto the chair, “that fucking asshole. Acting like such a good guy.”
“Why are you so upset?” You ease yourself back to cushion and hiss.
He stops and grips his hips as he looks at you. He pulls the earbud out and lets it dangle by his collar. He runs his fingertips along his jaw and sighs.
“I just… I don’t exactly get along with that jackoff,” he puffs, “look, peaches, I know you’re not going to listen to me but you should steer clear of him.”
“I didn’t– I just said hi.”
“Yeah, well…” he waves to the box as he pivots on his heel, “next time, tell him to fuck off.” He shakes his head and grabs the earbud, shoving it back into place, “I’m in the middle of a job. We’ll trash all that after.”
#lloyd hansen#dark lloyd hansen#dark!lloyd hansen#lloyd hansen x reader#drabble#dark drabble#dark!drabble#series#unexpected#the gray man#lloyd definitely had dotty on a video call earlier to figure out the recipe
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( romantic lover ) ticci toby
nsfw - afab reader x ticci toby
╰┈➤ sub & virgin toby, dom reader, exhibitionism, voyeurism, praise kink/slight degradation???, mostly praise, begging
"she’s a killer, one look is all it takes
she’s a killer, and she took my breath away" eyedress
“You’re so pretty, Toby.” You complimented in a hushed tone. You were leaning on the bookshelf across from him. You watched as he nervously looked to his sides, worried that someone would see him in this pathetic state.
His thin frame was shaking hard, but he didn’t stop his tight grip from jerking himself off vigorously. Toby’s lips were parted slightly, letting out breathy gasps and moans. His light brown hair kept falling into his eyes, he pushed it back with his free hand to give you a better view of his expression. “Do you like getting off on me even if I’m fully clothed?” You bit your bottom lip as you continued to admire him lovingly. “D… Don’t word it like that.” He said bashfully. “You’re such a pervert, Toby. But then again, so am I.”
His olive-green eyes were glossed over, finally deciding to fix their gaze on you. His cheeks and nose were dusted with light freckles and a dark red blush. You watched as a bead of sweat rolled from his forehead to his cheekbone and finally down his neck. His adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped hard. “Pl… Please.” He begged. You gave him a smile, your eyes crinkling. “Use your words, Toby.” You cooed, “Just saying ‘please’ doesn’t tell me what you want.”. “Please touch me, I need you.” He begged. Your smirk grew bigger, beaming at the boy who was stroking your ego oh so much. You held out your arms for him to come to you, and he complied.
With his arms draped around your neck, you let yours wrap loosely around his waist. He couldn't keep his eyes off of yours, absolutely enamored by the idea that someone could look at him as lovingly as he does for them. His scent filled your lungs, a blend of cinnamon, firewood, and something metallic you couldn't quite put your finger on. Your hands moved under his hoodie to feel the warmth of his back. His skin was hot and slightly sweaty against your cold fingers, he flinched slightly at the sensation. Your hands rubbed him soothingly to help relax him. You pulled him by the waist ever so slightly to bring your faces closer together for a kiss.
His lips were hungry for yours, instinctively biting your lower lip for entrance. You permitted, parting your mouth as his tongue dove inside to find yours. You let one of your hands move down his back, taking your sweet time. Once you hit the top of his jeans, you began to start tracing the edge of his jeans until your index. Your finger reached just above his exposed cock, wrapping your palm on the head. You moved your thumb up and down his slit, smearing the pre-cum on it.
He pulled away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting you two as he breathed heavily. “I… Are you… teasing me?” He asked between huffs. Instead of answering, you gave a smile before giving his shaft a long, slow, and tight stroke. He took a sharp inhale as you started building up your pace, finally deciding on a steady, but a firm one. His lips remained agape, letting out soft moans whenever your hand grazed his tip. “You… Your grip is so much tighter than mine.” He sputtered out.
Something was just so tempting about this boy. It seemed like he was made for you. Sweet, obedient, and just so adorable. His eyes pricked tears at the ends, but you kissed them away with a smile. He never stopped staring at you, as if you were the only person in the world. Sure, it was kind of mean of you to ask him to masturbate in front of you in a public place, but he seemed to be enjoying himself. No one has caught you guys yet and you just couldn’t get enough of this boy’s facial expressions.
You picked up the speed as you tightened your hold. Toby’s whimpers became louder, in response, you covered his mouth with your free hand. “We’re in a library, Toby. Be more courteous.” You whispered in his ear. Your hand left his mouth, moving so it would be facing the head of his dick. He buried his face into your shoulder, letting out a cry as he came on your fingers. The hand that was once wrapped around his cock, grabbed his chin to force him to look back at you. You shoved the fingers of your other hand into his mouth, relishing in the feeling of his tongue sucking his own cum off of them.
After he was finished, you reached into the pocket of your hoodie to retrieve a small, square wrapper. “Can you give me another one, please?” You asked. He gulped but nodded excitedly. Snatching the condom out of your hand, he hurriedly ripped the plastic. Unraveling the condom onto himself, you lifted your skirt with both hands to give him a peek. "Y…You're not wearing any…!" Toby stuttered out embarrassingly. You wrapped your arms around Toby's neck, just like how he did to you just minutes ago. He grabbed one of your legs to hold in flamingo for easier access.
Grabbing the base of his cock, you guided it to your entrance before returning your arm to be draped around him. His eyes squeezed shut before slowly unsheathing himself into you. You let out a sharp exhale as he entered you. For a second, he stayed still, his eyes still closed tightly. You placed your palm on his cheek, using your thumb to rub his skin adoringly. "If you're not ready, we can always stop. I care so deeply about you, and I want you to be comfortable, okay?" You comforted. His eyes opened to meet yours, before giving you a quick peck on the cheek. "It's not th… that. I want to do this. I'm just… This is my f… first time." He admitted.
Your eyes widened, but you quickly kissed all over his face. One on his forehead, one on his nose, one on his cheek, and one on his jawline. "It's okay, Toby, please take your time." You beamed at him. You guys have been together for a while and have done tons of sexual things, but you never realized that the two of you still haven't had sex. He leaned down, pulling you back in for another heated kiss. You felt his dick slowly thrust out of your cunt, letting it drag along your velvety walls. Once only his tip remained inside of you, he thrusted his cock back in fast and hard, the sound creating a loud clap only barely muffled by your bodies. He picked up his speed but still maintained the same amount of force in every thrust.
"Toby, fuck…! You're hitting me so deeply… Keep going." You muttered out between kisses. You caught his bottom lip between his teeth, causing him to gasp, letting you slip your tongue into his mouth. You become desperate to become closer to him, fingers becoming entangled in his chestnut locks. Feeling him rut into you so desperately, the vibrations between the kiss created by the combinations of both of your moans, everything was just so lewd. His grip on your leg became tighter, you felt his nails create small crescents as they dug themselves into your thigh.
You felt Toby's pace become faster, more sloppy, but not lacking in how deep he was reaching inside of you. His whines and whimpers were more frequent, he was getting close and so were you. His hand that wasn't holding onto you found it's way to make little circles on your clit, desperate to please you as much as you please him. Barely keeping yourself from moaning as loudly as possible, you forced your lips to clash with his as much as possible. Your grip tightened on Toby's hair as you felt your orgasm vibrate through your core as a flash of blinding white flooded your vision. Not soon after, his knuckles became white as he held onto you for dear life as he reached his second orgasm. Hot cum filled up the condom as he gave you a couple more shallow thrusts.
His cock stayed inside of you for a couple of seconds as you guys broke the kiss, staring at each other as you both gave labored breaths. You smiled as he gave you a peck on your nose, pulling out as you let go of each other. He carefully took off the condom, tying the end in a knot as he put it in his pocket. He pulled up his boxers and jeans, double-checking that he zipped up his fly. He took his gaze off of his pants after he made sure that he was presentable to look back at you. His eyes were met with you, beaming with a smile ear to ear as you stared at him.
"What? Wh… What's wrong?" Toby asked nervously. You giggled as he shyly twiddled with his thumbs. "You're just so pretty, Tobes. You took my breath away."
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A warmth seeps into your bones, mid-autumn air dispelled by a large fireplace. The flames in the hearth crackled, spitting embers into the air, shooting up the chimney to die off. Sat upon a long-backed chair, you lounge, normally quite content to relax after the craziness of the past. This time, however, you can't help a small fidget, a deep-rooted desire to do something, even if you're not sure what.
Getting up, your gaze sweeps your abode, littered with pieces of furniture and trinkets gifted to you by the deities, mostly Eclipse. Your eyes alight upon the kitchen, and an old pull tugs you forward, searching cabinet contents to see what you still have stocked. Flour, eggs, oats, dried meat, cheese, raspberry-
You pause at the last one, a faint memory surfacing in the back of your mind. Reaching into the container which stores the ripe red berries, an idea comes to mind. Gathering what you need, you start the fire in the oven before reaching up on tiptoe to try and obtain a pie tin, which had been tucked out of the way and forgotten. Not intentionally, of course, but you'd been a bit…distracted, for a long time, and hadn't gotten to moving it to your level again.
Your fingers brush the metal, starting to curl and pull, when your ankle decided that would be a great time to fold out from under you. A gasp slips out, tin jerked forward as you start to fall, pan following after, coming directly towards your face-
Large, bright hands catch both you and the tin. Startled, you look up into a gold and flaxen yellow face, framed by marigold rays. "Careful, sunshine," he admonishes, setting the tray aside while still holding you in an awkward dip. Flushing, you scramble to regain your footing, brushing imaginary dirt off your pants. "Thanks, Sunny," you mumble, embarrassed. The deity smiles, hand flapping back to his side now that he no longer holds you.
"Of course, sunshine. Any time," he promises. It brings an odd, not entirely pleasant, tingle to fuzz your mind, ghosts attempting to haunt you. You dismiss them with a mental flick. "What are you doing?" Sun asks, helping you break from your stupor.
Waving at your ingredients, you shrug. "Thought I might cook, for old time's sake," you inform, moving to do just that. You start with the flour, scooping water from a bucket you'd brought in earlier in the day, beginning to shape the dough. It takes a minute for the proper thickness to set in, caught off guard when Sun's hands enter from your periphery, moving to assist, making sure the tin was clean and prepped before hesitantly hovering his hands over yours. The fact he cools preceding entering your home on instinct nowadays is something to be thankful for, recalling the first time you accidentally burned your hand on him.
Everything about this moment drips with nostalgia, really. You, making raspberries pies, while Sun lingers in the room. This time, however, your hands entwine with his as you flatten and roll the dough, a gentle rhythm that chases away your earlier dis-at-ease. Once fully shaped, run over by a rolling pin, you place the dough in the tin, making sure it fits right, removing excess. You both pour in the raspberries, accompanied by a jam for extra sweet stickiness. Studying your work proudly, you glance up at Sun when he hums, contemplating. Reaching onto the shelves in front of you, he check through jars of spices and herbs, before locating his objective with a small, "Aha!"
You stare at the cinnamon, the memories playing out in a pleasant sense of deja vu. He must be feeling quite sentimental as well, not to mention the fact it was still a bit funny to you, thinking back on it now, how he offered to settle the debt he never had by giving you more of the sharp spice. In the end, he had gotten his wish, kinda, a fact that makes you chuckle.
Sprinkling it in, you fold everything in place, allow Sun to slide it into the oven. Lowered closer to your height, you dart forward to give him a kiss on the cheek. Stunned, he nearly drops the pie, barely managing to collect himself, securing it in place before turning to you with twinkling eyes.
"Sunshine," he nearly sings. You play innocent, smiling. "Yes, Sunny?" you playfully answer back. He quirks a brow, unimpressed, but beaming all the same when he moves forward to plant his lips to yours. A warmth far greater than the one provided by the fireplace earlier seeps into your veins, and you tenderly hold his face, enraptured by bright ivory orbs.
It felt so nice to have this again, after everything, and you wouldn't trade it for the world.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Annnnd part 2!
