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amaretigris · 2 months

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The Possibility of You

Taglist: @jonahmermaid23 @luna2034 @hopeisrising @mylittlemermaid221 @notagreekgal28 @justagirlthatlovedtoread @jonahhauer-kingg @freyagallileaevans @daydreamerwithnohobbies

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Ch. 2 | 2.2k words | Angst & fluff

Walking into the library the next day, Jonah took the stairs two at a time. He didn't know why his breath was caught in his throat. His eyes scanned the tables, and he walked a loop around the whole floor searching through the rows of shelving. Jonah ran his hand through his hair. You were nowhere in sight. He even went up to the third floor for good measure, despite it mostly containing study rooms that you had to reserve in advance. Gliding back down the stairs, Jonah made his way to the campus cafe. He pushed open the doors to find you at a corner table. You were typing on your laptop with an iced coffee nearby.

Taking a deep breath and swallowing down his anxiety, Jonah walked to you. You didn't lift your eyes from your computer screen, even as he pulled out the chair across from you and took a seat.

"Can I help you?"

You asked, still typing away. Jonah flashed an amused smirk as his gaze scanned the relatively empty cafe. Your eyes caught a glimpse of it before focusing back on your screen.

"Do you come here or the library every morning?"

Your hands stilled. You crossed them on the table as your (e/c) eyes reluctantly met Jonah's striking blue ones.

"If I tell you no will you stop approaching my tables?"

Jonah's lips curved into a smile, and you almost went pale at the sight of his adorable dimples. What the hell, it should be illegal to be this sexy.

"Probably not," Jonah shrugged.

You sighed. Yes, he was cute, and he sure knew it, but you had to figure out what this guy's problem was. Leaning forward, you couldn't help a small smile of your own at Jonah's reaction to you closing the distance between you.

"What's your deal? Why are you suddenly bothering me?"

Jonah blinked, searching your eyes.

"Curiosity, I suppose," he breathed.

You practically snorted, and promptly sat back in your chair.

"You didn't know I existed before. Can we go back to that?"

Jonah paused for a beat. He seemed to be considering his words.

"What's so wrong with me wanting to get to know you?"

You shook your head.

"Nothing, I just don't buy it. I feel like you have an ulterior motive."

Jonah strummed his fingers on the table. You weren't sure if it was a nervous habit or a bored one.

"No. You caught my eye. Is that so hard to believe?"

You flashed a lazy smile.

"Look, how about I make you a deal?"

You lifted your brow awaiting Jonah's response. His throat bobbed with a swallow.

"I'm listening," he spoke quietly.

"If I tell you one thing about myself every day, will you leave after you've heard it?"

Jonah tilted his head and squinted his eyes in consideration.

"Sure," he agreed. "But I get to pick what you tell me," he raised his finger at his one condition.

You rolled your eyes playfully.

"Fine," you sighed. "But I reserve the right to refuse if your question is inappropriate or makes me uncomfortable."

Jonah nodded.

"Okay. What'll it be today?"

"What's your name?"

You instinctively crossed your arms over your chest - the same defensive move you'd made when you first talked to Jonah.

"My name is (Y/N)," you admitted slightly above a whisper.

"That wasn't so bad, was it? Pleasure to meet you (Y/N). That's a beautiful name. I'm Jonah," he flashed you a sickly sweet smile.

You felt your cheeks growing red.

"I'm aware. You were just leaving, right?"

Jonah chuckled, and knocked his knuckle on the table.

"Right. See you around, (Y/N)," he winked at you before he stood from his chair.

You watched Jonah's back as he left the cafe, thankful that he couldn't see the now fully developed blush staining your cheeks.

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During his laps the next morning, Jonah contemplated questions. What would he ask you today? He could ask your favorite color, or if you had any siblings. He could ask what your mother's maiden name was, but that sounded like a scam question. Did he want to ask you something superficial, or something deeper? He supposed he could wait to ask the more serious stuff, given that he'd just learned your name yesterday. And although you'd agreed to the arrangement in return for his distance, you didn't necessarily say that you'd always be truthful. Toweling himself off after his swim, Jonah noticed that he'd held a faster pace today. It had always benefitted him to have something to focus on while he swam, and you were just that.

As he showered and got ready for the day, he thought of your smooth skin and your stunning eyes. You could simply narrow them and pin him in place it seemed. He didn't exactly know why he'd agreed to the arrangement if he was supposed to be trying to get to know you. It was a bit counterintuitive, but Jonah had a sneaking suspicion that you weren't the type to crack yourself open for anyone who came along. He'd have to slowly chip away at your armor, and pray that you didn't do the same to him along the way. It couldn't be that hard, right? Slipping on his favorite henley, Jonah prepared himself for the crisp fall morning on campus.

He arrived a little early to the cafe today. This time, he caught you as you were setting up your laptop at the same table he'd found you at yesterday. You weren't aware of his presence just yet, and Jonah took the chance to study you from afar for a moment. You had your back turned to him, and he watched you slide your coat off your shoulders after you'd pressed the power button on your laptop. You looked stylish but comfortable for the weather dressed in a long sleeve ribbed top with leggings to compliment the color. Jonah softly smiled to himself. He watched you walk to the counter, and a friendly cafe worker stopped setting up to come take your order. The cafe had just opened, and it seemed you made a habit of being their first customer.

You smiled at the eager young man before you at the register. His name was Lyle, and you couldn't help but notice that he tried a little too hard to get your attention most days. You flashed him a tight smile.

"Good morning, Lyle. Can I have my usual, please?"

Lyle gestured to the card machine with your total already displayed.

"I gotcha, Miss (Y/N). I know what you like," he mentioned in an overtly flirty tone.

You cringed on the inside, but gave him a polite smile. He was just a young college kid trying to be nice. He didn't know any better. Scanning your card, you waited for him to make your drink, looking back to your laptop and drumming your fingers on the counter.

"Here you are," Lyle presented the pretty drink to you.

You smiled, and took it from his hand. His fingers noticeably brushed against yours.

"Have a great day," he beamed.

You lifted the drink to him before turning to roll your eyes and put it to your mouth. You almost spat out the first sip when you saw Jonah sitting across from your open laptop. Your steps faltered for a moment, but you finally made it back to the table.

"What are you doing here so early?"

You practically growled at Jonah. You had to repress a chuckle when he opened his mouth and put a hand to his chest.

"I'm offended that I didn't even get a good morning like that guy did," he teased, flicking his eyes to the counter.

"Also, I thought I was the one asking the questions here," he tsked.

You coaxed your nerves down. Why had your adrenaline spiked so much from the mere sight of him? Perhaps because you hadn't expected it so soon, and you hadn't fully mentally prepared yourself. Why did you need to prepare yourself again? It shouldn't matter. He was just some guy who was bothering you at the moment. And watching you, apparently.

"Oh, I apologize. I don't typically greet strangers, or stalkers for that matter," you huffed, setting your drink down.

"Someone is actually upset that I got the jump on her today," Jonah spoke, eyeing you suspiciously.

Then, something completely unexpected happened. He dropped all of the playfulness from his voice.

"I'm sorry if I scared you. I arrived a little early, and peaked in as you walked to the counter is all. I know it can be a horrifying world for women nowadays. I don't want you to worry that I'm actually a stalker."

It was mostly the truth. He had arrived early, but maybe not at that exact time. Jonah watched as some relief washed over your face. He wasn't sure why that made him feel better.

"Well, thank you. Women can never be too careful nowadays, like you said," you awkwardly cleared your throat.

"Why are you here early, anyway?"

Your curiosity had gotten the better of you. Jonah shrugged.

"I finished my morning laps pretty quickly today," he replied.

"Oh, that's right. You're on the swim team, aren't you?"

Jonah nodded.

"Yes. You seem to know infinitely more about me than I do about you," he raised his brow.

"Whatever," you immediately got defensive. "It's not like that. I've just heard things. All the women here obsess over you."

You felt your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. Jonah chuckled, the sound tickling your ears. He put his hands on the table.

"I can't say that I have the faintest idea as to why," he remarked.

You examined him for a beat. He seemed to be sincere, and his slight smile slipped from his lips. Stop looking at his lips.

"What's today's question?"

You quickly changed the subject before you focused on his handsome features for too long, damnit. Jonah let out a sigh, flicking his eyes to the counter again.

"We were having such a nice conversation. We should be able to talk," he protested.

You smirked.

"Wow. Do you actually like talking to me, or do you just need someone to talk to? I'm also aware that you've very carefully avoided any questions so that it doesn't count as your one for the day," you smiled.

It was a real, genuine smile. Not like the reserved ones you gave Lyle. You couldn't remember the last time you smiled like that at anyone here. You watched Jonah's brow knit, as though he was perplexed by your question.

"It can be a little of both, but definitely the first one."

God that smile. Holy hell. Had he ever seen a smile that beautiful? He couldn't recall one. It quickly faded, however, most likely at his reaction. Jonah tried to imprint it in his brain. He couldn't help it. You'd caught him off guard already this morning.

"You don't have family?"

A sad expression passed over your features. It twisted Jonah's heart in his chest.

"I propose an amendment to our agreement," Jonah declared.

Your eyebrows conveyed your question.

"We can exchange answers for one question a day. I answer one after you answer yours," he explained.

You let out a surprised giggle, bringing your hand to your mouth to cover it.

"And what makes you think that I want to get to know you?"

"I dunno," Jonah smirked, stuffing his hands back into his pockets under the table.

"You've asked me an awful lot of questions since I've been here. You might want to know if all the rumors are true."

You blushed at his smug reaction.

"Or I might just be making conversation since you've yet to pick a question," you supplied.

"Fair enough," Jonah cooed.

"What's your coffee order?" He jerked his chin in the direction of your cup.

You blinked in surprise. Out of all the things you expected, that was not one of them.

"Um, I get an iced vanilla latte with a caramel swirl," you nodded your head matter-of-factly.

Jonah nodded in return, a small smile gracing his lips.

"Maybe that's why you always smell so sweet," he practically whispered.

Your heart skipped a beat. Had you heard him correctly?

"I do have family," Jonah spoke again in his normal tone.

"Just not a very big one. My mom is an ER physician and my dad is a programmer who travels for work. I'm an only child, so I guess you could say that I run out of people to chat with."

"I'm sorry."

Your eyes widened. Your reply had surprised you as much as it had Jonah. The corner of his lips lifted.

