#scavenging for inspo

[littleplantfreak]

'When', not 'if'

("I'm not a romantic" I cry and scream before dropping the most sickening thing i've written to date. Blame @stunie because i did tell her i would write the most ume thing ever and maybe this is it. The title in my docs for it is 'Fucking disgusting' but i figured i better not title it that here because I'd be seeing it in my notifs lmaoo)

SFW/no cw unless you hate fluff

When you wake up from your nap, one of your slippers is gone, and there's a blanket on you that wasn't there prior. Looking at the clock, it's been about an hour since everyone had left your apartment once your birthday party ended. The day as a whole had been chaotic, your boyfriend shoving you out the door with a note to go see Kotoha.

The note took you farther than that, though, as it seemed Umemiya created a whole scavenger hunt for your birthday that had you running into all of your friends, having dessert at your favorite cafe, and eventually ending up at your shared apartment to find that all that time spent around town was a distraction so that he could set up the space for your party. After it had ended, you were banished to the couch because princesses aren't allowed to help clean up their own birthday parties, which had you huffing and falling face down into the chicken shaped pillow affectionately called Mr.Clucky.

It was a product of your boyfriend's endless cycle of hobbies when he took up sewing. A little lopsided and overfilled with stuffing, you complained to and into Mr.Clucky with your face pressed into him. Apparently, he was soft enough to fall asleep on because before you knew it, you had been drooling on him the entire hour. Prying yourself off the couch took more effort than was almost worth it before your eyes fell on the reason you were so tired to begin with.

Hajime smiles and hums looking at your bleary eyes. "Good morning sunshine, I was just about to take you to bed," he says, folding a dish towel over a chair. You toss off the blanket and grab on the slipper that fell under the living room table before padding up to him. Dipping your hands under both of his arms to lock them together behind him, now your face is in his chest instead of the chicken, which is entirely preferred.

"Don't wanna go to bed just yet," you muffle, sinking even deeper into him when both of his arms wrap around you in support. He smells like dish soap and birthday cake, and you turn your head to hear the heartbeat in his chest.

"What do you wanna do lovey? You know I'd give you the world if you asked," you can hear the rumble of his voice in his chest with your pressed ear. He's cheesy, but half asleep, you feel just as much, if not cheesier.

"I have the world if I have you, they're one in the same. So just you is more than fine." Your eyes are closed, but you feel him shiver a little. "I wanna dance with you, though," you say, voice still soft and kinda raspy from sleep.

"Dunno if I can top what you just said even when I propose," he chokes out a laugh, or at least you think it's one. He shifts his hold a bit and starts leading you both in a lazy sway that starts near the toaster and ends next to the potted plant at the back door before starting over.

"When? Not if?" You tease him, a hand going to scratch the nape of his neck lightly.

"I'll never meet another you, so I'm pretty set on When."

"I'll say yes." Because you will. You can't imagine a life where you wouldn't.

"And I'll still cry when you do." You can tell he's crying now because it comes out shaky and his hold tightens a bit, before you lean back, stopping your impromptu waltz. Both of your hands come up to cup his face and look at his teary grey eyes before cooing at him.

"You big baby! Save those tears for When please. You'll be congested and sniffley all night if you don't stop." You start cleaning off his face with your sleeve, but he stops one of your hands and starts peppering your palm and wrist with small kisses. "I think I'm ready for bed now. Princess's orders," you say, dragging him towards your bedroom. You'll have to figure out tomorrow just how soon When is going to be, but for now you can hear the slow thumps of Hajime's steps as he follows behind you, squeezing your connected hand. It's not pressing in the least, you think, because it feels like there will be plenty of tomorrows too.

-----

When you wake up in the morning, it takes you an hour to realize Hajime had put the ring on your finger while you were asleep.

It takes you five minutes to run through town in your pajamas, barefoot to find and full on tackle him in front of the place he was about to get your breakfast in.

And it takes about two minutes of unintelligible blubbering on both your parts before anyone understands what is going on.

No one timed it, but if they did, it would've taken less than ten minutes for the whole town to find out via texts, calls, and yells down the streets and through windows that you're engaged.

[hannie-dul-set]

would you ever consider making a drabble just touching on the dynamics of jaemin and reader from can't handle this bcs if possible i would literally die for that 😫😫

you do dickhead jaemin fics too good like it's so odd at first but the development is adorable ☺️

anyways idk i know it's probably too much of a hassle but i just wanted to suggest it anyways since i've been such a fan of dickhead!jaemin stories from you lately 😭 (weird ass thing to say but ok)

anyways love ur works and love u hope you're happy and healthy 🩷🩷🩷

guess what, anon!!! ur in luck!!!

[psych0ruinz]

getting obsessed with a game and show is so funny. like yeah. of course i create my own sci fi western world and do speculative biology so i get obsessed with a game and show that have similar vibes

[carp3tpasta]

Creature concept from a while ago.

I think I named it Wolf Cat or Elk-furred Sphinx.

Basic concepts under the cut:

> pretty big. About the size of a deer but not particularly strong

> feet designed for grabbing and climbing, extra joint under elbow for extra mobility/flexibility

> hangs out mostly in trees/high places

> Mainly ambush predator, can't run very fast, is omnivorous

> main diet is medium to large birds, squirrels, and various fruits

> might eat a small dog or cat 😬

> mostly passive, won't hurt you but might bother for food or steal

> about same intelligence as crows, are very curious

> doesn't have same arm mobility as humans but can still pick things up and hold/drag stuff

> uses tail for balance + can crack/rattle bones in tail to communicate

> only has fur on face and neck, rest is bald but can have very thin layer of fur in some cases or during winter

> uses claws on back feet to comb fur cuz it can get matted easily

> builds nests in trees (or ur roof). Uses sticks for basic structure, rest is made of its shed fur

> 'cat naps' can be awake day and night

> lives mostly in forests/rural areas but can end up in cities

> big ears for big listening

> can be white, beige, brown, black or grey/ can be multiple of these colors at the same time but they don't have patterns (calico, tabby etc.)

> usually stay in shade of trees to not get sunburnt

That's about it so far :)

[ladysophiebeckett]

the only problem is that i dont have a 5th season to immediately watch rn.

[gothamsfinestdummy]

I have a few little Dark Pinky/PatB projects I have in my head that I realllyyy want to work on but ahhh not sure when or if I’ll be getting to them

[subconcern]

ok gonna work on some replies on mike maybe…… so send me prompts… hey…

[allebasimaianunes]

"the boxer" ✴︎ drew starkey

one-short | fluffy & semi-smut

sumary: Drew is the model of a rising artist. He is not only her muse, but also her most passionate lover of her works.

autor's note: so, i saw this twitter here and i got kind of obsessed with the whole concept. i have this painting engraved in my mind, so i decided to write a little text with the scene that came to my mind, really quickly. it's not a big deal :) the painting is "the boxer" by russian painter kostantin andreevich somov (1869-1939).

warning contend: it's quite romantic to be honest. there's a hint of sex at the end, but i wanted to keep it light, erotic, and sentimental! english isn't my first language, so i apologize for the mistakes. oh, and here the reader is in the third person, with no description of physical characteristics. enjoy the reading! <3

word count: 1.795 words

language: eng.

soundtrank inspo: give you my love, mazzy star

“Please, be quiet.”

She asked with one of the brushes between her teeth, watching him intently. The blonde man, with tanned skin and a defined body, chuckled, amused by the painter's impatience, adjusting his position once again. It was exhausting to pose nude for hours on end, in the same exact pose, unable to move a single muscle so as not to disturb the meticulous painting the woman was creating.

Drew sighed, extending one of his hands forward as his gaze landed on the artist.

She was adding yellow paint to the details outlining the curves of his body. The room they were in was both her little bedroom, her studio, and her kitchen – a small cubicle painted in a sandy yellow, with a few rustic wooden furniture pieces she scavenged from shops here and there. The bed was nothing more than a single mattress on the floor, and her wardrobe consisted of large, square trunks typically used for train travel. Books on human anatomy were scattered alongside Walter Benjamin, Gramsci, Virginia Woolf, and Jean-Paul Sartre – books he devoured during idle moments. And there was an overwhelming amount of painting supplies – truly impressive. Paint tubes stacked in crates she collected from the market, brushes drying on the balcony, blank canvases leaning against the walls.

She spent more on art supplies than on food.

The man’s blue eyes fixed on the woman’s face: beautiful, angular, like a unique work of art. She looked exceptionally stunning when she was deeply focused on painting. In a swift motion, she removed the brush from between her teeth and used it to add the final blend to the painted face. She smiled, stepping back with measured steps from the canvas, placing her hands on her hips, satisfied with the result. Drew grew curious, wanting to leave his pose but knowing he had to stay still until she gave him instructions.

“This one is beautiful. Wow, I can’t believe I painted it!”

“If only I could look at it and give my opinion…” the man said sarcastically, glancing at her with pleading eyes, desperate to move. She rolled her eyes and nodded, signaling him to come see the result of five hours of posing. Naturally comfortable in his nude form, the man walked to the easel holding the canvas, briefly glancing at the window and noticing the sun setting on the horizon, casting warm orange and red hues across the sky.

