#i'm. i am a disaster over this wonderful adorable man | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dear-mrs-otome · 2 years ago

Text

So, let me preface this by saying, I got your notification at probably 5 AM this morning (when I was awake, bleary-eyed, dealing with a small someone who had had a nightmare) and I had a hard time keeping myself from just diving in right then and there. BUT I HELD THE LINE - mainly because I knew I would be so effin amped when I got the change to properly sink my teeth into this delight.

And you know what? I was right. I've read this three times already this morning, and I'm certain it won't be the last. This is such a masterpiece from top to bottom, if I could print this fic out I would make a thousand copies and just roll around on them like a cat with the world's largest pile of catnip. But where do I begin extolling its virtues??

The pacing? Which is on point, and I adore the narrative break for the story within a story of Silvio's adventures. (shoutout to the Tanzanite mention, woo! And how poetic it was, very Coleridge of you ma'am!) Your decision to jump from moment to moment, hitting the high points of the scenario without giving it a chance to drag, was spot on and kept the tension rolling so well. We all knew the destination here…but the journey. The journey was the adventure.

The imagery? Obviously we all know this is one of your strong suits, but there were so many themes and motifs that served to add so much dimension to the story. The storm and how it waxed and waned and echoed their interaction, from violent and chaotic to something exhilarating. The way our characters emerge from it like the world the next morning, scrubbed maybe just a bit cleaner of their pre-existing notions of each other. Ready for a fresh start. The ocean metaphors which are so, so satisfying when it comes to Silvio because beyond just the colors it fits him - the volatility of it, the allure even if you know it might not end well for you, how it can be both harsh and nurturing. Also please let me flail a moment over the dress. The dress! Choosing those two tones to hearken back to his crest and his own coloring and the converse notion that despite associating himself with such stark tones it's impossible to see him or things related to him in mere black and white. And this was carried on with mentions of the inn-keepers white hair, the white bed, his white shirt. The blackness outside of the storm, her black shawl. Bravo.

I love that you let the reader snark. I love the frustration and irritation and reluctant attraction to this disaster of a man because frankly, we've all been there I think. I love that you let her say fuck. I love that you let HIM say fuck. (Bless you for this!!) I love that we got that little hint of vulnerability from him and that intriguing glimpse of integrity which we all KNOW exists despite Silvio's best efforts to convince us all otherwise. The tension and the sexual tension which is just so so so… chefs kiss Braised to perfection. You gave it the time it needed to open up sumptuously - and leave us wanting more. Just like our couple.

Favorite lines perhaps, though it's impossible to pick any, but this feels like these encompass everything about this fic succinctly and beautifully:

Just your gaze locked with his, your chest rising and falling as you stare into those azure depths, wondering if the tempest outside will be what causes you to helplessly fall into all that blue, another voyager lost in the ocean of his eyes.

Being this close to him feels right in a way you don’t want to explore, a nebulous thing on the horizon of your heart that you want to keep at bay.

Thank you, for taking on my request. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for the obvious sweat and tears and effort and love that went into this. I feel so very fortunate to have my favorite be graced so.

A/N: @dear-mrs-otome your request has taken me on quite the journey. I hope I've managed to do your Prince right and that you have as much fun reading this as I had writing it. 💜

Technically, this is part of my Broken Heartstrings series under the prompt: Only One Bed which I have been dying to write and was really excited to do with Silvio, demanding as he is.

Silvio x f! reader

Word Count: 5093

Of all the people to share a carriage ride back to the palace with, Silvio Ricci is the last one you would have chosen. You glance at him, sitting there across from you in the darkened carriage as it sways over the uneven country roads. His face is currently set to a sharp scowl, his impossibly blue eyes staring out the glass window. Not that he can see much. The world outside is black, streaked with shots of gray as the rain continues to fall, pelting the carriage’s roof and windows with a loud rat-a-tat-tat sound.

Only his occasional annoyed sighs interrupt the steady drumming of the rain. You pull your thin, black silk shawl tighter around your bare shoulders, turning to stare out your own darkened window. You’ll be grateful when you reach the palace and can change out of your tightly corseted ball gown. As enchanting as it is with its ivory-colored satin and black lace trimming, you are looking forward to being able to breathe again. And bend properly.

“Only Rhodolite would have a ball way out in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere.”

Your jaw clenches and the rolling sound of thunder echoes the irritation you feel at his snide tone.

“The Count holds this ball once a year at his country estate which is one of the most elegant–”

The Prince of Benitoite scoffs loudly. “Elegant my ass.”

You are really beginning to question Sariel’s decree that you ride back to the palace with this pompous royal. You’re more likely to lodge your heeled shoe in his temple than make pleasant small talk.

“Prince Silvio, do you have to be so-” You’re interrupted by another boom of thunder, this one loud enough to rattle the carriage. You hear the frightened whine of the horse over the continued sound of heavy rain. Some part of you is not surprised when it rolls to a stop. A moment later there is a rapping at the window and you lean over, opening the carriage door. A rush of wet, cold air invades the dry interior.

“The hell we stopped for?” Silvio yells above the din of the downpour.

The driver, battling the gusting wind to keep his hat on his head and the rain out of his eyes, has to yell back in order to be heard. “‘Storm has gotten too bad, your highness! We can’t keep traveling in this weather!” He glances over his shoulder, blinking against the water pelting his face.. “We passed an inn just a short ways back! We should head there for shelter!”

You expect him to argue and for a half a moment, his lips part and it looks like he might. But then the sky explodes into a sheet of white as lightning bares its teeth. Silvio’s gaze shifts from the sky back to the driver and you’re given a glimpse of a man who understands and respects the power of a storm. He nods once in affirmation.

The driver looks relieved that he won’t have to argue with the haughty prince and closes the carriage door. A moment later you feel it turn, heading back in the direction it came. You wonder whether or not you should comment on the prince’s amenability when he snorts in disgust, moving his expensive leather boots away from a puddle of water that the rain had blown onto the carriage floor.

Nope, still an ass, you think with a sigh and ride the rest of the way to the inn in silence, with only the turbulent sound of the storm echoing through the carriage.

“Whaddaya mean there’s only one room left?” Silvio’s jewelry and the many gold adornments on his ocean-blue jacket gleam in the light of the hearth fire inside the common room of the inn. “You’re talking to a Prince of Benitoite! I could buy this whole place out from under ya in a day.”

The beleaguered innkeeper crosses his burly arms, glaring at the prince from under bushy white eyebrows.

“As I said already, Your Highness, I got one room left. You can take it or leave it.” He turns to the driver who has returned from securing the horse, safe and sound in the barn. “It’s not much, sir, but you can have a spot in front of the hearth. It’ll warm you up, dry you off.”

Silvio’s booted foot hits the wooden planks of the inn’s floor. “And your room? What if I demand to commandeer your bed?”

The innkeeper grins through his full, white beard. “You’d certainly give my wife the thrill of her life, Your Highness.”

You would laugh at the startled look on Silvio’s face but you have another pressing problem. “So I have a choice between the floor and….sharing a room with him?”

Genuinely sorry, the innkeeper nods, his gaze darting to the prince. “I apologize, my lady. Truly.”

You turn to face Silvio and his scowl. With a jangle, he snatches the room key from the counter where the innkeeper left it and marches off toward the narrow, winding staircase that leads to the second story of the inn.

You follow with one last glance at the common room.

Maybe the floor wouldn’t be that bad.

The room is at the very end of the hallway, nestled under the slanted inn roof. You notice several things right away when you step inside: There is one round glass window through which you can watch the way the rain is being flung through the night by a restless, howling wind. A small oil lamp is lit, resting on the nightstand of the lone bed. It is larger than you expected, taking up close to half of the small room. A tiny, worn table and single chair are tucked into a narrow corner. And there is absolutely nothing else in the room except a Prince of Benitoite, whose pale head almost brushes the rafters, standing in the middle with his arms crossed, glowering in disdain.

“What a dump.”

Irritation trumps politeness and you hear yourself snap at him. “You’re welcome to take your royal ass back down to the common room and sleep with the driver. Or perhaps the barn with the horses is more to your liking.”

He turns sharply, his clothing and jewelry jingling softly under the sounds of the storm. His gaze, the blue of a midsummer sky, lingers and you wonder if he’s going to snap at you for speaking to him that way. Or comment on your language. Instead he surprises you by doing neither. His lips curve into a grin and you are utterly unprepared for the way a smile changes his face. What was begrudgingly handsome transforms into blindingly beautiful. Butterflies are born, fluttering their wings in your stomach, sending up a breeze that comes out as a huff of air as you march over to the side of the bed closest to the window and sit, leaning down to undo the straps of your shoes.

He watches you, crossing his arms. “Whatcha doin’?”

You keep your back to him as you pull off one shoe and begin undoing the other. “Getting ready for bed.”

He glances at the bed with its single, quilted blanket and two pillows. Then he begins unbuttoning his dress jacket. “Fine. You can have the blanket. Maybe it’ll make the chair or floor more comfortable.”

Standing, you turn around to face him. He’s carefully removed his jacket and has folded it so all its golden ornaments are wrapped inside of it.

“What do you mean ‘the chair or floor’? The bed is big enough for us both. I refuse to–What on earth are you doing?” You watch, brows raised as he begins tucking his jacket underneath his pillow.

“My clothes are worth more than everything in this room. Hell, one of my rings probably more than this whole fucking inn.” He steps back, satisfied that you can’t see the jacket anymore and then faces his next bothersome obstacle, the one shaking her head with her hands on her hips. Hips, he notices, that are temptingly accented by the flair of her ballgown. His gaze follows the stiff waistline up the strapless bodice where he can’t help but notice other things the gown accents. How had he not noticed your–

Your voice snaps him out of it.

“Prince or not, that’s ridiculous.”

Aaaaaand you’re yappin’ again. He ignores your comment, kicking off his expensive leather boots in a move so casually effortless it stirs those annoying butterflies again and then with a sigh, lays down on the bed. He’s left all of his jewelry on, his golden rings and earrings and necklaces which strikes you as very uncomfortable but he seems right at home, stretching out his long limbs in a way that seems to swallow all that space the bed seemed to have at first glance.

Best to get ready and go to sleep immediately.

With that thought, you realize something-and the raucous storm outside has nothing on the roar of panic flooding your body.

Your ivory and black ball gown is beautiful. And you were laced into this beautiful ivory and black ball gown by a trusted female servant. Laced into it wearing nothing but a pair of soft silken drawers which stop mid-thigh.

You consider trying to sleep in the gown. No. You wouldn’t be able to move. It’s too tight at the waist and chest and too voluminous in the skirt.

Which means…..you turn slowly to see Silvio has rolled over, his back to you. Great. He’s gone to sleep already.

You clear your throat.

No response.

You do it again louder.

He doesn’t move.

“Silvio!”

His name does it. “The fuck you want, lady?!” He’s rolled halfway around, glaring at you over his shoulder.

“I….” This hurts to admit and you wish you were in the room with anyone else. “I can’t undo my gown.”

“So sleep in it,” he says, each word drawn out slowly like he’s talking to a small child. He mutters something in the language of Benitoite you can just tell is rude and insulting.

You grit your teeth. He starts to roll back over.

“I can’t. It’s too tight to sleep in and the skirt is big.”

Outside the thunder rolls, low and foreboding. Silence swallows the room and you know your cheeks are warm. Maybe he won’t notice in the dim light.

He jangles as he pushes himself up now, hair pale as moonlight falling across his forehead and cheek as he tilts his head. And then slowly, oh so slowly, he grins in a way that corkscrews a blaze of heat right through you.

“So lemme make sure I got this. You’re askin’ me to undress you?”

You steel yourself. “And to give me your shirt.”

That wipes the grin right off his face. “Whaddaya mean ‘give you my shirt’? Do you know-”

“I’m sure it’s more expensive than all the buildings in Rhodolite but I am going to sleep in that bed and I am not going to do it in just my undergarment!”

Your tone is firm, much more confident than you actually feel. Again the thunder outside is the only sound as he stares, those cobalt blue eyes fixed on you with the intensity and depth of a storm-tossed ocean.

