Who Put That There? || Dylan O'Brien X Reader

Who Put That There? || Dylan O'Brien x Reader

Summary : Two friends experience the holiday magic of surprise mistletoe.

Words : 1.7k

Warnings : fluff, drinking, couple of swears

Notes : Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! gif credit [uknown / x]

Your eyes widened in childhood wonder at the array of Holiday decorations gracing every possible surface of Sarah's apartment. Green and red hues were most present, especially seen in the dancing lights bouncing off her living room walls; a perfect complement to the oversized tree in the corner and numerous eclectic statues of Snowmen and reindeer littered through the lively space. She always went all out when it came to this time of year, and you were glad, seeming that it was definitely one of your cherished happy places.

You lent casually against the staircase of your friend's living space, an arm tucked under your other as you nursed a half-drunk glass of spiked eggnog. The strong taste of bourbon slunk down your throat, the warmth from such an intense alcoholic beverage created a spike of fire in the pit of your stomach. Not only was decorations one of Sarah's strong suits, but she also spent a lot of time and energy providing her friends with constant refills of her favourite holiday drink. The atmosphere was one of a kind - the loop of popular christmas jingles and songs playing lowly in the background, only overtaken by the joyous chatter and laughter of the people you call your second family. If you could stay in this moment forever, then everything would simply be perfect.

The creeping smile on your lips faltered only slightly as your shoulder was nudged, eyes flickering to your side to see a lightly buzzed Dylan and his famous caramel eyes that you adored so incredibly much. Teeth sunk deep into your bottom lip, a subconscious action to accompany the small crinkles besides your eyes and alcohol-induced rose blush pinching at your cheeks. He immediately reciprocated your happiness before releasing a soft chuckle, his glass raising lightly in the air toward you before he took another long sip. Dylan sighed in complete contentedness, "This is my third glass, you know. Any more and I'll be hanging from the ceiling."

You chortled, a hand pressing lightly to your chest from the sudden burst of hilarity. A full display of your teeth showcased the elation you felt, catching the attention of your friend as he gazed between the squinting of your eyes and plushness of your faintly swollen lips. "That would be a sight to see, but something tells me that Sah really wants to get us drunk, you know? I didn't even reach the bottom of my glass before she was topping it up. She's being really fucking sneaky." Small indications of laughter rode along the end of your words as you spoke. You swirled the remaining liquid in your glass as you looked to Dylan, your eyebrow raising as a silent request for him to wait and watch.

I would be less than a minute later before Sarah stood before you both, the never-ending jug of eggnog in her hands managing to pour enough beige liquid to officially create your third glass. You nodded in thanks, Sarah snickering under her breath as she moved across to Dylan to copy her hostess duties. She made sure to enunciate that you two enjoyed your drinks before she left and Dylan's eyebrows shot upward, total shock etched over his features. "Holy shit, how the hell did you do that?" He wondered aloud, shamelessly taking another sip from his glass. He took his bottom lip captive as you so innocently shrugged your shoulders, and for a moment, he grew breathless at how angelic you looked among the flashing lights of your friend's Christmas tree.

You couldn't pinpoint whether it was the hard bourbon coursing through your veins, or perhaps they were; just twinkling a little brighter tonight, but Dylan's burnt-honey swirled eyes drew you in closer than you were before, the ability to smell the strong stench of your drinks now very much apparent as it wafted toward your dazed expression. It felt like magic when small specks of white glitter fell between your faces, a true Christmas miracle when the addition of a familiar green plant dangled above your heads - one that certainly had not been there earlier. You gulped softly, unknowing that you were holding your breath until it pushed through your lips with a small shake. Pieces of the puzzle were merging together in your mind until you shook your head at the realization of what was happening around you. "It's mistletoe. She got us wasted, so we would kiss under the mistletoe."

You didn't think it possible but Dylan's face grew brighter, his blushed cheeks now extending to the tip of his nose and chin. You could see the gears turn behind the widening of his eyes and the way his mouth fell ajar and stammered with his lack of wording, "Wh-who... who put that there?"His focus flicked between the hanging plant and the oddly calm expression you wore, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips the more he thought about kissing you - wondering how you'd taste, how you'd feel against him. Maybe it was the perfect example of a Christmas miracle and if the opportunity so willingly presented itself, then it just had to be taken. Dylan bit the inside of his cheek, now looking at you through the thickness of his eyelashes, "Then maybe we should, you know, kiss then." He placed the now empty glass on the bench beside him, his hands wringing in front of his torso, "Don't want bad luck, right?"