He positioned himself behind the woman, his height making it easy to see the portrait. His eyes filled with pride and an overwhelming emotion as he saw himself depicted on the canvas. The way she captured the details of his relaxed expression, the movement in the outstretched hand, the defined body exposed in golden tones – it touched him deeply. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say he felt an odd urge to cry.

“Wow… This is perfect! You’re incredible.”

“Do you really think so?” she asked hesitantly, looking at him over her shoulder. The man moved closer, placing his hands on her tense shoulders, whispering, “I’m sure that when we sell this painting, buyers and curators will climax with excitement.”

“Drew…” she laughed, turning to face him, her eyes sparkling with joy at his praise. Smiling, he cupped her face tenderly, resting his forehead against hers. “I know I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again: you’re the best artist in this city! Actually, in the entire world!”

“Stop, you’re going to make me vain!”

“And rightfully so!” he retorted, both laughing. With gentle fingers, he tucked strands of her hair behind her ears, his gaze turning soft, studying every little detail of her.

He felt love consuming his chest like flames, recalling the moment she first approached him dressed in a suit and tie – several sizes too big for her – with a beret to hold her hair back, pretending to be a male gambler at his underground fights. She casually asked if he would accept a job in exchange for money. Of course, he agreed, assuming it would be some intimate encounter or collecting a debt with violence. When they arrived at her small sixth-floor apartment, he was surprised by its simplicity and the casual way she revealed herself to him.

His heart raced as she removed the beret, letting her long hair fall, and took off the blazer and trousers, leaving her in an oversized dress shirt. She lit a cigarette from her silver case, walked across the room to grab a canvas, and set up the easel near a chair facing the open balcony door. She gestured toward the chair. Still puzzled, he walked over, feeling self-conscious about his sweat, the bruises on his brow, and the cut on his lower lip-yet more so about his naïveté for not suspecting the stranger was, in fact, a woman.

While setting up to paint, it was Drew who broke the silence, his voice curious. “Why did you pretend to be a man? Wouldn’t it have been easier to approach me as… yourself?”

She glanced at him from behind the canvas, the cigarette dangling from her lips. “I wanted a fighter. And there are a lot of ignorant men in those places… I’ve always wanted to walk into a room full of men dressed as one of them, approach someone, and bring them back to my place to paint them. So I combined business with pleasure, and here you are.”

Drew raised an eyebrow, crossing his legs, intrigued by this strange, half-naked woman in front of him. “And you’re not afraid? Especially dressed like that in front of me… I’m a fighter. I’m strong,” she stepped out from behind the canvas-not backing away but moving closer to him. Her eyes locked with his as she finished his thought: “I could overpower you. Or something like that.”

“No. I’m not afraid of you, and you wouldn’t overpower me,” she said defiantly, smiling. Drew frowned, studying her intently as she pulled a pair of oval-framed glasses from his shirt pocket, placing them on his face. She crouched to pick up a book by the chair and handed it to him. “I watched you for weeks, considering you as my potential model, and I couldn’t help but notice how fake you are!” she laughed, lighting another cigarette.

Drew’s face twisted in offense. “Excuse me!? I don’t even know you, and you’re calling me out like this!? Who do you think you are? I swear, I’ll walk out and tell the first person I see that you’re insane-” He began to rise, but she casually extended a cigarette toward him.

Her gaze was calm and confident. That nonchalant, informal act caught him off guard. It disarmed him. Accepting the cigarette, he allowed her soft voice to explain: “Don’t be offended or mad. I did what anyone desperate for a chance in this world full of jerks would do: I took unconventional measures to make my mark. I needed a model with your features, someone unique and unknown. That way, if I could convince you to be my model, I could pose as you to sell my work. Because, ever since I left my studies, I’ve had zero validation as a woman artist. You get it?”

Drew took a drag, his eyes fixed on hers. Thoughts swirled in his mind – it was an unexpected proposal. After a decade of his mediocre life as a boxer, competing in small matches for meager earnings with blood, sweat, and pain, her offer lit a spark in his mind. Intrigued, he asked, ��So, how would this work… you pretending to be me?”

She smiled, satisfied – a smile he would come to know intimately over the months that followed, as they sealed their deal with a handshake, a gaze filled with mutual ambition, and cigarettes smoked into the evening as she sketched a new canvas.

Their partnership flourished. She had the talent, and he had the image coveted by curators and collectors. While she worked from the shadows, he basked in the spotlight.

Their inevitable closeness culminated in a private celebration after a major sale – a stunning bust of Drew with his torso exposed and a vacant, majestic expression. That night, in her cramped apartment, amid whiskey and wine, their bodies intertwined, the lines between them blurred, and passion erupted in a tangle of sweat and ecstasy.

Drew was hopelessly in love with her, and he wanted her to know. Yet, he hadn’t found the right words – until that sublime moment, gazing at the portrait of himself as he turned to her and whispered: “I’m losing my mind over you, woman!”

“Oh, my God…” she said, surprised, her paint-stained hands holding his. He didn’t mind—in fact, he felt her touch was akin to being painted into her masterpieces. Drew smiled sincerely, kissing her tenderly.

The kiss was returned with a sublime tenderness and love. Their bodies moved through the room in a dance, his firm hands guiding her to the mattress, gently pushing her onto it. Standing over her in his unashamed nudity, bathed in the warm glow of the sunset, her gaze shifted with a mix of carnal desire and passion. She whispered, “Darling, you truly are a masterpiece. My masterpiece.”

Drew’s smile brimmed with passion as he lay over her, planting kisses full of emotion. Through their intimacy, he felt her unspoken love, her hands painting his body with her touch, just as she would a canvas. Drew smiled passionately, lying on top of her and distributing kisses full of feelings, feeling in her mouth the words of love and passion that she did not say to him verbally, feeling in the way she slid her hands over his body as she drew it, exploring her body like a picture critic captures every detail in a painting. Eyes, nose, lips, neck, chest, breasts, abdomen, mons pubis, thighs. Returning to between her legs, the wet and sensitive intimacy. The moans mixing with the noise of the city outside, the pleading whispers, the peak that made her shiver. With his breathing so heavy, almost unable to contain himself, losing himself in her was a delirium in itself. Penetrating as if he could dye her soul with himself, the man crossed his hands before cumming, dragging out a deep, lazy “I love you.”, full of honey and golden colors in her ear.

As night fell, cloaking the drying canvas on the balcony in an indigo veil, they lay entwined on the mattress, bodies glistening and breaths heavy. Drew smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her beautiful face and murmured, “If I’m your masterpiece, then let me be eternally etched in your eyes. My creator.”

He leaned in, sealing the words I love you onto her soul with a kiss.

[the-ancient-dragons]

EXTRA OVERCOMPLICATED ICEWIIIIINGS

You know how it goes, Joy Ang is cool and I'm not yadda yadda move on.

Details and explanation below!

Otherwise, next week is the last Pyrrhian tribe: NightWings!!!! See you then!

More overcomplicated dragons.

If the RainWings are the design that destroys Joy's work the least, this one takes the original IceWings and tosses them out the window. Going into this design I knew it would be hard, but boy was I unprepared to get art block for 2 months because of it.

I eventually found my inspiration in the girdled, spiny, and horned lizards, They. Are. So. Freaking cool. If you think a crocodile skink is awesome, look up girdled lizards. Not as fancy with the eyeliner but they are SPIKY!

I fell in love in particular with the giant girdled lizard. I knew I wanted the scales of the IceWing to look rough and like they were made of actual ice or diamonds - or covered in frozen sleet and snow - and this lizard was basically perfect inspo for that. Also, blue spiny lizards. They are basically real life IceWings, full stop.

But even though I had perfect references to draw from, I still struggled with the head shape. I wanted them to feel like a reptilian polar bear, which is why I slightly blunted it, but I think I should have gone with a more angular shape instead. I can always change it later when I do their full-body.

I did have a very fun time with the horns, however. I wanted them to be a mix of narwhal teeth and icicles (yes, narwhal 'horns' are actually overgrown teeth. One tooth, usually, but sometimes they can have two!!). Before I get distracted I should explain how they grow: the scales at the base of the horn are constantly growing and essentially create the horn. That's what gives them their narwhal-like spirals.

I chose a similar approach to the neck spikes (untangling that mess was fun, let me tell you. Grids are very useful when doing many scales/spikes). At the base of each one you'll notice a scale forming it. On the back, I wanted to give a good side profile of the spikes. Technically, they are ever-growing, and need to be trimmed or sharpened constantly.

Now, as I was drawing them, I asked myself: why do IceWings need a mane of spikes?

A stupid question, you might wonder, but to me it's very important. Animals look the way they do for survival. So, while it's important visually for the ice theme, how could they be explained scientifically?

And then, when thinking of polar bears, I got my answer.

How the hell does a giant sparkly dragon hunt in the north? Seals would probably be part of their diet, but it's hard to sneak up on them if you're a ten ton reptilian flying creature, so I imagine they would tackle the problem like a polar bear would by waiting by a breathing hole and pouncing at the right moment. They already look like a frozen snowbank, so that part is easy.