"Don't be sorry. You're nice to talk to. See you tomorrow, (Y/N)."

And just like that, he was gone. You had told him that your condition for the deal was that he leave after you answered his question, but now you found that you almost wanted him to stay. What's gotten into you?

#the little mermaid 2023 #jonah hauer king #prince eric #jonah hauer king x reader #jonah hauer king x y/n #jonah hauer king imagine #jonah hauer king smut #jonah hauer king x fem reader #jonah hauer king fanfiction #jonah hauer king x you #my stuff

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urfavvastridd · 4 months

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Holaaa

So, I was bored one day and wrote this lol I’m not really one for writing imagines, but I felt like giving it a go and this is what came of it! Had nowhere else to post it, so you guys get it lmao

————

“Honey, honey”

Sebastian Sallow song imagine

————

“Guess what I found.”

My brows furrow as my eyes snap over to Poppy. We’re sitting in the common room, just relaxing after a long day, and Poppy decided that she wanted to speak to me. My heart leaps into my throat when I spot my leather bound journal clutched in her hands with a wild grin forming on her lips.

“Where did you get that —“

“It was just lying open on your bed for any old soul to read it,” Poppy answered in an enthused tone as she flips the book open to a random page. However, judging by the spark in her eyes, there’s a chance she remembered that very page just to torture me. “There’s a lot of good stuff in here, by the way.”

I slowly rise to my feet, preparing myself to snatch it out of her hands. “Poppy, don’t you dare —“

“Specifically about a certain Slytherin boy,” she teases, wiggling her brows at me, and I bite down on the inside of my cheek as an intense heat creeps onto my cheeks.

“Please give it back,” I mutter, but she simply lets out a laugh as she jumps to her feet.

“Honey, honey, how he thrills me!” Poppy begins reading the journal out loud for the whole Common Room to hear. All of my deep, dark secrets that I’ve kept to myself for so long are finally coming out, and I can’t seem to stop her. I race towards her, making a grab for my journal, but she ducks under my arm and rounds the large yellow couch in front of the fireplace. “Honey, honey, nearly kills me,” she continues reading in a sort of sing-song voice as she presses the book to her chest and sends me a dramatic look. A giggle slips past her lips as I round the couch to get to the book. However, she moves too fast for me. She makes a dart for the door of the Common Room while continuing to read out what I’ve written. “I’ve heard about him before. I wanted to know some more… and now I know what they mean. He’s a love machine — Oh, he makes me dizzy!”

“Poppy Sweeting, you get back here!” I exclaim while chasing her to the door of the Common Room. She makes a sort of squealing noise as she skips over a pile of books someone left lying on the floor.

“Not a chance! This is too good,” she replies playfully, sparing a glance over her shoulder as she sprints out of the Common Room and into the corridor. She finds where she left off, turns on her heel to face me, and wiggles her brows at me again. “Honey, honey, let me feel it!” She recites. I growl under my breath and make another grab for the book. Unfortunately, I seem to be too slow for her, and she makes a run for the staircase leading up to the school corridors. “Honey, honey, don’t conceal it,” she continues, her voice carrying up the stairs, and a knot forms in my stomach as I sprint up the stairs to catch her. She stops and faces me just as I reach the top of the stairs. “The way that you kiss goodnight! The way that you hold me tight… I feel like I wanna see… when you do your,” she pauses, squinting down at the page, and I let out a heavy breath as I plant my hands on my knees. Her eyes go wide, and her surprised and amused gaze shoots up to meet mine. “Thing!”

“Please, Poppy, you’ve had your fun. Give it back,” I practically beg her, but she just bounces on her toes before spinning around and continuing down the corridor. I groan, throwing my head back and rolling my eyes in frustration. I know what will happen if somebody else gets their hands on that book. With Poppy, it’s not so bad. I won’t hear the end of it, but she’d give it back eventually without telling anyone else. The other students, however, are not that kind.

I chase her all the way through to the hall outside the library. There are too many students here for my liking. Poppy stops at the bottom of the stairs. I’m just about to reach her when she spots Natsai sitting on the edge of the fountain reading a book. Just as I reach my hand out to grab Poppy, she darts over to Natsai and plops herself down beside the poor girl.

“Honey, honey. Touch me, darling!” Poppy reads teasingly. She nudges her shoulder into Natsai’s, causing her eyes to snap up from the book she’s reading, and Natsai’s brows furrow as she leans over to get a closer look at my journal. I sigh, knowing there's a very slim chance that I can actually stop them, and I lower my eyes to my feet as Natsai shoots a shocked glance up at me. “Honey, honey. Hold me, darling!”

“Poppy —“

Just as I take a step closer, Poppy jumps up from her seat, and she shoots me a beaming grin as she begins to move around the fountain.

“You look like a Quidditch star,” Poppy continues as Natsai sprints past me to get another look at the pages. I narrow my eyes at the two of them as I move closer. They’re moving towards the door that leads out to the courtyard. If I can’t stop them now, there’s a very high chance that we’ll bump into the very Slytherin boy that I’m talking about in my journal. “I love just who you are —“

“Love?” Natsai questions before smirking at me. “My, my, Valerie. Who is this boy you’re talking about?”

“Darling, to say the least… you’re a dog on,” Poppy pauses again. I cringe, knowing exactly which word comes next, and I watch in despair as Natsai and Poppy share a wide-eyed glance with each other. “Beast!”

I roll my eyes as they both share a laugh. Glancing around, I notice some of the students have peered over to see what all the fuss is about. Trying to hide the heat burning in my cheeks, I shake my head towards Natsai and Poppy. “You are both dead!”

“You’ll have to catch us first!” Poppy squeals.

I sigh. With a small burst of energy flooding my veins, I make a dart towards them, and I barely brush my fingers across the spine of my journal when they turn and sprint for the doors leading out to the courtyard. I have no choice but to follow them. The doors fly open, shocking Professor Weasley — who is standing directly behind them. A strong gust of wind causes her to stumble, and she lets out a small noise of surprise as she watches the three of us race past her. Then, just as we reach the fountain in the middle of the courtyard, she shouts at us to be careful. Poppy turns on her heel to face me once more.

“Honey, honey, how you thrill me!” She reads out, poking her head out from behind the statue in the middle of the fountain. She turns her back to me, letting out a dramatic sigh, and she presses the back of her hand against her forehead while pretending to faint. “Honey, honey, nearly kill me!”

I’ve had enough of this. With another growl leaving my lips, I rush towards her and try to snatch the book from her hands. However, just as I round the fountain to catch her, I bump into a tall, muscly frame. I stumble back while muttering an apology.

“Watch where you’re going, Kingsley. Almost knocked me flat there,” a voice that makes my stomach churn reaches my ears. My eyes go wide, my entire face burns, and I reluctantly lift my eyes from my feet to see the one and only Sebastian Sallow grinning down at me. The chuckle he lets out sends a fluttering through my chest. His honey-coloured eyes flicker between me, Poppy and Natsai, and his brows crease as he catches sight of the journal in Poppy’s hands. “What on Earth are you three doing, anyway?”

My eyes snap over to Poppy. She glances down at the journal, probably wondering if she should show him the journal, but I send her a pleading expression as her gaze finds mine. I don’t want him to know about the things I've written in that book. I’d rather tell him myself — when I’m ready to. Poppy realises this, and, thankfully, she resists the urge to simply toss him the journal and show him all of the embarrassing things I’ve written about him.

“Nothing,” she lies, sending a wave of relief flooding my veins. She shuts the book, hides it behind her back, and sends Sebastian a sickly sweet smile while tilting her head to the side. “Just a bit of banter,” she assures him as his eyes shift back to me. “Nothing special, really.”

“Okay,” he says slowly, seemingly unconvinced. However, he decides not to push it further, and he turns to me while flashing me a crooked smile. “Don’t forget — you promised to help me study for Professor Weasley’s test.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” I say with a heavy breath of relief slipping past my lips. He dips his head towards me as he places a hand on my arm.

“Good,” he replies. “I'll see you outside the library later.”

I nod. “See you there.”

He spares a second to send a smile over to Poppy and Natsai before walking away. I watch him stride towards the doors leading into the castle, just listening to my heartbeat thumping in my ears, and I send a sideways glance to Natsai and Poppy as they continue to read through my journal while giggling to themselves. I pull out my wand and aim it at the book.

“Accio!”

The book flies into my open palm. I close it, place my wand back into my pocket, and send the two of them a pointed glare as they feign innocence.

“You two are so dead.”

————

“I heard about you before…

I wanted to know some more.

Now, I’m about to see…

What you mean to me.”

#hogwarts legacy #harry potter #sebastian sallow #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #poppy sweeting #natsai onai #hogwarts legacy sebastian #this is what happens when I’m running on zero sleep and about three energy drinks lol #Spotify

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meownotgood · 4 months

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it's still me the silly nonnie with the bookworm! reader.

and since you mentioned that aki might note down things he'd like to do with you in books, I have been screaming and screeching because gods, it is unfair that he isn't doing it to my books (like anybody touching or writing in my books? I'll fight. aki doing it? he could set fire to my library and I'd thank him).

I also would like to share one further headcanon I have about this: if you are a romance girlie and he soon discovers it, I think that he'd definitely beat himself for maybe not being as openly romantic as books make it seem (whether it's pre or when you are in a relationship). he'd definitely try to pull all the stops with the grand gestures and you are just confused and when he confesses you he strives to be more romantic like the boys in books, you'd be like 'babyyyy, they got nothing on you'.

just aki being so whipped that he'd try to get out of his comfort zone just for you.

alright, alright I'll see myself out again...

have a lovely day!

YES!!! okay so, I always headcanoned aki as loving romantic gestures and secretly being very romantic at heart. but... he's also nervous and hesitant and maybe a bit awkward too about his affections. when he's trying to fall asleep, he stares at his ceiling and imagines sweeping you off your feet with loving words and a bouquet of flowers. how you'd smile so much at him because he made you so happy. he tries to hype himself up before your dates, giving himself pep talks in the mirror about what he's going to say to you. he's going to call you beautiful, he's going to ask you if you'd like to come over after dinner, he won't be nervous about it at all.

though, in practice, aki is nowhere near as confident as he might seem. he gets flustered way too easily — just one look at you as you're opening the door to greet him and his throat is dry. he's never put much emphasis on relationships, and now he doesn't know what to talk about in the car, nor once you sit down at the restaurant. he's so sweet and sincere, and (hopefully) avoids seeming like a wreck until he gets home. yes, he might be stammering over some of his words. and yes, his palms might be practically drenched in sweat, but he's okay, he can most certainly handle this.

gah... imagining him reading your favorite romance books to try and learn what you like, maybe even watching romantic movies to try and get more comfortable. he reads a scene where the love interest puts an arm around the protagonist's lower back when they're sitting together, so the next time you're sitting beside him, he tries it with you. he's a little awkward and a whole lot stiff about it, but he feels more confident when you relax into his touch.

he reads in your favorite book, a romantic dance and kiss scene in the rain, and every time it's raining he tries so obviously to set it up. damn, I forgot my umbrella, we might have to walk back. oh, the rain is nice, isn't it? I wouldn't mind going out in the rain, if you'd like to.