You managed a tamed giggle, nodding in accordance with his reasoning. You only just remembered the soft holiday tunes playing as an ideal backdrop, a kick of confidence for you to also place your glass behind you and take a step into Dylan's personal space. He didn't move away but rather leaned forward until your chests were nearly flushed to one another. The moment was quintessential for a moment of Christmas romance, internally praising Sarah and the existence of Mistletoe. "Definitely don't want bad luck." You hummed, nose nudging against his own before Dylan's breath hitched evidently in his throat.

You couldn't help but smile up at the man before cupping his cheeks gently, allowing your thumbs to rub under his eyes. By now, your own eyes were closed, lashes tickling Dylan's cheekbones, making his need for you obvious by the way he would brush his lips so shamelessly against yours - a friendly tease, a desire for more, pulling back only the slightest when you would lean in to chase him. It was a game that he didn't mind losing if it meant that he could finally just kiss you. He suddenly swore under his breath, a raspy and quiet 'fuck it' vibrating off the red-painted plumpness of your lips before he pressed forward. You moaned instantly at his dominance, hands still holding his face and involuntarily squeezing when he pushed harder against you. Dylan's hands gripped your waist as fingers flexed over the material of your dress, the sides gathering up your thighs as he tightened his grasp.

Your body slumped, melting at the taste of sweet eggnog and the warmth of bourbon still decorating the rim of his lips. You need more, you needed him ao much closer than just in your arms. You licked at the taste of Holidays on his bottom lip and he moaned in the base of his throat, lips parting for you to deepen your union. You were sure that you were going to turn blue, unable to breathe but not wanting to pull away until the last possible second. You could tell that Dyan felt the same as his hands harshly dragged up your sides and over your back, pulling you into him, regardless that physically you were already as close as you could get.

It was a relief and a loss as you had to pull back, heavy breathing from both of you now filling the small gap between your close proximity. You licked your lips, tongue running over their swollen complexion. A smile found its way between your cheeks at the thought that Dylan's would be just as plump, his face flushed entirely, your red lipstick smudged over his mouth so carelessly. It was exciting to think that the beating of your heart was just as rapid in his own chest - to think that this moment was flawless in each and every way. Dylan's breaths turned shaky as he laughed, dropping his forehead against yours, "Fuck." That was all he could muster as his blunt nails scraped down your back and caused welcomed shivers up your spine. He inhaled deeply, his upturned nose brushing against yours and along your cheek with utmost fragility, "I'm gonna have to get myself one of those things. Especially if it means I get to kiss you like that each and every time."

You hummed along to the song emitting from Sarah's speakers, gently swaying from side to side until Dylan's hips were moving in unison with your own. It made you happy, beaming toward the man, allowing yourself to get lost in the moment. Your lips placed a tender peck just under his ear, the sound of Dylan moaning in complacency sounding so beautifully among the atmosphere surrounding you. "You don't need mistletoe to kiss me, Dyl. You just need to look at me with those big ol' honey eyes and I'm there. Promise."

It was quintessential in the way the acoustic music set the scene, coloured lights highlighting the strong cut of Dylan's jawline and the golden speckles in his eyes - even the simple intimacy you both adopted so quickly, already comfortable caught up within one another, the thought of leaving each other's hold becoming the last thing you'd want to do. It was perfect. Utterly, completely, absolutely perfect. Even when Sarah appeared by your sides, her presence was lost as you and Dylan continued to sway in your own bubble. She cleared her throat, a whine escaping from Dylan in reply as your head turned from his to face your overly happy friend. She looked beyond prideful, the smirk on her lips growing by the second.

Sarah sighed, "Like I always say, this eggnog is fucking magical."

Idk if these are still open but if they are ‘I need to make love to you tonight’ with Dylan please :)

Warnings: mentions of sexual language/activity, swearing, drunkeness

Notes: using [THIS] for brief inspiration!

"I NEED TO MAKE LOVE TO YOU TONIGHT."

His words, although harnessing every ounce of sweetness that this simple world could offer, was slurred loudly through his wandering lips as they targetted the side of your neck. The reverberations of his drunken moans created a story of salaciousness that pressed to your skin, igniting a shiver of excitement that ran up your spine. He had a knack for setting your senses on high alert, the reaction your body had to just his touch alone was enough to send you into a longing daze of euphoric phenomena. What made matters more interesting was that Dylan knew exactly what he was doing; every word he spoke, pressure point he sucked, caress he dragged over your tingling skin. It was his way of expressing what he wanted, yearned for, and that he wasn't going to back down, not in the utmost slightest.