If you couldn't tell, they're all meant to take place after CSD ends. I know there's no real way for us readers to know how things pan out, but felt it more fun for the open relationship stuff.
Thought about how it might feel for Y/N to go back to the mundane after all the craziness. At least their gods are there for them :)
I LOVE THIS SO DEARLY SOBBINGGGGGGGGand wailing and and and AUGHH THANK YOU SO MUCH <3<3
I hope you'll be satisfied to know that absolutely none of this clashes with the fic canon whatsoever, Y/N would have so many things from Eclipse. And with every hint of something having been a struggle, it's such a delight personally knowing for myself what those struggles were. It's such a lovely glimpse into the future, especially knowing where in the future this would be
I am holding this soooo gently, thank you. KISS KISS KISS KISS ARGRHRGRHRGRGRRGRG
I REALLYYY DO APPRECIATE THIS, IT MAKES ME VERY HAPPY
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My Thoughts on the Roger Rabbit Novels
Who Censored Roger Rabbit?
The Plot: It's the 1980s, and human beings and comic strip characters ("toons") live side-by-side, albeit not on an equal social standing. Roger Rabbit approaches private detective Eddie Valiant and asks him to investigate a dispute he has with Rocco and Dominick DeGreasy, the brothers who own his comic strip. Roger claims his life is in danger, but Eddie, who's somewhat racist towards toons, doesn't take him seriously - which comes back to bite him when he finds Roger's dead body. Now Eddie has to work out who killed Roger, as well as who killed Rocco DeGreasy on the same night.
What I Liked: This is a very well-paced story. It sets up the mystery straightaway, it cracks along at a good speed, and you don't have the full truth of whodunnit until the very end. The chapters are short and punchy, and even the time spent on plot points that turned out to be red herrings never felt wasted. I was always eager to pick the book up again and read just one more chapter!
Also, in any other novel, the twist regarding Roger's killer would be a massive "What the heck?" moment, but here, it's set up far enough in advance that it doesn't feel unnatural when it comes.
And as a fun minor detail, Eddie casually mentions being one of four children, and then the next novel, Who P-P-P-Plugged Roger Rabbit?, gives him two brothers and a sister! It was probably a coincidence, but I was glad to spot it!
What I Disliked: I really wasn't a fan of the way Jessica Rabbit was portrayed. Who Framed Roger Rabbit subverts her femme fatale image, but Who Censored Roger Rabbit? plays it straight, which didn't appeal to me as much. I prefer the "looks like she could kill you, is actually a cinnamon roll" trope over the "looks like she could kill you, could actually kill you" trope.
At one point in the story, Jessica claims she was forced to pose for a racy comic, but when Eddie speaks to the owner of said comic, the man claims Jessica posed for those pictures willingly and was actually eager to make more. At the time the story was published (1981), one might just about have got away with such a portrayal, but in a post-#MeToo world, it's discomforting that Jessica's allegations of coercion and sexual abuse aren't taken seriously. (Also, the man who owns the racy comic is a creepy crossdresser, which ... what? Why was that in there? That didn't need to be in there.)
As a consequence of Jessica's portrayal, her relationship with Roger is nowhere near as sweet as in the film. Their entire marriage is basically a sham. No, thank you. Give me "honey bunny" and "love cup" instead, please.
Verdict: I saw the film first, and I prefer it to the novel. Who Framed Roger Rabbit will always be my favourite piece of Roger Rabbit media. But I can appreciate Who Censored Roger Rabbit? as its own thing - a product of its time, to be sure, but also a well-structured and fast-paced read.
Who P-P-P-Plugged Roger Rabbit?
The Plot: It's 1947 (more or less), sometime after the events of Who Framed Roger Rabbit. Roger Rabbit, Baby Herman, and Kirk Enigma are three toons in line for the lead role in David Selznick's upcoming adaptation of Gone With the Wind. A box belonging to Selznick, a box of great importance, has gone missing, and Eddie Valiant has been hired to find it.
What I Liked: Who P-P-P-Plugged Roger Rabbit? has my favourite portrayal of Roger (after the film and the comics). We spend a bit more time with him than in the previous book, so we get to hear more about his worldviews and his backstory. We also get to see what a sweetie pie he is. He's an emotional bunny who loves his wife, just like in the film, and I frequently wanted to hug him.
A key highlight for me was the moment when Roger was singing like a Disney Princess and summoning a chorus of birds to wake Eddie one morning, which Eddie did not appreciate. Can someone animate that? I'd love to see it!
The second half of this novel also introduces Jessica's twin sister Joellyn (the six-inch-tall woman on Eddie's shoulder on the cover), and I enjoyed getting to know her. And, without giving away too many spoilers, I greatly preferred this rendition of Jessica over the one in Who Censored Roger Rabbit?
What I Disliked: Unlike the first novel, this one was pretty slow to get going. Eddie isn't actually hired by Selznick until Chapter 7, and most of the time before then is spent establishing Eddie as a down-on-his-luck private eye, using people and locations that show up once and then are barely used again. Some of that fat could have been trimmed, I feel. It made reaching the end of the book a bit more of a slog.
Something else that bothered me was the high volume of old-timey slang, brand names and Americanisms that I, as a twentysomething Brit, did not recognise. I could read an entire paragraph and think, "Well, he's either drinking alcohol, smoking cigar or eating a foodstuff, but I'll be darned if I can tell you which is the right interpretation." I think the noir detective vernacular was slightly overdone, to the point of incomprehension.
Verdict: I thought this would be my favourite of the novels because it seemed the most similar in tone to the film, so I was disappointed by my lukewarm reception to it. Maybe I was disappointed because I'd hyped it up too much in my mind? That's not to say I didn't enjoy it - I greatly preferred the second half to the first, once Eddie found out what was actually in this mysterious box - but I think it could have done with a few more edits before publication.
Who Wacked Roger Rabbit?
The Plot: It's the 1940s or 1950s, sometime after the events of Who Framed Roger Rabbit, and director Barney Sands is shooting a movie set in Toontown starring Gary Cooper and Roger Rabbit. He's been receiving threatening letters warning him to stay away from Toontown and stop making this film, but he can't afford to let down his investors. So he hires Eddie Valiant to be Cooper's bodyguard while filming takes place. But Eddie soon finds himself wrapped up in another mystery, involving a porcine crime lord called Willy Prosciutto and the corpse of Clabber Clown.
What I Liked: The majority of this novel takes place in Toontown, so we get some really cool worldbuilding details. We find out how the school system works, which churches are based in Toontown, and how crooked toons launder their money. I was particularly intrigued by the calm and serious toons in the Sanatorium - apparently, if you're not loud and goofy and bouncing off the walls, you're considered insane, which is the opposite of how humans think about mental health.
The blonde humanoid toon on the cover is Caitlyn "Honey" Graham, Willy's girlfriend. I really like Honey. In fact, she might be my favourite of the novel-exclusive characters. Throughout the book, you're trying to work out if she's a good bad girl or a bad good girl, or if she's really just a bad bad girl. If Who Framed Roger Rabbit ever gets a sequel or prequel or spin-off cartoon series, I'd love to see Honey on screen.
What I Disliked: The Roger we meet in this novel is a bit too stupid for my liking. In Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Roger made seemingly nonsensical choices, but he had his own (cartoon) logic to explain his actions, and he was even proved right in his assumptions a few times. So I much prefer to think of Roger as the kind of toon where you're never quite sure if he's truly dumb or merely playing dumb for the sake of a gag. Here, he's just straight-up dumb, and that's not as fun to read about.
Verdict: This was the book I knew the least about before I read it, so I was more cautious going in - but it ended up being my second favourite of the Roger Rabbit novels. I enjoyed learning more about Toontown and its residents. My favourite parts of the film had been the toony parts - Roger, and Jessica, and Roger and Jessica together - so I guess it makes sense that I'd enjoy the novel that takes place almost entirely in Toontown.
Jessica Rabbit: XERIOUS Business
The Plot: It's the 2020s, sometime post-pandemic, and Jessica Krupnik is a human in a toon-less world. She's working a dead-end job in a crime-ridden part of town, her stepmother bosses her around and belittles her, her stepsisters treat her like a servant, and her stepbrothers sexually harass her. She's basically a modern-day Cinderella. But instead of a fairy godmother, Jessica is rescued from her life of drudgery by an opportunity to apply for a role at XERIOUS, a crime-fighting organisation of secret agents. She gets the job, and is later put on a mission with Robbe, one of XERIOUS's most experienced agents, to catch a criminal mastermind called the Klown.
(And this is somehow a prequel to Who Framed Roger Rabbit. Despite being set decades after that film. And starring a human Jessica instead of a toon Jessica. Cartoon timelines be weird, y'all.)
What I Liked: This was the most fun novel to read! I think that's because it was a spy novel spoof, rather than a gritty noir detective story. The other three novels could be quite dour in tone - yes, cases would get solved, but people would get hurt in the process, and relationships would be irrevocably altered, so there was always this undercurrent of sadness in the seemingly happy endings. After three novels in a row of that, a story spoofing spy novels was always going to feel like a breath of fresh air. Gary K. Wolf has stated that he wrote this book in lockdown and had a lot of fun doing so, and I feel that coming across in his writing.
Robbe was another great novel-exclusive character. I can't say too much about him, because that would massively spoil things, but I can say that I enjoyed witnessing his development over the course of the novel. To give the most spoiler-free explanation I can, Robbe starts out as a suave and competent spy, but also a misogynist - until something happens to him in the line of duty that shakes his confidence. Watching him grow and try to be a better person, especially towards Jessica, while also dealing with the aftermath of his accident, was truly engaging. It even got me thinking about the portrayal of disability in fiction, which I did not expect a Roger Rabbit novel to do.
What I Disliked: For a novel called Jessica Rabbit: XERIOUS Business, Jessica herself was disappointingly under-developed. The first three chapters follow her miserable life and her desire for adventure, for respect, for something more. And then there's a two-year time skip and whoop, she's suddenly a confident and glamorous secret agent! And she's ditched her glasses and dyed her hair, so she's beautiful now! And she achieved her impossible hourglass figure with nothing but diet and exercise, despite being a human and not a toon! Sigh.
There was a real missed opportunity here. Robbe already has a plot where he starts off skilled and arrogant, but then has his worldview challenged and needs to learn to embrace vulnerability. So we could have had Jessica experiencing her own story of growth alongside him, but in reverse! We could have watched as, over the course of the novel, she transforms from the beaten-down self-conscious little girl into the sensational woman she was always meant to be. Robbe would start on top and fall down; Jessica would start at the bottom and claw her way up. The parallels could have been awesome!
Gary K. Wolf has admitted that, as a man, he would struggle to write a novel about women, and it shows. The sexism Jessica experiences doesn't have any nuance; the story just says, "Harassment is bad" over and over again. There's one moment where the Klown is sharing his nefarious plan to change the world, and Jessica responds, "I like the current world." And ... huh? You like the sexual harassment you receive on an almost daily basis? You like the system that trapped you in a dead-end job? You like all the poverty and crime and misery the world has right now? The story could have really benefitted from a feminist and/or intersectional analysis.
Also, in an effort to make Jessica seem smart, the men around her are extremely stupid, unable to see through the Klown's flimsy disguises. That is ... not the best way to make your female characters appear intelligent.
Verdict: My favourite of the Roger Rabbit novels! It's not perfect, but my criticisms are born out of love and a desire to see this concept reach its full potential. But even as it is, I still found this book a lot of fun to read, and I can excuse a few flaws if I'm having fun.
Final Ranking (Compared to Other Roger Rabbit Media)
Who Framed Roger Rabbit
Roger Rabbit and Roger Rabbit's Toontown comics
The three shorts
Jessica Rabbit: XERIOUS Business
Who Wacked Roger Rabbit?
Who Censored Roger Rabbit?
Who P-P-P-Plugged Roger Rabbit?