“Please.” It comes out small, a tiny crack in the wall of confidence you’ve been presenting him with. The word has slipped out, unbidden and the heat in your face feels unbearable. Have you lost your mind, asking him to do this? “N-Nevermind, I’ll-”

Your stammering drops off as he stands, his elegant fingers reaching under soft white ruffles to begin unbuttoning his shirt. He does not meet your gaze and you wonder if that darkness in his face is a blush to match your own. Then the white shirt is off and he’s standing before you, his upper body surprisingly sculpted and shockingly bare. His necklaces lay against his fair skin and there is something so intimate about the sight your breath catches.

“So the lady likes what she sees.” Dragging your gaze away from all the exposed skin and corded muscle, you see that grin has returned to those lips and you draw a quick breath, spinning around and presenting him with your back (which happens to conveniently hide a blush so fierce it must be glowing.)

“Just get on with it.”

The wooden floorboards creak underfoot as he crosses to where you are standing. You’re not sure you’ve ever been this close to him before. You didn’t dance together at the ball and as far as you can remember the only time you’ve ever touched was when you first met and he offered you his hand, a sharp thrust in your direction that felt more like he was going to stab you with an invisible dagger than an introduction.

But now he is so close you can smell his cologne, something unexpectedly soft that vaguely reminds you of the sea on a dark, clear night. Your body is electric with an awareness that ripples across your skin with every inhale and exhale he makes. Outside, the rain is endless, the thunder unflagging. But their sounds are drowned out by the sudden pounding of your heart, by the beat of a thousand butterfly wings sending your blood rushing through your veins like the current of a wild river. He begins pulling on the satin bow of your gown, undoing the careful knot.

“The laces can be tricky,” you say just to say something, anything. Is that really your voice, so breathy and soft?

You realize your mistake instantly because he answers you and his voice is right by your ear, curling around the shell of it.

“I got more than enough experience with knots,” he murmurs.

“Because of all the people you’ve bedded,” you mutter. Why did you say that? And why does the thought of Silvio in bed with anyone make your fingers curl into your palms?

He’s released the knot and begins loosening the stays, tucking those nimble fingers underneath each crisscross and tugging, not roughly as you would have imagined but with precision, loosening each section deliberately, skillfully.

“Because I’m a sailor,” he says matter-of-factly, surprising you yet again. He tugs again and the bodice of your gown suddenly slips, sending you scrambling to keep the whole thing up. He leans closer still, his lips mere centimeters from your ear. “And because of all the people I’ve bedded.” He’s undone your gown but you’re being wrapped up again, this time in his silken, serpentine words..

Your heart leaps in your chest and you stumble away, holding up your dress with both arms, swallowing against the unexplainable tightness in your throat.

“Your shirt.” You hold the ivory satin to your chest with one arm and hold out your free hand, palm up. He practically strolls back to the bed (how he manages to do that in such a small space is a mystery), picks up his shirt and with a shameless grin, throws it at you.

You don’t reach for it with both hands as he may have hoped, instead catching it one-handed and there is a flash of something in his eyes. Disappointment? Admiration? Both?

“Turn around.”

He lifts his hand, jeweled rings on nearly every finger and covers his eyes.

“Silvio.” Consternation swells his name. It looks like he’s peeking.

“What? I ain’t lookin’!”

There is too much running wildly through your mind, too many blurry thoughts twisting in incomprehensible circles to worry about whether or not the man is going to sneak a look at you or not. You turn your back to him and let your gown drop to the floor with a whoosh.

He didn’t plan to look. But the rings on his fingers don’t allow him to hold them together completely and when your dress makes that sound, his eyes open of their own accord and through the narrow space between his fingers he catches a glimpse of your naked back. The curve of your hip and dip of your waist. The shapely line of your legs.

The thunder rumbles a warning and he quickly closes his eyes again, alarmed at the sharp, hot pang of want slicing its way through his body. You? No. He doesn’t want–

One blue eye slowly opens, this time without any excuse. You’re wearing his shirt. It falls to the back of your knees and somehow looks better than any dress ever would. There is a tension slowly winding its way across his neck, his shoulders, a tightening in his gut at the sight. And then you turn, buttoning the final few buttons and his mouth goes dry at the fleeting glimpse of your décolleté. .

What the fuck…..He forces his eyes closed again, his jaw clenched against the swift desire you unknowingly provoked.

You scramble towards the bed and dive under the blanket, pulling it up and over your chest.

“Okay,” you murmur. “You can look now.”

He mumbles something that sounds like “Finally”, his voice oddly hoarse, as he lays back down but on top of the covers.

“You can get under the covers. You’ll get cold if–”

“I’m fine, lady,” he snaps, a dog snarling at the hand offering it a pet.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You have no shirt on and it’s not all that warm in here. You’ll get sick.”

“I don’t get sick,” he says haughtily and for a moment, your exasperation overrules the awkwardness.

“Fine. Whatever you say.” You pointedly roll away from him, trying to ignore how soft his shirt is, how good it smells, how comforting it is against your skin as the world outside rages with wind and water.

“This bed sucks.” His voice is rough, irritated. You glance over your shoulder. He’s laying on his back, his hands behind his head, staring at the slanted wooden beams of the ceiling. Despite the bareness of his upper body, it’s his profile that captures your attention. The fall of his pale hair. The slant of his cheekbones. The straight, aristocratic nose. His perfectly sculpted lips. A sudden, wild thought bursts through the chaos of your mind: what would they feel like on your lips? On your skin?

Outside the thunder booms, a furious sound so powerful it shakes the window, like a giant quaking the earth with its powerful steps. A small cry of surprise and trepidation escapes you.

He turns his head. “Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

You roll onto your back, not wanting to face the window and the darkness outside. An uncontrollable shiver rolls through you and you tug the covers up, closer to your chin.

“Rhodolite doesn’t have storms like this often." Your heart is hammering because of the deafening clap of thunder, right? It has nothing to do with the preposterous thoughts spinning like coins through your head just before.

“Benitoite does.” He returns his gaze to the dark wooden beams above. “Be grateful you’re not on the deck of a ship durin’ a storm like this.”

You glance at the window, illuminated by a burst of lightning and then turn, rolling completely away from it to face him.

“What was it like?”

Silvio glances at you, then quickly back to the ceiling. “This little rain shower’s got nothin’ on a storm that crept up on us while we were out to sea, sailin’ back from Tanzanite…..”

He speaks and you listen, each word a small fairy light blinking into existence, leading you down a path, away from the storm outside the small guesthouse in the middle of the Rhodolite countryside, and into the eye of a hurricane. One that rocks the carrack Silvio is on, homeward bound from far-away Tanzanite.

He paints the picture so well, his voice low, blending in with the unrelenting barrage of rain on the darkened window pane. You can see him in your mind’s eye, soaked through, swallowing salt water and his fear as he clings to wet, stinging ropes, his boots sliding across the slick deck. Men’s shouts fade into the roar of the wind. A body is plucked from the ship and tossed like a ragdoll through the howling wind, lost forever to the churning, briny depths. The ocean is enraged, a wild beast bucking and kicking blindly. The ship groans and tilts, battered by the winds, tossed by the wild waves. Silvio’s vision is blurred as he seeks out the helmsman, valiantly still at the massive wooden wheel and makes his way across the dangerously open deck. A wall of water slams into him and he knows if he doesn’t fight, he will be washed out to sea. Dogged determination fills him. Out here he isn’t a prince, fighting for his father’s approval, fighting to be seen as someone worthy. Out here in the elements he is a man, fighting for his very survival, all his gold and jewels and titles worn down to nothing by the wild storm, like mighty mountains that have been reduced to pebbles by the persistence of rain over centuries. He roars in the face of the wind and the rain, clawing his way up to the petrified helmsman. “Insieme!!” Together.. His ringed fingers wrap around the wooden handles, between those of the helmsman. Their gazes meet and as lightning blanches the sky, they both turn with all their might……

“The sea claimed four men that night. Ain’t small, the price of lovin’ her.” He trails off, the experience slowly fading back into the mist of his memory. His blue eyes, darker and softer than you’ve ever seen them, blink as he returns to the small room at the top of the inn and the woman lying next to him.

You’re still on your side, facing him, your gaze held completely at attention by his face, his voice. His story not only distracted you from the storm outside, but had pulled you in, had you inching closer, heart hammering in your chest as you hung on every word.

But he’s run out of words, that barrier now gone, and there is nothing between you. Just your gaze locked with his, your chest rising and falling as you stare into those azure depths, wondering if the tempest outside will be what causes you to helplessly fall into all that blue, another voyager lost in the ocean of his eyes.

You may be balancing on attraction’s razor-thin edge, but he is no better off. All he can think about is the softness in your expression, the part of your lips, and how he wants nothing more than to capture them and steal the taste of your mouth for himself, hoard it along with the other treasures he already has of you from tonight. The line of your bare back, the light in your eyes, the whisper of your breathing. Just a few centimeters and he would touch you. A few more and he could-

A loud clap of thunder breaks the moment, snapping it in two. You jump, shaken from the hold his gaze had on you, a loud gasp escaping your throat. He jerks back, suddenly aware of just how close the two of you were. There is a faint flush across his cheekbones as he runs a hand through his soft, silvery hair.

“Stop bein’ such a baby. I just told ya how this is nothin’.”

That imperious tone feels like an affront after hearing him speak so softly before. You pull away as if stung and then gather yourself together so he won’t see the glimmer of hurt in your eyes.

“I’m not a baby. I was just startled and–” The way he’s tilting his head, a derisive smirk on his lips sends a flare of annoyance through you. “You know what? Just forget it.” Angrily you roll away from him, yanking the covers up over your shoulder. You don’t see the flash of disappointment in his eyes, the way his fingers reflexively uncurled when you turned away, his body knowing what it wants long before his mind.

You don’t see how long his gaze lingers on you before he finally forces himself to look away.

Sleep does not find you. You lay there as the oil lamp sputters out and the room is filled with dark shadows that scatter briefly when bright bursts of lightning illuminate the sky, a sky that continues to rampage with gusts of wind and cries of thunder.

Every single inch of you is aware of how close he is. You feel when he shifts his body, the movement disturbing the bedding. You’re still wrapped in the softness of his shirt, surrounded by his scent. And now you can hear the even sounds of his breathing.

Taking a chance, you glance over your shoulder.

He’s asleep on his side, still facing you, his pillow tucked between his arm and his head. You should turn away and continue your battle with wakefulness. You should stop staring at the locks of argent hair across his forehead. The curve of his arm. The graceful line of his torso.

Outside the thunder rolls. Your heart echoes its tremor.

You do eventually turn away from him but find yourself very slowly inching your way backwards, moving towards him until your body is touching his, the blanket still between you. Despite the coolness of the room, he has stayed on top of it. There is an almost palpable relief in the feeling of his form, the solidness of his body. The storm feels less angry, less destructive. Being this close to him feels right in a way you don’t want to explore, a nebulous thing on the horizon of your heart that you want to keep at bay.

And then he shifts in his sleep, throwing his arm around you and pulls you even closer against him.

You’re grateful he’s asleep or else the sudden galloping of your heart would surely wake him. It takes several breaths to calm the storm of butterflies in your chest, kicked up by your heart’s sudden racing. They settle down, wings still opening and closing at the feel of his strong arm, the curve of his body around yours. But there is also something warm slowly washing over you. A cocoon, a safe haven where you can finally close your eyes, finally feel the storm’s energy not as an enemy but as a companion, accompanying you as you drift off to sleep at last.

Silvio feels the way your body relaxes, the tension seeping from your muscles as you fall asleep, soft and trusting in his embrace.

If you only knew he has been awake throughout.

He stays awake for a long time, loath to move even a centimeter, feeling the warmth of your body through the blanket and listening to the sound of the rain.

Epilogue:

“Get up, lady. I need my shirt back.”

That voice falls into the still waters of sleep, hooking itself into your consciousness and drags you slowly to the surface.

Sleepily you push yourself up, raising a hand against the bright beam of sunlight spilling into the room.

Pushing your tousled hair out of your face, you find the Prince of Benitoite standing beside the bed, his jacket flung over his bare shoulder, one hand on his hip as he stares down at you. “Let’s go. We’re gettin’ out of this dump. Driver’s already waitin’.”

Irritation rears its little horned head and your eyes narrow.

“Good morning to you too.”