#he's so cute I want to explode into pieces #honestly I think he's decently good at hiding when he's flustered #he might seem cool on the outside #but on the inside. he wants to scream because you just held his hand #sweetie aki.... save me sweetie aki.....#ask mags

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the-iceni-bitch · 2 years

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On the Tip of My Tongue

Kinkmas Day 9: Dirty Talk

Relationship: Andy Barber x TJ Hammond (jawbreaker and sugar, NLLYL)

Words: ~1k

Summary: Andy really is going to be the death of TJ.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (all just dirty talk, but it’s nasty, salad tossing, unprotected anal sex, feminization, bimbofication, multiple orgasms, anal cream pie, big ass daddy kink), age gap (not mentioned but present), ANDY’S MOUTH, baby TJ being all flustered and cute, mentions of waxing, lingerie, SMUT!! 18+ ONLY!!

A/N: Andy is going to kill ALL OF US, holy fucking shit.

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

TJ was shaking. He could hear the ice in his drink tinkling against the glass when he brought it to his lips as he struggled to get himself under control.

But he couldn’t, and it was all Andy’s fault.

“God you smell so fucking good.” TJ tried his best not to whimper when Andy growled in his ear again, the feeling of the older man’s arm sliding around his waist and squeezing making his knees weak as he just looked at the bottom of his soda glass. “Like sex and vanilla. I bet that boy pussy smells even better, wanna suffocate myself in it while I make you squeal, sugar.”

He was sure he was going to start sobbing and begging Andy to fuck him if this kept up, fuck the fact that they were surrounded by Andy’s partners and clients at the firm’s holiday party, TJ’s prick had been hard for the past half hour and it didn’t seem like that was going to change anytime soon.

Maybe he should have waited to show Andy his surprise until after they got back to his house, but he wanted to tease his Daddy. How was he supposed to know that telling Andy he’d gotten everything waxed and given him a little peek at the dark green panties he was wearing would turn him into… this? Damn Johnny for telling him to be more forward, as soon as he saw that asshole here he was going to smack him, or kiss him, he couldn’t decide.

“Know that cunt is so goddamn soft and warm now, I wanna make it wet.” Andy was so worked up TJ was sure he was only seconds away from actually ripping the well-tailored suit right off his body and eating him out with an audience. “Make a fucking feast out of that pretty pink hole. Are you extra sensitive, sugar? Are those soft little panties making that pretty prick of yours leak for your Daddy?”

They were, all TJ could do was nod as he blushed up to his ears, batting his eyelashes like a little coquette as he gazed at Andy and not helping the situation at all. He couldn’t look at the man for long though, the intensity in his eyes making his gut burn and his head swim as he fought the urge to bare his throat and whine.

“So fucking pink and sweet for your Daddy.” TJ could feel Andy’s smile against his cheek when he choked on a whimper, trying not to openly pant when he felt teeth scraping against the shell of his ear while he picked out a spot on the wall to stare at. “Poor little thing. And I would’ve made you feel so good, baby boy, would’ve taken my time kissing and licking that pretty, smooth little pussy until it opened up for Daddy before I fucked you nice and slow. But you had to be mean and tease your Daddy.”

Oh no…

“Daddy was gonna be so nice, sugar, was gonna give you just one before we left, was gonna make sure you felt it in your toes and got all syrupy sweet for me since you had to be on my arm all night.” Andy took a sip of his bourbon and smiled when TJ let out a pathetic hiccup, nuzzling against the younger man’s temple and purring as he kept detailing exactly what he was going to do to him. “You made me wait, though, and fuck, baby, I’m gonna wreck that boy cunt.”

TJ was sure everyone saw him jump when Andy bit his ear and slid his hand down to grab his ass, barely swallowing his squeal when Andy’s fingers slipped even lower until they were teasing along his taint over his trousers. Someone was going to see them, or hear the way TJ was practically keening each time he breathed. Andy was being so brazen, and as embarrassed as TJ knew he should be, all he could feel was warm and aroused and achy in his core.

“I’m gonna eat that pussy like a fucking buffet, gonna make that smooth, pretty cunt so fucking wet and messy it makes a stain on my damn sheets.” Andy was so close, TJ felt like he was suffocating in the man, like he was about to be shoved up against a wall and have every single breath stolen from his lungs. “Want it all slick and swollen for Daddy’s dick, it’s gonna look so pretty swallowing my cock whole, gonna feel so fucking good when I dig into that sweet spot until my balls are nestled right up against that soft skin. Then I’m gonna fuck you, look at me.”

Andy was gentle when he gripped TJ’s chin and tilted his face up to his, but the look in his eyes was absolutely feral. It made TJ start vibrating as his entire body drew tight with anticipation, his breath shallow and warm against Andy’s lips while he looked at him stupidly.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, sugar.” He wasn’t sure if it was just the anxiety of the situation, but Andy had never seemed bigger than he did right now, and it had TJ swooning. “Gonna make that pussy squirt, you’re gonna come so hard. And I’m not gonna stop, your tight little cunt is gonna come on Daddy’s dick so many times you won’t be able to walk, I’m gonna ruin you, gonna use that sweet body of yours however I want until you’re jelly. You aren’t even gonna be able to hold on all the cum I’m going to pump into that pussy. You feel how fucking full I am for you, sugar?”

Andy groaned as he grabbed TJ’s hand and pressed it against his bulge, the way his baby gasped when he dragged his palm down until he was cupping his balls making him barely hang onto his composure as he smashed their lips together. TJ couldn’t handle it, he was done, if Andy didn’t do everything he had just detailed within the next ten minutes he was going to explode.

“Daddy…”

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fandomsnstuff · 10 months

Text

After writing 5k for yesterday, have some short and sweet blupjeans (from an old blurb that i made some edits to)

Two more days!

Day 28: YES

Barry's just trying to get some work done when a woman he's never seen before asks him to lunch. Surprisingly, he says yes.

Read it on AO3

Sildar Hallwinter is on his deathbed. He’s wrinkled and grey and his body won’t hold out for much longer. Lup, his wife and the love of his life, sits on the edge of the bed, holding his hand. His vision is a little bleary, but he knows she’s beautiful. Her hair still blonde, her skin unmarred, her mind always as sharp as ever. He feels her lips press against the back of his hand.

“You’ll remember me, won’t you?” He asks, his voice quiet and weak.

“Of course, my love,” she says. She leans forward and presses a kiss to his forehead. “It’s just the question of if you’ll remember me.”

“I could never forget you.”

She smiles a bittersweet smile, tears pricking at her eyes. “That’s what you said last time.” She presses another kiss to his forehead. “And the time before that-” a kiss to the corner of his eye- “and the time before that.” She kisses him properly, soft and slow.

He takes a long moment to open his eyes after. “I mean it this time.”

She laughs lightly, “you said that last time too.”

“Lup-”

She hushes him, stroking his cheek gently. “Don’t argue, love. You can rest. I’ll find you again. I always do.”

By the time the sun rises, Sildar Hallwinter is dead.

Barry Bluejeans is sitting in the back corner of a library, working furiously.

Should he have had this project done three days ago? Yes. Did he do it? No. Does it need to be done by tomorrow night so now he’s freaking out cause it’s a lot of work? Yes.

It’s fine. He’s camped out in a quiet corner, his laptop and sea of notes acting as a deterrent, no one’s going to–

“Hi.”

Barry pauses in his work. He looks up to tell whoever’s come over to his table that no, they can’t sit here, but his words die in his throat. Standing next to him is the most beautiful woman he's ever seen in his life. She has short, curly blonde hair, she’s tall, her eyes are sparkling and piercing. Barry feels like she can see right through him. He stares at her dumbly, lost for words.

“I’m Lup.” She holds out a bouquet Barry didn’t notice she was holding, “do you want to get lunch?”

Barry looks at the bouquet, then back up at her. “Yes,” he says. He packs up his stuff in a rush and stands, slinging his bag over his shoulder. His project is now second priority. “Do you have somewhere in mind?”

She links her arm with his. “I always do.”

As they walk out of the library arm in arm, Lup still holding the flowers she brought, he can't help but picture a wedding. Bride and groom walking back up the aisle together after promising to spend forever at each other's side. He clears his throat and tries to subtly shake his head to erase the thought like an etch-a-sketch. What a weird idea to have about a woman he just met ten seconds ago.

“You okay?” She asks. There's a glint of amusement in her eye. She's laughing silently at him. This must be a prank or something. Ask out the quiet nerdy guy and then laugh at him when he thinks it's real. It's a classic. But something in the back of his head nags at him, telling him she wouldn't do that. He doesn't know why he's confident about it, but he just knows that she would never.

“I'm fine,” he says. “I– have I introduced myself? I'm Barry.”

“Barry,” she says it like she's trying it on. “I like it. Maybe your best one yet.”

“Thank you?”

#taz fic #blupjeans #barry bluejeans #lup taaco #blupjeans fic #taz #please read yesterday's and give me attention im begging you

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buddiefix · 9 months

Text

Dimensional Travel (Reality Hopping) Fic's

The following are some of my favourite buddie fanfictions that involve the character(s) finding themselves in an alternate reality.

(Any new fic's I find that fall under this category will be added to this post, so feel free to check back for edits!)

Hold Steady, Hold Steady by thetalee

9-1-1 (TV)

After Eddie's bombshell announcement on Christmas, Buck runs away and finds himself back on his first day on the job.

A time-travel fix-it fic of sorts, ft. a stranger that totally just wants to help, honest.

Language: English Words: 172,700 Chapters: 74/74

Evan Buckley & The Coma-Verse of Madness by Daisies_and_Briars

9-1-1 (TV)

After being struck by lightning on a call, Buck experiences a plethora of alternate realities showing him different directions his life could have taken. Fighting hard to get home, Buck learns what, or who, is important to him in every lifetime.