#who framed roger rabbit#wfrr#who censored roger rabbit#who p p p plugged roger rabbit#who wacked roger rabbit#jessica rabbit xerious business#roger rabbit#jessica rabbit#roger rabbit x jessica rabbit#roger x jessica#eddie valiant#baby herman#caitlyn “honey” graham#willy prosciutto#robbe#the klown#sid sleaze#david sleznick#kirk enigman
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(Part 1/4)
Like a lot of us, I've been going through Tom Sturridge's filmography since watching Sandman on Netflix. I've watched a good amount of stuff so far, and I have Thoughts™ . Writing a few lines about him in each of the projects (because apparently this is a Tom Sturridge fan blog now??)
Now, you watch Tom in interviews and he is the DEFINITION of a cinnamon roll, so you would never think this- but this man has been absolutely wildin for over a decade. The projects he chooses? The roles he takes on? Half the time it's as if he's like 'if it's not excruciatingly dramatic, absolutely insane, and/or heart-poundingly, breath-chokingly sexy, don't even bother'. Also something else I think I figured out from watching these and Tom's interviews- it's possible that in his mind, wild/dangerous = seductive. So, anytime he's playing a character of that sort, he turns it on and immediately has intense sexual tension with everyone in sight. It's mind-blowing.
This is what I've watched so far:
Like Minds/Murderous Intent (2006)- Eddie Redmayne's first movie. Tom plays Ed's boarding school classmate, a psycho. He was 20/21 in this, unbelievably pretty, and nailed the 'devil with an angel's face' character to a tee. The chemistry with Ed is, predictably, insane. He says and does some seriously disturbing things in the movie. This was so early in his career too! It's possible that Tom's always been a 'choose the interesting project' person vs 'choose something that might make me a popular sweetheart' person.
Waiting for Forever (2010)- I have to say this first, I legit loved this movie so much. It strikes just the right balance between soulful and real, and the whole effect is incredibly sweet and touching. They don't make movies like this anymore. Tom's character is a very innocent type: naive and clueless to the extent of disturbing, but full of hope and belief. Tom is SO good in this. He plays it a bit slow and spacey, and captures the wide-eyed wonder and confusion of the character perfectly. *chef's kiss*
The Hollow Crown s2 (2012)- This was a series of BBC adaptations of Shakespeare's historical plays based on English kings. Tom was Henry VI, and I was fkn depres*ed for a week after watching this, no lie. Henry VI on screen is spineless, pathetic, and being manipulated left and right by every single person in his vicinity. The politics is nasty, the murders are brutal, and King Henry, 17, doesn't want any of it (but is still too much of a wuss to give up his crown so he clutches on religion instead). Tom, with his young face, long hair, gray cloak and his rosary that he desperately hangs onto, speaking of hope and heartbreak in Shakespearean lingo, just made me feel lots of emotions - terribly angry and frustrated with the king, then sad and horrified for him. It was draining. (The series overall is fantastic tbh.)
On The Road (2012)- Based on Jack Kerouac's novel, this movie is all sorts of nasty- drugs upon drugs, lurid sex, people treating other people terribly. Tom in this is sensitive writer boi in unrequited love with a fuckboy, and his personality is "we can take sexuality out of it, just hold me, man". I pray for the gays who will see this movie now because they won't survive Tom in this. (I mean I'm straight and I barely survived). The messy hair? Thick black-framed glasses? The hurt glances? Manic-pixie smiles? Teary-eyed, swollen-lipped monologue? (Edit: Scene) I'm f*cking deceased. (No kidding tho, I can't take movies that are so on-the-nose seriously and I skipped through it, and still Tom with his limited screen time managed to make me genuinely feel for his character. He was amazing.) Fun fact: The scene of him being bodily carried away for a threesome and proceeding to break the bed (literally) lives rent free in my head. No, I am not all right.
Far From the Madding Crowd (2015)- Adaptation of Thomas Hardy's classic novel. Tom plays Sgt. Francis Troy (opposite Carey Mulligan) and is a regular no-good rake. Listen, you'd think Tom with his sweet mouth and wispy facial hair couldn't pull off a moustache. You'd be wrong. He looks great. And he has that charisma that makes you wanna drive off a cliff for him even though you know he's an asshole. They made his character halfway decent tho, Troy is worse in the book. (EDIT: No they did NOT! I was skipping thru the movie and missed a scene lol. But I've watched the whole thing now and, yeah). And Tom switches vibes from sinister to emotional without missing a beat. What a goddamned treat watching this man is.
I'll stop now, and do the next installment on another 5 Tom projects (I guess Remainder, Mary Shelley, Sweetbitter, Irma Vep, Sea Wall/A Life? We'll see.)
(Edit: Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4, Part 5/ Bonus)
#tom sturridge#dream of the endless#sandman#the sandman#like minds#waiting for forever#on the road#far from the madding crowd#the hollow crown#morpheus
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Everyone’s out here having strong opinions about whether the Miraculous movie is better or the series and I just - don’t know? I do really like both and I think both have glaring faults.
I liked that the movie Marinette wasn’t a creepy stalker. I do like that the film had some closure and none of the dragged out unnecessary messes that are there fully for the sake of dragging it out. I loved the animation. I liked that there weren’t weird forced superhero reasons the main couple can’t be together that don’t make sense.
I didn’t like the whole entire Marinette has no friends plot. It made so sense to me since Marinette is so nice and friendly and talented in the show that everyone likes her despite her quirks.
I hated Alya. She’s literally so mean to a girl she JUST met that I would rather have no friends than be her friend. Her constant thumbs-upping feels mocking.
What is going on with Adrien and Chloe? They fail to establish anything that makes sense there. Is Chloe just delusional and thinks Adrien likes her when they have never spoken. Are they still childhood friends in this AU?
I strongly prefer nice sweet cinnamon roll against all odds Adrien to this angsty Adrien. Series Adrien would have just been clueless about Marinette’s intentions being romantic and would have been like, “Sure! I’d love to go to a ball with my bestest buddy of buddies!” and I would have preferred that. Not even offering to go as friends felt super harsh and unkind.
Rivals to friends to lovers is a GREAT idea, but you actually have to play that out properly for it to work. I liked the nods to the original idea of Ladybug, but it wasn’t fleshed out at all.
Let Marinette’s OG VA sing please.
I missed side characters. I know we don’t have time for them, but just - you can’t even give me a GLIMPSE of Juleka/Rose? Really? Like even in frames where they are in the same frame they are so far from one another. Whyyyy.
Kwamis can force transformations now? If they have such complete control over, who controls them how did Noroo get kidnapped by Hawkmoth at all?
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hi winter ily <333 for character asks….peter pevensie and perhaps simon ghost riley?
(ps. jetko so real!! the entertainment value alone….)
hi :]]]
peter pevensie
sexuality headcanon
why didn't he ever have a (canonical) love interest in the movies? why, I wonder?? because he's gay ace??? because I'm literally too correct? :]
otp
y'all know I'm a caspeter truther <33 they can't stand each other they're fighting over who the real king of narnia is through each other they recognize themselves etc etc <333
brotp
peter and that one centaur general guy in the first movie ?? they were like ?? best buds ?? and I don't think we ever got the centaur's name but they were literally so ride or die for each other and I'm obsessed with them
notp
don't really ? have a notp?? because the only people he's super close to onscreen are his siblings (self explanatory) and caspian so like ,, I love winning
first headcanon that pops into my head
I'm in a tattoo frame of mind so I wonder if there are tattoos in narnia....if the pevensie siblings got matching ones.....hmm...
maybe caspian gives him one. because that would be QUITE homosexual
favorite line from this character
when he introduces himself as "king peter the magnificent" ... ok gayboy <3
one way in which I relate to this character
older sibling utterly lost in his element?? disconnected from everything he knew?? responsibility that he never asked for on his shoulders??? augh
thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character
the way he's SOOOO antagonistic towards caspian the entire movie....like sir..he's literally just a guy why are you always ready to swordfight him at a moment's notice (we know why)
cinnamon roll or problematic fave?
I tease him. and occasionally punt him off cliffs. but I fuckin love that fool. he's my good time soldier sweet cheese girlfriend pal
simon ghost riley
sexuality headcanon
also gay ace. why? because I said so. he's demiromantic also. but if anyone asks his response is "wouldn't you like to know"
otp
I'm a soapghost truther at heart. they contain soooo many multitudes
brotp
this blog is home to the roach and ghost bestieship agenda btw. they're sooo important to me. also ghost and price. and ghost and gaz <333
notp
not really super,,against anything in general tbh. they're all consenting adults etc etc but price and gaz are naturally exempt from all ghost shipping activities
first headcanon that pops into my head
I'm a 141 having matching tattoos truther. because matching tattoos are SOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
favorite line from this character
"no one fights alone" yessssss boy acknowledge your trauma and move past it to let others in!!!!!!!! it's a gay ass moment also but honestly that's just a bonus
one way in which I relate to this character
um. code switching. and having two different "personas" as a means of protecting himself. also the autism
thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character
I mean....he's pretty edgy which. normally I'd make fun of that but tbh he makes it work. I still make fun of the hot topic skeleton gloves though
cinnamon roll or problematic fave?
problematic fav <33333 he's committed atrocities <33333
character ask game
#ty :]]]]#these two are like. my Most Blorbo rn#that honor is a revolving door tbh#leo 🌻#ghost#peter pevensie#its sooooo fun making ghost asexual because the whole fandom collectively wants to fuck him. its my power move :]#asexual SWEEP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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𝓞𝓼𝓬𝓪𝓻 "𝓞𝓼" 𝓐𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓪𝓻 𝓔𝓻𝓭𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓷
Ravenclaw • Pureblood • British/German • ENTP • Leo • Nostalgist • Overthinker • Occult artefacts/rituals expert
A/N: I think he’s finally ready to debut. I love him a lot! May tweak him a little later. If your OCs want to be friends or dorm-mates DM me or comment if you’re comfortable with that :)
Name: Oscar Alatar Erdstern
Nicknames: Os (by close friends), Car (by Edith, couldn’t pronounce Oscar when she was little and it stuck)
Birthdate: August 11st, 18??
Zodiac Sign: Leo Sun, Scorpio Moon, Capricorn Rising
Personality Type (MBTI): ENTP – The Debater
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Gender Identity: Wizard (he/him)
Blood-Status: Pureblood
Nationality: British/German
Residence: Bath, England
Hometown: Berlin, Germany / Bath, England
Languages: German, English, Latin, Ancient Greek
Physical Appearance
Face Claim: Richard Madden
Hair: dark brown
Eyes: blue
Height: 187cm
Weight: 76kg
Body Type: broad, athletic
Skin Tone: light, warm
Distinguishing Marks (scars, birthmarks, etc.): tbd
Family
Mother: Celine Bernadette Erdstern née Oakbrook. Ravenclaw, pureblood, passionate about magical artefacts, stay-at-home mom, loving and compassionate, daughter of a wealthy British merchant who dealt with magical artefacts. Has a fairly big collection of magical artefacts, which she‘s always eager to talk about. Used to tell Oscar stories about all sorts of occult artefacts and myths when he was little.
Father: Erich Leopold Erdstern, broom-maker or rather broomstick engineer, second son of Leopold Friedrich and Viktoria Josephine Erdstern. Doesn’t really get along with his son, they just don’t really know how to communicate with each other. Usually spends his day in his workshop. Really proud of his brooms, they‘re beautifully made and makes quite a bit of money with them. It's a flourishing business. It hasn’t always been that way tho. Has made custom brooms for well-known quidditch players. Frames every article that features a player that has a broom of his or mentions his brooms in any way. Spends a lot of his time improving them. He is always happy when Edith joins him in his workshop.
Younger Sister: Edith Rose Erdstein, younger sister by four years, Ravenclaw. Really into vampires and werwolfs, dreamer, soft spoken, has a knack for divination and flying. Likes to keep her father company and to learn more about the craft of broom-making. Low-key really good at it. Often reads by a window. Future ravenclaw seeker.