He ignores that and stretches out his hand. “My shirt.”

And we’re back to this. You sigh.

“Go wait outside the door.”

He regards you a moment and then turns on his boot heel and leaves the room. With a grimace you climb out of the warm bed, padding barefoot across the wooden floor until you’re by the entrance. As quickly as you can, you unbutton his white shirt and then stick your hand out the door with it dangling from two fingers.

He mutters something that you cut off with a slam, eyes closing for a moment as you catch your breath.

Did last night really happen? Was he….kind? And….warm? Did you really sleep in his arms?

A bang on the door jerks you out of your thoughts. “Move it or lose it!”

Oh for fuck’s sake. “Go already! I’ll be there!”

Somehow you are able to wrangle yourself back into your ball gown. Tying the back is tricky but you manage to get it closed enough to avoid any indecency. A quick re-pinning of your hair and buckling of your shoes and you're making your way down the wooden staircase. The innkeeper is at the counter, smiling through his fuzzy white beard in greeting.

“Morning, my lady,” he calls cheerfully.

The door to the inn is open and you can see the driver loading a few things back onto the carriage. Silvio is already inside.

“Thank you again for your hospitality, sir. I’m afraid I don’t have any coin for our stay, but I’ll be sure to return as soon as possible to pay-”

The older man shakes his head, waving you to a stop with his hand. “Oh no, no need for that my lady. Your…er…roommate already took care of it.”

You’re unable to hold back the surprise in your voice as you glance at the carriage and then back to the innkeeper. “He did?”

His eyes gleam as he reaches into the pocket of his worn vest and again, shock squeezes a silent gasp from your lips. In his work-worn, calloused hand, he’s holding two of Silvio’s bejeweled rings. His words from last night flash through your mind.

—“My clothes are worth more than everything in this room. Hell one of my rings probably more than this whole fucking inn.” –

The innkeep is oblivious to your stunned expression. “These’ll pay for any damage the storm caused and then some. I told that young man, he's welcome here anytime.”

You finally find your voice. “I….I’m glad to hear that. Thank you again.”

He bids you farewell as you walk outside into the startlingly bright sunlight. The smell of petrichor fills the air, the ground still damp as you walk towards the carriage.

The hazy feeling of something born in the fury of the storm….

Something nameless.

Something undeniable.

Something Silvio has awoken.

….is rising on delicate butterfly wings, inching its way closer to the realm of your heart.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @bubblexly

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri silvio #other people's writing #violettduchess #just leave me here to die with this

284 notes · View notes

cosmicbrowniefan · 2 years ago

Note

Okay but what About Platonic Stobin and the shenanigans they do, if you have any headcannons for them ofc

platonic stobin my beloveds. of course i have headcanons for them anon <3

let me just off by saying that robin and steve getting brand new jobs frequently is a thing

idk if you ever watch austin and ally but the one character trish has a new job every episode and that's basically them, it's like a sitcom

not to mention that if a job doesn't want both of them, they won't get either of them

it's a package deal

after scoops ahoy and family video, i think they work at 7/11, target, gap, mcdonald's, and plenty more

all of these jobs end in comical disaster, from accidentally knocking over displays to purposely yelling at asshole customers

nancy jokingly says "maybe if you guys worked at victoria's secret you'd be motivated to try harder and keep a job for a while"

steve and robin laugh this off but they're both beet red at the thought

i really do adore the idea of them being each other's wingman btw

i think robin is genuinely helpful

like she'll see a girl that steve is interested in and she'll start with some jokes and anecdotes and then end the conversation with giving the girl steve's number

how well steve maintains that relationship is up to him but robin has a great set-up going for him

steve is. a wingman

he tries so hard but doesn't know how

he'll go up to a girl and lean against the wall awkwardly and be like. so. titties. whaddya think

this definitely scares off more girls than anything

but hey it's the thought that counts right

steve is robin's number one fan in marching band

he comes to every football and basketball game with homemade banners and scream for her

everyone around him is like ???? who just comes to see the band? but he doesn't care, he's gotta support his bestie

i think they have sleepovers every friday night after football/basketball games

they just have wonderful nights of soul healing

robin teaches steve how to do makeup, they talk about their crushes, watch disney channel original movies, and eat way too much junk food

but who cares, it's time to heal their inner child

robin and steve have the best halloween costumes btw

they go as mack and brady from teen beach movie (steve as mack and robin as brady), syd and stan from i am not okay with this, iron man and cap from marvel, etc.

whatever they choose, it's always pretty iconic

when robin is ready to come out to her family, steve helps her do it

robin is pretty confident that her parents will be okay with it, but she's still nervous

so steve comes up with a lighthearted way to come out to her parents

they walk in to her living room holding hands and robin goes "mom. dad. i have something to tell you"

and they look at her and steve's hands like "oh boy here we go"

and then they drop hands and give each other a fist bump and robin goes "i'm a lesbian lmao"

it goes over pretty well ngl

steve's proud of himself for that one he thinks it's pretty funny

i hope you enjoyed these!! i love them sm

#stranger things #stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #stobin headcanons #stranger things headcanons

148 notes · View notes

pluckyredhead · 3 years ago

Note

Hey no problem if you're not into it anymore/it's too much work, but I adore your writing (for DC and daredevil) and you seem to genuinely enjoy and read a lot of comics and have good taste. So I was wondering if you had any recs for daredevil comics? Thanks either way!!

Aw, thank you so much!

I do in fact have Daredevil recs! They are buried somewhere in my Daredevil tag, though, so here they are again, in chronological order:

Start with Frank Miller. I know he sucks as a human being, but this is where Daredevil really becomes the character he is today, so if you're looking for something that resembles the show, this is where to start. Miller started as the artist on the book with #158 (the 1964 series), then took over writing as well with #169, and stayed on the book through #191. This will take you through the introduction and death of Elektra and Matt and Frank's first meeting.

Then skip to Born Again, by Miller and David Mazzucchelli (#227-231). Some people will have you start here, but I think it works better if you've read some earlier DD for context. There's obviously a gap in between when Miller left and when he came back, but that's the Denny O'Neil run it sucks (I'm so sorry, Denny) so I advise skipping it. Born Again admittedly goes off the rails towards the end but the early issues are some of the best Daredevil comics ever (and certainly the most famous), and Mazzucchelli's art is breathtaking.

(Side note: many people will recommend Miller and John Romita, Jr.'s Man Without Fear. I do not. I do not recommend anything by Miller post-Born Again.)

Then jump to Brian Michael Bendis and Alex Maleev, starting with #16 (the 1998 series). Bendis sometimes irks me as a writer and the early 2000s sexism of both writing and art are infuriating, but the slow burn of this story, the characterization, the depiction of Matt in a disaster spiral of his own making that he is refusing to acknowledge...chef's kiss. This is another one where, if you like the show, you should read this run.

This is immediately followed by the Ed Brubaker and Michael Lark run. Only read the first arc, Devil in Cell Block D. It's one of my all-time favorite Daredevil stories. The book goes completely off the rails after that, don't bother.

Then we jump to THE WAID RUN!!! These comics are nothing like the show - they are MUCH lighter in tone - but they are absolute perfection, and actually deal with Matt's depression head-on. Plus, so much of the run is about how much he loves Foggy. And Kirsten!!! THE BEST!!! Also, the art - Paolo Rivera at first and then the incomparable Chris Samnee for the bulk of it - is sublime. You'll want to read the 2011 series in its entirety, followed by the 2014 series (Marvel canceled all of their books and restarted them in 2014 for dumb reasons, it's exactly the same book).

Finally, I've really been enjoying the current run, which started in 2018. Peak Disaster Matt, full marks.

I am a big proponent of reading in order, but if you can only pick one, I say go for Waid/Rivera/Samnee. My favorite Daredevil comics of all time, you will not be disappointed.

#daredevil #comics recs #i have so many asks for recs in my inbox #i'm working on it y'all #this list is just at my fingertips because i've rattled it off so many times

75 notes · View notes

darter-blue · 4 years ago

Text

Because @the1918 asked for more, and I am a good girl and do as I'm told...

Bucky couldn’t quite believe that the beautiful man at the bar had been watching him.

Had been tracking Bucky through the traffic of the dance floor.

Had said yes to dance with Bucky.

Had listened to him, nodded along as Bucky spoke nonsense. Nonsense that any reasonable person would have shaken their head at.

But this man, this Steve-Steve Rogers - Bucky chuckles happily at his own joke - is now looking at Bucky as if Bucky is making total sense and says he feels the same.

The same.

As if he too can feel this strange familiarity. This connection.

Maybe it’s not nonsense. Maybe, despite the too many daiquiris Darcy had bought him (and then run off towards the cute girl with the suspenders) and the irresponsible lack of food he’d eaten at all today, maybe this feeling is real.

Maybe this concrete sense of home is not just in his head.

‘Do you believe in soul mates?’ Bucky asks. Because apparently these daiquiris have annexed Bucky’s brain to mouth filter.

Steve pulls back from where he’s resting his forehead against Bucky’s. Which is a terrible shame.

He opens his mouth to say something and Bucky rushes to cut him off -

‘No, no, don’t answer that,’ Bucky whispers on a breath.

‘Dont?’ Steve asks.

‘Don’t,’ Bucky affirms, leaning back a little more into Steve’s impossibly wide, impossibly steady, rock hard chest. ‘I do, I think, but I don’t want to know if you don’t. Let me pretend for a little bit longer.’

‘I don’t know if I know enough about the theory,’ Steve says, and when Bucky looks up into his eyes they are shining with mirth, ‘why don’t you give me some background, then I can make an informed decision.’

‘Oh, you’re a cheeky one,’ Bucky says without much thought, lifting his finger up lazily to poke it into Steve’s adorable chin. ‘I like you.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Steve laughs quietly, but still deep and rich, his voice like molasses, ‘I like you too, Bucky.’

Bucky smiles and then lowers his hand again to hold Steve’s against his waist, letting Steve’s warmth seep through his shirt and into his skin.

‘Okay, imagine this,’ he says, keeping his words clear, rounded - sounding deceptively sober, ‘Imagine that there are people in the world, not in a mystical or spiritual way or whatever, but just… with similar ideals, and they see something in their mannerisms, something in the way they hold themselves, see something in each other that they recognise… and they just… trust that feeling.’ Bucky threads his fingers through Steve’s.

Steve squeezes his fingers in response,

‘People have to be compatible, without that… I mean, sometimes you can spend years with a person trying to make them fit,’ Bucky shakes his head against sad memories, ‘but they never do. And then suddenly you meet someone and feel more in five minutes than you ever felt before.’

He doesn’t want to look back, in case Steve has changed his mind about him, has realised that Bucky is just a hopeless romantic. Emphasis on the hopeless.

But Steve surprises him, ‘It’s a good theory,’ he says, ‘I guess we would have to test it.’

‘Test it?’ Bucky asks, and does look back at Steve then.

Steve is looking down at him, unmistakable fondness in his expression. ‘Yeah, we’d need to test it to know for sure.’ And Bucky is struck anew by how beautiful he is. Long dark lashes framing perfectly blue eyes, no, not perfect. A little green in one, Bucky can see, as the shifting lights above them land just so. His bone structure is like something sculptured out of marble.

‘Are you… you don’t think I’m ridiculous?’

Steve’s brow furrows, ‘Far from,’ he says, voice sharper, ‘I think you’re wonderful.’

And Bucky’s chest swells at that praise. His heart beats faster, blood rushing into his cheeks.

He opens his mouth to... He doesn’t even know. Dispute it? Thank him? Ask Steve why? How he could possibly think that, when Bucky is a disaster. A disaster with the sum total of two hundred and thirty dollars in his checking account, a job he loves that will never be valued, a best friend who ditched him at the first chance to get laid, and the cheapest twin room in this fancy Vegas Casino that he and Darcy could afford.

‘Nobody’s ever called me wonderful before,’ he stammers out finally.

Steve’s eyebrows raise high and his eyes widen, ‘How is that possible?’ Steve asks, genuinely surprised.

Bucky shrugs, ‘I guess I never met anybody like you before.’

‘Well maybe that proves your theory,’ Steve says.

And Bucky has to swallow. Has to blink his eyes and breathe for a moment. Because, even if Steve is only half serious, this is such uncharted territory for Bucky he needs to pinch himself.