Inspired by a mix of Marvel multiverses and The Midnight Library by Matt Haig.

Language: English Words: 57,964 Chapters: 15/15

darling, the future's better than yesterday by rarakiplin (gmontys)

9-1-1 (TV)

Eddie, ten years younger, in this awful 2010, blinks up at him. He's still sitting slumped on the curb, and for a second Buck thinks he might tell him to fuck off, but then his eyes fall shut and there’s something — aching and painfully vulnerable in the bend of his mouth, the faint tension in his brow. “My…um, girlfriend, I guess. She’s pregnant.”

“Holy shit,” Buck says.

or, buck deals with some wonky dimensional/time travel and then breaks up with his girlfriend. eddie, obviously, is involved.

Language: English Words: 28,749 Chapters: 1/1

I should go and find myself (before I ruin someone else) by MonsterRae1 for heartbeatdiaz

9-1-1 (TV)

The place was creepier than Buck remembered it from a few weeks ago, he was noticing scribbles on the walls, and sigils he was sure it hadn’t been before, even the tarot reader looked a little different, Buck was sure her eyes hadn’t been such a vibrant green last time, or her smile as sharp as this time around. “You’re a lost one, aren’t you?” She said, her hand reaching out to touch his arm, Buck backed away from her cold touch “Yeah, yeah, you’re lost, but don’t worry, everything you’re looking for is right in front of you, you’ll need to look inwards before you can find it” He frowned, “Wouldn’t I have to look outwards? If its in front of me?” She shook her head “You’re blinding yourself; you have to remove the blind. It has to come from within” * Feeling more lost than ever, and after a weird run into an odd Tarot Reader, Buck wakes up in a universe where he has been dead for a year, and in order to go home, he needs to find what he's been missing to be happy.

Language: English Words: 19,699 Chapters: 6/6

dream sweet of me by spaceprincessem for Underhung_Aura

9-1-1 (TV)

“You okay?”

Buck freezes, heart jumping right up to his throat. He turns a little too quickly, nearly knocking him off balance before a hand shoots out, wrapping around his bicep to steady him. Buck blinks up at Eddie and all the fight bleeds out of him as he throws himself into Eddie’s arms.

“Oh god,” he wheezes as he chokes back a sob, “Eddie, I—I’m so sorry!”

He feels Eddie’s hands — strong, steady, and warm — wrap around him before he is unceremoniously shoved backwards. Buck feels all the air punch out of his lungs when his back hits the firetruck.

“Who the hell are you?”

Buck’s mouth falls open as he looks at Eddie. As he looks at the person that knows him better than anyone else in the world. The person that he loves with every fiber of his being. He looks at Eddie and realizes that Eddie has no idea who he is.

[or buck is in an accident and wakes up in a universe where the 118 don't know who he is]

Language: English Words: 16,642 Chapters: 1/1

(Friendly reminder I do not own any of the works listed in this post, and all can be located on archiveofoureown.org)

#9-1-1 #9-1-1 buddie #9-1-1 fanfiction #reality hopping #evan buckley #eddie diaz #dimensional travel

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gabessquishytum · 1 year

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I really wanted to reign myself in and NOT send you an ask this morning but OMG the house of night anon!!! I used to love those books (like, the first three or so before they turned really, really bad) because I’m nothing if not a slut for shitty vampire novels and we only get the more popular ones translated here :D

Morpheus would look soooo gorgeous with a half moon mark on his forehead? Fits amazingly well into the whole grumpy emo/goth vibe he’s got going on. (Technically it should be an outline but as the anon said, the protagonist progresses really fast and instead of years it takes months for the half moon to fill in. I think there was a prophecy involved? It’s been a while)

Anyway, the thing that kept me invested in the books way longer than I thought they were any good was the whole magic aspect? Like, they’re doing proper magic rituals and the potential for horny professor!Hob and student!Dream shenanigans is just too good to pass up?

iIrc you need five people for a proper circle in this universe, but let’s skip that to the kind professor secretly helping Morpheus out with magic rituals to figure out just why he’s special. This means late night meetings in the library, sneaking around on campus for clandestine strategy discussions and finally the rituals in the middle of the night.

The binding circle on the ground glows with magic, the bowls that house representations of the elements are vibrating, it looks like morpheus and Hob are hovering over the ground as they speak the incantations. They are granted insight, a future where Morpheus has survived the initial months and where he’s fighting something-

The vision breaks suddenly and Morpheus is back to reality and in Hob’s arms. Hob’s shaking him because he was just levitating and bleeding and he was so worried about him.

Morpheus is alright, but the residual magic is filling him with restless energy and Hob’s shirt is basically see through and five seconds later he’s toppled them over, mounting his professor in the middle of the binding circle. The ritual left him so, so hungry and professor Gadling looks so, SO tasty.

Hob knows he should stop Morpheus because he’s his student and it’s bad enough that he’s had this embarrassing crush on him ever since he came to school the first time with his strange mark. But it’s just so, so hard. Because Morpheus fascinates him like no other, he’s so lovely when he allows himself to be and all the sneaking around for research purposes at night (or rather during the day) allowed him to catch glimpses of the real Morpheus, who’s funny and kind and whip-smart. And, fuck, but he’s also so fucking beautiful so he can’t do anything but let Morpheus bite his throat and claw at his shirt, riding his thigh until he cums in his skintight jeans. He holds him through his orgasm, whispering sweet nothings into his ear and lets him rest until he’s come down enough for them to banish the circle.

Afterwards Morpheus is so, so exhausted he can barely stand. There’s no way Hob can smuggle him back into his dorm room, so he takes him to his own flat on campus. It’s risky but a lot more private and this way Morpheus can at least rest a bit more and clean himself up before he goes back to his room to tell everyone he just lost track of time in the library…

Hob sleeps on his couch and leaves Morpheus in his bed. He dreams strangely and he’s pretty sure he’s dreaming of Morpheus but it feels more like a shared memory? It’s very strange.

The next day, they don’t talk about it. Hob lends Morpheus some clothes, lets him shower and makes him breakfast. The new familiarity from his dreams still lingers and it’s so hard to not pull Morpheus on his lap and feed him the waffles, interspersed with kisses.

They try to keep their distance but the dreams come back all the time in very graphic detail. Hob cums in his sleep nearly every night now and from the embarrassed/panicked glances Morpheus throws him, he’s not faring much better.

They take some class trip or something and the proximity of them being in rooms next to each other seems to help. The first night they get at least a few hours of sleep. The next morning Hob knocks on Morpheus door (who has a room of his own) and somehow they end up in bed together.

That evening, Hob sneaks into Morpheus room. He bends him over the bed to fuck him until they’re both ready to drop from exhaustion. It’ll help with the dreams, he’s sure of it. They do sleep soundly that night, for the first time in weeks, but that has more to do with the fact that they’re entwined the whole night. The dreams still come (and so do they) but they’re clearer now, shedding a light on their shared past.

Love, 💄

Asdfghj I'll be honest I have not read these books but I love the setup. Thank you SO MUCH for filling in this au even more!!

I just think. The inherent sexiness of a vampire ritual. It's very hot, right? Magic and blood and emotions right there on the surface. It's going to lead to some absolutely feral sex on the floor, right in the middle of the spell ingredients. Hob probably tells himself that it's a good thing. Sweet, precious Morpheus is so stressed. He needs someone to help him take the edge off, before he hurts himself. Hob is just being a good mentor by palming his pert little arse through his jeans and encouraging him to rut his way to a climax. Morpheus clearly needs someone to take care of him, poor darling. Hob can do that. Keep him safe and fed on Hob’s blood until nothing else will satisfy him. Nothing but the best for him.

#💄 anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw blood #cw age gap #cw teacher/student

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discordapples · 1 year

Text

PT. 10 Conundrums

Word count: 2.6k (10 mins read)

Characters: Ominis Gaunt, Sebastian Sallow, Livia Novik, Garreth Weasley, Poppy Sweeting.

Summary

Ominis Gaunt is, in his turn, roped into Livia Novik's plan to find the Promissum Mortis, and he's about to regret agreeing to enact a scandalous scene to let her into headmaster Black's office.

Read the tenth chapter below.

Sebastian | Hogwarts, Early September, 1893.

The fall is soft—painless. And as Sebastian tumbles down a dark and vacuous abyss, he almost believes he found himself in the grasp of Malisect again.

The landing, however, is pitiless, and as his senses couple back with his body, he jolts awake, his nails scratching at the knot of fabric noosing his throat.

Not Malisect. Definitely not Malisect.

Fear surges from primal depths, and in his panic, Sebastian sees his parents, eyes bleak, mouths ajar, necks purple with the poison; both lifeless and lying face up in the cellar library.

Ominis is on him in seconds, feeling his way to the knot of bedsheets. Fast enough, the collar loosens and Sebastian jerks upright, heaving.

“Are you all right?” Ominis asks him, concern roiling behind his milk-white eyes.

Sebastian’s fingers shoot to his neck. His flesh is feverishly hot. The morning light fuses through the mullions, mooring him to reality. He allows the familiar scents of his room to expunge the last dregs of his nightmare before replying—albeit with uncertainty: “I’m fine.”

Something, however, is amiss, and when Sebastian realizes he is fully dressed in yesterday’s clothes, it all comes back to him.

The Grimfire scorching his fingers; Livia touching the stained mirror; the dark figure speaking in a cavernous echo.

“How did we make it back here from the Room of Requirement?” He asks Ominis. “Do you remember leaving?”

Shaking his head, Ominis ambles to his dresser, then yanks a fresh shirt and trousers from the first drawer. “No. I woke up feeling this crushing weight on my chest, as if someone was sitting on me. Whatever that entity was, it either dazed us or teleported us in our beds.” He shrugs out of his shirt, then slides into the new one. “Whatever it is, I’m not eager to repeat the experience.”

Sebastian’s fingers card through his hair, the motion enough to leave a score of shivers on his scalp. Settling in him, an undescribable discomfort. It’s not a mouthful of sick or a pang of anxiety, but rather an itch that prickles at the back of his throat, as if he curled his toes on the edge of a cliff, leaning ever forward until the bottomless void calls him into its arms.

Uprooting himself from his bed, he stands before the looking-glass, and, to his surprise, finds himself unblemished. There isn’t even a necklace of bruises where the loop of bedsheets twined.