Magic
House: Ravenclaw
Best Class: Astronomy, Ancient Studies, Flying, DADA
Worst Class: Herbology (can’t for the life of him keep a plant alive)
Quidditch: –
Prefect: Yes
Clubs: -
Wand: Cedar Wood, Dragon Core, 14" Length, Solid
➔ Whenever I meet one who carries a cedar wand, I find strength of character and unusual loyalty. My father, Gervaise Ollivander, used always to say, ‘you will never fool the cedar carrier,’ and I agree: the cedar wand finds its perfect home where there is perspicacity and perception. I would go further than my father, however, in saying that I have never yet met the owner of a cedar wand whom I would care to cross, especially if harm is done to those of whom they are fond. The witch or wizard who is well-matched with cedar carries the potential to be a frightening adversary, which often comes as a shock to those who have thoughtlessly challenged them.
Animagus: –
Boggart: his family dead
Riddikulus: them suddenly snoring really loudly, rolling around on the floor
Patronus: black stallion
Patronus Memory: cuddling up to his mom and newborn sister for the first time, promising he’ll always protect them
Mirror of Erised: himself as an occult artefacts specialist, having a loving family of his own
Amortentia (what he smells like): cedarwood, burning candles, parchment paper, rain, sweet apples
Amortentia (what she smells): petrichor, cinnamon, warm chocolate, old books, orange
Magical Abilities: –
Career
Ages 11–18: Student at Hogwarts
Ages 18–24: Archaeology apprentice / Archaeology Major at the University of Oxford (?)
Ages 24-retirement: Archeologist, expert for occult artefacts and ancient rituals
Personality & Attitude
Personality: can come off as cold in the beginning but once you’re past this shell he’s very warm and caring, a smooth talker, passionate about occult things and astronomy, spends a lot of time in the library, likes a good conversation, is very protective of his close ones, it takes a lot to rile him up, very calm, often looks out of windows and gets lost in his thoughts
Strengths: quick-wit – charm – staying calm – thoroughness – attentiveness – compassion – supportive
Weaknesses: trust, letting people in, argumentative
Stressors: interactions with his father, OWLs and NEWTs season
Comfort: books, candles, his friends, the library, flying on his broom
Priorities: gaining knowledge, protecting his close ones
Favourites
Colours: dark blue, black
Food: apple pancakes
Drink: sage tea
Flowers: moonflower
Weather: night, overcast, rainy
Hobbies: reading, learning about magical artefacts and ancient magical practices, drawing, astronomy
Style: prefers dark closes, usual middle/upper-class wear, when alone or working wears more casual clothes
Relationships
Significant Other / Love Interest: Zelda Miriam Cairncross @cursebreakerfarrier
Story loading ...
Best friend: Abraham Aurelius Henry Alden
Os and Abe met in their first year, they hit it off immediately and have been best friends ever since. They often stay up late, having long discussions about everything and anything.
Mentor: Dr. Elias 'Eli' Merlyn Cairncross @cursebreakerfarrier
Friends:
Violette Jolie Durand
Met Violette through Abe and liked her from the get-go but it took a while for them to warm up to each other since they both tend to be very guarded when meeting new people. Abe was a good middleman and now the three hang around each other all the time.
Zelda Miriam Cairncross; Almira 'Mira' Iverach @cursebreakerfarrier
Deaglán Herrity @magicallymalted
The two boys met in Astronomy class when they were partnered up by their professor and quickly bonded over their shared disdain for herbology. Their friendship however only grew stronger later in life when Deaglán reached out to Oscar, offering to do an editorial on his work. The two would share a few drinks in the evenings before and after their interview and tour across the archaeological site, having inspiring chats about the most curious things. After their collaboration, they’ve become and stayed close friends.
Open for friendships and dorm-mates. If your interested DM me :)
Random HC
lived in Berlin till he was 9 y/o, visits his uncle and grandparents there regularly
daddy issues
feels responsible for his sister and gets really protective of her
has his own telescope and likes to watch the stars; literally knows the night sky like the back of his hand
prefect; uses this title to get access to the restricted section of the library a lot
likes to visit the more shady areas of Diagon Alley to hunt down magical artefacts
enjoys late night debates with his friends
got his first broom when he was like 3 years-old, great flyer, just not really interested in quidditch, Abe has been trying to recruit him for the team for years to no avail
Violette once asked him to look after her plants while she had to unexpectedly leave school for a few days, when she came back all of them were dead … she really doesn’t know how it happened. It’s not like she was gone for weeks. Oscar still feels bad about it!
has a very confident and determined walking style
his grandma used to make apple pancakes with the apples from their backyard for him
his work as archaeologist mainly revolves around the origins of magic and wizardkind
loves to chill by the black lake
#hphl#hogwarts legacy#hogwarts legacy mc#my ocs#ocs#mcs#aesthetic#moodboard#ravenclaw#oscar erdstern#wizarding world#hphl profile
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"Things done while spooning" prompts || [HAIR] feat. Childe & Nettle, for @harbingertm!
Nettle wishes his pulse would stop racing and his breathing would hurry and even out. That his nerves weren’t always so jumpy and high when he finds himself treated affectionately. Tenderly. It’s unfamiliar, it’s new, but it’s not bad. He likes it, actually. A lot. But he’s always felt his emotions very strongly, so the wave of affection and just...feeling that he gets when he’s kissed or held, it’s overwhelming. He feels like he needs to move, to fidget and roll around, rub at his face with his hands to stop it itching from the flush.
He wants to turn over so he can curl up against Childe’s chest. Bury his face in their shirt. Match his breathing.
The sunlight is warm, but the shade from the tree they’re napping under and the breeze fluttering up from the lakeshore make things very comfortable. There’s plenty of noise from little birds and animals and bugs. Nettle can smell the lake, the summer wildflowers growing nearby, the cloth of his jacket beneath him, acting as a sort of bedroll.
Childe has one arm wrapped over Nettle around his waist, holding him close. The other he’s stuck under Nettle’s head so their bicep acts as a pillow. Their...dates have all been like this, on the lowkey side without much in the way of specific planning. They’ve been on three(four, maybe?) now and Nettle...well, he’s not sure what to call this.
He’s never been involved with anyone before. At what point is Childe more than just ‘this guy I’m kind of seeing’? When does he become a… Nettle wants to hit himself for how dizzy the mere thought of the word boyfriend makes him. He’s getting far too giddy over far too small a thing, surely. Swept up easily in the tide of Childe’s forwardness. All things considered they haven’t even known each other very long.
A lot about the man cuddling him right now is a complete mystery to Nettle. And he feels like it should bother him more. He knows Tartaglia is a Harbinger, capable of incredible violence and ferocity. Familiar with subterfuge and espionage. That so much of him remains completely obscured by fog and shadows should unsettle Ned. Right? Shouldn’t it? (But it doesn’t, somehow. Somehow, Tartaglia just makes him feel...safe. Wanted.)
There’s nearly a foot’s difference between them in height. Childe has a stronger frame and a much more athletic build than tiny, thin little Ned. So of course he feels very small right now. Intensely aware of it. But it’s not in some bad way. Actually there’s something a little exciting about the feeling. Like a tiny adrenaline rush(what is that about, he wonders). He feels small here, and safe here, and tense and thrilled and- well, anyway. It’s overwhelming, and it’s kept him from being able to actually sleep. So much for that afternoon nap.
There’s a shift. Ned jumps just a bit as Tartaglia moves, but all they do is reach the hand of their ‘pillow’ arm up and start playing with Ned’s hair. It’s wavy and soft and wispy, a springy, yellowy green. He almost always has tiny little flowers tucked into it, or cute hairclips.
“Soft,” Childe mumbles. He sounds sleepy. “You smell nice…”
Ned feels himself blushing to the tips of his ears. His heart continues to hammer for a few moments but Childe’s fingers carding through his hair have a strange soothing effect. Nettle can breathe easier, can pull his racing thoughts to a halt. “I smell the same as usual,” he offers quietly. He knows it. Scents of sweet cinnamon and spices from the soap he washes with. A little bit of leather from his boots, his rucksack, his vest. Coffee because he drinks so much of it, and sometimes a bit of menthol or camphor from his medical kit.
It’s his usual smell. He says so dismissively, but for someone to find him pleasant even at his most ordinary and mundane...there’s a lot of significance to that. Even at his most boring, most unremarkable point, he’s desirable to someone.
He doesn’t know nearly all of what he’d like to know about Childe. But he does know some things.
He knows how insufferable they can be. Knows that cocky little smirk of theirs, one that hardly ever leaves their face. How he’s a horrible tease who gets a huge sense of entertainment from making Nettle flustered.
And Nettle knows that they’re a good brother. That Childe loves his family deeply and wants to take care of them. Protect them. Despite everything, Harbinger seems to be not much more than a job title for them. For all that they love fighting and chaos, at the end of the day Childe still has a great capacity for kindness and care.
And maybe that’s why Nettle feels so safe right now. For all the parts that people would urge him to be cautious of, there’s plenty of things to counter and put worry to rest. He may never know all of what lurks in the dark regarding them. Right now he thinks he’s okay with that. He’s seen enough that is good to want to stay. For all that he’s insufferable, Childe is fun to be with, makes Nettle laugh.
Finally, Ned turns over after all. He scoots in and wraps his arms around Childe, burying his face against their shirt. He takes a long, deep breath and at last a feeling of drowsiness begins to set in. “I think,” he murmurs shyly, “that I like being held.”
#harbingertm#just cut for length bc it got a bit long#「He’s soft to the touch ║ But frayed at the ends‚ he breaks」[Nettle]#childexned tag tba
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Top BLs with great chemistry?
What a great ask!!!
Reminder I define good chemistry as having 3 things:
emotional resonance (AKA emotional empathy - heart)
physical reactions (AKA sexual feedback - body)
sympathetic execution (AKA intellectual connection - mind)
In other words, as an audience member I want to feel that the characters
like each emotionally
desire each other physically
are enjoying it (AKA understand each others needs intellectually)
So putting aside heat levels, quality of production, and story here are my...
11 BLs with the BEST Chemistry
in order
1. Tharn & Type in TharnType (Thailand) obviously. I may have my issues with this flipping show but chemistry is NOT one of them.
Burn style? Nitric acid
2. Shi De & Shu Yi in We Best Love (Taiwan). The ache with these two just never goes away even when they are happily together.
Burn style? Oxygen deprivation
3. Fighter & Tutor in Why R U? (Thailand) They are just really really hot together, okay?
Burn style? Sulfuric acid
(Also Zee does a banging job in Cutie Pie. If we had a stand alone chemistry king, it would probubly be Zee.)
4. Wild Dog & Black Dagger in Long Time No See (Korea). Mixing up violence and tenderness in a very tasty way.
Burn style? Road rash
5. Tutor Tan & Dr Bun in Manner of Death (Thailand). You just jump into bed with the enemy THAT fast?
Burn style? Taser
(MaxTul are the Kings of Thai BL pairs, no one can touch them for consistent chemistry across all their series, branding, and queer friendly community relations.)
6. Teh & Oh-aew in I Told Sunset About You (Thailand). Would you like a side of chemistry with your teen angst?
Burn style? Bad sunburn
7. Tang Yi & Shao Fei in HIStory 3: Trapped (Taiwan). These two did a GREAT job of showcasing mature chemistry. The side dishes in this series are wonderful too. It’s the only one on this list with consistent chemistry for all characters.
Burn style? Aged whiskey
8. Gu Hai & Bai Luo Yin in Addicted (China). Just rolling in the stuff, and we got to kinda see how it might have gone without censorship... so they make the list.
Burn style? Douse in gasoline and light that match
9. Yu Zhen & Shi Lei in Be Loved In House: I Do. Sure it takes them a while but once they get there the pay out is killer.
Burn style? Sweet chili dipping sauce
10. Ace & Sky in My Day the series (Pinoy). How sugary can you take your chemistry?
Burn Style? Cinnamon candy
11. Jaeyoung & Sangwoo in Semantic Error (Korea). Perfectly balanced spicy, sweet, salty, and chewy.
Burn style? Spicy tteokbokki
* Lovey Writer & Ingredients & HIStory 2 almost made the list.