But any hungry polar bear would be doing the same thing, and like a giant dragon, they would be waiting downwind of the breathing hole too. They wouldn't pose a threat to adult dragons or dragonets larger than them, but in real life polar bears are dangerous hunters and prey on humans. Why wouldn't it prey on a dragonet it thinks it can take on? Things in the WOF universe seem to be extra big (or scavengers/humans are tiny) so I think it would be a feasible for a desperate bear to hunt a dragon. They cannibalize, anyway, so going after another apex predator isn't out of the question. In this case, the horns and neck spikes would be a dragonet's saving grace, discouraging attacks from behind and especially on their necks. A bear's teeth could never get through their scales, but they could still crush their airways and choke them, and the spikes would keep them away from their necks and protect them from that fate. As they grow up, the neck spikes' length and strength could be used to determine a dragon's health and help them select good partners.

Finally, continuing with the bear theme: for the scales, I took inspiration from polar bear fur (which is actually hollow) to help design how IceWings preserve their body heat. In polar bears, its used to make them look white by reflecting the light of the sun, but in IceWings it could keep the cold out. Air pockets would create a barrier between them and the outside elements, and whatever gets in would meet their thick layer of fat that does the real warming. Yes, IceWings would be squishy, but you'd probably poke your eye out or stick permanently to their side a la tongue to cold metal pole.

Don't hug IceWings; they're very cold.

[therosebunpost]

Okay I’ve decided, it’s gonna be set post season 3 but before season 4, where Steve ends up working in a thrift store instead of Family Video. (he’s still working with Robin though, dw)

He meets the two when they come in, and they just buy a bunch of weird shit that prompts him to just ask Why. Like I’m thinking weird, misshapen sculptures, funny frames photos, even a cute berry themed Tea Pot. (That one didn’t make him ask why, the golden Owl radio did. It’s bug eyes felt like it was staring at him, but you just seemed to adore it.)

You know that scene in Ant Man, where the little girl gets this utterly cursed rabbit doll from Ant Man, and just with the most gleeful voice is like “He’s so ugly, I love him! :D” That’s Reader whenever Eddie finds her something just utterly deranged. Steve just finds himself watching as Eddie picks out the most funky looking things and presents them to Reader, and every single time Reader just finds so much joy out of it. They don’t always buy it, but that doesn’t matter.

He’s so fucking jealous of the both of them, it literally hurts. They’re so cute, that’s so unfair.

Robin has to get him back on task sometimes because he’s literally in the isles, debating on how weird would it be if he saved this weird toy to show them at the register later, or would it be better to just have it placed near him so they see it?

I just think Steve would find such appreciation for the strange in life working at a thrift store and meeting these two. Like, after the Russians and his disabilities, he’s gone through a ton of changes. He starts filling his parent’s house with stuff he actually likes. Does any of it make any sense together? Debatable, but they make him happy and it makes the house less empty, so he’s going with it. Chipped and cracked plates in mixed matched colors, blankets with funky designs, clothes that have dumb sayings on them. He’s just living his best, funky life.

Once all three of them start dating, I imagine they just slowly start moving in with Steve. Eddie brings with all of his posters, DND supplies and metal decore. Reader brings in the color, and hand made pieces, and Steve kinda adopts both their styles while still maintaining his own. He’s still Just Some Guy Steve, but mixed in with the polos and sweaters you will find him sporting a Nike Basketball Tee that promises it’ll ‘Rock your world’, or a bright neon yellow polo that burns the retinas of all who see it.

*claps*

I’m on my Steddie x Reader idea BS again and i present you this:

Steve and the Manic Pixie Dream Couple

I just think the concept would be kinda awesome, you know? Like, Steve’s in a sad place right now. He’s got a dead end job, is unlucky in romantic love, and doesn’t really know what he wants in life. In comes Eddie and his girlfriend, this odd, mixed matched duo that just picks him up and turns his life around with their weird, plucky vibes. I’m thinking this could be set around season 3, but then again 4 could be interesting, but then again 3 has sailor Steve so…

I want Reader to be super colorful, with strange accessories and brightly colored hair. She needs glasses, but instead of wearing a pair, she made a strange necklace out of one of the lenses, and just uses that instead. Like a funky monocle. She’s a little on the ditzy side, and isn’t all that witty, but she’s sweet and kind, and adventurous.

Eddie’s obviously not as colorful, but he’s still decked out in a lot of accessories. He’s a little more cynical then reader, less friendly. Think of like, an actual pixie! He’s mischievous, loves messing with people, especially Steve. He’s very protective of Reader, and often kind of acts like her protector incase someone tries to mess with her.

Reader, upfront, is nicer to Steve. She meets him first, and her whole vibe caught his attention right away. I imagine she went into Scoops and just gets the weirdest combo of ice cream he’s ever heard. He just has to ask her why the fuck, and Reader is just like “I dunno, I was wondering what it’d taste like. It’s not very good.” And then she just straight up dips.

Then, when Eddie gets introduced, they share a few barbs back and forth before Eddie somehow convinces Steve to do something with them. What that is, I’m not entirely sure, but that’s how the ball starts rolling. They all hang out, Steve is slowly, but surely pulled into their relationship while simultaneously improving his life.

Just Some Guy Steve Harrington dating two of Hawkins’ weirdest residence just feels like a fun vibe, you know? Plus, I really wanna have a more eclectic style, so writing Reader with a similar style just sounds really cool for a Reader concept.

[princesssmars]

practical magick

a stiles stilinski x witch!reader

plot : just when stiles thought he had gotten used to the dramatics of the supernatual, he happens across you performing magic in the forest. when you fail to wipe his memory, his thursday afternoon gets a whole lot weirder.

wc : 4.678

contains : sfw. kissing at the end. the picture for look inspo is fair-skinned but the reader's skin color is not described! reader has hair! google translated latin sorry ��i like my men loserish and obsessed sorry.

a/n : yasss a little halloween special. rewatching teen wolf for the third time bc idfk. is it obvious i love witch!reader's yet.

for the first time in over a decade, stiles stilinksi was bored out of his mind.

he had previously thought that given his adhd gave him a deep desire to be doing literally anything all the time that the word bored wouldn't enter his daily vocabulary until he died.

yet here he is, kicking his feet at the dead leaves on the ground as he searched for any hidden traces of wolfsbane. the only reasons this had even happened was because he had opened his big mouth too many times and was sent on a busy quest by deaton, to "make sure the surrounding areas were safe for werewolves."

just reminding himself of what led him here was enough to tick him off again. it wasn't like the past two years have been easy, being under the constant threat of werewolves, werewolf hunters, kanimas, etcetera etcetera. it was enough to stress out the most stable of adults, and stiles was the direct opposite of that, so of course he got nervous and started talking over people and pissing them off.

"stupid wolfsbane, stupid werewolves," he mumbles, kicking at more of the dead brown leaves on the forest floor, tearing a line of the familiar purple plant up from the ground and stuffing it into the brown sack in his other hand. once he was done it was likely it would either be tucked in jars in deaton's stash or burned. he wouldn't mind seeing the latter.

its another twenty moments of grumbling and scavenging before a sound in the distance stops him in his tracks. he stands still, making sure that he barely breathes before he relaxes, figuring his anger and memories are making him paranoid of the woods.

a minute later he wishes his mind was playing tricks on him, because he nears the noise again, but this this its louder.

"its closer," he thinks.

he barely even registers when his legs start running. he may have a bag full of wolfsbane, but there was no guarantee the threat was something the plant could harm. and he didn't feel like tempting fate today.

at this point he's slightly lost his direction, but when he passes the stunted redwood stump he and scott carved their names into during the fifth grade he starts to understand where he is, and as his heart beats in his hears he knows if he turns right here he'll come up onto the old willow tree-

in the span of ten seconds he smacks head on into a hard object, falling on his ass and gasping as the air is knocked from his lungs. he blinks quickly to try to rid of the black spots in his vision, and before he can comprehend it he's making eye contact with you.

he's slightly embarrassed that the first thought that races across his mind is how pretty you are. he knows he should be wary of you, but he can't help it. your hair is a rich (h/c), seeming to almost shine despite the sun being blocked by clouds. your skin is smooth and your eyes are gorgeous and big and still staring straight at him.

you both rush to stand up. he holds his hands out in a way that you would calm a wild animal, hoping it doesn't piss you off.

you continue to stare at him. which isn't helping calm down his racing pulse.

"uh, alright. look, i'm not gonna hurt you, alright? i'm just...looking for something..."

before he can finish his sentence, you raise your hands to cup the sides of his face. his words die in his mouth and he feels his cheeks warm up to the point he's surprised they haven't burned your palms. you look determined, and for a second he feels like he's gone to heaven

"convertere et perge quid agas. oblivisceris quid hic vidisti."

turn around and continue what you're doing. you will forget what you saw here.

his mouth opens and his brows scrunch in shock. he never thought those latin lessons he took online and with lydia would pay off, but he's really glad he did them now.

he considers doing what you said, just turning around and forgetting all about this encounter. but unfortunately his curiosity is getting the better of him, and if his suspicions are correct he needs to know more about you.

"i'm gonna guess you just tried to put a spell on me, right?"

your eyes widen so largely he's afraid they're going to pop out of your skull.

"i..i don't understand, that should have worked. are you a warlock? druid?"