Ominis leans against the desk, his arms crossed before him, and Sebastian knows what his friend will say before he utters the words. “You don’t consider going back, right?”

Sebastian finds himself avoiding his friend’s stare, even though he knows it to be sightless. Ominis senses dismay the same way a dragon would its distressed brood, so he opts for the truth to pacify him. “Of course, I’ll go back. We don’t even know what this Collector is or what he wants. He gave us three questions. Feels to me like we’d be fools to make a final decision without at least asking them.”

“The thing noosed you,” Ominis points out.

Sebastian gives a dismissive laugh. “How do you know it wasn’t me who ensnared myself in my own bedsheets?”

Ominis’ lips twist in dissension, yet he says nothing at that, knowing all too well the fire of Sebastian’s obstinacy will only wax if he gives it oxygen.

When they are dressed and fed, they hurry to the Defense against the Dark Arts class and find themselves amidst a dissonant chatter.

How strange to see them all dizzying themselves in senseless palavers, not knowing that somewhere beneath the castle’s stone skin, an entity awaits.

Ghosts roam the corridors, poltergeists skirl through walls, thestrals stomp the school grounds, their bones showing in their wasted sheath, yet something tells Sebastian the Collector doesn’t belong to Hogwarts’ palimpsest of mysteries.

Again, his mother’s words roil in his brain.

There are wonderful things hidden behind Hogwarts’ skin. But there are sinister things, too.

Lost in his thoughts, Sebastian scarcely harks the shreds of conversations ebbing around him. Neither does he hear Poppy Sweeting’s wispy voice until she grazes his shoulder with her fingers.

“What?” He asks her as she snaps him out of his trance.

Her brown eyes are sleek with the diffidence Sebastian knows her to be plagued with. “Can I sit?”

He looks around him, to the occupied seats, realizing Livia will have nowhere to sit if he grants Poppy her wish.

If Livia comes to class at all, he reminds himself.

Poppy stands, expectant, her knuckles bent around her textbook, two scarlet florets thriving on her cheeks. Reluctantly, he nods and the Hufflepuff girl slides nervously in the chair next to him.

“I heard you dueled with the new student,” Poppy attempts meekly.

Sebastian offers her a faint smile, made all too aware of his placidity. “Yeah, I did.”

“How is she?”

A pleat forms between his brow as he strains to conceal his surprise. If Ominis or Amit or Leander had asked the same question, his answer would be nothing short of a eulogy.

He would tell them Livia Novik is alternatively a naked flame and a sheen of ice; that a word escaping her lips is excuse enough to want to ruin her in a single thrust; that she is a headache waiting to happen, and that, for all intents and purposes, he already feels the trepan of lust drilling through his skull.

But curated for Poppy, his answer is wholly different: “She’s… an acquired taste, but approachable.”

The description lacks substance, but Poppy nods regardless, peeling her book open before her.

As if she has been beckoned into the room by her mention alone, Livia streams in, her fearless demeanor miles away from Poppy’s. Her reputation is enough to curtail the most verbose students, and she lifts her head at the sudden hush, her green eyes needling through the rows of occupied seats until she finds Sebastian.

Warmth courses through his face and in lieu of offering a seat, he gives an apologetic shrug.

“Hey, new girl!” Garreth Weasley shouts from the second row on the other side of the platform, his hand tapping the empty chair next to him. “You can sit with me.”

Fucking Weasley.

Sebastian’s jaw cords so tight he fears his teeth will shoot out from his gums, and as Professor Hecat forgets herself into an agonizing lecture, Sebastian watches, powerless, Garreth sharing his textbook with Livia, both of them stitched together by the shoulder. Halfway through the class, Garreth succeeds in making her laugh, and Sebastian mulls over the soft angles of her face.

Has he seen this shade of spontaneous contentment on her before? Has he witnessed the way her teeth show but for a twinkle when she giggles so primly? Has he been on the receiving end of her tactile attention; the same she graces Garreth with when she coils her fingers around his forearm to entice him into passing her the book?

“Sebastian?” Poppy asks, drifting into sight and, once again, wresting him from his convulsive thoughts.

“Hm?”

Across the platform, Garreth leans in to whisper something in Livia’s ear and snags her another smile.

“I-I wanted to ask you something…”

His pupils leap to Poppy. A trickle of sweat breaks on her temple, crawling down the side of her ruddied face. Her fingers are pallid, wringing the fibers of her gold-and-black scarf as if they are soused through with water, but the wretched thing is dry as a sheaf of wheat.

“What is it?” He asks her, resting his cheek against his palm.

“I know the Hallow’s Eve ball is in almost two months, but… I was wondering if you’d like to—I mean, if I could go… with you?”

The words fall into him like through a well until the last two break the surface of his mind. He turns to her. “Me? The what? The ball?”

More red vines through Poppy’s face. “Yes… You can say no if you had other plans or even if you don’t, I mean… I’d understand if—”

“No, it’s…” He doesn’t know what to say, and for a moment, he itches to tell her he never had a smidge of interest for her; not even the slightest afterthought when he combed through his mind for another girl to release to. Another glance to a laughing Livia knifes deep into his gut, and he focuses back on Poppy. “Sure, we can go together.”

For the remainder of the class, Poppy is beaming.

Sebastian, on the other hand, chaws murderous thoughts for Weasley, his attention trained on the uncanny couple he forms with Livia Novik.

* * *

“If you had a whole basement at your disposal, why did you shepherd me into your bedroom, Sebastian Sallow?” Livia teases him as the metallic gate to the undercroft screeches vexingly on its rusted hinges.

Ominis leads the way, the small ripples of air his wand pushes around its tip whisking flurries of dust from the floor.

“You seemed like the kind of girl who’d squirm at the sight of spiders,” he replies.

“Is it because of my silk shirts?”

“The dainty hands.”

“Am I interrupting something?” Ominis cuts in when they are deep into the belly of their secret hideaway.

Sebastian leans against a pillar, the cold rock biting into his back. “I’d say you are, but I don’t want to impose my pettiness on Livia, even though she already did her good deed for the day speaking to Weasley.”

She glances around her to the statues gathering cobwebs and the gutted wooden crates.

The place is vast; its ceiling buttressed in stone; the floor uneven and clammy; the walls hoarding zealously on Sebastian and Omnis’ secrets.

Livia lets her fingers scuttle over the surface of the pillar where Sebastian nods. The scratch of her nails against the stone curls into his abdomen, and she turns to him with those eyes that scream defiance. “Another man you’ll uselessly provoke in a duel?”

Sebastian chuckles lightly. “With the amounts of drug emanations he inhales on the daily, Weasley can barely hold his wand on the right side up.”

She raises a brow. “Drugs?”

“He’s a potions prodigy—his sole talent,” Sebastian replies. “He got to producing his own questionable decoctions.”

Ominis sports one of his contemptuous smiles. “You’d know what you’re talking about, right, Sebastian? Aren’t you out of Malisect already?”

“Malisect?” Livia asks, and Sebastian shrugs.

“A liquid that enables you to hop between memories—to relive them at will.”

Something scrolls past her eyes. A glint Sebastian has not yet learned to interpret. A cautious interest?

“Hum, well…” she says. “Far from me the the idea of beheading this delightful banter, but I believe we have more pressing matters to discuss, namely the reason why we all time-skipped last night.”

Ominis doesn’t waste a second to give his opinion on the matter. “We shouldn’t meddle with this Collector figure. I couldn’t even see it, but the thing gave me the creeps. There was something in the air…”

“The smell of your own piss, perhaps,” Sebastian aims at him. “The thing did nothing to us, so it can’t be that ill-intentioned.”

“I disagree with both of you,” Livia says. “It’s not because the wolf doesn’t lurch at you straight away that it isn’t ravening, and I haven’t come this far to flee with my tail between my legs at the first show of teeth, either. We have three questions, and I intend to ask them.”

“I really didn’t think I’d have two Sebastians to contend with this year.”

Ominis’ dagger flies right past Sebastian. “You know, Ominis, you can give us your question. No one’s going to fault you for preferring the shelter of your blanket to the thrill of toying with mysterious forces.”

“You’re not helping our case,” Livia remarks. “Still, we should think about our questions carefully. There’s no way for us to know if we’ll get more questions later.”

“What’s your plan exactly?” Ominis asks, not without an ounce of annoyance lacing his voice. “I thought you two were after the Promissum Mortis; that you wanted to ask the Room of Requirement to conjure it for you?”

“I’m not sure the Room of Requirement can conjure the relic,” Livia explains. “Have you never wondered how the room conjures the objects contained within? Nothing—or no one—can simply make things. Matter has to be pulled from somewhere and rearranged. It can only be shaped, designed, never created.”

Sebastian lifts a brow. “What do you mean to say?”

“I mean, if the room gives us the Promissum Mortis, it could be a mimic, and magic this powerful has a very high chance of backfiring if channeled through a precarious vessel. Maybe this Collector can help us acquire the original…”

“Do you hear yourselves?” Ominis snaps. “Flaunting the risks about like it’s nothing… We walked into a shady room, shedding our blood as some kind of offering, then were sent back into our beds with a yoke of sheets around our necks, and now you want to do what exactly? Bargain with this entity we know nothing of to gain a relic that will, mostly likely, curse us and our entire progeny?”

Sebastian cannot help but smile at Ominis’ verbal lactation. “Good to know you thought of breeding yourself, so now I can make sure it doesn’t happen.”

Livia leaves the shadow of the pillar, oscillating close to Ominis. Sebastian watches as his friend tenses when he feels her entering his vicinity. “I’m not asking you to risk anything, Ominis.” Her fingers climb over his shoulder, and Sebastian feels the strain in his jaw once again. “I never properly thanked you for your help the other day. I’m aware you barely know me, and you didn’t have to agree to it, but I’m very grateful that you took the plunge for me.” Ominis’ gait softens, as if Livia’s leaches a thaumaturgic spell through her fingers. “But I’d ask you to give my intelligence the benefit of the doubt. I won’t be reckless. I just want to know what we’re dealing with before making any decision. Besides, if this entity is malevolent, it’d be wise of us to act before it lures less… cautious students into its trappings.”

Sebastian almost falls on his face when Ominis says: “Okay. Let’s work on our questions, then.”

The air laces with moisture over the course of the next hour as they sit around a table, scribbling questions and subsequently discarding them.