** New 2022 additions: KinnPorsche (2 pairs: KP & VegasPete, kinky cheesy chemistry), Love Mechanics (messy angsty chemistry), Old Fashion Cupcake (low heat but still hot chemistry), and Secret Crush On You (fantastic chemistry but the ultimate cringe).
10 Great Spicy Side Dishes?
in no particular order
Pitch & Bank in Golden Blood (Thailand)
Forth & Beam in 2 Moons 2 (Thailand)
Win & Team in Until We Meet Again (Thailand)
Ram & King in My Engineer (Thailand)
Frame & Book in Make it Right 2 (Thailand)
Khun & Kaow in Brothers (Thailand)
Bo Xiang & Zhi Gang in HIStory 3: Make Our Day’s Count (Taiwan)
Jack & Zhao in HIStory 3: Trapped (Taiwan)
Yong Jie & Xing Si in HIStory 4: Close to You (Taiwan)
Ou Wen & Mark in Love is Science? (Taiwan)
Short Series Honorable Mention
The KaengPuth episode from Y-Destiny (Thailand)
Just Friends (Korea)
HIStory Obsessed (Taiwan)
Some More (Korea)
Dishonorable Mention: Crazy High Heat Chemistry Without Reason
The Pornographer Series (Japan)
Cornered Mouse Dreams of Cheese (Japan)
Irresistible Love (China)
Light (Taiwan)
Best chemistry that never went anywhere?
The Devil Judge (Korea)
Nitman (Thailand)
Friend Forever (Thailand)
My Dear Loser - InnSun side dishes (Thailand)
Love By Chance 2: A Chance at Love - KeenTum side dishes (Thailand)
Love O2O - KO & Hao Mai side dishes (China)
Word of Honor (China)
The Untamed (China)
Advance Bravely (China)
(dated July 2022, judgments based on current offerings)
(source)
#thai bl#best chemistry in bl#best chemistry#tharntype#taiwanese bl#we best love#why r U?#fightertutor#chinese bl#korean bl#Long Time No See#strongberry#Manner of Death#maxtul#mewgulf#zeesaint#HIStory 3: Trapped#Addicted Heroin#addicted bl#addicted#addicted web series#Be Loved In House: I Do#pinoy bl#my day the series
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mistletoe magic | stiles stilinski
word count; 10,490
summary; stiles learns that his cute neighbour might be a witch after accidentally getting her spellbooks delivered to him instead.
notes; I know a witch!au isn’t a huge au for stiles, because he’s had evident races of magic throughout the series anyway, but just enjoy it!
warnings; smut, unprotected sex, use of magic
It had been a pretty regular Monday morning for Stiles.
At six sharp, he’d been up and awake, barely functional but stumbling through his apartment and clicking on the coffee machine, before hopping into the shower for a quick wash. When he’d emerged, the machine had just finished grinding, as always, his routine functioning like a well-oiled machine now, and he’d moved it all across into a to-go cup and left it on the counter before going to get dressed.
He’d stumbled around to find his school books and shove them into a bag, eaten two cinnamon pop tarts that had burned the tips of his fingers when he’d grabbed them straight from the toaster, and had still been chewing as he shoved his keys in his pocket and sipped at his coffee, straight into the elevator at twenty to seven.
It was a fifteen-minute walk across campus to his early morning lecture on a Monday, leaving him with a few minutes to spare, in case he saw the sweet older lady from two floors down and wanted to say ‘hi’, or the cute neighbour who lived across the hall that always made him fall over his own feet, or maybe even the kid who delivers newspapers and is always falling off of his bike. He made it on time, took some great notes, and was feeling a little more alive and welcome into his day.
At exactly ten past one, he’d been home, having gone to the library to get some study in and find his new books, and get lunch at the diner he always ate at after classes, a cheeseburger and curly fries, and grabbed his letters and a parcel from the mail slot with his housing number printed on, tucking the package under his arm and heading upstairs and back to his flat, ready to flick through his bills.
All according to plan. One year and four months away at university and he knew every day like he’d been doing it for a decade, so he was only half-way to the kitchen when he remembered the package he was clutching under his arm, coming to a complete halt, throwing the usual assortment of envelopes away to the counter, and producing the neatly wrapped bundle.
He didn’t question it, not even bothering to look at the front, figuring it was just an early delivery on the textbooks that he wasn’t expecting to get here for another three weeks, finger slipping under the folds of the brown paper and tearing it away, fingers dancing over the covers of the books, before his brows were furrowing once again.
These were definitely not his ‘intro to psychological profiling’ textbooks.
Beautiful swirls in gold, carved into dark leather across the front, Latin words he didn’t understand before he was opening the cover, brushing off a layer of dust and letting one brow arch up. The text inside was English - though, no modern - and paper that he was cautious to take care of, simply from what appeared to be the age of it, stained and worn, finger marks clear on the corner from being passed down through generations. It was handwritten, drawings in old ink that had leaked onto the paper a little, rough and coarse, and labelled doodles with names he had never heard of before.
At a glance, he would assume it to be some kind of witchcraft.
He felt on edge, suddenly. He’d left Beacon Hills to come to somewhere that no supernatural would follow, where things like werewolves were still a myth, something to be laughed at, and he swallowed thickly, looking around his apartment as though someone was going to jump out. He loved his friends, he really did, and he didn’t so much mind the supernatural when he was with them all because they protected him, but alone out here, he and his bat didn’t stand a chance.
Now, it was Christmas, he knew this from the poor excuse of a tree up in his living room, and the snow outside, and the fact that for the last six weeks, his usual mochas had been a gingerbread-spiced mocha, on the insistence of the barista who served him whenever he ventured into the little coffee shop joint, and he was growing find of it. So, he tried to be optimistic, in the spirit of festivities and all that, and texted the group chat, waiting to see if any of them had sent him the books as a present, maybe even his father or Melissa. He even texted Parrish.
Except, they all said no, and now, he was stumped. Then, as he was being extra nosey and flicking through the book, he came across a page marked with a small slip of card, the item falling out, and he cursed, having no idea which page it came from, but as he picked up the piece of paper, one of the questions in his puzzle finally gained another piece towards the jigsaw.
‘(Y/N), the spell you’re looking for is here, but be careful, it’s a strong one.’
So, the books are for his hot neighbour, the next number up from his, and it now made sense as to why he had these books - they were a mistake. It opened a new question, however, as to why you would be getting them.
He had absolutely no patience, barley remembering to flick the catch on his door so that he’d be able to get back inside, before he was striding across the hall in one, two steps, and knocking on the wood. He could hear you shuffling around inside, the soft and muffled notes of the classic rock music you’d been listening to getting turned right down to low. It only took you a further few seconds until you were opening the door, but it felt like years to him with his impatience, fingers tapping against the books agitatedly, biting the nail of the other thumb, and his foot was tapping against the floor.
When you opened the door, though, he felt like it was too soon, like he wasn’t prepared for what to say, his breath hitching in his throat as his heart leapt in his chest, eyes sweeping down along your body and widening at your bare legs, only a t-shirt hanging on your frame, rising up to reveal the edge of a pair of white lace panties as you opened the door, and he forced his eyes back up to yours, wincing as he bit down a little too harshly on his nail, and pulled it from his mouth, shaking it as his dropped to his side.
“Hey, neighbour.”
“H-Hi. Hello. Yes, hi.” He already wanted to die a little bit, he hadn't stuttered this much in front of a pretty girl since junior year in high school, even Lydia had lost this effect on him, and college really had been a growing experience for him. He’d had a fair few hook-ups, and experimented, and he wasn’t shy about flirting when he wanted to, but you always through hi right back through loops, like he was still that kid with a buzzcut.
“What can I do for you, four-A?”
“Stiles. My name is Stiles.” He waited for the usual reaction, the cringe, the eyebrows shooting up, the scowl, something to indicate that you had actually heard the pronunciation, but you only smiled a little wider.
“I know. After I introduced myself and you fell over and didn’t give me your name, I checked the mail in your post-slot. I was curious. There was a lot addressed to Mieczysłav, but then one with a handwritten address to Stiles.” You shrugged, leaning against the doorframe, and crossing your arms, and while you might seem casual, at least his degree was coming in useful for something, as your body language read an entirely different reaction, insecurity and worry rolling off of you in invisible waves of tells.
He rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand, laughing slightly. “That sounds like something I would do.”
Silence fell between you both for a second, and he couldn't help but stare, taking in every detail of your face, the way your lower lip was a little reddened, and he figured you must have been nibbling on it while working, and your hair was messy, an attempt to pin it back that seemed to have come loose and entirely ineffective, presumably from dancing, because you looked a little flushed. When you raised your brows at him a little, he realised you were waiting for him to explain himself, why he was on your doorstep, and he flushed with embarrassment shaking his head clear.
“I got your spellbooks by mistake.” He held them out, eyes widening even more, before his jaw was dropping open. “Book. Regular books. Not spell books, because that would imply magic, right? And, that’s dumb. Just regular books. I didn’t look at them, at all, not even a little bit, I promise.”
“You don’t believe in magic, then?” You took them from him, a coy smile on your lips, and you placed them down on the counter beside the door, pushing a bowl of potpourri getting pushed aside, along with your car keys and what looked like an incense burner.
“Do you?”
He was testing the water, seeing where your mind was at, and as a whistling came from your kitchen, you glanced back over to the kettle on the hob, and he thought this conversation might be about to come to an end. “Well, I think there’s always a little magic in life, even if people don’t notice it. You have to believe in magic to be able to see it. It’s like the supernatural that way.”
“And, you believe in the supernatural, huh?” He felt bad for the way he said it, because it was mocking, but he had to be sure that you weren’t messing with him, or spying on him, he had to try and find out who you were, but you only looked away as the whistling got louder, opening the door a little more and waving him inside as you walked away, and he stumbled after you and closed the door before his mind had even caught up with the movement of his feet.
Your apartment was littered with plants. The windowsills were lined with them, all brought green and blooming, even though he was sure it wasn’t the right season, and there was even a set of cactuses along a shelf near the corridor. There was a homey feel to your place, almost earthy, neutral tones and soft accents, a smell that was so calming he felt his own muscles begin to relax, and the music had changed from classic rock to some country song he was sure he’d heard in a movie somewhere but couldn't quite place it, and he followed you to the kitchen.
Rows of cookbooks and recipe folders stacked up on top of a lower cupboard, and he swallowed thickly, averting his gaze from the way your lace panties hugged your ass deliciously as you reached up for a mug, bringing back two, and pouring them both full of the herbal concoction you’d been making. On a mismatching saucer, you offered it to him, and he sniffed it carefully, but remembered his manners, mumbling a ‘thank you’, because his mother raised his right, even if he was a little suspicious of you.
“Relax, Stiles, if I was going to poison you, I wouldn’t be giving you tea made of Valerian and Lemon Balm. Do you want any honey, honey?” You grinned a little at your joke, but he shook his head, watching as you stirred a spoonful of the sticky sweetener into your own, and taking a tentative sip after blowing on the surface. It wasn’t all that bad, he had to admit, and he found his tensions slipping away a little. “It’s for relaxing, and helping with sleep.”
“It’s good.” You smiled, blowing lightly on your own, and he decided that he could busy himself by checking out your posters. An interesting arrangement, one was a band poster, the other was a chart with the phases of the moon, a third with diagrams of plants and little facts underneath, and the fourth, with symbols and drawing he didn’t quite understand. “So, you’re really embracing that whole witch thing, then?”
“Well, seeing as I am a witch, I would think it’s only appropriate.” He tried to hide his grin behind his mug, shaking his head a little, not believing that they really existed, and you didn’t miss the glint in his eyes, clearly, because there was a playful kind of offence flashing across your face. “You can’t tell me you think I’m insane, not when there’s so much of the supernatural all over you, Stiles.”
“The supernatural? Really?”
“So, you’re not the emissary to a pack of werewolves?” You challenged, his jaw dropping at the accuracy of it, and it was your turn to laugh at him. “It’s literally stitched into your aura, I sensed another supernatural the second you walked into the building.”