"No, you need to take your aspirin." Your retort managed to squeak past your faintly parted lips, arm jarring as it reached out to push back his heaving chest. The muscles that flexed below your prodding fingertips shook with soft laughter, Dylan finding hilarity in your attempt to pretend that you didn't need this as much as he did. He was too disoriented to remain upright before Dylan's body slipped back from your own, his head bouncing softly off the pillow as he settled down. Never once did his hooded eyes leave the slightly amused expression that contorted your features; lips pursed to perfectly complement the soft head shake you subconsciously offered. Your tongue clicked behind your teeth, gaze shying away from the deep reverence that featured within his golden hues. Even when inebriated, the man still looked at you as if you put all the stars in the sky.

"Dylan, I'm not joking."

The attempt at a serious tone slightly wavered before you watched his smile grow, one possessing great love and devotion as he settled back into the softness of the pillow. "You're going to wake up with a killer hangover, and I won't have you fucking whinging to me again about how bad the room is spinning-" Quickly, your voice began to die in your throat. Words dissipated at the feeling of breathlessness as if you'd momentarily forgotten how to exhale. Not that it was difficult to determine why, with simplicity in its finest form acting as the reason for your broken focus; his bottom lip tugged between teeth as Dylan felt his heart swell with adoration at your nurturing nature.

"Mmm, don' need that when I 'ave you with me, baby.." His voice was raspy, a deepened tone that encouraged a rosy blush to devour the complexion of your cheeks. The man could play you like a fiddle.

Dylan chuckled, his chest jumping before he dropped his hands flat against the mattress. It was slow as he pushed himself back to an upright position, your thoughts swarming with hopefulness that his mind had changed about taking the pain killers and calling it a night - alas, as you turned back from the pill bottle on the nightstand, you could feel the upturn of Dylan's nose graze against your cheekbone. Warm breath fanned down your neck as you were met with the scent of cheap beer and whisky, an odd combination that you were finding captivating the more he pressed into you. Dylan's fingers splayed over your waist as the other caressed down your cheek, loose strands of hair soon taking up vacancy behind your ear. His touch was soft as it trailed over patches of exposed skin; a story told through the tenderness he possessed so proudly, his growing smirk ghosting over your lips when he felt the spike of goosebumps he provoked.

You were breathing him in as if he were your lifeline, the feeling of your noses as they nuzzled so incredibly soft and close to one another enhancing the bittersweet incapability to find dependency away from his presence. He was a drug and you were intoxicated by the desperation he pulled from you; the neediness you developed for his protective hold around your frame and how his kisses encapsulated complete bliss and ecstasy. You were constantly drawn to the kindness that always reached his eyes and how he would, without a second thought, give up the world if it meant having you happy and safe by his side.

He wasn't going to kiss you - not like this, not when he could barely hold his head up without it falling against your forehead, or to the crook of your neck where he often took solitude. The man gulped harshly, his adam's apple bobbing when his nose traced an invisible line across your cheek. The desire to ravish you right there and then grew stronger, despite the inner conflict he faced about taking advantage when he was in such a drunken demeanor. He needed you close and he needed you more, but he couldn't.

Your hands had somehow found a home grasping at his shoulders before you slowly pulled them down to Dylan's chest, the erratic thumping of his heart dancing against your palm. You gingerly licked your lips, finally drawing in a deep breath as your mind lowered to an unalcoholic sobriety of its own. "Dyl, just drink your water and take the damn medicine, please. Don't make me mom you."

His chest jumbled with another small laugh, "Mom me, huh? All bossy-like? Mmm, that's hot, babe.. not a threat.."

Swiftly, your head fell back, eyes closing as they face the ceiling. You released a groan from the base of your throat, frustration taking ownership of the tone. He was impossible. "Why are you like this?" You said in exasperation, hands rubbing over his t-shirt before journeying to the man's wrists. Your fingers curled around them, a slight squeeze shown as a subconscious act of affection. Your head shook from a developing idea, the utilization of bribery being the last tactic you wanted to exercise but the childish man sitting across your bed didn't leave you much choice, regardless of just how much you loved him.