The paper fills with inquiries of a various nature, some more utilitarian, some more ontological.

“We should just ask it if its intentions are good or evil,” Sebastian suggests as the pang of hunger churns his stomach.

Livia shakes her head. “Good and evil are complicated matters to define. It’s too open for interpretation.”

“I agree with Livia,” Ominis voices. “We have to be smarter than this. Cover more ground.”

“What about we ask it what its weaknesses are?” Sebastian proposes. “So we’re prepared if it tries anything on us or on an impressionable second year…”

Ominis twists the nib of his pen on the paper, the stain growing around it. “The Collector might mislead you and manipulate the information to its advantage.”

“I agree with Ominis,” Livia says.

“Between the two of you, I really feel left out,” Sebastian sneers bitterly. “If you big brains have better ideas, fire away.”

In a heartbeat, Livia pushes her chair against the stone and stands, her eyes lucent.

In time, Sebastian will learn to read this shade and to fear seeing it smolder through Livia’s eyes, but for the time being, it sends a tingle down his spine. She gathers her scrolls and her cloak. “I’ll see you tonight. I need to do something before we meet with the Collector again.”

Without another word, she leaves them stranded and Ominis reclines in his seat, his brow stitched with his puzzlement. “This girl is a little obnoxious.”

Sebastian’s lips curl. “Oh, you have no idea.”

#hogwarts legacy fic #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x mc #dark retelling #dark romance

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mattspost-modernodyssey · 1 year

Text

WHEN WE FIRST MET

Well, I was doin' 10 to 20 in a Georgia State medium security for cookin' meth, votin' Democrat, and performin' taxidermy without a license, so I figured I'd never be back in the romance game while in my prime. So I put my heart up on a shelf and and resigned myself to a lonely life that narrated like an old Hank Williams song....except you gotta substitute toilet hooch for the whiskey. I settled into the solitary life, spendin' my days avoidin' White Nationalists, Black Nationalists, MS13, and Larry. Larry was trying to start a cult, but it wasn't going too well since he couldn't convince anyone that David Hasselhoff was the second incarnation of Jesus Christ. I think it's 'cause the younger inmates don't even know who David Hasselhoff is....and have never been moved to rapture by the sweet melody of "Lady." I believe in religious freedom an' all, but Larry had serious case of halitosis and no concept of personal space, so we had to nip that in the bud.

I'd play checkers in the yard with a Mexican fella whom everybody called "Pepinillo." He said it meant "Savage Warrior" in Spanish. I don't speak Spanish, so I took his word for it. He was a nice enough fella, though.

Well, one day, I had latrine duty and I was cleaning the mirrors, scrubbing sinks and toilets, looking for stashed drugs and hooch to pass the evening while I finished the last few chapters of the Lauren Dane novel I smuggled out of the library. I think it was titled "Laid Bare." It's a scorcher.

So I was throwing some elbow grease into toilet 3 and I started humming "Hello" by Lionel Richie. Then I heard a disembodied humming about four stalls down. I stopped humming for a second, but the other humming continued for a moment, then blossomed open into sweet singing---

"I've been alone with you inside my mind....."

Then a mute second passed.

"And in my dreams I've kissed your lips a thousand times".....

Suddenly, I stopped scrubbing and thoughts of poor quality liquor and smuggled fentanyl wisped from my brain and the music rose from my throat in response--

"I sometimes see you pass outside my door..."

Then, the response came back, longing, from stall 7--

"Hello,....... is it me you're looking for?"

Then I stood and returned the melody--

"I can see it in your eyes,.... I can see it in your smile."

And the voice and my voice joined in harmony--

'You're all I've ever wanted and my arms are open wide..."

With heart filled with longing, with tears in my eyes, and all reservation lost, I scrambled down the row, sliding in front of stall 7, heart pounding. I took a breath and swallowed hard and released my pent-up desire for a voice whose owner I'd never seen---just as the angel's voice forced itsway through the stall door--

"Cause you know just what to say, and you know just what to do...."

The door began to open.

"And I want to tell you so much, ..."

DAMMIT, LARRY!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE??!!

#first sight #true love #romance #love at first sight #how we met #lionel richie #david hasselhoff #joy #happiness #beauty #star crossed

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endless-ineffabilities · 2 years

Note

Hi, I was wondering if would you be able to do something where the reader is with Morpheus when he tells Nada he still loves her? Only if you’re comfortable with writing about Nada or just angst in general ofc

Only you can set alight the fire in me

pairing: Morpheus x reader

warnings: allusion to smut, angst

summary: Reader is the half human, half immortal (take your pick - goddess, angel, witch, etc.) soulmate of Morpheus. When they come across Nada in hell, Morpheus makes a confession that the Reader simply doesn't like, to say the least.

Main Library

When I found out that he came back, I was elated.

It had been nearly a century since I last saw my beloved Morpheus, who suffered captivity in the wretched hands of Roderick Burgess. I tried everything in my power to free him, but even I cannot stray from the rules of magic.

I was able to communicate with him several times, and each time I had strained my power completely, to the point where he discouraged me from attempting to do so.

I knew that I just had to wait. Somehow, someday, my love would come back to me.

And he did.

He came back different, broken. But in my arms, he was still the same. I could sense a rage had developed within him - against his captors, from finding out that most of his subjects had left, from losing Jessamy.

From being away from me. I could also see that he tried to temper it down, for my sake, simply being content with basking in the glow of our reunion.

"My love," he whispered, voice breaking. We held each other for the longest time, Lucienne having excused herself much earlier to give us some space. Whispering sweet nothings, and promises of devotion repressed through the years. Sitting there in his throne room, almost wrapped in each other's skin, I never wanted to let him go.

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry," he breathed against my skin, nose nuzzled in my neck.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, my love. They did this to you."

"But all of that caused you pain. You have no idea how," he runs his fingers down my arm, "badly," his hand now gently moving up my knees to my thighs, "... I needed you."

"Morpheus," I whispered, voice getting caught in my throat, "welcome back."

His lips crash to mine, gentle yet demanding, and all else was forgotten.

--------

Of course, there was much work to be done. My love had been robbed of his tools during his time in captivity.

We ventured off to London to retrieve his sand from Johanna Constantine, whom I've grown quite fond of, due to her tireless wit and devil-may-care attitude. I made a note to catch up with her another time.

And now, where else would we be but in the cold, depths of hell -myself, Morpheus, and his new raven Matthew, determined to take back his helm from a demon. Being here feels excruciating, as if hell is pricking through my damn skin. The ceaseless tortured screams of the damned don't do much to help, either.

Morpheus firmly holds my hand, as we follow Squatterbloat through each cursed area of hell. I was distrustful of the demon immediately, knowing that their kind was prone to acts of deceipt and malevolence, no matter how mild-mannered they may show themselves to be in the moment.

We start to climb the cells of the damned, a sprawling block of dreary towers covered by a sky of smouldering fumes. We pass cell after cell, and I try to avert my eyes from every tormented soul, as I don't think I can bear it.

"Take heart, my love," Morpheus squeezes my hand, sensing my discomfort, "We'll be out of here soon."

"I know," I try to focus on him, and nothing else, "Let's get your helm, and get out of this hellhole."

"I am grateful that you came with me. You give me all the strength that I need." He lifts my hand, and leaves a loving kiss.

"I would go anywhere with you, my love."

"Aww, you guys are so cute." Matthew intervenes, "It almost made me forget that we are literally in hell. Almost."

"Well, I nearly forgot that you were flapping about with us, Matthew. Almost." I turn to him playfully.

"Ha-ha," he responds dryly, "Leave it to you two to get all loved-up in hell, of all places."

Matthew and I had gotten into a routine of friendly banter, ever since Lucienne assigned him to be Morpheus' new raven. I appreciate the reprieve that it offers in this situation.

"Just walk on, you two," Morpheus says, feigning disinterest, but I could tell he was amused.

We walk on, and I dread the view that surrounds us, but I dread coming face-to-face with Lucifer even more.

I shuffle closer behind Morpheus, when a strained voice echoes from inside a cell.

"Kai-ckul?" A woman breathes heavily, peering through the jarred bars of her entrapment. "Dream Lord?"

Morpheus halts. He recognizes her voice.

"It is you." Her eyes well up in tears. I can't even imagine what she is going through.

"I greet you, Nada." Morpheus responds, his grip loosening on my hand.

So this is Nada. Morpheus had once revealed to me all of his past lovers. He said that he didn't want to hide anything from me, he wanted me to know what exactly being with him entails. All the good and the bad that came with it.

"But now, there is only you. There will only ever be you, my love. If you'll have me," I remember that he had said to me then, eyes ablaze in passion.

I stay silent as they speak, even when Morpheus drops my hand entirely.

Then I hear her ask, "Do you not still love me?"

I feel myself tense at her question, and Matthew and I exchange a knowing look.

A moment passes, and I assume that he is simply choosing the right words to reject her, while still being considerate.

Until he responds, "It has been 10,000 years, Nada. Yes, I still love you."

Her face lights up in realization, and I try to steady myself, disappointed at what I just heard.

"But I have not yet forgiven you." he turns away from her, and starts walking.

"Come, my love. Come, Matthew." he calls out to us, gazing straight ahead.

"You," Nada's eyes find mine, "are with him?"

"Yes," I answer weakly. I don't wish my words to bring her any further pain.

"He loves me," she grips the bars of her cell, as if wanting to break them off, "He said so himself. One day, he will forgive me and we will be together once more."

"I'm sorry," I don't know what else to say, feeling empty inside from hearing Morpheus' confession.

I walk faster to catch up with Morpheus, with Matthew promptly following behind.

Morpheus reaches for my hand, but I pretend that I don't notice and say, "Let's go. I've just decided that I really hate this damn place." I walk past him.

"That's rough," Matthew quips beside me.

"Tell me about it."

--------

We succeeded, as I believed we would.

Triumphant, and helm in hand, Morpheus, Matthew and I made our way back into the Dreaming.

I had been so afraid for my love when he engaged the Ruler of Hell in combat, that I nearly forgot the exchange that he had with his former lover.

Nearly.

Upon returning, Lucienne greets us with a relieved smile. However, she looks as if she's thrown off by my expression.

"Is something wrong?" she asks me in concern.

Everyone looks at me expectedly, but I'm not really in the mood to share so I just shrug, "Not at all, I'm fine. I'll just head to my library."

Morpheus tries to catch my eye, but I am already heading off. He calls out to me, "I'll be with you shortly, my love."