Even if Steve is only half serious, this is the closest to a perfect moment that Bucky has ever experienced.

Bucky is ready to agree, ready to leap into Steve’s arms and take a chance, when someone steps back - straight onto Bucky’s foot - and brings their surroundings back into focus. Between the noise and the press of bodies, the pain in his foot and the stuffy atmosphere, the moment is ruined.

Steve pulls Bucky backwards and looks menacingly at the guy who stepped on him and has turned around to apologise. The guy takes a step back from Steve, throwing his hands up in surrender and backs away.

‘I’m fine, I’m fine.’ Bucky says with a laugh. Steve’s menacing face is still absurdly appealing, and disappears entirely as soon as he turns back to Bucky. Maybe he needs to get them out of here and away from all this distraction. ‘But umm… maybe we could go somewhere and get a drink? Somewhere a bit more quiet?’

God, that sounds like the dumbest line.

Except that Steve is smiling again. Like sunshine. Like perfection.

‘I’d like that,’ he says, keeping hold of Bucky’s hand as Bucky reluctantly peels himself away from the warmth of Steve’s body. ‘Do you have somewhere in mind?’

And Bucky is feeling so reckless, he’s feeling like he’s riding the craziest wave. He wants to clutch at this moment so that it doesn’t slip through his fingers.

(He might have had too many cocktails, but even drunk Bucky can see that this is the kind of moment that happens once in a lifetime. This is the kind of man that you make grand gestures for, that you don’t take for granted).

‘Actually I have kind of a crazy idea,’ he says, pulling at Steve’s hand, gesturing for him to follow as he backs up towards the edge of the dancefloor, ‘it might be a way we can really test this theory.’

And the way Steve licks his lips, the way Steve looks down at him, like Bucky is something amazing… it just cements this crazy feeling. And he laughs at the idea, at the memory of Darcy joking that they should drink too much and get Elvis to walk him down the aisle to her. How they could get married in Vegas and have the stupidest story to tell their friends when they got back…

Only it doesn’t feel like a joke now. Looking back at a smiling Steve over his shoulder as he follows Bucky, lets him pull him through the people, through the crowd, towards the exits, towards the hotel chapel…

It feels like the best decision he’s ever made.

#stucky #bucky barnes #steve x bucky #bottom bucky #steve rogers #shrunkyclunks #my writing #accidental husbands #fluff #soulmates #cap steve

149 notes · View notes

inessencedevided · 5 years ago

Text

The Untamed, episode 38 - watching notes

I'm ready for PAIN!!!

*narrator voice* "She was, in fact, not ready."

The bell :'(

Casual sexism aside: I love you, you bitchy asshole :D

Oh! So empathy is basically like legilimency?

Another flashback 😂

Oh she's adorable :)

Oh wow. Even though she just tricked those woman, I can't help but kinda like her :D

Xiao Xingchen looks really creepy with that bloody cloth around his eyes

Also ... why is he blind? 😥

He's also just very kind :')

I have a feeling that he's quite literally too kind for this world. I hate that this show always tells me in advance that things won't end well. Can't you just leave me in blissfull ignorance? :'(

Jing: "you're my dad now", Xiao Xingchen *melts*

Look at them! How can two people be this adorable? 🥺

Oh no ... so let me get this straight. They just picked up Xue Yang and are now going to Ying city ... where we know Xiao Xingchen will die ... anyway I can skip this part and pretend it doesn't happen? :/

I'm really not ready for pain

That's the first time we've seen Xue Yang anything but cocky

But how does Xiao Xingchen not recognize him by voice?

Jing stepped up her blindness game by not flinching at the candy being thrown at her

So ... Xue Yang had a less than great childhood?

Ohhh, he's testing her

And she passed. Smart girl 💚

We've only known her for about an episode, but I'm so fond of her! She's resourceful and shrewd in a way that most people would never expect and she still has an innocents about her. And I feel that she is protecting Xiao Xingchen as much as he does the same for her 💚

It breaks my heart that Xiao Xingchen's seemingly boundless kindness is being taken advantage of :/

I'm honestly not quite sure if Xue Yang doesn't (in some weird way) actually care for Xiao Xingchen? If so, it's twisted and selfish, but ... I'm just not sure rn

They lived together for three whole years?

Song Lan!

The question never came to me before fir some reason, but ... why aren't they travelling together anymore anyway? Didn't they want to form a sect together? 😥

"He looks pretty nice" ohhh, I bet you think that :D

Look at that smile! Knowing that over three years have passed and he and Xiao Xingchen haven't seen each other, I'm wondering, did he look for him? Because he looks so relieved and nervous at the same time here 🥺

What's with this show and *fist clench of reoesserd emotion*? ^^

Oh no, the city looks much less lively than before the three year time skip

They are doing a great job, btw, in giving this whole flashback a really ominous feeling. You know this will end badly. You know the protagonists will be dead in the present day, so you're left always wondering if this is the scene disaster will strike. That feeling is really fraying my nerves right now 😬

Oh no ... this is the scene disaster will strike, right? 😥

What ... no, what's happening?? Why did they skip to song lan being dead already. I want to know what happened!!! 😰

Where did his eyes go???

Okay, we get to know what happened

XIAO XINGCHEN GAVE HIS EYES TO SONG LAN?

First of all: HOW?

Second of all

There are so many parallels and levelse of symbolism here and I know I'm not even noticing half of them right now, much less understanding them fully

Why ... why does this feel so much like a story of doomed lovers?

His blindness ...

This really is a story of doomed lovers, right?

This hurts :'(

Also SYMBOLISM! 😭

Noooo

So ... the reason yi city is so dead and empty is ... because Xiao Xingchen was deceived and killed them all?

That's a whole new level of darkness even for this show

Holy shit

Wow ... and Xue Yang is beyond cruel. The Wens were power hungry and so are some of the Jins. Wwx can be cruel when he lashes out in fury and grieve, the Lan sect (to an extend) is cruel in their strict adherence to the rules and the punishmentthey inflict, but this guy? He delights in cruelty. He revels in it.

Oh no ... oh fuck

He just..

did to song lan

What he did to those villagers?

Oh no

😱😱😱

Xiao Xingchen just ...

Oh Song lan 💔💔💔

Short break, guys I need a moment

That was devastating

Less than an episode of story for these characters and I'm a sobbing mess ...

Song Lan must have searched for years, wanting to reconcile with Xiao Xingchen and he never even git the chance to say word 😰😰😰

I'm just ...

Why? Because of one man's cruelty?

And all the parallels guys!!! 😭😭😭

aaaaAAAAaaargh

Okay, got a grip again

Back in present day

But how did Xiao Xingchen die??? We didn't see that!

For a second there I thought lwj would manage to slit Xue Yang's throat

That was a weird cut at the end of the episode

It's 1:30 am now and I have a uni course over zoom tomorrow at 8, so I can't watch the next ep now 😔

Remember how I asked for Jing's backstory last ep? I WASN'T PREPARED? 😭

@sweetlittlevampire @fandom-glazed @elenirlachlagos @allhailthedramallama @luckymoony @kyrrahbird @i-love-him-on-purpose and @sxnshot as requested 😊

#the untamed #sophie watches the untamed #wei wuxian #wwx #lan wangji #lwj #song lan #xiao xingchen #xue yang #jing #lan jingyi #lan sizhui

37 notes · View notes

oceanivoxjoquainx · 6 years ago

Text

Let's talk about Eric Effiong

Let's be honest Eric's storyline and characterization is one of the most appealing out of all the characters in Sex Education periodt. A true gay, fierce, Drag QUEEN and I feel like ranting about this amazing force of nature. (Spoilers. Duh.)

When I saw the trailer for Sex Education it didnt even hit me that Eric was gay until I read the synopsis. Was just like "Oh I wonder which one of these three mains are the gay one people keep talking about" even after I saw him in drag like a dumbass 😣😂. Personally im glad we've reached a point where gay guys aren't overly feminine and even the brightest colours won't differ a character from the rest (unless I'm just a blind bish and he was obviously gay from the trailer) ei 👏🏾 ther 👏🏾 way; his character was refreshing when I started watching the show. I immediately clicked with him and knew what every look he gave or hand gesture he did meant. Felt nice. When Adam pushed him into the locker for the first time and started with the heterohomoerotic bs I knew that Adam had a raging boner for Eric and was another internalized homophobic bully™ and wasn't really excited for what was to come but I knew it was coming and tbh I liked it in the end.

Eric and Otis' friendship is so pure. Like?!? Get me a straight supportive bestie lilke Otis? Ik they fought but even then Otis was respectful and kept his boundaries and let Eric go through the motions before immediately belting into an apology at the first chance he got. Their dancing scene?!? Iconic. The fact that Eric sees Otis' house as safe and another home?!? Iconic. Otis going drag with Eric to watch an LGBT+ movie as a TRADITION (meaning they've done it numerous times)?!?! Iconic. The fact that Otis was straight up ditching Eric and Eric STILL tolerated him and let him do his thing without too much pressure!?! The most iconic of them all. Just pure love and respect all around.

I am so proud of Erics growth over the course of the season starting from a naive and scared gay doormat to facing homophia and getting beat up by those assholes on his birthday no less to losing his best friend and becoming depressed to channeling that anger into defending himself when people tried him to getting his sparkle back and coming back more fierce that ever before.

Speaking of him getting his sparkle back lets talk about that and why that scene is so important. A random guy asked Eric for directions and Eric noticed his nails were polished and the guy was wearing earrings and he was a big ole black dude. He was like Eric. When Eric noticed that the guy was out, loud, glamorous and proud he immediately switched back into the bright colourful and wonderfully gay Eric we all know and love.

THIS IS WHY REPRESENTATION MATTERS!!!!

It shows people that its okay to be who they actually are and inspires those who are lost to find or return to their true selves. Representation isn't just some offhand thing to throw on a character last minute. And even if you can relate to other characters who arent like you, it is always an amazing feeling to have a character that IS like you. It turned Eric from a popularity seeking doormat into a hurricane with 6 inch heels who was ready to straight up beat down a bully he's had for 4 years. It even inspired him to go back to church and rejoin a community that he closed off. That's exactly how it feels to have someone successful in the media and your life to look up to. Eric only interacted with that man for a few minutes but those few minutes changed his life for the better. So that's a lovely reminder for all who love to bash representation.

Back tracking to Eric's dull colourless period after the attack and his fight with Otis. It was saddening to see one of the brightest characters go dull and even the school felt it. He turned from a guy who rarely stood up for himself and what he wanted into the sass master he reserved only for his friends. All of his built up anger was released causing him to explode on Mr Hendricks (who is adorable tbh and just trying to do his best) and Anwar (I was proud of that punch you go glenn co co) and he even sounded off on his dad who he's usually passive aggressive to at worst. Just goes to show that the happiest faces can harbor the biggest pains and can snap. Moral of the story? Protect the happy few.

Eric also has a great family. Like that obviously know Erics gay and wears dresses because its all right there in his room which his parents enter at their leisure and while it seems that they're a bit homophobic its revealed that they (Erics dad at least) just wants Eric to be safe as he's already a target for being black and apart of an immigant family. He accepts Eric for who he is and what he does he just doesnt want anyone else to give him shit for it and if that's not one of the sweetest things in this world idek what is. Eric and his dad was probably one of my favorite dynamics in the show and watching his dad slowly fully accept that his son was strong and able to stand for himself he was able to become stronger too. This dynamic is important because I never see any gay black characters have a close relationship with their fathers and it was very heartwarming to watch.

Now onto Erics love life. He has a crush on the highschools other only gay guy Anwar who's the typical mean sassy gay we've all come to expect in highschool dramas. Otis saying that Eric doesnt have to have a crush on the only other openly gay guy at school was such a mood as its commonly shown that any gays in close proximity should get together. When Eric punched him I internally went "Finally!" Because all those jeers were becoming annoying. I'm glad Anwar got to come out to his mum over it though. And straight up told the audience that Eric didn't like feminine guys (alluding to him and Adams eventual clean up scene as of we didn't see it coming already).