"no, no. i'm just stiles." he tells. his guess that you were something supernatural is partially confirmed, since you know about druids and the whole tried to put a spell on him thing.

"well, stiles, unless you tell me why my spell didn't work on you i'm most likely going to have to kill you." you deadpan.

he thinks you're kidding so he eta out a strained laugh. you don't even twitch.

he wracks his brain for a good enough excuse that will save his life before his arm moves without command and thrusts the bag in your direction.

"well, i have a uh, a bag full of wolfsbane, if that matters at all. pretty sure it does since…yeah…wolfsbane”

yours eyes dart from him to the bag, most likely not trusting that their isn’t some insta-death powder that will pop out as soon as you open it, so he looses his thumbs grip and steps closer so you can see the purple herbs inside.

“hate to admit it but you’re right,” you sigh, pushing back some hair from your face. his eyes follow the movement before darting back to yours.“ that much wolfsbane would make most supernatural or magical doings wonky.”

"yes, yes! exactly. that makes sense. im sorry about that-"

"why would you even have that much wolfsbane anyway? are you a hunter?"

"what? no, no! im not, i swear to you im not a hunter. i can explain this, really i can." he nearly chokes on his words at the speed he speaks.

you stare at him for a few seconds more before crossing your arms over your chest, hopefully about to let him explain why he has a bag filled to the brim with a dangerous plant on a random afternoon.

when you start to walk directly past him into the forest he doesn’t think he’s ever been more confused.

"fine. you can explain it on the way back.”

he’s as still as a statue as he process your words. you just accused him of being a hunter and now you want him to follow you to whatever mysterious place your going? even for him this is weird, and he’s ten seconds from refusing-

“hurry up.”

he rushes to catch up behind you.

after around twenty minutes of stiles repeatedly asking where you were going followed by silence on your end, you finally reach a clearing in the woods filled by a large victorian-era house, fully black with large looming windows lit up by warm golden lighting coming from inside. there's a nearly fully glass sunroom/greenhouse on the right side, and he can see from here the varying flowers and plants that fill the room. he wants to ask how a house like this could be kept under wraps from the rest of the town, but then he remembers.

magic, duh.

you lead him through the threshold of the home and down a hallway until you arrive in what must be your living room, not giving him a chance to admire the room before you're pushing on his shoulders so he sits in a loveseat, taking your own seat across from him. your legs spread and you rest your elbows on your knees as you glare at him, causing him to shift in his seat.

"why are you carrying a bag full of wolfsbane?"

"my friend's boss, deaton. he asked me to pick up any wolfsbane in the woods to make it safer for them when they do the whole wolfing out thing."

"deaton's working with werewolves again? does he have a death wish?" your brow raises in confusion, he notes how the fingers on your right-hand scratch at the skin on your right.

"i'll be honest, you're kind of creeping me out."

"thank you. why is he doing it?"

"my friend, scott. he's a werewolf. and so are our friends erica and boyd. and derek and his weird uncle peter-"

"the fucking hale's are back? are you kidding?" a scoff leaves you and you get up out of your chair, starting to pace back and forth in front of his chair.

"yeah, it was this whole thing with peter being evil and killing his niece, and he turned scott but scott thought it was derek who turned him. it was a whole thing. not to mention how peter came back from the dead-"

you continue to walk around the room while occasionally pausing to pay attention as the boy details the events that have happened in the past year. despite you being a stranger it felt oddly cathartic to vent about everything that had happened to him. admitting to the countless times he felt scared out of his mind but had to stay strong lest his enemies take advantage of it.

"that's a lot for a normal human to go through in just a year with no prior knowledge of the supernatural. i'm surprised your brain didn't implode from the stress."

he blinks. "thanks. i guess."

"you're welcome. i'm going to make some tea. stay here," you say, moving from standing across from him to heading to a room near the side of the room, able to faintly see some dark counters and pots and herbs hanging from the ceiling, "not like you'd be able to leave anyway."

that's reassuring, stiles thinks to himself, bouncing his leg up and down where he sits. after a minute he figures you won’t kill him horrendously if hes looks around a bit, so he gets up and starts observing the countless pictures on the walls. some are old, like the people in them are wearing outfits from a few hundred years ago, while some are colored and recent. in most of the recent ones, you’re with three older women who look just as dark but ethereal as you do.

he continues looking at some pictures and hung-up trinkets when you come back into the room with two cups of tea, handing one with a smile to the wary boy with a halfhearted promise that it’s “totally not poisoned.”

“can i ask you a question?” he asks, sipping at his tea after he discovers it’s not poisoned and actually really good. he was never really fond of tea, always preferring coffee or energy drinks when he was in a low-energy period. he remembers his mom liked chamomile tea.

“you just did. but go ahead.”

“why would you let me in here? you could have just questioned me at the willow tree, you didn’t have to let me into your house. not that i don’t like your house. i like the whole victorian gothic vibe.”

you don’t answer for a solid minute, slowly drinking from your cup as you stare into the lite fireplace.

“witches pride ourselves on our knowledge. to be aware of our abilities and surroundings at all times to best stimulate our growth. and as much as i’d like to be this powerhouse who could take down any threat, i know i’m not. if you actually were powerful and i tried to take you on myself? who knows what would happen.”

“and i’m guessing that magical barrier around the house would protect you in case i really did try anything?” he gently asks, not wanting to talk too loudly to distract you from opening up to him.

“exactly. plus if you tried anything my aunts probably would have put a curse on you and your loved ones. something not too flashy to attract attention, but enough to cause great suffering.” he notices your soft sigh when you stop talking, almost like you’re disappointed you won’t get to see this suffering play out.

“plus it’s better to know where your talents excel,” you continue, setting your cup down on a skull patterned coaster on the coffee table in front of you. “i’ve always been better at using my magic to investigate my surroundings. helps to find materials or signs of psychos roaming around.”

something you two have in common. it makes his mouth quirk up.

“so, the werewolves and all the other things being back in town, that’s a problem for you and your aunts, right?”

“yup. if it was just werewolves it’d be normal for beacon hills, but kanimas and a whole pack of alphas? who knows how much that can disrupt the natural balance and what more they’ll bring.”

he thinks over his next words carefully. scott would likely be upset at first at him for trusting you, but he was also the nicest person stiles had ever met. if you could help them then it was worth the risk.

“then how about a trade. you help us with this alpha problem, and you get the experience you need to become a great and all powerful witch. pretty soon you'll be riding your broom to your heart's content."

you can’t help but scoff a laugh as you think it over. he starts to think you’re about to reject the offer as you stare him down before you get up and offer him a hand.

“you’ve got a deal.”

after shaking on it, you send the boy back with his bag of wolfsbane and a few more helpful weeds from your greenhouse, giving him a note to give to deaton so he won’t ask too many questions.

when he returns to the vets office he dumps the materials on the operating table, ignoring isaacs joke about how if he took any longer they’d all be alpha chow by now. he can tell deaton is concerned about where he got the vials of strange red and yellow herbs, but when he reads the note his eyes widen and he lets out a mix between a laugh and a sigh. scott asked insistently what was on the note but his boss refused to tell him what it said.

before he left to drive home, deaton pulled stiles to a corner and told him that he had been in close contact with one of your aunts before something happened a few years after the hale fire that caused them to go into hiding and cut contact with all supernaturals they had previously been helping, including him as the emissary of the hale family.

as he lay in bed that night staring up at his ceiling, all he could think about was you. you were a welcome distraction from the chaos of his current life, a pretty distraction at that. if not a bit scary. which he didn't mind all that much.

the both of you spent more time together in the following weeks. at first, it was just simple conversations by the willow tree talking about the werewolf situations and checking what materials deaton needed from your family. as time went on his curiosity got the best of him and he started to ask you more questions about your life.

"so hit me if this is stupid but did you have any family in salem? or can you like make a potion ina cauldron to see if I did because I could use that as massive bargaining power in fights with issac-ow! why'd you hit me?"

"you said i could."

"yeah but not so hard. jeez, ever thought of quitting this witch thing and trying boxing."

"never thought of it. maybe i should start now. with your face."

"really funny."

(your threats kind of reminded him of derek, but had less of an 'i'm about to rip your throat out and eat your esophagus vibe.' slightly.)

but as time went on it got deeper. as he told him more about himself you started to do the same, once even apologizing for "giving off psycho killer bitch vibes" and chalking it up to being so isolated from people for most of your life. he told you he didn't mind the vibes, assuring you he liked it maybe a little too excitedly.

he could really feel the shift when one day he came up to the willow tree and he saw you, standing with a frame photo in your hands and nearly on the brink of tears. he was so shocked at seeing you show such intense emotion he wasn't watching where he was going and stepped on a branch, alarming you as your head whipped to him like a deer in headlights.

"i...im sorry. i can leave if you want."

"no no, it's," you shook your head, looking down at the photo once again. "it's fine. it doesn't matter."

"well if it's enough to make you cry id say its world ending-"

"could you just shut up? for once in your life?"

it's quiet for a minute, the only sound in the air being the gentle breeze. even thought the comment stings stiles knows all too well you're just lashing out in anger and hurt.

"im sorry."