I enter my library and feel a sense of calm wash over me. Morpheus had constructed this library just for me, and it contains only the books that I love, as well as the ones that I have yet to read but am bound to love afterward.

This room is but a single proof of his efforts to win me over, and that he did, but now I can't help but wonder if I am truly special, or if he had achieved similar feats for his past lovers too. Perhaps he had, and normally I would be fine with that, but then again, he said that he loves her. Does he still love all of them? If he does, then his love will never be just for me.

The door flies open, and he strides in, unbothered and unaware of my thoughts.

He sits next to me on this plush, dark gray loveseat, but I don't look at him.

"Something's wrong?" he asks slowly, "Something's bothering you, my love. Tell me."

"You love her."

"What?"

"You still love her. Nada." I turn to him so he fully see the extent of my emotions. Maybe I am overthinking things, but his declaration of love didn't sit well with me.

"I..." he seems at a loss, choosing his next words carefully, "I will always have a love for her, yes. But it's different with you, of course."

"How so?"

"What do you mean? You know how important you are to me. You are everything." he reaches for my hands, eyes imploring me to understand.

"Morpheus," I pull away, and pace the room, "what if I had encountered any of my exes - Aeneas, Gabriel..."

"Don't mention those names in front of me," he cuts me off, his voice darkening.

"What if I meet them, and tell them I still love them?" I press on, as he looks up at me, brows furrowed, "How would you feel then?"

"You wouldn't dare do that, my love," he stands, adding the term of endearment in a slightly menacing tone, far from the usual doting one.

"That's how I feel!" I raise my arms in exasperation, "I mean, do you still love all of them? Your past lovers?"

"It's not the same. I am an Endless. It's almost impossible for me to simply get rid of old ties. My love runs deep for whomever I devote myself to. With Nada, she's an extraordinary woman... but she's nothing compared to you."

I find it hard to wrap my head around it, and take a few deep breaths. If he thinks that flattery, and a couple of sweet lines will completely diffuse the situation, he is sorely mistaken.

"I'm sorry," he reaches out to me, and I let him wrap his arms around me tightly, "I'm sorry I said that, and that it upset you. I do have a kind of love for all my former lovers, but all that pales in comparison to my love for you."

"I don't know," I mutter against his chest, "what to think."

"Then don't." He leans down, and kisses me. I try to stay angry, but he kisses me harder, moaning low and deep against my lips, and I lose myself in him.

His hands run down my sides, settling on my waist, pushing my back down onto the loveseat.

He proceeds to kiss my neck, biting a trail along the way.

"No one else can kiss you like this," he rests his forehead against mine, and runs his fingers down my chest, "No one else can touch you like I do. You're mine."

I wrap my fingers around his wrist, halting his movements, "And you're mine. Don't ever tell a former lover that you love them ever again. Not like that. I understand the extent of your compassion for each one of them, but you wouldn't want me to do the same to mine."

He gazes at me for the longest time, before a soft smile emerges on his lips, "Understood. And I'm yours."

He kisses me again, and again, and again.

Endlessly.

The end.

first oneshot/request done! It's not as angsty as I intended but hopefully it's got enough 😂

Yes, I do take requests, for Morpheus, Corinthian, and potentially other characters in other fandoms too. Drop me a message!

And, Ineffable's next chapter will be out in a couple of days. Corinthian will be making an appearance - I simply couldn't resist.

#morpheus imagine #morpheus x reader #dream imagine #dream x reader #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless x y/n #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman #morpheus x y/n #morpheus oneshot #dream oneshot #dream of the endless oneshot #the sandman imagine #dream of the endless #tom sturridge #endless oneshots #morpheus

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years

Text

Give Yourself a Try

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader enemies to lovers

Synopsis: you and Peter hate each other, which becomes a problem when you’re given a group project

Part two and three

Masterlist

“Good morning Ned.” You kindly greeted as you took your seat in front of Peter in your first period physics class.

“Morning Y/n.” Ned said back, gearing up for what he knew was coming.

“I really like your makeup today, Y/n.” Peter smiled as he leaned forward in his seat. “Is it hard balancing your schoolwork with your job at the circus?”

“Not at all.” You smiled sweetly at him as you turned around. “I could get you a job there if you’d like. We’ve been needing something small to feed to the lions between shows. You’d be perfect.”

“Small? Darling, you must be mistaken.” Peter kept a sickly sweet grin on. “I’m bigger than your boyfriend of the week over there.”

“Silly goose.” You scrunched your nose at him. “Harry Osborn is not my boyfriend. And just so you know, steroids are really bad for you. I’m worried about your well being.”

“I’m not on steroids.” Peter hissed, dropping the act. “Stop trying to start that rumor.”

“Why not?” You shot back. “You had no trouble spreading the rumor that I was the one who killed Herbie the hamster when we all know it was you who left the door open after cleaning his cage.”

“Are you kidding me? That was fifth grade.” He whispered harshly.

“I will never forget it.” You snapped back.

“Ahem.” The teacher cleared her throat as she stared at you and Peter with an annoyed expression. This was an everyday occurrence in her class, and any other class you had with Peter. You hated each other and everyone knew it. You and Peter stopped arguing and slumped in your seats, giving each other one last look of disdain.

“Instead of a final exam this semester, I’ll be giving you a final project.” The teacher continued. “You’ll be working with one other student.”

“Nice. We can finally present our work on quantum physics.” Peter excitedly high fived Ned.

“Can you guys reschedule your virgin convention for later?” You asked seriously. “I’m trying to listen.”

“Because of the disappointing grades on the last project, I will be assigning your partners.” The teacher went on.

“Don’t worry.” Peter whispered to Ned again. “We could still end up together. We got an A last time so she knows we work well together.”

“We got an A last time.” You mimicked his voice and moved your hand like a puppet.

“Yeah. An A.” Peter said as he leaned forward in his seat. “You know, like your bra size.”

“What did you just say to me?” You snapped as you whipped around. He had on his infamous shit eating grin that you hated.

“Young man, can you please stop interrupting our conversation?” He said as he held up a hand. Your jaw dropped at the insult, face growing warm with anger. You decide not to give him the satisfaction of an insult exchange and turned around in your seat. Your teacher began to list off the partners for the projects.

“Leeds, Stacy.” She called out. “You’ll be working together.”

“Sorry, man. But also, not sorry man.” Ness frown quickly turned into a smile. “Gwen, over here!”

“Aw.” You snickered as you turned around on your chair. “I feel bad for whoever gets stuck with you now. That poor, unfortunate soul.”

“Parker. L/n. You’ll be working together.”

“What?” You and Peter screamed in unison. You gave each other an angry look before looking at your teacher in protest.

“You two are always holding up my class and I’m tired of it.” She held up a hand. “This project will teach you how to finally get along and stop disrupting me while I teach.”

“Mrs. Avery, with all due respect, I can feel myself getting more disruptive already.” You told her.

“I think that’s your STD.” Peter mumbled.

“You two need to learn how to be professional and amicable.” She ignored your protest. “You won’t always like your peers. But you will always have to collaborate with them at some point.”

“I understand that.” You assured her. “But if we do this project together, my fist is going to collaborate with Peters face.”

“That’s a threat.” Peter piped up. “I’d like to file a report.”

“And I’d like to take that report and shove it up your-“

“Enough.” Mrs. Avery cut you off. “You will be working together and that is final.”

You both shrunk in your seats, fuming with anger over the teachers decision. You didn’t cause any more disruptions throughout the class and quickly left once the bell rang.

Peter saw you at your locker, which was coincidentally next to his locker, spraying some perfume on.

“Darling!” Peter exclaimed as he stood next to you. “So good to see you! You know how much I love when you hog all the locker space and make the entire hallways smell like perfume.”

“Why, thank you.” You touched your hand to your heart. “As I’m sure you know, some of us prefer to smell like things other than Neosporin and baby powder. After all, that’s your signature scent and I’d just hate to step on your toes.”

“I didn’t know. Thank you for opening your gigantic mouth and telling me!” Peter said through a toothy grin.

“Oh, Peter.” You laughed airily. “You’re very welcome, you sad sack of shit.”

“Classy.” Peter faked a smile as he opened his locker. “Do you want to come over to my house after school to work on the project? I live walking distance from here.”

“What? No.” You scoffed. “You’re not getting me to a secondary location. We’ll work in the library.”

“Actually, we won’t, because it’s closed for maintenance.” He replied with a tight smile.

“I wish you were closed for maintenance.” Yoh grumbled as you zipped up your bag.

“Hilarious.” He fake laughed loudly. “Are you coming over or not?”

“Not.” You said in disgust. “I don’t know you or your parents. You might try to kill me as a part of some Parker family cult ritual.”

“My parents are dead.” He told you, unamused. “It’s just me and my aunt.”

“Is your aunt a cult leader?” You asked.

“No.” He groaned.

“Cult member?”

“No. All she does is cheat at cross world puzzles and shop at Whole Foods.” He said.

“So you lied.” You slammed your locker and looked at him. “She’s in the Whole Foods cult.”

“Can you try not to be difficult for two minutes, please? We need to get this project done.”

“Jokes on you, Parker.” You folded your arms. “Difficult is my lowest setting.”

“Ooo. Scary.” He mocked you. “What’s your highest? Because I’m pretty sure I saw it last Tuesday when your backpack got stuck on the door handle and you decided to blame me.”

“I know that was your fault. And I go from difficult to hooligan to the step mom from Parent Trap.” You shrugged.

“And they said women aren’t funny.” Peter replied as he slapped his knee. You raised an eyebrow at him, judging him for his material.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled.

“You’re gonna be sorry.” You told him. “Where do you live again?”

“Waking distance from here. I said that less than five minutes ago.” He rolled his eyes at you.

“Well I didn’t hear that because I tune you out when you speak. You know, like most people do.” You said sweetly.

“Wow, you’re so funny.” Peter said sarcastically. “If I meet you here at the end of the day, will you come home with me?”

“Fine.” You huffed. “I’ll go home with you. But if I start detecting any cult shit going on, I’m leaving.”

“Fine by me.” He scoffed. “I’ll see you later.”

“Are you ready to go?” Peter asked after the last bell had rang. You shouldered your backpack and shut your locker, feeling unusually anxious around him. You could deal with Peter for 40 minutes at a time when all you did was trade insults. Something about walking to his home together and spending time alone knocked the confidence right out of you.