Moving on to Adam tho, like I said we all been knew that this

was indeed coming and even though I hate the bully x bullied trope I still ended up liking it and hoping that Adam would change. The building up to that kiss was long awaited from episode 1 straight through to 8 with all the longing looks that Adam kept side glancing Eric with and the face cupping and the growls and the lingering touches. I just kept going sthdjksksbslaldbd when one of those moments happened followed shortly after with disgust because gays falling for their abuser is washed up but then immediately going back to jajaklamabsldkd because im shipping trash so 🤷🏿. Eric stepping to Adam in at the ball was one of the most iconic scenes of the show (along with the "Its My Vagina" scene) and the exchange between him and Adam gave be actual chills. The tension was THICCCC. Erics OUTFIT to the ball gave me chills 😭😭 dude came to slay and had everyone at that school proper shook and I honestly could NOT be more proud. I was hoping Adam would become a better person over the course of the season but nope so hopefully they cover all the issues that Adam has in season 2 and properly give him a redeption arc cuz he's still a trashy pos he's just a disaster bi on top of it. (Adam immediately going to suck Eric off is confidence I can only dream of achieving 💀💀) The lab scene was also cute but made me mad because how could Adam look scared, confident and still be a douchebag all in the span of a few seconds was beyond me. A+ acting on Connor Swindells part. I can see why Adam would have to stay in the closet and keep their... relationship?? a secret because it seems like Headmaster Groff would be a homophobic piece of shit and would add to the ever growing list of things Adam did wrong. Even so it doesn't excuse the fact that Adam is in fact a bully and Eric deserves much better. Was sad seeing Adam being driven off from Eric in the end tho. Eric thought that Adam didn't want to see him at all and was probably heartbroken and probably thinks Adam left because of him (my poor baby 😭😭). I feel bad for Adam too because he was just starting to express himself and was at the beginning of a redemption arc when he was just wisked away from the boy he's loved for what seems to be a very long time. I just want my boys to be happy and non toxic and I wish their relationship and them all the best in Season 2.

Eric Effiong is my favorite character in the show and I really want to thank Ncuti Gatwa for portraying him so well and for the shows writers who gave him a very fleshed out character with an amazing storyline and conclusion. His growth was incredible and his strength is immeasurable. I'm 100% certain that he will be a character the community remembers for years to come. Patiently now waiting on what's to come in Season 2 💙🙌🏾.

#eric effiong #ncuti gatwa #adam groff #connor swindells #adam x eric #sex education netflix #sex education #netfix #lgbt representation #lgbt characters #lgbtq

2K notes · View notes

stereksecretsanta · 5 years ago

Text

Merry Christmas, @flynnifox!

The prompt by @flynnifox:

I really like soulmates, and please fluff as it's christmas, coffee shop au's are also great, I like wolf Derek, werewolves are known, all the AU's, did I say please fluff? I totally love slow burn, kissing, nipping, scentmarking, sassy Derek, sassy Stiles, Alpha Derek, having to share a bed, snow, ice-skating

Here's to hoping that I blended these elements together in a satisfying manner that captures the soulmates + scents + sass + fluffy adorableness. Most of that brought by Derek's red eartips (because he's embarrassed so frequently).

Read on AO3

*****

Chocolate and Notebooks

Stiles pulls his eyes from the road, taking a glance at the clock as the trees zip past in the dark and chilly evening. One glance at the clock confirms his suspicions.

"It's 5:43 in the morning and this is a very dumb time to be driving through unfamiliar territory." He tilts his head, as if considering an argument. "And yet, we're perfectly safe because the shields are up and the path is true." His head cocks to the other side. "And yet, we are definitely feeling sleepiness come on." He hopes the next town is near, and avoids the part of his mind that would happily confirm for him that he's getting closer to his destination.

Built-in GPS is a great tool for a spark, but it can take the mystery and adventure out of life if he indulges the spark too much. And despite what others might say, he's not entirely convinced that there isn't a limited amount of magic available to any one person or to all beings and he feels responsible for not flaunting his magic with every waking moment.

"Beacon Hills: Next two exits" reflects back at him in bright white text on a shiny green background. The name sounds like an omen. A good one he hopes, and a town with a good little history, he double-hopes. Can't be too careful when there are many town that are just full of weird and sometimes bad things. Hunters are less likely to come make a mess in a peaceful town than they are in one with a reputation for trouble. Beacon Hills is, as far as he dimly recalls, not a name that's appeared in association with anything terrible in the last many years. He and whatever supernaturals may be around should be fine, so long as nobody upsets the balance.

Which is exactly the problem: The spark that constitutes the magical expression of Stiles is actually very interested in mischief. Supremely interested in making some things very much tougher for Stiles, and he tries to remind himself it's also done a lot of good for him over the years. A nudge here to take this turn, and a thought of just stopping and waiting somewhere on the sidewalk for a minute can both lead to finding old friends and good times, or missing a falling chunk of the facade from some ancient brick building. He can't often tell ahead of time despite pleading with himself to make it work.

He's decided that Beacon Hills has to be a good place, with good WiFi and good coffee and all that stuff. Nature is also calling more insistently against his bladder and he really hopes there's someplace open this early with internet service and decent restrooms.

"If I find that nobody in this town is awake at this terrible hour, and that they haven't got decent WiFi, I'm going to write them a very bad review and hex their coffeemaker. There are standards for how these things should work and that last place was a disaster!"

Of the four diners in the last town, some eight hours ago down the highway that specifically avoids the big urban centers, he found no curly fries on any of the menus. They seemed completely unimpressed with the idea of tater tots and he considered hexing them in some way or other but ended up just snagging food from the hot case at a convenience store and busting a move out of town.

When the first exit for Beacon Hills comes up he passes without exiting. It seemed too wild, like it was a regional wildspace, or something. Maybe this was more of an industrial exit for logging and whatever else they do here. The next exit surely showed promise.

Quietly in the back of his mind, a tiny version of Leslie Nielsen's voice replied, "And don't call me Shirley."

Erica had been ready for several minutes. Derek's routine for how to open the store properly had been whittled down to just 12 minutes for the cleaning prep, six minutes to get all the food out and presentable, and another full minute just to go around and make sure everything was in order. Derek usually closed the shop up, but today claimed he was feeling restless and arrived before she had and was already bustling around.

"Derek, you pay me to worry about these things. Why are you even here?" She watched as Derek redid everything she had completed already so he could be sure it met his extremely specific standards that are in no way related to what actually makes customers happy. Well, he's the boss, so he can ask for what he wants, but she's going to do it the way she knows is best when he's back on his regular routine.

She hollers at him from the cafe's dining area while Derek is in the back organizing and cleaning things in the kitchen he'd definitely organized and cleaned the night before. "You should go run out in the preserve or something. You have too much energy to be in a confined space before 6 AM on this day or any day." Her supernaturally-enhanced hearing helped her catch every syllable in reply.

"I'm here because it's my place and I don't really need a reason to be here, now, do I? I can come whenever I like."

Erica smirked.

"Shut your pie-hole, Reyes, or I'm switching you to the lunch shift and giving your boyfriend the morning."

"He'll hate you for that."

"I'm the alpha. I can take it."

At Erica's snicker, Derek growls to himself. As the alpha, his hearing is even more enhanced, but he can also feel her perpetual sniggering through the pack bond. He tells himself he should be used to it by now but he just can't. Wolves aren't monsters, they need to behave in a respectable way.

"Are you lecturing me mentally on how wolves should behave respectably in polite society? I mean, I know these customers and though some of them are gems, some are definitely not polite and don't belong out in society."

"Erica," Derek says as he enters the room. "Keep it down. You don't want anyone to overhear you talking trash about others."

"It's three minutes to six and I'm going to open up."

"It's too early. We open at six. Don't mess with people's expectations."

"Anyone here this early is here because they have no expectations, just a demand for coffee, bossman. You really don't have anything to worry about."

Erica walks to the windows and turns the lights on in the displays. She admires the way the colorful borders around the windows twinkle in the early air. They cast bright splashes of light into the intersection, visible from any direction of the street. Derek does fine display work and has made a version of the town in a huge diorama lit with tiny LEDs in the windows of the shops and homes, and decorated with the tiniest versions of people Derek knows. Customers, family, random people who caught Derek's eye are all represented in some way in the display.

She thinks it's the softest, brightest, most wonderful thing Derek does and he pretends to everyone like it's no big deal. He's the most ridiculous rough-edged marshmallow-soft man she's ever met. When she told Boyd about it, he agreed with a knowing nod of his head before he returned to mixing beverages for the fine residents and visitors who came through the door.

The subtle change in the air alerted her to potential danger, and she spun around to catch Derek standing at the door, looking confused and surprised at the man standing there.

"Uhh, if you're not open, that's fine, but I really need to use a restroom. Can I come in anyway to take care of the call of nature? She's been really, really going hard these last few miles."

Erica's snort escapes unintended. The man at the door snaps to look at her and grins, holding a thumbs-up. He gives her a sort of look that says, "Is this guy broken?" and Erica replies with a look that yes, totally broken, and harmless.

"Hey, welcome to Beacon Hills! We're opening right now and the bathroom is right down there. Go for it."

The man exhales and seems to weaken for a moment before taking off at a fast walk between the chairs and to where Erica had pointed. "Close your mouth and the door, Derek. I hear the landlord hates when people waste energy heating the outside."

The door closes with a click at the same moment Derek's jaw slams shut. She watches him transform from bare surprise to guarded watcher in an instant. "Watch out. I didn't hear him at the door when I want to go put the mat out."

"You still have that in your hands, Derek." She looks at him as he seems to realize the truth. Derek opens the door and half throws it out, trusting it to land however it lands as Derek seems to listen to the back area.

"Are you listening to him pee?"

"No, I'm—" He flashes his eyes at her. There's a visceral reaction for any beta to the flashing of one's alpha's eyes, but Derek does it so often they've all become somewhat immune to the power of it all. Derek's mother warns him about overusing his strength when a simple word will do, and while Erica see's he's gotten better with her coaching of him, he's still got a long way to go before Talia's advice actually makes a solid difference for him. "I can't hear anything. Nothing at all."

"He's probably just shielded, Derek. There are a lot of good reasons for that, especially when traveling alone."

Derek is a good-hearted alpha, and he's young, but Beacon Hills has been stable for long enough that his parents leaving him in charge isn't a disaster. Talia and her husband are consulting for another pack in Idaho and Derek's putting his training to use at home. The pack in Idaho had lost their alpha and Emissary in an attack of some kind, and they some serious help getting back on track. The mission, as it were, will be for a couple of years, but they're not far away and so the territory isn't really at risk even if Derek has some trouble to deal with.

"I don't think he's a threat, Derek. He seems kind of fun.." Which Derek would have considered if he wasn't being totally weird about this guy.

"Anyone who can sneak up on us is a potential threat, Erica. I shouldn't have to remind you of that." Indeed, Erica flashed right back to the moment she and Boyd finally returned to the territory after having been abducted by a nutty grandpa hunter and his daughter.

"Yeah, but like you also said, we can't just go in being suspicious of everyone. What if he's one of the good ones? You're the guy in charge, so people need to know they can come to you. He's probably not even aware this is our territory."

"We can't know that."

"I can just ask him, dude." Derek looks at her with an expression of disgust. She's solid in her sense of this new guy and his not-at-all-threatening intentions. Whoever he may be, or whatever he may be, he's good people. And he's not a werewolf, so there's no direct threat there. Derek's had his heart broken and his trust trampled on extremely effectively, so he's far less willing to consider his instincts and defaults to threat mode whenever something both supernatural and unexpected comes around. She regards him for a moment.

"I think we'll be okay. I'll find out about him and you hang in the back and listen, okay?" She considers for a moment. "What do you think he likes to drink?"

"I have no idea," he mutters and heads to the back room. Derek's taking things down to DEFCON 3 from DEFCON 2, which seems like a mark in her favor. She's not his first beta, but she does seem to be able to get him to think about other stuff sometimes when other people can't. When anyone happens to notice she says it's her brilliant curls, but the blonde really does seem to get his concern in a way the rest of the pack don't. Except for Boyd, and he's too busy being silent to really help Derek so directly. She lets a smile fill her face and nods to herself. Derek is trusting them more. He's been training them hard, and it's working, and she sets herself to figuring out who the new guy is and what new guy is up to.