"Take the fucking medicine and I'll give you a blowjob."

Brown eyes immediately grew wide as if he was embedded with an alarm clock, an indicator of some sort that caught the man's attention when the uncharacteristic sentence fell from your lips. He had to blink twice, three times, to process whether he heard you correctly. He could determine your sincerity by the expecting quirk of your eyebrow and how your arms were now crossed over your chest, waves of solemnity pulling at every inch of your face and body. He was in disbelief that you were fucking serious.

"...Quick, babe, you have five seconds to make your choice." You continued after his verbal lack of communication. Your fingers were already beginning to dip past the waistband of his jeans, the muscles of his abdomen flexing against the delicate swirl of your gentle touch. "Five... four... three..."

"Yes - fuck, Y/N/N.. I'll do it, please.."

When Stiles and You Watch Porn.... || Headcanon

Pairing : Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Warnings : sexual language, swearing, pornography mentions, 18+ content

Notes : please take note that there's no actual sex in this, but it is pretty mild altogether

you read too many buzzfeed articles

so much that it slowly begins to dictate your life

that's what leads you to you staring at your phone with a quizzed expression whilst stiles flicks through your History textbook

"are you even paying attention?" your boyfriend would ask you

all you could muster was a hum

you were clearly preoccupied

and stiles' curiosity always got the best of him

he asked what you were looking at, questioning a second time to see if it's more important than your test tomorrow

and all you could reply with nonchalantly was "do you watch a lot of porn?"

fair to say, your boyfriend was taken aback

like

waaay aback

he instantly grew red cheeks and became flustered

you knew that he watched it

look at him - stiles screams the type of person to watch porn

and frankly, you've watched some too

but you've never discussed it together before

he stuttered, and choked on his words, and nearly passed out on top of his speechlessness

stiles fumbled as his long giraffe legs carried him to his bed where you laid

you didn't once look up at him, too enthralled by this stupid article

stiles gulped "wh-why do you ask?"

you just licked your lips before pursing them

"says here that watching porn together can be good for sex, you know, help you get hornier and get off easier"

now stiles was more curious, mixed with a hell amount of confusion

he crawled along your bed until he was sitting next to you

your backs pressed to his headboard, eyes glued on your screen

you hissed, "ooh, also says it can be awkward as fuck. some couples can't even look each other in the eye after five minutes of watching hardcore porn"

stiles squinted his eyes as he read the article himself, slowly understanding second-handedly why you were fascinated

the experiences of these couples, they were... interesting

"i mean, it doesn't have to be hardcore though, right?" he piped up

you turned to him, eyebrow raised, surprised he wanted to take part in your readings

"i mean... no, it could be any porn. passionate, softcore, I don't know."

stiles bit his bottom lip, carefully taking your phone from you

he murmured, "so... if we were to watch porn together, for example..."

he flicked through the article, mentally tossing up the pros and cons

"-and you know, see how it goes..."

"stiles are you asking me to watch porn with you?"

his eyebrows both jumped upwards, head tilting to the side as he watched you, "i-if you.. if you want.. to.."

it would be approximately three minutes and twenty-four seconds later when you both were back sitting on his bed

hearts racing after you both were running around to make sure the coast was clear and doors were effectively locked

the most embarrassing part about this 'experiment' would be getting walked in on - especially by sheriff

for comfort reasons you perched between his legs

your back pressed to his chest

his laptop sat neatly on your knees

in all honesty, you were quite comfortable where you were, especially when stiles positioned himself a little upright

with his arms wrapped around your waist

holding you against him

head sitting lightly on your shoulder

you couldn't help but turn slightly to face him and press a tender kiss to the tip of his nose

his lips quirked into a smile and you drew a deep breath

"you ready?" your voice was wavering, still unsure

stiles' wasn't any better, "there's no harm in just... giving it a go... even for five minutes"

your lips puffed out, knotting from indecisiveness

he gave you a gentle squeeze, though

a reassuring squeeze

"it's just watching sex, baby" he said

and you smiled widely from his efforts

you eventually hit play on the first video you both agreed on

it was weird watching sex with someone next to you

it felt wrong, like you were being caught out

you thought that it could possibly turn your relationship upside down

but you two ended up critiquing the video more than gaining a high libido from it

every now and then you two would hum, or make noises of acknowledgement

stiles would inch closer to the screen with squinted eyes

"how the fuck are they even doing that?"

and you would shake your head "god knows but there's no way in hell i'm flexible enough to try it... i mean, do you see how far back her leg goes???"

when another video played over your screen, your eyes widened, a low whistle blowing through your lips

"he looks likes he's going to fucking break her in half!"