“I’m ready.” You nodded.

“What, no insult?” He asked. “No mocking of my voice?”

“We were assigned each other as partners so we could learn to be civil, right?” You shrugged. “I guess I’m just mature enough to give it a try.”

“There she is.” Peter smiled as you began to walk in the direction of his apartment. “There’s my girl.”

You looked to the side when you heard him say this, unsure of how it made you feel. You often called each other pet names ironically, but this felt different. There was a change in the dynamic between the two of you and it was clouding your judgment.

You let Peter do all the talking as you walked home, thankful that he lived so close to the school. He spewed out ideas for the project the entire elevator ride up and didn’t stop until you were standing outside his bedroom door.

Peter stopped talking and opened the door, gesturing for you to go inside. You made a face at him before walking, staying in one spot as he shut the door and sat down. You were frozen as you looked around his room, not liking how human it made him. He had notes from classes you didn’t have with him strewn around and an open first aid kit on his desk.

“You can sit.” He chuckled when he noticed how stiff you were.

“I’m scared to.” You admitted.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” You answered honestly. Something about sitting on this boys bed with him seemed finalizing, like you’d be opening a door you couldn’t close.

“Just sit down.” He repeated. “I didn’t rig the place with boobytraps, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That’s what someone who rigged the place with booby traps would say.” You replied as you took a hesitant seat on his bed.

“There. Isnt that nice?” He asked sarcastically.

“No.” You said immediately. “Am I the first girl to ever sit on your bed?”

“Psh. No.”

“I’ll take that as a yes ma’am.” You mumbled.

“Whatever.” He replied. “What do you want to do the project on?”

“How about micropenises?” You suggested. “You won’t even have to do any research.”

“Haha. So funny.” He rolled his eyes. “You are so annoying it’s actually impressive.”

“Please.” You laughed. “You so have a crush on me.”

“What?” His entire face went red. “No I don’t.”

“No I don’t.” You mimicked his voice. “Yes you do. That’s why you’re up my ass all the time.”

“That makes no sense.” He scoffed.

“It makes total sense.” You insisted. “You know I’ll never like you back, so you made me hate you. That way, you still get to talk to me all the time. Genius, really. I applaud you.”

“That’s a nice little fantasy you’ve created for yourself. Is that what you tell yourself to help you fall asleep?” He teased you.

“Yep.” You smiled brightly. “Right after I finger blast myself to the thought of you in your Catholic schoolboy sweaters.”

“Oh my God.” His cheeks turned even redder at your inappropriate joke.

“And they said women aren’t funny.” You used his words from earlier.

“They were right.” He said, making you laugh.

“God, I love it when you talk down to me.” You fanned yourself. “Can you tell me how to change a tire?”

Peter began to laugh as well, looking at you as you both laughed. You quickly stopped laughing when you realized you just gave him a genuine smile and looked away.

“Do you want to do the project on tensile strength?” You suggested to break the tension. “I know you’re weirdly into that.”

“How’d you know?” He wondered.

“You almost popped a boner when we talked about in last month.” You teased him. “It’s just rope, dude.”

“It’s not just rope. It’s the force-“

“-the force required to pull something until it breaks. I know.” You finished his sentence. “I’m smart too, you know.”

“Oh.” He was dumbfounded that you knew something he was interested in. “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Women use brain sometime. Woman say smart thing like man.”

Peter laughed again, realizing you were actually kind of funny when you wanted to be.

“I’m not a misogynist, you know.” Peter said after a beat. “You don’t have to make jokes like that. I may not like you, but I respect you.”

“You respect me?” You raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

“I respect all women. The strongest person I know is my Aunt. Plus, I’ve still never met anyone who was as smart as my mom. I wouldn’t be half the man I was if it weren’t for the women who raised me.” He shrugged. “But it would be ignorant and naive of me to only respect woman who are related to me in some way. So I respect all of them unless they give me a reason not to.”

“Have I given you a reason not to?” You batted your eyelashes at him.

“Not yet.” He chuckled to himself. “You’re annoying, but you’re brilliant. I know you would never admit this, but we’re basically the same person. You’re just more extroverted so you have more friends and popularity. And you’re smart but you don’t make that your whole personality, so it impresses more people when you let your intelligence show.”

Your body language shifted when you realized he was actually a nice guy. He clearly paid attention to you and was impressed by what he saw. You didn’t say anything, so Peter kept going.

“People lean in to listen when you start speaking instead of tuning you out.” He brought up your insult from earlier, and you felt bad. You didn’t realize he admired you in any way and you felt guilty for always teasing him. Peter’s kept his eyes down, playing with his fingers to distract himself.

“You’re…you’re kind of every thing I wanted to be.” He said quietly. You smiled softly at him, but he didn’t see it. It was the first time you had a nice moment with Peter, and you didn’t hate it. You could tell he was beginning to panic for sharing so much, so you reached forward and tilted his chin up to look at you. His wide eyes met yours and you gave him a small smile.

“How did your parents die?” You asked quietly, immediately ruining the moment.

“Damn.” Peter pulled away with a shocked laugh. “When was your first period?”

“All right. I get your point.” You rolled your eyes. “That was a little abrupt.”

“You’re telling me.” He teased. You sat in silence for a moment, neither of you sure where to go from there. You knew Peter was still processing you touching his face, so you talked first.

“My parents are dead too.” You said without looking up at him.

“They are?” He asked, scooting a little closer to you on the bed.

“Yeah.” You looked up and gave him a sad smile. “But if you think we’re gonna take a turn and fall in love because we have similar trauma, you’re wrong. I can’t stand orphans.”

“But you’re an orphan.” He reminded you.

“And?”

“Never mind.” He shook his head. “I have a feeling I won’t be getting through to you.”

“Probably not.” You agreed. “Tell me more, though. Did your parents die doing something cool?”

“I don’t really know.” He shrugged. “It was a plane crash. That’s all I’ve been told.”

“Oh.” You nodded. “Sounds lame.”

“What?”

“A plane crash?” You raised your eyebrow. “That’s so boring. Yawn.”

“Excuse me?” He laughed in shock again. “Fine. How did your parents die?”

“Firefighters.” You said proudly. “Died saving three children.”

“Wow.” Peter sat back, stumped.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “I was one of them.”

“Seriously?” His eyes widened as he fought the urge to hold your hand.

“No. I’m fucking with you.” You began to laugh as he let out a groan.

“Why would you do that to me?” He whined. “You had me, for a minute there.”

“What can I say? I’m an actor.” You flipped your hair ostentatiously.

“What actually happened?” He wondered. You stopped smiling and bit your bottom lip.

“Drunk driver.” You told him. He didn’t fight the urge this time and reached over to take your hand in his. You stared at your interlocked hands, wondering if you should pull away or not. On the one hand, he was your enemy. But that didn’t make his warmth any less inviting.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly. “That must have been really hard on you.”

“You know the feeling, don’t you?” You asked with a sad smile.

“I do.” He nodded. “And I know how much it sucked to not have someone who knew how it felt. You don’t have to feel that way anymore. Neither of us do.”

You opened your mouth to speak but quickly shut it, not wanting to ruin the moment again. The guy holding your hand was not the same guy who sat behind you in physics. This guy was someone you actually liked.

“I might have misjudged you, Peter Parker.” You laughed shyly. “You might not be as unbearable as I remembered.”

“And you might not be the frigid bitch I thought you were.” He matched your tone.

“Watch it.” You warned.

“Sorry.” He mumbled.

“You were right.” You said after a beat. “We are pretty much the same person. I never realized that before.”

“Maybe that’s why we don’t get along.” He shrugged, rubbing soft circles into your hand.

“I’d be willing to give it a try, if you were.” You said sheepishly. “Who knows? I might just like you.”

“You want to give this a try?” He asked, eyes lighting up in excitement.

“Why not?” You shrugged. “What do I have to lose?”

“Okay.” He nodded eagerly. “Then we’ll try.”

“Cool.” You smiled.

“Cool.” He said before leaning in for a kiss. Your eyes widened as his fluttered shut, making you realize you were on different pages. His lips made contact with yours for a few seconds before you pushed him off.

“What the hell are you doing?” You asked as you covered your mouth with your hand.

“Kissing you?” He asked in confusion as hurt flashed in his eyes.

“Why the hell would you do that?” You exclaimed, still in shock. You got off the bed and backed away from him, trying to process what just happened.

“You said we were giving it a try!” He was shouting now too, but not out of anger. “I thought we were finally admitting that we like each other.”

“I meant giving friendship a try! I never said anything about a relationship.” You shouted. You quieted down when you saw the upset look on his face. “You... you like me?”

“I thought it was obvious.” He said quietly. “I-I thought you knew. You said it before and I just…I thought you knew.”

“Peter, I was joking when I said all that stuff.” You calmed down and sat back on his bed. “I didn’t actually think you liked me.”

“Oh.” He blinked a few times before looking down. “I…I do.”

“Peter, I’m sorry.” You reached for his hand again but his withdrew it.

“No, it’s my fault.” He shook his head and got off the bed. “I misunderstood the situation.”

“Peter, wait.” You caught him by the wrists and pulled him back down to the bed. He sat down again but looked anywhere but at you. You could see that his eyes were glassy so you put a hand on his face.

“You were right.” His voice wavered. “I did like you and I did think you’d never like me back. That’s why I always tease you. I just wanted you to talk to me.”

“Pete.” You whispered, rubbing his cheekbone with your thumb.

“I’m sorry. I really don’t want to be here right now. I’ll email you my part of the project and-“

You cut him off by wrapping your hand around the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss. You both had your eyes closed this time and it lasted much longer. Your lips moved against his slowly and you could feel how inexperienced he was. Even so, it was perfect. You pulled away after a minute and looked into his eyes, feeling better now that there were no traces of sadness in them.

“You kissed me.” He said, dumbfounded.

“I can’t know I don’t like you back if I never give you a chance.” You shrugged as you withdrew your hand from his face.

“Well what did you decide?” He asked curiously. You puckered your lips and tilted your head, staring at him as if you were making a decision.

“I still think you’re super annoying.” You concluded.

“Okay.” Peter nodded.

“But it’s an annoying I’m willing to put up with.” You decided as you slipped your hand back into his. Peter broke out into a smile and nodded again.

“Okay.”

Tag List 🏷

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#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker enemies to lovers #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #marvel #spiderman

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writingsbychlo · 4 years

Text

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.

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