She forgets for a moment how weird he was when he opened the door.

Stiles throws his bag onto the bench in one of the high-backed booths with a good line of sight to both the counter and the entryway and heads to the counter.

"What can I get you?" Erica says in her warmest 6-am customer service voice.

"Well, I think I want a coffee, but I also need to sleep soon, so that's probably a bad idea. I mean, caffeine can put me to sleep if I have a little, but it's been a while since I've taken my medicine and my ADD is probably going to fight me for sleep if I don't indulge in some delicious beverage action."

Erica laughs. Stiles beams. "I'm here with the jokes, folks."

"Oh, yeah, I can tell that about you."

Too quietly for normal hearing she hears, "Ask him who he is!" in an urgent tone from the back. Erica rolls her eyes briefly, making sure the visitor doesn't see it. She growls subvocally.

"Welcome! Sorry you had such a weird first experience with my boss at the door. He's not normally a weirdo."

"Eh, I'm not worried. I'm plenty weird. But he is okay? I mean, he seemed kind of... surprised?" Somehow, in some manner she didn't interpret, she heard the meaning behind it. The boss seemed both surprised and actually afraid of something, and the new guy had picked up on it.

Erica beams. "Yeah, we get that all the time. Boss is a total weirdo." Derek growls in the back and sets something hard against the table.

Stiles glances in the back then makes eye contact with Erica. "Is he alright?" he mouths at her.

She shrugs her shoulders. She isn't about to explain the weirdness on display right now. Derek's never been like this before.

"I am not sure he slept at all last night. He normally works the closing shift. I'm here to open, but when he needs pre-dawn fun, I'm apparently the one he needs to hang around."

"Oh, really?" Stiles raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, no, not like that. I'm taken. Boyd's a really good guy and he's not into sharing."

Stiles had glanced again to the back room but that comment brings his full attention right back to her. "Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to flirt! I am just like this all the time."

Erica leans back. "Hear that, Derek? He's like this all the time." She adopts a theatrical pose for a moment. "Oh, gosh, I'm sorry, I've completely forgotten to introduce myself. I'm Erica, and that's Derek."

Stiles doesn't miss a beat. "I'm Stiles, and you're one of the betas, then? Is he the only alpha around? It seems a little..." Stiles seems to taste the air, sort of. Erica isn't sure how to describe the way he takes an open-mouthed whiff and kind of lets his eyes go blurry. "Oh, I see. Got it."

"What do you think you get, Stiles?" Erica says with a dash of suspicion. She'd heard Derek freeze in the kitchen, his heart racing now. She tries to be a cooler customer than her alpha and hopes that Stiles isn't offended. She's not really sure what a spark is, or what they do, but Derek's got an idea and it's shocked the hell out of him for whatever reason.

"Eeek, yeah, sorry! Sorry. I find I do this all the time, and usually on accident, if I haven't prepared ahead of time. I'm a Spark, and I'm really just here to find a quiet place to rest and drink something hot and warm. I'd like to write for a bit in the booth," he says, gesturing with a huge swing of his arm to the booth.

Erica nods at him. "I am pretty sure we can accommodate that request and we won't even have to do some paperwork for it," she makes a show of stage whispering, "Since my alpha is hiding in the back instead of greeting important guests like he's supposed to do."

This time the growl is clear to everyone. Erica smiles wickedly. "Alpha Hale, I believe you have some alpha-level responsibilities here with regard to our guest. Don't you think you should get out here and be polite?" She winks at Stiles, who returns the wink with a laugh he tries to stifle behind his fist.

Derek comes out and now Stiles looks at him without saying anything. He seems to close-off a bit, looking at the alpha in his black shirt and forest-green apron with the cafe's logo on it.

Erica notices the two of them and then grabs her phone from the counter and stepping out of the way.

"Stiles, you're welcome to be here. We have no restrictions against visitors," and by this Stiles heard between the words that the alpha meant. "of the supernatural variety." Stiles hadn't met an alpha so formal as this before. He mentally knocked his hand against his temple to try to recall proper protocols. He was not successful.

"Hello, Hale. I mean, alpha. Gah. This isn't going well. I don't do many formal introductions and I'm sorry to mess it all up. I hope you're not offended."

"No offense taken." Derek looks at the counter and then at Stiles. "Do you know what you'd like to have to drink this morning?"

"I hadn't decided that, though I imagine you already heard." Erica and Derek watch him as he catches himself glancing back. "And crap! I left my shields up without regard to any possible werewolf packs in the area. I'm sorry!" he said emphatically. "I would have taken them down in the parking lot if I'd have been thinking. It's been a long trip, and again, I—" he waves in the direction of the restrooms in the back and at that moment Erica and Derek both got a whiff of the spark without his protections. It took a moment to realize he was still talking.

"...distracted, on top of that, I've got ADD. You know how it goes? Wow, this probably explains why Alpha Hale had some trouble deciding what to do with me when I was at the door." Erica couldn't tell if Stiles noticed Derek was taking deep breaths, seemingly to scent him over and over again, which our staunch Alpha Hale never, ever does.

It was the, "You can call me Derek," said in a very warm and cozy tone that persuaded Erica to get the pack here. Whatever was going on needed witnesses, and she wanted to be sure someone else could verify this totally bizarre behavior by their alpha. Stiles didn't lie about being a spark, though if he were doing sexy mojo on the boss she doesn't know if she could tell. The scent of magic in the air happened only after he released the shield, and even hen he's been fading into the background. She snaps a picture of them with her phone and sent a broadcast message to the pack. Derek's phone vibrated, and he subconsciously pulled it out and put it on silent, no vibration, as he continued talking with Stiles.

Something is odd here, and Derek's doing things with his eyebrows that are perfectly adorable. Erica wants to find out what's going on, and she wants witnesses. While Derek and Stiles worked out the beverage order for a specialty hot chocolate, Stiles had also talked himself into a muffin and some veggie snacks. She's been providing summary notes to the pack and comes to a conclusion about this situation that she debates momentarily, then shares with the pack.

She's certain that Derek is deeply smitten by this newcomer.

By 6:45 the pack had all arrived, even those who had other jobs they were supposed to be getting ready for. Derek seems to have blithely missed the fact that the pack had arrived at the cafe and had been huddling together at one of the larger tables getting the play-by-play from Erica about whatever each had missed before they arrived.

Stiles had developed his senses such that he noticed Erica noticing them, and noticed that there were more wolves coming. Their energy wasn't hostile, but it was actively engaged. As he talked with Derek, he couldn't help but wonder why the alpha didn't seem to notice the rest of them. During a break in their chat about a particularly delightful staff he'd made friends with at a diner in Nevada, Stiles nodded to where the pack was sitting and waited for Derek to follow his gaze.

"Why is your pack here, Derek?"

"I don't know." He seemed surprised at not noticing. Derek looked at them and noticed that yes, everyone had arrived. He gave a glance at Scott who was loosely affiliated, being an alpha in his own right but mostly disinterested in claiming territory and building his pack.

"Don't you have work, Scott?"

"I'm sure Deaton won't mind that I came for the show at the cafe." Stiles laughed, and Derek looked at him, confused. "What show?"

Stiles isn't sure how to break this to him, so he tries to ease the wolf into the idea in a roundabout sort of way.

"Derek, what time is it?"

Derek glances at the clock above the exit. "It's almost seven. Why?"

"When did I arrive?"

"Just before we opened, I think." He scrunches his eyebrows. Stiles smiles, having already started learning the way the wolf's expressive eyebrows communicate thoughts he doesn't speak with his words. "Yeah, I opened the door and you were there."

"So you've been here talking with me for an hour and haven't noticed?"

Derek looks at Stiles, and the pack, and then moves to leave. Stiles gently sets his hand over Dereks' own hand, interrupting his sudden (and fearful?) escape.

He opens his backpack and pulls out a notebook. He then slides out of the booth and heads to the pack table, and pulls up chairs for him and Derek to join them. He sets the book down.

Wrapped around the book is a worn leather cover. It's got a few scratches and stains, and it is soft to the touch. Stiles loves this book, and as he holds it up for the pack and explains the leatherwork. Derek looks at the cover, surprised. Erica brings over a plate of cookies from the display and they show the same triple-spiral pattern, a triskelion, curled into itself in a familiar form.

Erica seats herself in the lap of one of the pack members. "Good morning, Boyd" Boyd nods to Stiles, unfazed by the recognition. Derek looks surprised that Stiles knows Boyd's name, and even more so that his packmate seems unbothered by the way Stiles already knows his name. Stiles says hello to each of the pack members. He gets to Scott and instead of "hello," Scott asks, "Why does your book have Derek's tattoo on it?"

Derek finds himself flushing and he's not half-sure why. The triskelion is a common symbol in supernatural circles. They've got it on their cookies, as the plate suggests. He grabs one of them and takes a bite. Stiles laughed at Scott and confesses that he sometimes blurts questions out, too. When Scott beams back at him, Derek sees how the two of them will become fast friends.

Then he tilts his head to the side. The pack takes notice, and then so does Stiles, who has turned to him with a sly smile.

"I hope you will allow me to share something with you all that I haven't shared with anyone, not even my dad." They nod, and then Stiles looks at Derek and raises an eyebrow.

"Go ahead, I guess. Not sure what you need our permission for."

Stiles grins at Erica, who knows something special is about to happen that will make all everyone's grumbling about being up early disappear in an instant.

"At three years old the little wolf, with his bare little feet and scruffy face and pointed ears, was poking around at the wild things in the area near his home. He couldn't control his shift yet, so sometimes he was half wolfy and half boy, and he barely noticed."

Stiles tilted the book at Derek who took a look at the image and said nothing, but his heart skipped a beat and his eyes opened wide.

"And the little wolf saw a lizard. The lizard told him that they could be friends, but that they needed to learn how, because one day, the little wolf might have to remind the lizard who his friends were."

Stiles didn't glance at Jackson, but a couple of the others did. Danny set his hand on Jackson's shoulder and squeezed gently.

"The little wolf did not understand the lizard. He asked the lizard how he would know him in the future. The lizard said they were family, but they didn't know that yet."

Scott's excitement overruled his better judgment again. "Jackson was a kanima and we found out that he was Derek's cousin!"

Stiles glanced at Derek and nodded. Derek avoided looking directly at anyone, but remained attentive in his listening. When Stiles continued, he looked at Jackson and smiled slightly. They had a rough go of things at first, but they've come a long way. Jackson really has worked on letting his fears go, the ones that fed the kanima and he's becoming a better man. Derek likes to think the experience has humbled him, too. After all, it isn't every day you discover that a dangerous were-creature was basically possessed by the darker side of his own fears and ended up doing some pretty awful things until they got it all worked out.

Jackson is reliable now, and Derek is one of the people he sends texts to when he is looking for advice. Derek considers it good progress that Jackson doesn't just ask about pack advice anymore, and instead about real-life stuff, like running a business and all that stuff.

Stiles has moved to a new story and Derek catches his name again. He inhales once more, and Stiles stops to scoot a little closer.

"Oh, sorry, this one is out of order. I'm not sure Derek will remember it." Derek sets his hand on Stiles' knee almost as an afterthought. It is as if being with Stiles is a thing that has already happened, and they've been together for decades. They haven't, but it's so easy to believe it, to trust Stiles, and to trust Stiles with his pack.

"When the little wolf had his first birthday, his asshole uncle creepy pants..." ("That's exactly who he is" slips Lydia under her breath, echoed by "yeahs" around the table.) "...gave little wolf a box. Little wolf was a boy at this time, almost never being wolfy at all. The box in front of him had a very interesting handle. Uncle creepypants showed little wolf boy that he could spin the handle around and around and listen to the music the box played. Little wolf boy was so excited! He squealed with delight and turned the handle in his tiny fist and laughed himself silly."

"But when the box clicked and the lid opened to reveal an ugly clown on a spring, the surprise of the moment caused little wolf boy to change, with little sharp teeth and little sharp claws and he knocked the little box over with his mightiest growl." Derek chuckled at this. The image was adorable even if he still has a thing about clowns."

("Derek's got a thing about clowns." Scott chimes in. "Perhaps we should not keep interrupting Stiles, Scott?" Lydia said with a glare. Scott was suitably threatened into silence and put his hand over his mouth as a reminder.)