"don't apologize. i get it, i do." he moves closer until he's standing beside you, walking slowly so he doesn't make you lash out again.

he looks down at the photo and he gets it. its you, about six or seven with a bright smile on your face and standing with two people he can tell are your parents. he can see the resemblance. you have one of their smiles and hair color, the other's nose, and by their clothes, the same dark style.

"its been over ten years. since i lost them," you whisper, your voice sounding more weak than he's ever heard it. "itd be nice if I was staying with my aunts for some sabrina the teenage witch reason but no. i don't have a choice."

he gently puts a hand on your shoulder. "i get it, i do. i lost my mom. every day i remember things about her in things i do. it hurts but its better than forgetting."

you sniff and hes about to back up when you put your hand over his on your shoulder, gripping it tightly. it hurts a bit. he doesn't really care.

"its not fair."

"its not."

"...thank you."

"don't mention it."

you give him with the materials and he's about to leave when you stop him, your hand grasping his wrist. he wants to ask whats wrong but he stops. you're staring right at him, into his soul he thinks, and all he wants is to hold you and tell you any pain he's suffered the past few years is worth it because it led him to you, that even if you asked him to sacrifice himself on an alter for a spell that would make you happy for a minute he would do it-

"this bracelet. i want you to wear it and don't take it off no matter what, all right?"

hey, that works for him.

as soon as the bracelet was clasped around his wrist he felt different. like his nerves were tingling and his brain was warm. he felt like he was going to get the most powerful migraine in existence and reached to take it off when you took his hand again.

"please. just give it a minute."

and so he did.

only thirty seconds of dull pain later and he felt normal, if not better. like when you're a kid and have the best day of your life and return home to a good meal. a nice bath, and a great night's rest. he feels almost powerful.

"hey what is this thing? did you just give me powers? is this gonna make me your servant or something?"

"bye stiles."

he gives deaton the materials after telling scott where he was ignoring the weird look on his face before the boy goes back to examining an adorable beagle on the operating table.

deaton takes the bag and bottles with an appreciative smile, his eyebrows scrunching up when he notices the jewelry on stiles wrist.

"where'd you get that bracelet?"

"uhh, i found it. at a thrift shop. thought it looked cool. why?"

deaton clearly doesn't believe him but decides to entertain stiles anyway. "the band is a normal bracelet but the charms are what makes it special. they're pagan."

"could you explain them to me? just because you know."

the vet just shakes his head and laughs before pointing to each one.

"this one, the witchs knot. standard symbol for warding off evil. its mostly used as a protection charm."

stiles admires the charm, the metal silver with the symbol burned into it. it looks like a circle with a line roped in and out of four points of it.

"this, hecates wheel. a goddess of magic, as you probably already know. symbolizes the power of knowledge and life."

this charm is a bit heavier, the stone looking weathered with a scratched labyrinth engraved on it, a distinct 'x' in the middle of it.

"and this one is..." deaton starts before his words trail off. stiles looks at it. it looks like four combined circles, each with symbols inside them. the two across from each other on the side looking like two crescent moons, the one on the top holding a basic pentagram. but he doesn't recognize the one on the bottom-two perpendicular lines forming an 'x' with little swirly lines coming from the middle on the top and bottom.

"what? what does it mean? is it bad?"

"no, it's not bad at all, stiles. the crescents and pentagram are used in another basic protection spell. more protection for the user."

"and the one on the bottom?"

"well, i don't honestly know what it is. its most likely a personal sigil made by the person who made it. but by my guess, based on others I've seen before, it might mean whoever made it has a deep love and affection for whoever they gifted the bracelet to."

stiles thought he was keeping his cool, but scott made extra sure to remind him the following days and the dumbass look on his face when deaton explained the symbol to him.

he didnt know what to do. this had to mean you felt the same way he did about you, right? why else would you gift him a love sigil on a bracelet you insisted he wear? for a second he considered it was a love spell you tried to put on him, but he was feeling iffy about that. mostly about how he wouldn't care that much.

(he apparently admitted that in a sleepy haze when he was sleeping over at scotts, and he's never wanted to die more than when he woke up and realized issac of all people heard him.)

the next time he saw you he tried as hard as he could to act casual. you asked him about ten times if he was okay, and he eventually came up with a good enough 'just a slight stomach bug' lie and regretted it immensely when you invited him back to your house, telling him you'd been practicing making simple health remedies and you had the perfect thing to fix him.

the whole walk to your house he was on edge, his palms feeling sweaty for the first time in his life as he repeatedly wiped them off on his pants. just like the first meeting, you tell him to wait on the couch and he lets out a shaky breath when you leave into the kitchen.

what does he do? does he confess? does he need to? he was so scared that he was being too obvious and maybe that's why you put the sigil on the bracelet, to let him know you returned his affections. but what is he wasn't obvious? and he was basically telling you he only liked you because you liked him? what if-

"stop staring into space and drink this tea, dummy."

he laughs awkwardly and takes the ornate cup from your hand, sniffing the tea before he drinks it. it's sweet but savory, smelling like nutmeg and milk. he can see little flakes and leaves floating on the top. he takes a sip and hums at the taste.

"screw boxing, you should be a professional chef. i'm gonna need you to give me this recipe."

"yeah right. a witch never reveals her secrets." you scoff before sitting down next to him on the couch. you put your arm up on the back and rest your head on your wrist as you cross your legs, your foot brushing against his leg. he nearly spills the tea over his lap.

he can't help but admire you. he had given you a few magazines he'd gotten from stores and stuff to better show you how people were dressing these days, and while you'd hated most of it you took to some trends, wearing a pair of black ripped skinny jeans and a pair of combat boots. he tried to focus on the rips in your jeans as to not let his eyes wander up, where you were wearing a leather halter camisole with nothing underneath. he can't help but laugh in his head when he thinks of the word camisole. maybe he was spending too much time around lydia.

"stiles? seriously are you possessed or something? normally you'd be talking my ear off trying to guess exactly what ingredients i used for the tea."

he sets the cup down after taking another long sip and turns his body to you, your eyebrows raising in what he can tell is amusement. most people could easily get annoyed by his theatrics, but after your near trauma bonding at the willow tree, you had always made sure to welcome them with a smile.

"look, i have something to say. which you probably already know, but i need to say it to you anyway to make sure you really know, y'know?"

you blink. "go ahead."

he breathes in and out a few times, his previous confidence suddenly disappearing.

"let me guess, you saw the sigil and now you're going to confess your love to me?"

he goes into a near coughing fit.

"how, well thanks because now i dont have to actually say it, but if you had given me a minute-"

before he knows it you're scooting closer, your faces just a few inches apart. you're staring at him with that same look you had when you gave him the bracelet. his breath is picking up and he bites his bottom lip, your eyes darting to the motion.

"can i kiss you?"

"yes, god yes-"

your hand grips his chin and brings his lips to yours, the intensity and plushness of it nearly driving him insane. he doesn't really know what to do with his hands, settling to just keep them on his lap before your other hand brings them to your waist and squeezes them in place. at this point you're nearly on his lap and that combined with the kiss and the fact he swears he just felt your tongue poke his lip is going to be the death of him.

he pulls away from the kiss and kneads his hands on your hips, able to feel the softness of your skin on the places where the camisole lifts up.

"wow. i mean just...arent you a recluse? where'd you learn to kiss like that? have you like, conjured up clones to practice with or something."

"stiles?"

"yeah?"

"shut up and kiss me again."

"whatever you say, babe."

for the first time in his life, stiles stilinksi thinks everything is gonna work out.

ty for reading! had to tell myself to get up off my ass and write at 3am and wrote about half of this so sorry for any dialogue inconsistencies. love you bye bye.

[slimey-wallz]

I had the biggest, chunkiest, art block I've ever had in my WHOLE EXISTENCE. So I scavenged through Tumblr to get inspo, for like 2 hours or something, and I came across this AWESOME person, @sketchquill, who just HAPPENED TO HAVE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL OC EVER, and so one thing led to another :) 💕

w/ long hair 💕✨

Can't forget the little guy!

When I finished this I realized that I could have been working on my inbox requests and refs. *Sigh*

[scandalcus]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 — ♡ 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐒

pairing ; ellie williams x fem!reader summary ; you stop by ellie's place in the middle of the night and surprise her with some weed content warnings ; smut, scissoring, choking, explicit language, drug use (marijuana), mutual pining, both ellie and reader are high and super horny, etc. word count ; 3.2k a/n ; this fic is for the anon that requested scissoring. i kind of went overboard and ended up with this (*/ω＼*) unfortunately i couldn't find a way include face riding. i took some inspo from the scene in the game where ellie and dina smoke, i just added my own twist. i hope you like it. feedback is always welcome. (btw i didn't really proofread & kind of rushed towards the end so sorry for any mistakes, i will probably fix them later)

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓, 18+ 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘, 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

Whenever you’re bored, or lonely, or just in need of some company, you somehow always find yourself standing on Ellie's doorstep. It never bothered her though. As long as you guys were just friends, she would never admit that almost every night she finds herself anticipating your arrival, that is if you choose to even come.

So here you are, standing in front of her door at two o'clock in the morning, hoping she wasn't too tired to ignore your knocks. You shivered and watched snowflakes fall to the ground as you waited for her to answer the door. Majority of the town was asleep, except for the people guarding the perimeter of course. Your attention is caught by the curtain behind her window being pushed aside, Ellie's face peaking through the opening. You wave at her and gesture for her to open the door.