"yeah, babe, that's why it's called hard-core porn" he would reply, still studying each video

like

you both would sit there for at least an hour

god knows how many videos you went though, but

you definitely didn't get any more aroused than you usually would staring at each other naked

stiles closed the laptop, clicking his tongue

"okay, what i've learnt from this experience is that i'm perfectly satisfied with the way we have sex..."

"exactly, we make each other orgasm, usually more than once, and it feels fucking good and you're still extremely sexy doing it"

stiles nodding in agreement to what you said

and he'd press gentle kisses to your shoulder, making you smile

even the smallest of affection covers you in bliss

he would pull away suddenly and groan in frustration, though

"i still don't understand how that italian couple could even move in that way? like that shit is inhuman. nobody is supposed to be able to position themselves like that, i'm sorry"

you'd sigh loudly and turn in his lap, your legs on either side of his

and just slowly pushing him back until he was slaying among his pillows

stiles looking up at you as if you were the sun and the stars and the moon

and you leaning down to kiss him so softly, lips moulding against his

the added depth you demanded through your kiss promoting you to swallow stiles hearty moan

pulling away with his bottom lip sliding out from between your own

"how about we stop thinking about what the professional pornstars did and start to focus on we can do... right now, with each other... i can make you feel amazing stiles"

he would eagerly continue to nod in agreement

his fingers already pulling at the hem of your tshirt

you would beam down to him with so much love

"and maybe i'll even let you try that thing you saw, you know, the one with the tongue... the one that made your dick grow hard in like a second flat"

his speechless expression made you bite the inside of your cheek

it was sudden, but

stiles flipped you both over, his body now above yours

his lips barely grazing just under your earlobe

it made you shiver with excitement

his voice hoarse "sweetheart, you know as well as me that the second we start, i'm not planning on stopping, especially if the tongue thing is involved... seriously, fuck"

"then show me what you got big boy"

CONGRATS ON 500 I ADORE YOUR WRITING !! can i request “ i know i'm balls deep inside of you right now... but fuck, you have no idea how bad i want to propose.” with dylan please ??

SEND ME A PROMPT FOR MY 500 SLEEPOVER!

Warning : this contains smut references, please proceed with caution.

"I KNOW I'M BALLS DEEP INSIDE OF YOU RIGHT NOW... BUT FUCK, YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW BAD I WANT TO PROPOSE."

The fractured panting of Dylan's words were muffled by the curve between your neck and shoulder, but you still heard them, you still felt them as his thrusts got deeper and the fingers digging into your scalp pressed harder. He was pouring every ounce of his heart and devotion into his movements, and you were sure that if it grew any stronger, you'd soon be crumbling beneath his touch. The thought even crossed your mind that maybe he didn't realise what he confessed, maybe he was so lost in a trance that his utmost desires spilled out into confession of love that he didn't know was voiced loud enough for you to hear.

It wasn't until he slowed his hips, eventually coming to a stop, that it occurred to you that Dylan finally understood what was said. You were still so taken aback; eyes forced to flutter open as they focused on the man above you, the strength of his veiny arms holding up his body weight after your sweaty chests were pressed to one another only moments ago. He immediately looked down to you, the lustful glaze settling over his amber hues slowly fading. The rough contortion of his eyebrows and scrunched nose was quickly replaced by softened facial features and a hopeful stare. He was looking at you like you were the sun, and he'd just seen daylight for the first time.

"What did you say?" Your voice was quiet, timid in case you needed to brace yourself for the possibility of your dreams not coming true. The way Dylan tucked stray hairs behind your ear so gently, however, was enough to calm your nerves. He chuckled so incredibly light that you swore the sweet sound was the softest thing you had ever heard, his head dropping down slightly to fall into a brief shake. Dylan reached for your left hand before holding it to his chest, the rapid pace of his heartbeat reverberating underneath; only this time, it was more so from the big step he was about to take, and not the passionate sex that had him gripping at the headboard.

"What I was trying to say.." He started, pulling your hand to his swollen red lips, a tender kiss placed over your knuckles, "Will you marry me?" The confident man that you admired so much on screen had pushed his way to the surface, the directness of his proposal not needing an explanation or story to precede it; the look on his face telling you already that he was so deeply in love.