"After little wolf hit the toy he ran to his father. The man was tall, friendly, and even for a human he was strong. This man was not a wolf like the little wolf was, but he seemed just as strong as everyone else to the little wolf and Derek felt himself scooped into his father's arms and held close as he cried about the toy. His father soothed him, promising to damage his uncle's personal things in retribution for such a prank. Little wolf was happy, and though he dreamed of bad clowns for a week, he also dreamed that he and his dad would fight them together."

The pack seemed to adore the stories, and Stiles kept reading. Derek would have preferred if the pack never heard some of these stories because many of them revealed parts of his life he'd forgotten about, or didn't want to talk about. Stiles was a good storyteller, though, and he found that as he wrapped his arm around the other man's shoulders, and felt the lean muscular strength there, and smelled the way the chocolate and spice and scent of orange blossoms filled his nostrils, and how there was almost a flavor to the frisson of electricity in the aura of the spark. He felt cozy, and watched as the pack listened raptly to this master storyteller at work.

"This one is set in the future. Not even today, but in the near future." The pack looked at each other. Stiles looked at Derek, sat-up so Derek couldn't read ahead, or see the drawings in the margins. He wanted them all to experience this together. After all, the future isn't set, but this particular event isn't one of great triumph or struggle, so it shouldn't impact much of anything one way or another.

"It's the kind of Christmas morning where the windows are foggy and the lights on the houses nearby are blobs of color on the glass. The snow is on the ground thick enough to muffle noise, but not so bad you can't walk through it. In the great house in the preserve the pack meets. The little wolf is now a big wolf, but not a bad wolf. He's got his own pack now, and they welcome family and friends from far away every Christmastime."

"In the kitchen big wolf makes hot chocolate using a secret recipe he's developed at his cafe and which delights everyone. He prepares a cup for his electric friend, and for his friend who knows the ghosts, and for his cousin and his betas, for his sisters and their partners. He brews a magical potion of love and chocolate for everyone and makes it only at this time of year, as a treat to himself for his birthday, and as a cherished present to those he loves." Stiles grabs a cookie and munches it and glances at his notes.

"Oh, dang. Sorry, everyone, but I need to skip the rest of this."

"What, is it PG-13? We can handle a little of that. You two are already cuddling up."

"No, it's not that. The future is not set, and these stories might be pretty close to reality, but they're not facts. I don't know if the newcomers — No, sorry, I just don't know what I should say, so I'm going to skip it. And don't go trying to get into it later, Erica, you literally cannot read it, on top of getting a nasty burn if you try to open the book without my permission." She grunts back at him something about Batman with all his tricks and traps. "We'll get to it when we come to it. Together."

Derek nudges him with his shoulder. "Oh? Have you already decided you're staying?"

"Well, yeah, duh. When people meet their soulmates they really shouldn't just keep going."

"What? You did?"

Erica takes a cookie and throws it at Derek. "You're an idiot!" Derek looks at her confused, and annoyed. Boyd gives him a look that says to Derek that he is, in no uncertain terms, "being so stupid right now I can barely stand how stupid you're being. Would you please figure this out right now so we don't have to hold your hand through this life-changing event? What the hell, dude?"

Derek looks at Stiles, looks at the pack, and Jackson says, "Yo, dude, just check your threads."

It's Jackson's way of referring to the bond the pack has, and how they're bonded together with something that mentally looks like an energy string tying them together, supernaturals and humans alike. It's also the thing that Jackson knows will have Derek realize the truth of the situation. Derek tends to have to feel things out for himself. He doesn't think his way so much as do and feel and goes with that. The pack bond is one of the alpha's most powerful tools for relating to the people he's responsible for, and Jackson knows it's the kind of thing that will quickly get Derek out of his stupid place.

So Derek does at Jackson suggests. The pack are held with bright yellow bonds, the links between betas and between betas to their alpha. There are links to his family in colors that are tinted mostly with greens. Even Danny and Scott, both of whom are loosely associated with the pack, still have bonds to the alpha which show as gold from Danny and red from the other alpha. But there's a new line now, one directly to Stiles, and from Stiles come lines to the rest of the pack. There's a sort of hum to the group, a frequency that sounds like a cat's purr, or the perfectly tuned note on a piano, or the breeze through the forest in spring.

And the smells are incredible. He can now tell each member by scent just by thinking about them. Stiles being part of the group enhances his abilities considerably. He has the scent of desert clay and expensive wine from Jackson. There's the mixed whiffs of poppy and rain from Erica and Boyd. There is a tickling scent of dust from Lydia that underrides the floral of begonias and sparking wine. Allison smells of metal and snickerdoodles, and Scott of cane sugar and browned butter.

"Why can I feel your dad, Stiles?"

"Oh, well, we're a package deal. I bet you that within two years he'll move here, become Sheriff, and everyone will know him. He's just that kind of guy."

"How do you know this?"

Stiles opens the back cover of the notebook and holds it up to Derek so that only he can see. He folds it quickly before the pack can lean over enough to catch a glimpse. "Does that answer it?"

"Yes and no. I mean..." Derek glances at the window. Erica watches, and Lydia gasps minutely before catching herself. She barks an order.

"Boys, why don't you go get those figures and bring them to the table?" Jackson and Scott rise without a thought, only belatedly realizing they came to attention at her order. She's got no direct power over them, but yet, she somehow really does. She's just that intimidating. When she and Jackson broke-off their relationship, they took some time to heal from it, and now it's genuinely a good, close friendship between them. But he still does her bidding without necessarily meaning to, at times, to his minor annoyance. Danny just laughs at the situation, having been Jackson's best friend for ages and aware that Jackson really just kind of likes to be told what to do sometimes.

Stiles sits upright as the figures are laid before them. Derek is red-faced again, up through the tips of his ears. It's easily one of his most endearing qualities that are entirely outside of his control. Stiles loves that about the man, that his embarrassment and pride show through even when he doesn't mean to. and he's adorable when he's struggling with it.

"Wait." Stiles holds one, and then taps the rest, seeming to sense something about each. "You made these figures? The whole pack?" Derek nods. "These are great! Look, you even gave Jackson a little lizard tail. So cute!" (Scott had brought the Jackson doll over and hadn't realized that feature had been added. "Asshole" is all he says before sitting back in his chair and watching his cousin squirm under Stile's scrutiny.

"They're wonderful, and I think you did a great job. You could sell work like this for some pretty big bucks online, Derek. But why are we looking at them?"

Derek rises from his chair and goes to the window display. There's a house there between some tall trees. He reaches to the back, opens the door, and looks at whatever it is outside of Stile's line of sight.

"Come on, big guy. You don't need to hide your toys. Bring it over!" Stiles says playfully, and the pack giggles. Derek's ears flush brighter red and he steps over to Stiles and holds up to him a tall, thin figure with wild hair, a backpack just like the one he's got (down to the star and moon diagram in the middle), and sets it in front of Stiles next to the figure that looks like Derek.

"When did you make this?"

"I've had dreams about you for a long time. I could never see your face, but I knew the hair, and the bag, and the flannel shirts and tight jeans. I knew you were coming, but it wasn't until a few minutes ago that I realized this was you."

Erica holds her hands out. Several pack members put fives and tens into it. "I told you they were soulmates, but you all didn't believe me. All Stiles had to say was that he needed to pee and Derek just couldn't control himself."

Stiles and Derek could not help but laugh at that. Lydia and Boyd both gave half-disgusted, half-amused looks at her. Danny and Jackson were just laughing their asses off and Jackson silently filed that quote away for use later.

On Christmas day, not a week after they'd all met Stiles for the first time, the alpha and his soulmate had organized the pack to put up decorations inside and outside the Hale family home, they'd been cooking food, with Stiles giving Derek a flavor suggestion that perfected the recipe Derek's been working on, and they gathered everyone together for a huge pack picture. Stiles' dad and Derek's parents were able to get to town in time to welcome the happy couple to their first major holiday together and celebrate the blending of their families and pack.

As it turns out, the cafe has excellent WiFi and Stiles never has to worry about his things disappearing when he has to make runs to the restroom between writing chapters of his children's books about the Little Wolf and the Boy in the Red Sweater.

#flynnifox #*stereksanta18 #*fics19 #*gifts19

16 notes · View notes

slushrottweiler · 5 years ago

Text

Vesuvia University Institute of Medicine and Magic: Kink and Fetish Study

Chapter 3: The use of vibrating paraphernalia and its effect on improved phone interactions

The latest chapter in my smutastic sex study fic, featuring every one favourite Disaster Doctor, and apprentice Terra. For today's @smutember entry "Quickie" and "Toys"

...

Holy fuckstick that is a lot of cock!

Laid out in a neat row on her bed was the largest collection of sex toys Terra had ever seen outside of the internet. The assorted rainbow of coloured paraphernalia varied wildly in shape, size and materials. From simple peach-toned dildo to a sleek glass phallus, to the three-pronged pink monstrocity with a variety of attachable ridges, textured sleeves and seven-speed vibration settings; it would seem that every kind of penetrative sex toy had been included in Terra's recent parcel.

She picked up a vibrator at random; this one a stylish mauve with artistic curves meant to pleasure both the clit and g-spot. After fiddling with the settings, the device began to whirr softly and Terra let out a bark of laughter. She dug her phone from her back pocket and dialled the most recent number on her register. If she was honest, her call and text log was mostly just this one number.

The call was answered on the second ring, and Terra didn't wait for a hello before chiming in.

'Why the fuck did I just receive a bouquet of cocks?'

Terra heard Doctor Julian Devorak choke on the other end of the line. She was beginning to enjoy startling the man.

[[MORE]]

'Terra! I ahh... um well you see... ah hang on.' Julian stuttered, and Terra switched off the purple vibrator as she flopped down amongst her new presents. A technicoloured toy shaped like a 'roided out flower bumped into her forehead and she batted it away.

She could hear the doctor shuffling, then a door closing tightly and Julian clearing his throat. 'Sorry, I'm in my office now. Did you just say you received a severed appendage?'

Terra cackled, 'No! I got a box of dildos, you twit.'

'Oh! Well that is far less disturbing. Why didn't you just say that my dear? You know how to scare a man!' Julian's voice relaxed noticeably and Terra let a smile start to form on her lips.

'We sent them to you to try out. Experiment with alternate stimuli, that kinda thing.' He continued.

'You want me to use ALL of THEM?' Terra sat bolt upright on her bed and looked around at the sea of dicks that surrounded her. 'I don't even know what some of these are! Like, what the actual fuck is this spirally one supposed to be?'

Terra picked up a glittery silver vibrator, that tapered off into a corkscrew. It had a heavy knob at the base and what appeared to be a large suction cup. The button at the base triggered the motor, and it began spinning wildly, startling a cry from Terra. She could hear Julian laughing on the other end of the line.

‘I think that one is supposed to be a unicorn cock?’ he chortled.

‘What?’ Terra squawked, tossing the toy across the bed.

Between chuckles, Julian managed to respond. ‘I thought you’d enjoy the whimsy of it.’

‘You picked me out a magic horse dick!’

He choked on his own laughter and Terra grinned from her side of the call. She switched off the unicorn dildo and pushed it to the far side of her penis rainbow. If she was honest with herself, she’d always been fascinated by the creative variety of sex toys but had been too chicken to purchase any of the more outlandish models. With that in mind, she could guess that a few other toys were based on the reproductive organs of various mythical beasts.

‘Well they’d make a good talking point for dinner parties.’ Julian suggested.

‘Yeah,’ Terra laughed, ‘I’ll just place this flower dick on a bookshelf and see how many people think its modern art.’

‘I genuinely dare you to do that.’

The two snickered together at their own joke. Terra brushed her hand over the toys, eventually settling on the rabbit-eared one that had caught her eye. This one was a smooth silicone toy, the kind of high end design that tried its best not to appear like a penis. Deep, luxurious red; she stroked the length of it, pleased to find it had no seams on the shaft, or clit stimulator. She turned it over in her hands, pressing a button at random.

A soft hum filled the space. This toy didn’t rotate, simply quivered in her grip. She could control the speed of each independent motor of the toy, and she experimented by rotating between intensities and rhythms. She switched her phone onto speaker to test out the sensation on the palm of her hand.