The curtain closes and you hear the lock on her doorhandle click, followed by Ellie opening the door, letting out a large yawn while she rubbed her eyes. "What are you doing here?" She asks, squinting her eyes at you. "I have a surprise for you. Well, us." you said with a soft grin on your face. She stares at you blankly, like she didn't process a single word you said to her.

“Can I come in? It's cold.” you ask. “Yeah, sorry.” Ellie says, moving aside so you can enter. You walk past Ellie, hearing the door shut behind you as you head for her couch, throwing your bag on the floor in the process. “Sorry for showing up unannounced so late, I couldn't sleep.” you say, pulling your boots off and tossing them to the side. Ellie starts to make her way towards you, sitting on the opposite end of the couch.

“What's up?” she says, clearly still waking up, you proceed to pull your jacket off of yourself and place it behind you. “Do you want to see your surprise?” you ask excitedly, searching for your backpack. “Oh um- can you hand me my bag?” you say looking at your bag on the floor behind her.

"Surprise?" She asks, turning around to grab your bag, her eyes still slightly squinted as they adjust to the lighting. She plopped your bag between the two of you. You roll your eyes and sigh as you reach for your bag.

“Okay, nevermind then.” she says with an attitude in response to your silence. You ignore her and continue searching your bag. She leans back into the couch, pulling her knees up to her chest as she watches you scavenge through your bag.

“Found it!” you say, a huge grin on your face as you pull out a Ziplock bag with a few couple of joints, holding it up to your face and watching Ellie’s entire demeanor change.

She snatches the bag from you, examining it in her hands with wide eyes. “Wha- is this weed?” she asks in a much livelier tone that before. “No shit.” you chuckle, watching her pull a joint out of the baggie and hold it under her nose, taking a deep sniff and letting out a sigh. “Where’d you get this?” She says excitedly, scanning the room for a lighter.

“Me and Jesse found it while we were on patrol today.” you say, reclining into her sofa and crossing your legs, watching as Ellie hurriedly walks over to her desk, going through drawers until she pulls a lighter out of one. “It turns out Eugene had a hideout in a library where he grew weed in the basement. I had to sneak it though, you know how uptight Jesse can be.” you say rolling your eyes.

“That's fucking sick! You have to show me next time we have a patrol together.” she says excitedly, sitting back down and placing a joint between her lips.

“Give me that.” you say, snatching the joint out of her mouth and taking the lighter out of her hand, putting the joint to your lips. She gives back a slightly offended look, before scoffing and leaning back.

You flick the spark wheel on the lighter, having to try a couple times before finally igniting it. You bought the flame to the tip of the joint and inhaled until you felt your lungs fill with smoke. You look up at Ellie to see her staring at you, a soft expression across her face as she was secretly admiring you. You lean towards her, noticing her breathing halt for a second and her body tense up. You break eye contact to look at her lips for a brief moment, before averting your gaze back into hers. Once you're a couple inches away from her face, you playfully blow a cloud of smoke into her face, causing her to cough.

"You're an asshole." she says, wafting the smoke away from her face and using her other hand to grab the joint from you. You let out a giggle in response, resting your head on your fist and watching her take a hit. "I have a question for you," you say abruptly. Ellie looks up at you while exhaling, holding the joint out for you.

"What is it?" she asks, watching as you ash the joint and bring it up to your lips. She observes how the paper burns and the cherry of the joint lights up as you inhale. She bit her bottom lip, becoming more and more impatient by the second, waiting suspensefully to hear what your question is.

You take your hit and pass the joint back to her. "What would you do.." you pause for a second, contemplating for a brief moment whether you should complete the question or not. "What would you do if I tried to kiss you right now?" you asked softly, your heart rate jumping a bit as you wait for a response.

You always had a thing for Ellie, but never attempted to make a move due to fear of rejection. Maybe it was the weed, you hadn't smoked in awhile because y'know, you're in a post apocalyptic world, weed isn't as easily available as it used to be. Neither of you have any type of tolerance built, so it didn't take long to feel the effects of the weed. Regardless, you suddenly felt confident enough and decided to finally test the waters. You came to the realization that you and Ellie had a much more intimate "friendship" than others do. You guys both knew each others deepest, darkest secrets and that's because you guys have lots of trust in each other. You've always noticed the way Ellie would look at you, you never put much thought into it and figured she looked at everyone that way, but it just felt personal. You would also recognize the way her breathing would hitch anytime you accidently brushed your body against hers, or the way she would always come up with some lame excuse just to touch you, even if it was for a short moment. You always disregarded it though, because if she did like you she totally would've told you by now; unless she felt the same way.

You study her expression, anticipating her response. Her cheeks burned with red, you can tell the question caught her off guard. She sat up, her expression showing slight confusion. "What are you doing?" she asks softly, finally taking a hit off the joint.

"I asked what you would do if I tried to kiss you." you say shyly, tilting you head a little bit. "I don't know." she responds with a shrug, averting her gaze to the joint in her hand before deciding to look back up to you. She didn't know what to make of that question, and tried her hardest to seem composed by responding in a nonchalant tone, meanwhile her heart feels like its literally about to pump through her chest. Her mind was racing. The thought of you two kissing has definitely crossed her mind, actually she's thought of doing a lot more than kissing with you. She would always take the chance to admire your lips when you wouldn't notice, imagining how soft they would feel on hers and how sweet you'd taste against her. She craved nothing more than to be kissed by you, but she wouldn't dare take the risk of ruining her friendship with you over it. She couldn't help but overthink of all the reasons you'd ask that question. Maybe you were trying to be funny, or maybe you were just high and genuinely curious. The thought of you actually wanting to kiss her never crossed her mind, she always assumed you would never see or think of her as more than a friend. "Why would you kiss me?" she asks, using the opportunity to steal another hit.

"Because..." you pause, Ellie hands you the joint mid sentence. You take another long drag, feeling Ellie's eyes fixated on you. You exhaled the smoke and then put out the joint in a mug sitting on her coffee table before shifting to face Ellie again. "Your lips look soft, and you look really hot when you have bed head and red eyes," you hesitate for a second, "and because I kind of have a crush on you.. and I just really, really want to kiss you right now." you say, awkwardly fiddling with your thumbs. You feel a shred of regret because it feels like it's taking forever for her to respond, but you also feel like a massive weight has been lifted off your shoulders since you finally admitted your feelings for her.

Ellies lets out a sign in relief, followed by a genuine smile. "Do you mean that?" she asks, doubting this is actually real life and she's just really high, imagining everything. "I do." you say, your body slowly gravitating closer to hers, watching as her eyes shift to your lips. She subtly scoots herself closer to you, her lips only a couple inches away from yours. "Can I kiss you?" you ask, your gaze jumping back and fourth between her eyes and lips. "No one is stopping you." she whispers, and with that you both lean into each other and find yourselves aggressively pressing your lips together. She cups your face and you put your arms around her neck as you exchange hot, sloppy kisses with each other. You find yourself leaning back and pulling her on top of you, keeping your lips attached to hers the entire time. Your highs amplified the intensity, both of you getting lost in each other. Ellie moved her arm under the small of your back, pulling your body to hers. You moaned into the kiss after feeling her toned arm tighten around you. You moved your hands to the hem of her top, letting your hands travel under her sweatshirt and your fingertips softly grazing her backside.

She slides her arm out from under you and unexpectedly pulled away, you let out a whine in response. She hovers over you, staring down at you as she catches her breath and licks your leftover saliva off her lips. She looked so. fucking. hot. You felt a rush of heat spread down to your core and you squeeze your thighs together, your pussy aching for her.

"Do you wanna go to my bed?" Ellie asks, moving her hand to your lower abdomen and wrapping the strings on your sweatpants around her finger. You remain silent for a moment before bursting into laughter, the weed in your system making itself known. "What's so funny?" she chuckles in response. "Nothing, I'm just high," you say catching your breath. "Also why haven't we done this sooner?" you ask, wiping the tears from your eyes.

"I don't know, I guess I thought that you didn't like me." She says, pushing herself off of you and standing up before reaching her hand out to you. "That's stupid." You say, grabbing her hand and following as she leads you to her bed.

You and Ellie get into the bed and lay side by side, both of you immediately closing the distance between yourselves. You both fight for dominance, but she quickly overpowers you and flips herself on top of you. You pull your sweater off, forgetting that you weren't wearing a bra under it. You blush, realizing your top half is completely exposed and turn your face away from her for a moment but you feel her staring at your breasts.

She opens her mouth but nothing comes out of it, you literally left her speechless. She did not mentally prepare herself enough to see you naked in front of her. She never would've expected you to be so direct in bed, you always portrayed yourself as confident to everyone, but Ellie knew you the most and how soft and shy you can get when you're put into situations where you have to be vulnerable. Even though she's never seen you this exposed before, you still felt comfortable around her. You knew she would never judge you, and maybe that's why you felt so good about yourself around her.