The need to marry you weighed on his mind for a couple of months - the ring already pre-bought and sitting up high where Dylan knew you couldn't reach. He would often gaze over the glistening diamond stone when you weren't around, imagining it sitting perfectly on your finger for the world to see - for the world to know that you were his, and would be for the rest of your lives. It wasn't until he reveled in the way you touched him so tenderly, and how you would subconsciously pull yourself into his body and encage him with your desperate limbs, that Dylan realised that this moment... as odd as it was, that he was ready to forever call you his.

You could feel tears pricking behind your eyes, already beading on your lash line, the moment finally catching up to you. It was subconscious when your eyes then flickered to the hand held captive against his naked chest, Dylan following your line of sight before he began to stammer, "I-I have a ring... it's just... I don't really want to... leave you... right now." The man gestured to his torso was slight embarrassment, his still hardened girth throbbing inside you from the upkeep of adrenaline.

"Don't worry about the ring." You said, smiling with every spark of happiness you could muster. Your hands managed to drag their way up to Dylan's cheeks, holding them carefully as if they were made from the finest of porcelain. The small teardrops that rolled down your cheek complemented your affectionate eyes and passionate caresses perfectly, Dylan already learning of what your answer to his big question would be. It wasn't until the eager nodding of your head and the soft sniffle you gave that tears of his own began to stain Dylan's flushed cheeks, a chuckle now protruding from your own lips before you gathered the warm beads on your thumbs.

You bit your lip, head still nodding as if you were stuck on a loop, "Of course, I'll marry you, Dylan. Yes. I love you, yes!"

Look me in the eye and try to tell me this: “Acting tough will not make it hurt any less, you know this, yes?” isn't utterly perfect for cowboy!Mitch 😍 Like whether it's him or reader who got hurt (and we both know they're equally foolhardy lmao)

send me a PROMPT for a 'new muse' blurb ~

Notes : it's TOO perfect for him! ugh cowboy mitch gets to meeee.

"ACTING TOUGH WILL NOT MAKE IT HURT ANY LESS, YOU KNOW THIS, YES?" | COWBOY!MITCH

Squinted amber hues were met with a quirked brow as you looked pointedly toward the man, your words provoking a loud scoff from the hoarseness that gathered in his throat. Mitch couldn't help but think utter ridiculousness of your sentiment - not that he didn't agree with its truthfulness, but rather so, he couldn't afford to fall short of his resilient and gritty character. Being the town's Deputy meant that Mitch needed to be strong, doughty, indestructible. He did have to act tough. His eyes slowly drifted down to your form as you pressed a damp cloth against his exposed side, sopping up remnants of blood that surrounded his freshly sliced wound. He winced, and you noticed.

"It's just a scratch." His voice was gravelly as he attempted to hide the pain that spiked his tone, choosing to immediately shut his mouth and grind his teeth as an alternative expression of pain. He shifted uncomfortably on the rickety barstool when you pressed further against the wound, the scraping of metal on metal echoing loudly amongst the dead atmosphere of the Saloon, only seen possible past closing time. He growled under his breath before hearing a quiet snicker, the curling lips of a smirk present between your cheeks only indicating that you did it on purpose.

"A scratch wouldn't have hurt that bad." You said, glancing up to the man when you felt his focus boring into you. Usually, he was the one possessing the over-protective trait; quick to swoop you out of harm's way and dictate the millions of consequences that would come from your rowdiness. Mitch was always there to catch you if you fell, and you even began to wonder whether he purposely followed you around just in case you found yourself in yet another troublesome situation. Regardless of his staunchness, it was incredibly endearing. "And I certainly don't think that a stab to the side counts nearly as close as a scratch, mind you. You're lucky you're alive, Deputy."

"Y/N, we've been over this-" He began, sucking in a sharp breath as you finished cleaning the open gash. He shook his head, breath releasing slowly as his voice dropped low, "You can call me Mitch."

You sounded a scoff, a resonant of puerility that was incredibly mocking "Oh, I'm well aware. But would calling you by your name get me the same reaction as it would calling you by your title? I think not." Legs pushed you upright as you gathered the red-stained rags, hands quick to ball them up as they were thrown haphazardly into an empty wooden barrel, and Mitch jested a groan at your sentiment whilst teeth sunk to his lip. Once again, you could sense the durability of his gaze meandering over your movements, watching as you continued to patch up the poor man after his unlucky confrontation with a common thief.