The vibration tingled through her fingers and up her arm, a rolling rhythm that made her eyelids flutter when she pressed it into a sore joint of her hand.

‘I think I’ve found my favourite.’ She mumbled absently.

There was a sharp gasp from the phone. ‘You’re trying them out now?’ Julian asked.

Terra turned and flopped down on her pillow beside the phone. She waggled the toy at the device, as though Julian could see it.

‘Just against my palm. If nothing else, it’ll do wonders for my hand cramps.’

‘Well that’s something. Which one is it?’ Julian asked.

Rather than answer, Terra scooped up the phone and snapped a quick picture of herself, posing ridiculously with the vibrator held against her cheek. A few of the other toys could be seen at the edges of the frame, but mostly it was just a closeup shot of her goofy pout and the red vibe. Without thinking, she sent the photo to Julian.

‘I don’t know the name, its this red one.’ She explained.

‘There are three different red ones.’

‘Yeah I know. Is red your favourite colour or something?’ Terra teased.

‘Mahogany actually, but red is rather –’ he trailed off when the bing of an incoming text signaled, and Terra grinned at the ceiling as she imagined his gobsmacked face. She thought she heard a strangled groan, but it was gone in a rumble of chuckles.

‘That is… unreasonably adorable.’ Julian declared. His voice was pitched a bit lower, possibly to keep the volume down.

‘What can I say? I am just a bundle of cuteness.’ She replied sarcastically.

‘Yeah...’ Julian trailed off with a sigh.

Moments tricked by in silence, and Terra checked her phone to see if the call had dropped. Tapping the still-active toy against her shoulder, she asked, ‘So, do I need to take notes on them or something?’

Julian cleared his throat before responding. ‘Yes, if you like. Otherwise you can call me, and I can record the data. You could film it if you were comfortable with that.’

‘Yeah, nah.’ Terra said. ‘So you’d guide me through it?’

The line between them seemed suddenly heavy with tension. Julian hadn’t been present for any guided masturbation sessions since ‘The Car Incident’, as Terra had been calling it. They’d still met up plenty, but their experiments had been self-guided, with Julian taking on the role of silent observer. It hadn’t yielded as consistent a response as their previous tests, and a part of Terra was itching for the doctor to have a more active roll.

‘Um no.’ Julian answered, and Terra tried not to feel disappointed. ‘But we can angle it a different way. I’m looking to progress the angle that you respond more to the actual speech than who is saying what. Less instruction kink and more a voice kink. So we can try you describing to me what you are doing, and I can take down the notes.’

The idea of describing herself getting off to Julian did have some appeal, but not as much as she would have liked. Still, she was being paid to try these things out, and the idea of Julian listening in as she got off had its perks. She wondered if maybe, late at night when he was tired and not thinking quite so straight; did he get off on the images of her he had seen that day? Did he think about her touching herself, think about touching her himself .

She turned the vibrator over in her palm. Terra knew she shouldn’t be hoping for things like that. Julian was her supervising doctor for Christ’s sake. But… she still wanted him to want her. Just as much as she did. Which was cruel and wrong and not something she should be thinking about. She needed to get this out of her head, focus her mind on something else.

‘Are you busy now?’

‘Huh? Wha, no not really.’ Julian stuttered adorably.

Terra reclined back on her bed, kicking the other toys onto the floor and settling comfortably in a warm patch of sunlight. She switched the vibrator onto its lowest setting and touched it gently to the exposed skin of her thigh. The tiny tremors were pleasant and just a little naughty, and she let out a low hum as she traced the vibrating tip in random patterns.

‘That’s good doc. Don’t want you working too hard.’ Her own voice had slowed, turned thick and smooth like honey.

‘I’ll have you know I maintain a very healthy work/life balance.’

That earned a lazy snort from Terra, who let her eyelids flutter shut -- to focus completely on the sound of Julian’s voice and the rumbling vibrations.

‘Which is why you’re constantly found asleep at your desk?’

‘Well maybe my desk is just surprisingly comfortable.’

‘I’ll have to test that for myself doc.’ Terra purred, and she heard Julian swallow thickly over the line. With a shiver, Terra dragged the toy up her thigh until it skimmed the edge of her denim cut-offs. She skimmed the tip against her inner thigh as goosebumps trailed in its wake.

‘Would you like that my dear?’ Fuck, Julian’s voice had taken on that deep tone he used when he instructed her. She couldn’t tell if he did it on purpose; if he was teasing or serious, but the sound had anticipation coiling in her stomach and heat pooling between her legs.

‘And if I did?’ Terra purred back, ‘Maybe I want to imagine being laid out across your desk. Spread across it like a dream.’

Carefully, so she didn’t jostle her phone from where it balanced on the pillow beside her, Terra unsnapped her shorts and kicked them away. Her underwear was already damp, and she immediately pressed firmly down on her aching clit. A low groan escaped as she massaged the aching bud through the light cotton, her other hand still ghosting the vibrator against her skin.

When Julian spoke again, he sounded torn between arousal and frustration. ‘Damnit Terra, that’s not --’

‘It’s just a fantasy doc. Isn’t that why you sent me this box of toys? To let me play?’ This was the first time Terra had taken such a talkative role in their sessions, and the sound of Julian’s breathing growing laboured was a jolt to her system.

‘Is that what you’re doing? Playing with me?’ he groaned.

Terra smirked. ‘Well, right now I’m playing with myself.’ As if to punctuate her words, Terra turned the vibration setting up, so the rumbling buzz sounded louder in the quiet afternoon space. She slid the tip under the seam of her underwear, stroking it back and forth until a full body shudder rolled over her. She heard Julian curse quietly.

‘How about it doc? Wanna play with me?’

‘Terra…’ he dragged out her name, a warning mixed with a plea.

‘Come on. For science…’ Terra knew she was treading a very fine line. She was probably stepping over it. But right now, with the ache between her legs and the sound of Julian’s breath in her ear, she couldn’t seem to help herself.

‘Fuck. You will be the death of me.’ Julian hissed and a breathless laugh escaped Terra as she realised she had won. As if this was the signal she had been waiting for, Terra pulled aside her underwear and finally pressed the vibrator fully against her clit.

Her back arched off the bed on impact, a shaky gasp mixing with Julian’s groan. Not wanting to go slowly, she rubbed the rumbling vibe fully against her clit, hips bucking up to meet the toy. It wasn’t hard to imagine Julian’s attention fully fixed on her, knowing he was listening with rapt attention from the other end of the call.

‘Tell me what you’re doing Terra.’ Julian asked. His words shook as he spoke, and it only egged Terra on.

‘For science?’ She teased and revelled in the snarl that echoed through the phone.

‘Just tell me, please.’ he begged and oh, that was a new and exciting sound.

Terra dragged the toy down over folds until it was coated in her slick. Lining up the shuddering tip with her entrance, Terra pressed the toy into her slowly, letting the pleasure of her being stretched fill her voice.

‘It’s inside me.’ she panted once it was pushed to the hilt. The two soft ears settled easily on either side of her clit, and she quickly cycled through the patterns to find a roiling pulse that made her toes curl. ‘Fuck it fills me up so well.’

‘Gods Terra.’ Julian huffed and she started to move.

Keeping her wrist action steady, Terra slowly eased the toy in and out of her. As she panted, she quickened the pace, letting the toy press up against her g-spot with ever push. She was so wet, it glided easily in and out.

‘I’m going slow. Its… fuck, its bigger than I thought it would be.’ humming low in her throat, she sped up slightly, meeting her own movements with a thrust of her hips. Julian groaned, and a loud thump sounded, as though he had just slammed his head back against a wall.

‘It feels so good doc. Reaches all the right spots.’ she murmured, turning her head so it faced the phone beside her head. Julian’s voice was tinny through the speaker, and was muffled, like he was holding the phone close to his lips. God, now Terra was thinking about his lips. Firm and pink, and so quick to quirk into a sly smile. She could see him in her mind’s eye, leaning over her on all fours as she plunged the toy deeper, pressing the ears more firmly against her clit.

Julian swallowed hard. ‘Does it fill you up darling?’

Terra’s reply was a whimper and an increase in speed. Her hips jerked up as she fucked herself harder with the vibrator Julian had picked out for her. The steady buzz mixed with the wet slap of silicone meeting skin. Her own gasps seemed to reverberate off the walls of her bedroom, but she was focused solely on the quiet sounds coming from her phone. There was a clack of metal and fuck… was that a zipper.

‘Julian…’ Terra gasped and the doctor gifted her with a full blown moan that had her grip tightening on the toy. ‘Julian, are you…’

‘Don’t.’ he groaned, and she strained to hear the sounds in the background of Julian’s call. A steady thumping blended with his panting breaths, keeping time with her own actions.

‘Just,’ Julian continued through his teeth, ‘Just dont stop.’ he groaned.

Terra moaned, her free hands gripping her hair as she fucked herself harder. ‘I won’t. I can’t stop.’

The sounds of sex bounced between them, Terra’s moans turning to heady pants as she pushed herself higher. She was so wet now, her own slick coated the toy and her own fingers. Sunlight warmed her quivering legs as her imagination melded with the sounds Julian made.

With a particularly strong thrust, Terra all but squealed and arched of the bed, throwing her head back as the vibrations pulsed through her. Her actions disrupted her phone, which slid away and fell off the pillow. Instantly she whimpered at the loss, eyes snapping open to flail madly across her bed until she could scoop it up again. Quickly tapping it off speaker, she pressed the mobile against her ears and whimpered in pleasure at effect. It was like Julian was panting right in her ear, like he was pressed against her and the sounds pumped heat into her blood.

‘Don’t go.’ She begged without thinking. She pressed the phone harder as she slammed the toy into her aching cunt. “I’m getting close…’

‘I’m not going anywhere darling.’ Julian groaned on the other end of the line. ‘I’m right there… with you.’

“Fuck Julian. Fuck, fuck, fuuucckkk…’ Curses and pleas tumbled from Terra as she neared the edge. Julian moaned along with her, his cries muffled like he was biting his lip. Screwing her eyes shut tightly, Terra let herself sink into the vibrations of the toy and his voice, until she felt like she was wound so tightly she would snap.

‘Oh fuck, I’m cumming!’ The words ripped out of Terra and she came. Her orgasm smashed into her, hot and quick, with the sounds of Julian's gurgled moans filling her head. Her whole body seemed to shudder as the vibrations pushed her over, mouth open wide in a perfect silent O.

It took a minute for Terra’s brain to reboot. She slid the toy out of her with a quiet squelch, turning it off and letting it drop beside her without a care for the sheets. Considering how wet she was, she would have to change them anyway. Heavy panting came from the other end of the line, and Terra wondering if it was just an echo from her own ragged breathing of if it was really Julian who was so out of breath.

‘Well,’ Julian cleared his throat before he spoke. He did sound a little out of it. ‘I think we’ve found your new favourite toy.’

In her orgasm-fried state, Terra just threw her head back and laughed.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Julian stared at the phone he had just hung up. The standard call screen closed after a moment, revealing the last thing he had looked at besides the call. Filling the screen was a picture of his patient, pouting ridiculously. Her hair was spread out against her pillow in a vivid green halo, amber eyes flashing with mischief in the afternoon light. And poking her in the cheek was a deep red vibrator, its dual ends just visible in the shot.

The very same vibrator he had just listened to her get herself off with. A sex toy he had bought her.

Because she was a Patient in a Study HE was supposed to be supervising.

Looking down at himself, Julian cringed at the sight. His fist was still clenched around the base of his cock, softening after he had come hard to the sinful sounds coming from the girl he couldn’t seem to get out of his head. His own cum was splattered against the dark denim of his jeans, hanging low on his hips from where he had pushed it out of the way just enough to free himself.

Dropping his head back against his shut office door, Julian covered his eyes with his arm, and groaned.

He was well and truly fucked.

#smutember2019 #smutember day 7: quickie #smutember 2k19 #the arcana game fanfic #julian devorak fanfic #VU sex study #Chap 3 #julian devorak #julian x terra #devoter #apprentice terra #completely imappropriate science #like... just awful science #but is sexy and thats the point #doctor devorak #disaster doctor #dr devorak #doctor/patient situation

9 notes · View notes