"I underestimated you." she says, resting on top of you and placing her head in the crook of your neck, making sure to leave a trail of hickeys. "How so?" you say, letting your hands travel to the hem of her shirt. You slide her sweatshirt up until her abdomen is exposed. You encourage her to take hoodie off, in which she complies.

"You're a lot more sexier in real life than I imagined." she says, making you pause for a second. "So you've thought about me before?" she tenses up for a moment, feeling slightly embarrassed to have admit that. "Yeah.." she says softly while looking down at you. "What do you do to me when you think about me?" you ask, curious as to what she imagines of you. "I don't know. I guess something I think about is you riding my face." she says, her cheeks turning a soft rosy color. You find yourself becoming more aroused at the thought of her touching herself while thinking about you. You wrap your legs around her, pulling her closer to you. "What else?" you ask eagerly. "I mean, I've thought about fingering you and stuff." she says, clearly she's not great at expressing her needs. She slides her fingers under the layers of your sweatpants and panties, encouraging you to take them off. She leans down to kiss you, letting her pull everything off of you during the session. Her hand finds its way in between your legs, and she runs her fingers through your soaking folds. "I can't believe I made you this wet." she breathes. Her fingertips find their way to your throbbing clit, gently stroking the nub. You moan against her lips, tugging at her bra. "It's not fair that I'm the only one naked." you whisper with your forehead against hers.

She reluctantly pulls her bra off, throwing it on the ground. She dives down to her neck, leaving a trail of kisses before reaching you breast and placing her mouth around your nipple. Your hands travel down to her jeans, and you start to unbutton her pants. She moves your hands and finishes unbuttoning her jeans herself, sliding them off of her and kicking them onto the ground. You lift yourself up to meet your lips back with hers, bringing your index and middle finger to her clit and rubbing in a circular motion. The whine that falls from her lips surprise you, sending a shiver through your body.

She pulls away from your and sits up on her knees. "Give me your leg." she demands. You lift up your leg and she puts it over her shoulder. She positions herself between your legs until your cunts are touching. You moan at the feeling of her warm and wet pussy against yours. She wraps her arm around your leg, her hand making its way around your neck. She slowly starts to grind against you, both of your throbbing clits massaging each others. You practically melt into her, squirming beneath her touch. She squeezes your neck, causing your eyes to roll back to your head. Moans spill from your mouth, the feeling of pure ecstasy tingling through your bodies.

Ellie's heavy breathing turns into whimpers, not caring to hold back anymore. "Fuck, you feel so good against me." she says, looking down and watching the way your cunts slide against each other. You shift your body to the side, lifting your hips up to give her more access to your pussy and roll against her, adding more friction. "Atta girl," she sighs, throwing her head back and squeezing your neck harder.

You wrap her hands around her arms as she digs her nails into your thigh. You can't help but admire her from this angle. Her mouth hung open as a string of whines and curse words escape her lips, sweat trickling down her face causing her hair to stick. Her breast gently bounce as she buries her pussy into yours.

You lean your head back and close your eyes, everything was happening so fast yet it felt like you two were going in slow motion. Your high boosting the pleasure. Waves of euphoria went through your body. Everything else in the world besides you and Ellie seemed to disappear for the moment. Judging by how disheveled and blissed out Ellie looked, you assume she felt the same way.

"Fuck-" she spat, her chest rising up and down abnormally fast. She dug her nails deeper into your thigh, definitely leaving an indent. "I'm gonna cum." she cried, her clit pulsing against yours. "Me too." you breathed, a tear falling from your eye. The amount of pleasure you were experiencing was not like anything you've felt before. You both were practically screaming as you reached reached your climax.

You felt her fluids spill onto your heat, her body quivering as she continues to ride out her high against you. You follow her orgasm shortly after her, shockwaves are sent throughout your body.

She lays down next to you, staring at the celling. Both of you just taking a moment to gather yourselves, trying to catch your breaths. "Holy shit, that was fucking hot." she exhales, looking over at you. You nod in agreement, getting up to sit on the edge of the bed.

"What are you doing?" she asks, sitting up, her breathing still heavy. You ignore her and walk over to her coffee table, grabbing the joint and the lighter and returning back to bed beside her. You pull the cover over you and light the joint, inhaling until the cherry is decently lit.

"Here." you say, exhaling smoke. You hold out the joint for her and she willingly takes to her lips and smokes it. You lay on your side to look watch Ellie, her skin still glistening from the hot and sweaty sex you just had.

"Remember what you said about me riding your face?" you asks as she passes the joint to you. "Yeah.." she says, watching you take your hit. "Let's try that next time." you say suggestively as Ellie takes the joint from you. "So there'll be a next time?" she asks, looking over at you. "Definitely."

[meowzfordayz]

staying in

Author’s Note: feeling cheesy and silly and lazy. ☺️😝🥱

staying in

Hashira x Reader, Kamaboko x Reader

Word Count: ~900

CW: mild sexual content

Song Inspo: Low Key by Russell Dickerson

~faqs~

An evening in consists of…

… almost getting scammed by an astrology website with Zenitsu, before finally agreeing that the free version is fine, and who believes in astrology anyway? Clearly, you’re made for each other (despite there being some ~areas of conflict between your charts). 

… board games with Inosuke until one of you rage quits, and the other has to convince them to: stop sulking in the bathroom, and play again. Who rage quits usually depends on the game, and you’re much better at goading him into another round than he is at bribing you.

… a quiet stroll out with Gyomei, so not exactly staying in, but still more peaceful and mindful than going to a bar or attending an event. He compares your presence to the radiant fullness of the moon, and you tuck a fallen flower behind his ear. “How do you know what the moon feels like?” He doesn’t quite know how to explain gentle, mystical tug of moonrise, so he settles for, “I can feel you, and that is more than enough.”

… cleaning and redecorating Kaburamura’s cage with Obanai. It’s a little gross, and a lot of a fun. From teasing him for his obvious doting, “Does Kaburamura really need six donut cozies?” to being flat out rejected, “Sooo that’s a no to body painting? It’s safe for humans! How could it not be safe for snakes?” You end up falling asleep as he dutifully photographs Kaburamura curled up on your shoulder #guess I’ll finish cleaning by myself.

… doing Tanjirou’s make up, and him doing yours. If you don’t own any make up, then you go on a field trip (minimal budget). You randomly pick themes (old fashioned via “from a hat” or modern via “app for raffle draw”), set a time limit, and then send photos of your final looks to your Hashira + Kamaboko group chat to decide on a winner.

… making the most outlandish cocktails (or mocktails) you can think of with Mitsuri. They have to be intricate, original, AND taste delicious (~just okay suffices too), or you put on a pair of socks. By the end of the evening, you’re drunk (or sugar high) as heck, and have at least four pairs of socks on.

… a project with Shinobu. Whether that’s tackling a Lego set, making candles, or deep cleaning a specific room (likely the kitchen or bathroom), the laughter is ever constant, frustration to be expected, and resulting pride and excitement at the final product a worthy reward — not to mention the way she kisses you afterward! *happy sigh*

… cooking with Kyojuro #bet you didn’t see that coming #sarcasm intended teehee. Sometimes it’s complicated, hours long endeavors; other times it’s spaghetti; and there’s always take out if your fancy Huntsman pie doesn’t go to plan. He’s almost unbearably efficient when it comes to cooking tidily, and chops vegetables so quickly that you just marvel at how his fingers are intact.

… watching a movie with Sanemi. This includes: ~arguing over which movie to watch for a solid hour (give or take), another twenty minutes for snack prep, and another half an hour to spontaneously design and build a pillow fort (for the optimal movie watching experience, of course). Even when it’s a movie he swears he despises, he’ll still stay awake through the whole damn thing because it matters to you, and you matter to him.

… creating scavenger hunts for each other with Muichiro. You roll dice to determine who gets to claim which room(s) and in what order, set up your hunts, and then hunt (duh)! Winner gets to choose dinner (or dessert if you already ate dinner), and loser gets to cook aforementioned dinner (or dessert). You usually win, but he notices when you begin making his clues easier, and promptly informs you that he’d rather lose honestly than win on Easy Mode. “Your happy noises whenever I feed you are prize enough for me.”

… planning your future with Giyuu. It’s easy to get caught up in the mayhem of Life™, so evenings in are a grounding, intimate opportunity to reconnect and recenter with him. From cuddling on the couch to dancing in the kitchen to watching the moon’s traverse through your favorite window, you discuss current stressors, recent successes, and your gratitude for each other. It may seem simple, but it’s the little things that fit most snugly in your hearts. “Where do you see us in a year? Five years? A decade?” you ask. His answer remains constant: “Together.”

… reading with Tengen. He’ll read to you, or you to him; you’ll share a book, or the couch, or the bed; and you alternate who gets up to brew more tea. If you prefer audio books, then he’ll occasionally eavesdrop, and when it’s your turn to be on tea duty, you more often than not return to a cute sticky note (with dramatic commentary regarding the chapter you’re on) bookmarking your page.

[kalmiaphlox]

WIP Wednesday

thank you @xxnashiraxx for the tag! Excited for the tadpole shenanigans!!

Heres another peek at my body Swap fic that I have lovingly titled "Damn bitch, you live like this?" until I find a proper name.

Astarion has found himself in the body of his partner Hircine (and vice-versa), and he remembers, oh yeah, she has tits, the ones he really likes to grab.