“I just associate with a lot of ‘em, but I’m not supernatural myself.”
“You sure about that?” He stilled, memories flashing behind his eyes of a time when he once was, and you seemed to pick up on the slightly sour mood he’d taken on, then again, he wasn’t really sure where your abilities lay, being that Scott or Derek would have simply sniffed it out on him. Your hand on his arm snapped him back to the moment, fingers squeezing lightly at his bicep. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
“There was a possibility, once, but it’s gone. There’s a dark chapter in my past, and the spark I was told I once had disappeared when I got through it.”
It went quiet again after that, your fingers slipping down from his arm to take his, and you placed your cup down, the steaming brew barely touched, but he followed suit, letting himself be pulled along as you directed him back to the living room. You were distracting him, it was an obvious ploy, but he was excited to learn, and he let the sadness of remembering his possession fade away as the thrill of new knowledge took over. “I can tell you have a lot of questions, so, what do you want to know first?”
He rubbed at his chin, settling down onto the couch at the edge of the room, finding it surprisingly comfortable, and you were busying yourself around him, a little water jug in your hand as you nurtured the abundance of houseplants you owned. “How did you know about my pack? And how much do you know about them?”
“It’s in your aura, I suppose. I can just pick up hints of different things when you’re around. The wolves are obvious, I’ve been around a lot of wolves. I also get death, and I've never met a banshee, but I assume that’s what it is. I knew you were the emissary because you’re the only magic in there, I would sense other traces on you, and there’s something else I can’t quite place.” Your face screwed up a little bit as you thought about it, nose wrinkling adorably before shrugging. “Like a werewolf, but not quite. I can’t get it.”
“She’s a werecoyote.”
You paused your pouring, turning to look at him, eyes flicking lightly around his being, before smiling slightly to yourself, and going back to your task. “Huh. Interesting.”
“Have you been a witch your whole life?”
“Since the day I was born, but I didn’t know or start practising until I was older. It just kinda’ happens, comes out of nowhere at a certain age, you start to realise you have abilities.” You had moved onto using a dropper to give little drips of water to cacti and succulents, standing on a small step stool as you did.
“Do you have to go to a school, like Harry Potter? Do you have a wand?”
You laughed at that, a genuine and hearty laugh, and you finished up your tasks, legs folding underneath yourself and you smirked a little at him as you sat down and got comfortable. “You wish, Stilinski. It’s not like that, it's more of an earthly connection than magic. It’s why my plants are so healthy. I can brew stuff, make little potions-” You motioned a hand over the jars lining the shelves on the walls, his eyes scanning over each one, picking out the neatly written titles across the fronts. “-I can cast very light spells, but it’s not the sort of thing where you can curse people, or teleport.”
“So, you can’t curse people to turn into frogs?”
“No, unfortunately not.” He was sure your giggle was the sweetest he’d ever heard, and he dared to twist himself around a little more, inching slightly closer to you across the couch. “I can do some stuff, like make your skin break out or give you a rash that won’t go away until I let it, and I can even give you headaches and such, but I don’t like to dabble in that sort of stuff. I much prefer protection charms.”
“Protection charms?” His heart skipped a little beat at the way your face lit up as you nodded, and he was intrigued, interest piqued. “I could use one of those, y’know, I’m incredibly clumsy and often get into supernatural trouble when I’m home. Hasn’t been so bad since I got here. Will you make me one?”
Your eyes left him, bottom lip nibbled between your teeth, and for a second he had worried he’d messed up, unsure on how witch spellcasting etiquette worked, but then you were moving across the room, opening up the cabinet on the other side of the room, and inside the doors and wooden frame hung what must be close to a thirty different decorative charms. Some were dreamcatchers or garlands hanging on the inside of the door, others were handcrafted little ornaments sitting on the shelves and filling them up, and your fingers were flittering over them all.
When you found what you were looking for, you lifted it out, a dream catcher that was bright and colourful and a little odd-looking, before bringing it back over to him, and presenting him with it cautiously. “You already made me one?”
“Yeah, well, I couldn’t let the cute guy from across the hall get any more injuries. I watched you fall over five times in your first week living here. You’re really clumsy.”
He felt heat rush to his cheeks, and yet he couldn't help the goofy grin that travelled across his features, not mentioning the fact that he noticed you sitting considerably closer to home when you took your seat once again. He was embarrassed for two reasons, the first being that you had noticed his innate penchant for ridiculous injuries, but more overwhelmingly, the second being that you still thought he was cute. College might have helped him bloom a little, but when he had a crush, he was still a bumbling mess, and he didn’t know quite how to respond.
He busied himself with taking in the details of the dreamcatcher. Somehow, despite this being the first real conversation that the two of you had ever had, passing and fleeting chats in the halls and elevator not counting, you had managed to capture his entire essence, he could already tell. The strings were made of wool, chunky and all different colours, a mix of yellows and blues, woven in together and tangled in strange patterns, but beautiful nonetheless, and the little accents were what made it complete.
A button that had fallen off of one of his flannels, he recognised the distinctive wooden piece, and it was woven into the design, along with a blue ribbon in the same colour of the jeep that was tied in a bow, and a wooden twig tangled in it. Dangling on more pieces of wool from the bottom was a keyring he was sure he’d lost after leaving it downstairs overnight, the Yoda on it looking cleaner than he remembered, and you must've cleaned it. There was also a black feather, and a sprig of some kind of dried herb that he didn't recognise, but enjoyed the smell anyway.
It was intricate and personal, and he felt chuffed just to know that you’d made one for him, a little security and peace washing over him to know that someone was out here looking after him, completely unmaliciously, simply because you wanted to.
“This is incredible.” You let out a breath of relief, he recognised it in the way your body slumped a little, and he placed it down carefully on the coffee table beside you both, reaching out to take your hand in his, and daring to lace your fingers together and squeeze in gratitude, and you held onto him yourself, gaze dropping down to your connected hands. In a bold move of your own, you lifted your other hand, holding onto his with both of yours, and his thumb lifted out to brush lightly over your skin. “You’re the reason I don’t get papercuts and splinters anymore.”
“And you are very welcome for that.” You teased him back, and an easy kind of harmony fell between you both, your presence being more comfortable simply having only just really begun to meet you than he ever had been with someone new. It was strange, to feel so relaxed and at home with you, the way you put his fears at ease and soothed every worry without even trying, making him feel welcome and accepted, like he’d known you for years, not just shy of an hour. “Will you tell me about your pack?”
“You really want to know?” He couldn’t mask his surprise, and you nodded, excitement gleaming in your eyes, and he felt a surge of pride swell up in his system at the idea of getting to boast about his friends completely honestly for the first time in his life. There was no threat, he wasn’t showing off their skills as a way to try and ward off a threat or intimidate someone, but he simply wanted everyone else to be as awed by them as he was, and he didn’t have to hide any supernatural secrets from you. “Shall I start at the beginning?”
“Is it a long story?”
“Very long.” He confirmed, a shy laugh leaving you, before you were shifting again.
“How about I go and make us some fresh tea, then?” You were on your feet, wandering away to the kitchen as soon as he’d offered his affirmations of the idea, and he decided to follow after you, already beginning to blather about Peter Hale.
Hours seemed to pass by, as he spoke to you, two more pots of tea being made, and you’d broken out your snack-store for him, before the two of you had ordered pizza. He’d made himself at home, too, keys and phone sitting abandoned on the table, shoes kicked off on the floor, and feet stretched out along the couch. You were sitting at the opposite end, your legs stretched out in his direction, and one of his hands was sitting on your ankle, fingers drawing patterns on the soft skin there absentmindedly as his other hand was used to gesture wildly around himself.
He told you it all, confessing right from the beginning as he encountered Derek Hale, who liked to lurk in the woods, which had made you crack up as he told you about how the man was basically now the alpha, even if Scott was officially the alpha, and he’d told you about Jackson’s kanima phase, which had made you crack up even more as you claimed he deserved it.
You’d been shocked by his homicidal English teacher, and comforted him when he spilled his heart to you over the nogitsune incident he hated to think about, accepting your hush happily, and revelling in the smell of your hair when you’d pressed in close to him, before retreating to your seat.
He told you all about the benefactor and the dread doctors, and about Allison’s death, which he still blamed himself for when he was on a low day, and you’d used your thumb to clear away the tear that had fallen from his cheek, leaving him blushing and breathless for a second when you’d pressed a light kiss to his cheekbone just after.
You had scooted closer to him and stayed there near the end of his tales, tucked under his arm, playing with his fingers over your shoulders as he rambled about how alone he’d felt while taken by the Wild Hunt, thoughts that he’d always kept locked up in his own mind, never having shared with another person before.
“You really got the short end of the ‘supernatural encounters’ stick then, huh?”
“Oh, sweetheart, that is the understatement of the century.” You lifted your head from his shoulder, your feet nudging together on the coffee table, the reindeer themed fluffy socks on your feet playing with the patchy and worn door knitted socks he’d had for years, worn to keep warm during the winter, even though your apartment was nice and toasty, the heaters running and the radiators on, and it was much cosier than his place had ever been.
The Christmas lights on a timer had come on, flickering around the place once the light had started fading, hours flashing by in the blink of an eye, a hazy glow cast over the apartment and creating a whole new range of shadows. “Do you want me to make charms for your friends?”
He watched you for a moment longer, trying to discern whether you were serious, and when he caught no gesture of ill-will, or hesitation, or hidden-motives, he smiled. “You’d do that?”
“Seems like you all need it.”
He shrugged a little, smiling when you rested your forehead against his, fingers playing together still, but feet stilling in their game of footsie. “I can’t believe I waited this long to get to know you. You’re, like, the coolest chick I’ve ever met.”
His eyes fluttered closed, he couldn't’ help it, noses bumping together as you both simply drowned in the moment, in what the moment was leading up to, where you both knew this was going but were revelling in the simple but exhilarating tension that was crackling with electricity in the millimetres of space between your lips and his. You were so close to him that he could feel it more than hear it when you whispered some words he didn’t quite understand, your breath fanning over his face in a dreamy sigh, and it took his hazed brain a second to catch up, before he was pulling back just enough to catch your eyes, one hand coming up to rest over your cheek as he turned to face you fully.
“Oh, my God. Did you just cast a spell?”
“Look up.” He was hesitant to pull back much further, but did so anyway, and he chuckled slightly as he spotted the little green plant beginning to sprout from the ceiling. Vines were still strengthening along the beam, and the leaves were beginning to form right before his eyes, white berries hanging between the green stems, and Stiles shook his head, in complete awe as he looked at it.
You were staring up to, eyes focused on the plant as it bloomed and he assumed you were concentrating on its development, but he couldn't hold back anymore, two hands on your cheeks, pulling your face back to his, and your lips barely parted to speak before his mouth was colliding with your own. A squeak left you, and he wanted to grin at being able illicit such a sound from you, but the temptation to kiss was just enough for him to contain himself. When your mind finally caught up, you were kissing him back just as eagerly, a soft sigh leaving you. “You are fucking adorable.”
The words were whispered into your mouth, he felt you shake with a soft laugh under his hold, before you were holding onto him just as tightly in return. One of your hands wrapped around his wrists, the other sliding over his bicep to his shoulder, before slipping down underneath, and smoothing over the front of his chest. He puffed out a little under your touch, pulling away for a quick breath, groaning slightly at the way your nails dug into his skin as he did, and then, he was diving right back into you.
Your hand slipped down to rest over his heart, the organ thudding under your hand, and he felt like it was going to burst right out of his chest, but as he pressed a little further into you, a shock like an electrocution was racing right through his body, a kind of jolt that was thoroughly exhilarating, and he pulled away, eyes wide as he stared at you.
You looked just as shocked as he expected he did too, his hands dropped down as he watched sparks and electricity crackle between your fingers and his, your brows raising at him. “Thought you said you had no magic left after.. y’know..”
He couldn’t drag his eyes away from it, your fingers weaving with his, a loud snapping sounding as a particularly bright flare went off, and he flinched a little, jaw dropping and a whine slipping from him as you contained it all the sight disappeared before his eyes. “So, there really are sparks flying between us, huh?”
He regretted the words the moment he’d said them, expecting to see on your face the same kind he’d always gotten from Malia or Lydia when he made those kinds of cheesy puns that only he enjoyed, even Scott daring to fix him with a bored or blank look, and Derek would simply glare, but much to his surprise, you laughed. It was fond, with a roll of your eyes and a huff to preempt it, but you laughed nonetheless, and he felt himself somehow manage to brighten even further. “That was cheesy.”
“I know.” He beamed, shifting a little, hands sinking down to your hips to pull you closer to himself as he settled back into the couch, and your hand pressed to the cushions beside his head, the other one coming up to weave into his hair lightly.
“I loved it. I am quite a fan of puns.”
“That’s good, because I usually have a lot of them.” He leaned up, daring himself to be bold enough to close that gap once again, and he could feel your lashes tickling his cheeks as you nuzzled into him a little more. “If I kiss you again, will those sparks happen this time, too?”
“If I stop controlling it, they will.”
“Stop controlling it, sweetheart.” He felt you move to nod your affirmations, but dipped his head in time, proud of his own reflexes as he caught your lips, feeling the hand in his hair tighten, and he was so glad he’d decided to grow it out all those years ago, because right now, he was losing all sense of himself in the way your nails would scratch across his scalp, or the delicious burning that flared over his skin for a split second when you pulled on his hair, before you were rubbing it softly, fingers working in tandem timing with your lips, teasing over his own.
That same feeling took up, a sparking that felt like fireworks, like energy surging through him, escaping at his fingertips in every place that he touched you, one palm smoothing along your back to somewhere that was definitely too lose to be respectable, as the other held onto your cheek still. You were taking control, your tongue darting out to trace over his lower lip, bribing him to part them but he needed no convincing, letting your tongue meet his own only a second after you’d made the request, equally breathy and needy noises escaping you both at the slow and wet drag of the muscles over one another.
His lungs were burning, lips beginning to sting as his assault on your mouth continued, his neck straining to hold this angle, and yet the more you kissed him, the more that the hazy feeling of getting to be with you like this raced through his body was the more he became addicted to needing more, chasing a high that he didn’t even know he wanted until now, like an addict finding his next hit.
You seemed to pick up on it all, as though you’d read all of his thoughts, because the second he’d had the lingering thoughts, you were settling yourself across his lap, a leg on either side of his own as you seated yourself down, and he couldn't help the way his hips bucked up a little to meet you, or the way his hand slid down fully to rest on your ass.
After all, as much as he’d gone through the make him grow up emotionally, physically he was still a horny-teen college boy, and you were one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, sitting half-naked in his lap and sucking on his lower lap while doing something with your tongue that was making him feel like he couldn't even breathe properly for how aroused he was.
Maybe you could feel the growing erection underneath of you, maybe you couldn't, but he’d stopped caring about being embarrassed around you about three hours ago when he’d had to tell you all about the time he’d once dropped a condom in Coach’s class in front of the entire classroom, and you’d laughed so much your face had gone red and you’d hidden it form him by pressing into his shoulder.
You were something he felt like he was dreaming up, like any moment now he’d wake up in a small puddle of his own drool with his face pressed into the desk of his lecture hall, the lights turned out and another note left by his kind professor to get more sleep at home, and to lock up when he left, before you were giggling a little at him, pulling away and stealing a few more pecks as you did, and he wondered if you really could read his mind, heat flushing his cheeks.
“Are you reading my mind or something?”
He felt stupid even as he mumbled te words, especially when it only seemed to heighten your entertainment, but you shook your head. “I can’t read your mind, I can just kinda’ sense your mood, I guess. It’s the connection, you were clearly thinking something funny, and I don’t know what it was, but I got a sudden rush of amusement.”
“That’s pretty fucking incredible.” He whispered, letting you peck his mouth a few more times, simply sitting there with puckered lips as he tried not to smile too much, before he was tucking hair away behind your ears and finally you were opening your eyes, and at this point, he really should learn to stop being surprised by new developments with you. “Holy shit, your eyes are glowing!”
“So are yours.” You winked, the bright purple being a shade that was so captivating and beautiful on you that he couldn’t look away, even when you leaned away from him to grab his phone, raising it up to snap a picture for him, and forcing his gaze down to it. Much like you’d said, his eyes were beginning to hint in with a faint purple, the neon shading beginning to drip into his irises and take over from the usual golden-brown that resided there. “You never made out with another witch before?”
He pinched at your ass for your cheeky comment, taking his phone and throwing it away to the side, grinning when you yelped at his painless attack. “I didn’t even know witches really existed before today. Besides, what makes you think I'm one? I had a spark once, but as I said, that died out. Nothing truly magical.”
“I don’t know, you’re having a pretty strong connection with me right now, aren’t you?” Your arms looped around his neck, snuggling in a little closer to him, and he bit back a groan as you shuffled in his lap. “I think you’re underestimating yourself, you just don’t know how to tap into your magic, you have to believe in it to see it.”
“You really think so?”
He was vulnerable and he knew it showed, he’d gone his entire life being unsure as to where all his energy and twitching came from, as to why he’d always felt a draw to the earth; the preserve and the woods, and justice and balance, and why he’d somehow fit into a supernatural world with far more elegance and ease than he ever had the normal one, and maybe this was the explanation. “I really do, Stiles.”
“Will you teach me?”
“I would love to.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw, and then to the spot below your ear, before flicking his tongue out a little to drag over the sensitive patch that lay there, before moving down your neck. He didn’t want to mark you without your consent, he wasn’t sure what was going to come of all of this and where it would go, but he was more than happy to lick and bite lightly at your skin, finding the sweet spot that made your hips roll down into his own and a sound of need and desperation to leave you that was like music to his ears, before his hips were bucking up to meet you once again.
“Y’know when you said that you could feel what I was feeling?”
“Uh-huh?” You were distracted, your reply seeming somewhat faded and distant, and he chuckled lightly, before making his way back up to your mouth now that you’d both had a chance to catch your breaths once again.
“Does that mean everything?”
“Are you asking if I know just how much you want to fuck me right now? Because yes, I do know.” He choked a little on his breath, your hand in his hair pulling his head back so that you could meet his gaze, your lower lip held between you teeth, flesh going a darker pink, and he longed to be the one biting that lip for you. “Trust me, the sentiment is returned.”
“It is?”
“Oh, yeah.” He wasn’t used to women being so confident with wanting him, being so unashamed of it, or of even wanting him at all. Most of his hook-ups had been slightly drunk make-outs and sloppy grinding, or booty calls and meetings in closets at parties. He got more action than he ever did in high school, he’d finally grown into his limbs and his looks, but that didn’t take away the surprise that still happened every time someone as pretty as you even offered him the time of day.
“Like, right here? Right now?”
“Been thinking about how much I want to ride you on my couch for like an hour and a half, now.” Stiles couldn’t stop the moan that bubbled up in his throat, lips parting as you ran a finger over his swollen lips, a cheeky glint flashing over purple eyes as you looked at him.
“You might just be perfect for me.”
“I like the sound of that.”
A toothy smile was offered to you, before he was pulling you back in towards him, hands slipping down to lay resting on your thighs as soon as your lips had found his once again. The heat seemed to have passed, and while the kiss was still completely intoxicating, there was something a little more tender about it, too. It wasn’t nearly as rushed and frantic, the sloppy kisses you’d shared as you learned one another’s ticks had passed, and as your lips worked slowly with his own, Stiles found that he much preferred this kind of kiss.
This was the kind of kiss that he could picture himself sharing with you in many settings. A sleepy, early morning kiss, when you were still between the land of consciousness and the realm of unconsciousness. Or, late nights, when he’d fall asleep while studying, and he would let you drag him to his feet and to bed. Or, simply when he would finish a lecture, or get you coffee, or meet you for dinner. The point was, Stiles already knew he wanted to kiss you at all times of the day, and to hold onto you, and to watch you brew little spells at the stove while holding onto you from behind.
Your lips were wet when you pulled away, eyes sparkling as you looked at him, a bright shade of royal purple, like silk and rich violet on flower petals, and you looked utterly ethereal. “Do you have any idea just how beautiful you are?”
“You’re sweet-talking me.” You teased, bumping the tip of your nose against his, and he shook his head.
“No, I’m not, I’m just being honest with you. I’ve been into you for a long time, even if I didn’t quite have my mind in the right place to actually say it.” You huffed out a little laugh, your eyes averting from his own so that you could try and hide your bashful little expression, but he didn’t miss it.
“Well, I’ve been admiring you a little, too. I should’ve had my deliveries sent to you sooner, if I knew it was going to end like this.” As if to punctuate your words, you rolled your hips down into his, reminding him of the solid erection pressing into his jeans, his fingers digging a little firmer into your skin, and he pushed your shirt up higher, the soft cotton of your panties revealed to him.
“These are just fucking sinful. Do you normally wander around your house in underwear and band-tees?” He tugged at it a little, before daring to tuck his hand underneath the fabric, trailing up, and a poorly-concealed groan left him as he found no further obstructions, fingers closing over one of your breasts, squeezing lightly as he palmed at your chest. “Well, clearly not all of your underwear.”
“I tend to, I keep it warm in here, for all the plants.” Your back arched up into his hand, one of your own closing over his outside of your shirt, as your other held onto his shoulder, fingers leaving crescent-moon shaped marks he was sure, and the rocking of your hips into his own only seemed to increase.
“I’d love to see you in one of my flannels sometime, just like this.”
“Give me your shirt and you’ll see it sooner than you think.” You teased, his brows raising, before he was pulling his hands back just long enough to lean into you, stripping the garment off as best as he could, leaving him in a thin black t-shirt as you took the item from him. He wanted to whine out as you stood up, choosing instead to replace the pressure of your core over his with his hand instead, palming at his cock through the thick denim, and you grinned as you watched him, yet he didn’t feel the slightest bit embarrassed.
You stood before him, draping his shirt across his spread knees as he slumped further into the cushions, getting himself comfortable and popping the button on his jeans, swollen lower lip being nibbled as you played with the hem of your shirt. Your hips were swinging to the beat of the song, and then, you raised the garment up and over your head, letting it drop away to the carpet, his jaw dropping as he looked at you.
You picked up his flannel, pulling it up your arms, and leaving it open at the front, just barely covering your tits. You were an angel and also the devil, tempting him to do so many wrong things. Stretching his hands out toward you, he beckoned you back into his lap, an act you were more than happy to take as you bounded over to him, a pep on your few short steps, before you were settling back into his lap.
“Perfect.”
He let his hands find the flaps of the flannel, pulling it open wide enough to be able to admire your tits fully, letting you push your hair back away from your shoulders for his unobstructed view. Sealing one hand around your waist, he dragged you up closer, until you were almost pressed to him fully, before dipping his head down. His tongue dragged over a hardened nipple, taking the taut peak into his mouth and sucking harshly, as your hand wound into his hair. You tugged, roughly, a groan that vibrated along your entire body leaving him and making you shiver, and you made the prettiest little noises above him.
He switches sides, making sure to give the other half of your chest that same kind of attention, leaving wet marks and stinging watches along your skin that would become bright purple marks in the morning to match the colour of your eyes, and he just hoped you kept him around long enough to see them when they did become beautiful and prominent. He wanted to see his good work, he wanted to see the way he got to mark you up and leave his touch all over your body.
“Stiles..”
“I do love how you sound moaning my name, princess, but I’m not sure how much longer I can last when you're making noises like that and grinding yourself all over my cock like this.” You grinned, letting him kiss his way back up your chest and throat until he was taking your lips with his own. Your hands were moving down, tugging at his zipper as far as it would go, hid hips bucking up into his hand as he felt you drag a nail along his covered erection, breathy sounds between you both when you pulled away.