And Hircine is now much stronger than she's ever been.

Astarion looks down, worried there might be a lump nestled under his skin when all thoughts of slaad eggs invading his body are replaced with other, more lustful urges. While Hircine searches around the room, flipping over sheets and muttering angrily about their predicament, Astarion takes this opportunity to really learn his wife’s body—for his eternal obsession and her future enjoyment, should they ever return to their bodies. He loves her breasts. A lot. They’re perfect in every way. Impossibly soft, round, and heavy with the slightest, barely there sag that makes them even more delightful, always overflowing in his grabby hands, but not so large that they dwarf her toned body. He also can't forget the ghostly white nipples that are not too good to eat, especially since they match her pretty little mouth when her lipstick has been wiped away. He cups them, Hircine's smaller hands sinking into the malleable flesh, though the tight silk of her dress keeps them from moving around too much. There's never been a lot of thought put into how this feels for Hircine other than that it's very, very good when he's pinching or pulling on a nipple if her moans are anything to go by. The fat of her breasts being touched, it doesn't feel good or bad, mostly neutral as if he's grabbing at any other part of his body. Maybe it feels different with someone else touching them… Experimentation can come later if they don't change back soon. His lively heart thrums in anticipation of his next move. The pads of his fingers brush over where he’s sure her nipples lie and— “Ahhh—!” A high-pitched whine rips past his lips as his legs squeeze together involuntarily. Gods below, that was— Hircine looks up from her destructive scavenge, a scowl furrowing her manicured brows, twisting her mouth down. “Seriously? Stop touching me!” She hisses. “How do you keep your hands off yourself all day?!” Just that touch sent the most delicious tingle down to his nether regions. “I don't have much desire to touch myself,” she says, stepping beside him, “especially while out in public.” She grabs his wrists firmly, pushing them from her breasts and Astarion yelps with shock. “Ow! Can't you be more gentle?” He demands, yanking himself out of her grasp, massaging his wrists. “You damned brute!” Red eyes blink in surprise as Hircine looks down at her—his body’s hands. Oh gods, this is so confusing. His body is now hers, he needs to commit to that. She speaks quietly. “I thought I was being gentle… I barely touched you.”

Tagging if you'd like to share @eraserspiral, @busy-baker, @preciouslittlebhaalbae, @honeybee-bard,

@nyx-knox, @bardic-inspo and @ladyduellist

[myloveoffandoms]

Bug Bites and Socks

Pairings: Daryl Dixon x Reader (Female)

Summary: Reader is suck in shorts and is hoping to find something better suited for killing walkers, or in their case avoiding bug bites.

Warnings: Age gap (Could be read different as age isn't mentioned), As always bad grammar.

Tags: ??? You guys tell me.

Word count: 1.4k approx.

A/N: This is post prison era, this is also from my archives (aka word docs i never posted) Only proof read once. The girl in the photo is AI and not necessarily the characters looks but AI was being an ASS when I asked for black knee high socks in combat boots so I decided to just use what I was able to get.

Photo Inspo: https://ca.pinterest.com/pin/2251868556842908/

“Come on. We gotta keep movin’.” Daryl says gruffly, as he looks at me leaning on a tree for support. Every fiber in my body was screaming, telling me to rest but I knew we had to keep moving.

“I know… I just need two seconds” I let my head hang down for a moment.

“One, two. Now come on before we lose daylight.” I roll my eyes at the comment, but a small smile breaks on my face. It was closest thing to a joke I had heard from Daryl in the time that I knew him.

“Ha. Ha. You’re so funny.” Sarcasm dripping from my voice. The man Infront of me scoffs in response. I push off the tree and start walking again. He watches me approach before turning and walking along side me, bow always at the ready.

As we continue, every now and then I have to hit at my ankles and legs from the bugs trying to bite. “If ya wore pants an not shorts you wouldn’t have as many bugs at ya” He grumbles out as he watches me swat off another mosquito.

“Well, running from walkers wasn’t exactly on the itinerary for today.” I say quietly. I was already annoyed with myself for not being more prepared and stuck in dark jean shorts. I didn’t need to be called out on it too. I was on meal prep duty before the prison was attacked, and it was ridiculously warm out at the time shorts didn’t seem like the worst idea, clearly, I was wrong.

“Just sayin’.” Daryl utters out.

“Hey, look” I slow my pace as I see a building through the trees up ahead. Daryl picks up pace some, to see what it was and if anyone or thing was around.

“it’s a house, don’t look like anyone around or inside” he says quietly.

“Scavenge and move on or hold up for the night?” I ask as we approach it slowly.

“let’s see what’s inside first.” He says holding his bow drawn as a single walker staggers out of the woods. He doesn’t waste the arrow and we both run inside the house trying carfully to not draw attention of the undead.

The house had definitely been picked over, dirt and broken items scattered the floors. Furniture ruined or upturned. Daryl went searching in the kitchen I crept slowly upstairs. First room was near empty except mess. The bathroom had nothing but garbage nothing worthy of taking. The second room clearly belonged to a girl. Photos scattered the floor, happy faces. Posters of movies, and bands hung haphazardly on the walls and ripped on floors. I went to the dresser, of course nothing no pants, nothing. I scanned the floor again. I see the closet door hanging off the rack. I walk over and look inside again nothing but garbage or useless items. I scan the shelf nothing, top one I couldn’t see so I carefully run my hand over it my fingers graze over something soft I grab it and pull it down. A ball of black sits in my hands. After a second, I realize its socks.

I hold them in my hand as throwing them from one to the other as I continue to search for anything food, pants, anything at all upstairs. Nothing. Only a pair of black socks.

I go down the stairs to see Daryl slamming an upper cupboard closed. “There ain’t nothin’ here!” He shouts. “What ya find?” He asks eyeing the black ball in my hands.

“Catch. Its socks.”

Daryl catches them with ease and lets out a scoff well doing so. He undoes them to show two extremely long black socks. Daryl looks at them kind of confused for a moment. I quickly go up to him taking them from his hands.

I sit on the back of what was once a couch, I untie my boots and kick them off taking off my ripped socks I had on and setting them on the couch.

“What the hell are ya doin’.” He asks clearly wondering why I so quickly decided I needed to change socks. “Protection from the bugs.” I say as I pull on one of the black socks it sits just below my knee. I quickly put my opposite leg up on the couch pulling the sock up past my calf and letting it snap against my skin when I hit my knee.

I turn to look at Daryl whose gaze slowly climbs from my legs to my eyes. I tilt my head slightly trying to read the emotion on his face. I couldn’t quite place it, he almost looked… hungry. Then it hit me we still haven’t eaten and no food here. He was hungry and probably annoyed at me stopping to change socks.

I lean over and tie my boots. Happen to have some more coverage on my legs. When I finish tying, I stand back up straight, and Daryl still watches me. He swallows hard once and then turns back to the kitchen.

“Sorry…” I mumble out. I don’t think he heard me.

“Lets keep movin’ maybe I can hunt somethin’ before night hits” Daryl grumbles out, heading to the door. I follow behind him.

It was night Daryl was able to catch a few squirrels since we had left the abandon house. Although the days have been warm the nights have been cold and temps been dropping lower and lower as days pass.

I watch Daryl as he leans against a log. He was cleaning his bows and placing them back in their designated spots. I liked watching him sometimes. Even before he was always just so into his own thing. It also helped that I found him undeniably attractive. The brown hair and bluish, green eyes. I shiver as a wind passes through.

I see it blow the hair from his face. I hesitate for a moment before I speak. “Daryl…”

He turns to look at me. “Could I- I mean could… I was..” I mentally roll my eyes at myself for stuttering so much.

“Can ya what?” He asks his full attention on me.

“Well, I was wondering if I could, lay beside you…” He just blinks so I continue to talk “I just mean it’s cold and it would help keep warmth... Never mind bad idea” I say shaking my head.

He watches me for a moment before he sets his knife that laid on his left side over to the right. I close my eyes taking his silence as a no. Then I hear him clear his throat. I open my eyes, and he looks from me to the spot empty on his left.

I lean up slowly and make way over to him then slowly lay beside him. I don’t curl in. but he blocks the wind and just being closer gives some extra warmth.

It didn’t take me long to fall asleep.

Third person POV

Daryl tensed when she laid down next to him. He wasn’t sure how to feel about her being so close.

The way she had put her new socks on early made a warmth go through him. Her smiling as she pulled them up and the smirk when she said it was bug protection. It caused a feeling of warmth Daryl wasn’t fully familiar with. Yes, some was in an attraction sense but there was more there.

She laid beside him, her breathing remaining calm and steady as she slept. Daryl pushed himself down on the log some. Enough to keep partial elevated, but also enough to let him rest more.

After a few minutes had passed. She stirred lightly in her sleep turning to face Daryl. She reached out and cuddled into his side. Her head resting on his chest, and a leg over his. He watched as she curled in closer. He remained completely stiff and unmoving. He watched her closely for a moment before relaxing and gently resting his hand on her mid back and side. He couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling of having her so close and so at peace with him. Daryl relaxed some allowing himself to close his eyes and rest, with the beautiful girl he’s slowly come to know and holding her close.