He only had to lift himself up for a moment, before you were tugging at his jeans, helping him to get them just far enough down his thighs for his boxers to be able to follow. His cock was throbbing, painfully hard and desperate for you, leaking precum along his skin, and he gave himself some form of relief. You were watching him, eyes wide as he pumped his length in one hand, the other dipping under your skirt rubbing over your core, and you bundled up your shirt for him.
“Y’know, all those times I thought about us, a quick fuck on your couch wasn’t how I had wanted our first time to be, but then again, I didn’t expect the cute chick across the hall to be a witch, wither, so..”
He used his thumb to drag your panties to the side, your sodden folds revealed to him, and he slipped two fingers into your dripping core with ease. “I’ll let you take it slow next time, I swear, but right now, I’d really like it if you’d fuck me.”
He could only nod, heart skipping a beat at the promise of another time. Your legs shifted, muscles clenching as he forced himself to take his touch away from your core and bringing his fingers up to his mouth, sucking your sweet essence from the thin digits. As you leaned over him, he was sure to line himself up, and then, you were sinking down onto him, your forehead flailing to his as your mouth fell open, his eyes rolling back in his head.
“You’re so fucking big.”
“You’re so fucking tight.” He whispered the words, a little breathless and hanging on the edge of his orgasm already, and you seemed just as close, because as you finally sank all the way down and settled into his lap again, he could feel every pulse within your walls as you hugged around him.
It took him a moment, staving off his climax so that he didn’t come just from getting to feel you like this, and you looped your arms around his neck gently to find your purchase. Your nails were scratching lightly at the hairs at the base of his neck, his flannel once again flapping around you, panties pushed to the side to let him have access to your centre, and it was deliciously filthy.
Once you were settled, you circled your hips, a test movement, pleasure spiking in both of your systems and it felt like the temperature in the room was shooting upwards. Stiles could already feel sweat beginning to bead along his skin in a thin layer, and you pressed yourself in closer to him. Each time you shifted your hips you were moving a little more, every rock of your body into his, you were pulling yourself up just a little higher to be able to drop yourself back down onto his cock, stretching and squeezing around him.
You felt like velvet, slick and warm as you sheathed around him. You were precise and deliberate, and he couldn't help the wonton sounds that were leaving you with every drop down onto his cock, before you were taking him up to see stars every time, leaving the both of you resting in the clouds. Panted breaths, a scream in the back of your throat that tried to break out each time as you gave him broken moans of his name, picking up your pace further and further each time.
Once you were stable above him, you were moving with purpose, fast and quick as you rode him, gaining more confidence each time, and he was gripping you so tightly that there would be fingerprints all over your hips in the morning. He helped you go, lifting you up each time, only to pull you back down into his lap, thrusting up with a weak effort to meet you, but feeling you go wild each time. That same energy was back, crackling with more force, surging through him like nothing he had ever felt.
Stiles was in college, he was away from home and the weight of being the Sheriff’s kid for the first time, and he had experimented. He’d gotten drunk, and high, and hungover, but this was a whole new kind of thrill; it was like lighting up with fireworks and adrenaline all at once, like creating a bond with another person, and a tingling spread throughout his entire body as your magic bonded with his own. He hadn't felt this kind of singing in his blood since the day he’d managed to finish the circle with the mountain ash back when he was only sixteen, or breaking through the wild hunt barrier at almost eighteen.
These kind of thrills were rare for him, but they’d never been this strong, and as the two of you moved as one in the most intimate way that two people could, your mouth coming up to claim his as you silenced yourself and him, growing louder and more desperate as you went, he felt that final high beginning to build.
“‘M so close, honey.” His voice had taken on that same kind of scratchy rasp that he had in the mornings before he even broke into his day, “Oh, God, keep goin’.”
He knew his words were beginning to grow slurred, and he could barely buck his hips up into you. As everything within his body began to light up, he felt like all of his muscles were going lifeless, his body going boneless, because the heat was consuming him. He couldn't hold it back, he’d been waiting for so long to feel you this way, and his lips could barely even move back against your own as he went slack-jawed, exploding within your tight heat.
The send that he was shooting over the edge, you were following right after him, crying out his name into his mouth as you kept going against him, until you couldn't clumping down into his body as you trembled, and Stiles felt as though you’d milked absolutely everything from him that he had to offer. There was a crackling along his skin from everywhere that your fingertips smoothed over, sliding down from his shoulders so that you could press your cheek to the spot instead, fanning breaths rushing over his neck as you tried to catch your breath, racing heart just like his was.
You didn’t even bother to move from him, letting him throb within your walls with each flutter you made and each shift, and if you kept it up, he was sure he’d be ready for a second round, but he wasn’t entirely sure that he had that in him. Resting his head back against the edge of the couch, he let you lift yourself up and off of him finally, your legs shaking as you stood, offering him a weak smile as he took in your through fucked out state, before taking wobbly steps away from him, and disappearing down the hall.
He heard a door close, assuming you’d gone to the bathroom, and he leaned over to the coffee table to snatch up a few tissues, to clean himself up with, before sorting himself out too. He did the bare minimum, not even bothering to do up his jeans once he had them pulled back up, but he stretched out along the length of the couch to lay down, an arm popped under his head, and a little laugh on his lips as he did.
He took a moment to glance around, not missing the way that the plants all seemed to be blooming particularly beautifully, seeming more alive than ever. As he lifted up a hand before his face, rubbing his forefinger and thumb together, a spark travelled between the tips, and he felt a little in awe just at the sight of it.
“It's pretty incredible, right?”
He startled, jumping a little, before turning to look at you and propping himself up on his elbows as you lingered in the doorway. You had changed, your hair pulled back and out of your face, missing a few odd strands and you’d buttoned up his flannel along your body, mismatched and hanging unevenly, but still adorable. You took slower steps over to him, waiting for a second as you stood beside him, before he was lifting his arms and making it clear to you that you could lay with him, a smile gracing both of your faces as you flattened yourself along him, cheek pressed over his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist.
“You like feeling your magic, then?”
He lifted his palm, holding it to yours and admiring the final dying flares he saw, as the energy began to dissipate and absorb into his body and yours fully. “I’m not used to feeling special myself. I’ve always been a behind the scenes, research, kinda’ guy. I’m not used to being one of the main players.”
“Oh, hush. You told me your story, you were most definitely a key player, Stiles.” He shrugged under you, letting you cross your arms over his chest and prop your chin on them.
“Yeah, but I never really felt that way, and now I feel like I have something to offer.”
You leaned in, brushing your lips over his jaw with a sweet kiss, and he felt like he could most definitely get used to this feeling. Can I meet them?”
“My pack?”
You nodded, seeming a little shy now, and joy raced through him at the fact that you saw enough of a future with him to want to meet his friends an get to know them, and to once again be able to be completely open and honest with everyone, never having to hide anything from anyone, and being able to let you fully and wholly into his life. It was a surprise, because the more he’d thought about his future late at night when lying alone in his bed, he was so sure he’d never be able to really settle down, because he could never let someone in on his life in every single way, but with you, that wasn’t a problem.
“I would absolutely love that.”
“Really?” You were studying him carefully, trying to ensure that he was telling the truth, and he gave you the most honey look that he possibly could, before lifting his head to meet your lips as he leaned in.
Soft and delicate, like a kiss that was shared between deep romance and longtime lovers, and he rested a hand on your cheek, holding you to him, and rolling you to the side, to sandwich you between the couch and his body Your thigh came up to rest over his legs, his palm slipping from your face to rest on your leg, drawing patterns on the skin until you pulled away to breathe, lips detaching from his as you whined a little. You stayed close, though, a soft look etched onto your features;
“I just want to meet a few more supernatural people, and get to know others who I don’t have to hide from.”
“Well, you definitely don’t have to hide from them, and you’ll love them, just as much as they’ll love you. We’re a pretty odd group, you’ll fit right in.”
“You’re right about that ‘odd bunch’ thing. I’ve never met a banshee, or a - what did you call it? - werecoyote.” That was an undeniable truth, your head coming back down to rest on his chest as he shrugged, unable to deny that you were right. “Your wolves sound nice, too. All the other wolves I’ve met have been overly territorial and closed off.”
“Well, Derek used to be like that, but we’ve pulled him around a little. He is still broody, though.” You laughed at his joke, a sound that made his heart burst open slightly and bleed with affection, all for you, as you continued to take more and more pieces of his heart with every act, and he was falling in love with you faster than he’d ever known was possible. “Don’t take notice of any of his lurking, by the way, it’s his twisted way of showing concern and care.”
“I’ll remember that, and if I ever catch him hiding behind a tree, I’ll know that it’s real friendship.”
“He does that, I’m serious, don’t underestimate him. I think my dad arrested him for stalking, once.”
“I think your dad would be who I am most scared to meet.” A fond tone in your voice, before he was pressing a kiss to your forehead, humming under his breath.
“He’ll love you the most, don’t worry.”
Silence fell between you both then, and he busied himself with tracing illegible drawings into your skin, simply enjoying feeling so close to you. It was irrationally domestic, and you were the final piece in his college life and college experience that was missing. Despite not being a wolf, he was unequivocally part of a wolf pack, and being surrounded so closely by such a tight-knit group of friends for those years had made him dependent on company and reliability, and he had been feeling so alone since leaving for college.
Scott had Malia, Lydia had rekindled things with Jordan, and even Derek had been (begrudgingly, to begin) hooked up with a deputy by his father, and they’d been on a few dates.
The last time he’d been home, he’d felt like a fifth, seventh, or was it ninth wheel, when Liam and Hayden were taken into account? He had been feeling awfully lonely lately, and he was glad to finally find someone that fit him perfectly, matching him like a glove.
“When I do introduce you to my friends, my pack, y’know, and my dad..”
You lifted your head, a little crease across your cheek from the fold in his shirt, and he rubbed the spot with his thumb gently, an attempt to remove the mark. “Yeah?”
“What should I introduce you as?”
“A witch.” You deadpanned, and he knew immediately that you’d clearly know exactly what he meant, but were playing with him, and he pouted, fixing you with a mock glare, before you were laughing to yourself over your joke, something so undeniably cute that he couldn't even pretend to be mad about it. “What do you want to introduce me as?”
Nudging your jaw a little with his, he puckered his lips, tempting you down to kiss him, and you were more than happy to press a series of sweet and short kisses to his lips. “I’d really like to formally claim you to be my girlfriend?”
He mumbled the words into your mouth, feeling your lips flick up at the edges in a smile as you gave him a kiss that was a little more firm, a little more loving and powerful, before whispering your reply; “Then we’re on the same page, because I’d like to introduce you to my coven back home as my boyfriend.”
“You have a coven?” He pulled back, a gasp of shock, and you giggled at him.
“That I do. Maybe I should tell you about them?”
“You absolutely should.” He insisted, his craving for knowledge taking over, and he couldn't have been more glad to whatever deity was watching over benevolently that he’d taken the choice to stay the first time knowledge had been offered, because it had led him to where he was now.
“It might take all night, maybe you should go and get a change of clothes. Get comfortable.”
“Is that an invitation to stay the night?” You only nodded, letting him roll you back over onto your back as he kissed at your neck. “I’ll buy you take out if you cuddle me later?”
“Cuddling and dinner? Glad I get to call you my boyfriend, now.”
“Not nearly as glad as I am to call you my girlfriend. My little witch.” His lips sealed over yours, silencing your laughs against his mouth as you teased him for the nickname, and he pinched a little at your sides. The mistletoe overhead grew a little more, a few of the berries dropping away and bouncing off of his back as the plant became bolder, just like the rest, that energy beginning to grow once again, as you got lost in each other’s touch.
#stiles stilinski#stiles stilinksi imagine#stiles stilinksi x reader#stiles stilinski x reader#stiles stilinski x reader smut#stiles stilinski/reader#stiles stilinski/reader smut#stiles stilinski teen wolf#dylan obrien x reader#dylan obrien/reader#dylan obrien x reader smut#dylan obrien/reader smut#dylan obrien teen wolf#dylan obrien stiles stilinski#dylan o'brien#dylan obrien
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