It was now easier to see the small smile that tugged between your cheeks as you spun on your heel toward him, a sewing needle and spool pin grasped lightly as you fiddled with them between hesitant fingers. You breathed out lightly before crouching back to Mitch's side, "What can I say, there's just something about gettin' under your skin there, that brings a little light to my days."

He was still toying at his lip; the need to release it quickly became apparent as it began to grow numb under its clamp, soon it would draw blood and he was sure you would reprimand him for yet another reddened wound. He exhaled heavily, an intent to steady his breathing as he awaited the next step of your aid and the inevitable misery to follow. It wasn't until he looked back down to your willingness to patch him up that Mitch started to settle into the stool, watching as you thread your needle, "You're a tease, darlin', ya know that? I'll have you saying my name one o' these days, maybe even screaming it if I'm lucky."

You didn't need to look at the man to know that his eye dropped into a low wink, the tone of his voice suggesting playfulness and rowdy jest. He liked to wind you up, that's why you wound him right the hell back. With a gentle head shake, you lifted your eyes until they met his caramel swirls that you've gotten to know so well, your needle now held high in the air with a threatening pose, "Keep talking sweet like that, and I'll be the one makin' you scream for all the wrong reasons, Cowboy."

It was hidden, only slightly by the angle he sat at whilst his elbow perched upon the bartop, when Mitch gulped down at the intimidation that you wore so damn well. He even thought that if he wasn't so alert in the moment, then a slight moan of appreciative attraction would've slipped so nonchalantly from him. He was quick to remain silent after that, but more so to retain concentration as he admired your quick handiwork.

"Okay-" You began, taking a deep breath to balance yourself. The skirt you wore was spread around your body as you kneeled on the ground, a near-perfect circle framing you as you mentally prepared yourself for the upcoming round of Mitch's pain. You held up a leather belt, folded over each other exactly four times before handing it to Mitch and pointing at your mouth. He immediately understood, teeth clamping around the material to prevent his future growls and screams from echoing through your night-filled sleepy town.

"Now, I'm no doctor, but I've seen this procedure more times than I could count on one hand. Do you trust me.. Mitch?"

Mitch nodded, instantly. Cheeks reddening at the use of his name, however, the leather prevented him from any further commentary. He saw your grin, and knew, just knew, that you calculated your words perfectly in time with his inability to talk.

Mitch was so incredibly taken by you.

One last draw of breath, and you smiled wider, "Let's finish patching you up."

Where Stiles Lives Out His Dream.... || Headcanon

Pairing : Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Warnings : just cuteness, maybe like one swear word?

Notes : had this idea for a while, NWH definitely boosted it though!

it started in kindergarten

a five-year-old stiles wearing the same spiderman shirt every day for the first week

surprisingly, claudia wasn't bothered washing it each night

especially when he got it covered in paint and food and.. god knows what actually caused the stain on the left hand sleeve..

one would think that he had that darn action figure superglued to his hand

he refused to let it go, just like that shirt

his obsession never faltered, though

only growing more the older he got

and when he finally watched the movies.. his life changed

stiles was nine-years-old when his dad let him watch the first two tobey maguire movies

he was enthralled by watching spiderman swing around on his webs and fight the bad guys

his large honey eyes were glued to the screen and widened in wonder

and when peter parker finally got the girl, he felt a warmth settle in his chest

a strange warmth that he couldn't describe, not until he was old enough to properly understand

noah stilinski was looking over case files when he felt his son tug at his shirt

stiles only grinned, "dad can i have a mj?"

and noah only shook his head

he smiled back though, admiration etched over his worry lines

"not yet, son"

"dad... is mom your mj?"

and noah only laughed, eyes flickering to a sickly looking woman grinning at her boys' interaction

"she definitely is"

it was freshman year and stiles had turned fifteen-years-old

he wore a large grin to complement his red t-shirt and dark flannel

a large black spider symbol gracing his chest

by now his ADD has grown and he wasn't very good at focusing

it wasn't until he walked straight into another body that he snapped back into reality

abandoning his conversation with his best friend scott to help the poor girl that fell

this is when you first laid eyes on the adorable doofus you'd quite quickly call friend

you grasped his hand tightly as he pulled you up

the boy even dropped back to the floor to pick up your belongings

you thanked him and offered a smile

but you saw his shirt and bit your bottom lip

stiles very much noticed

"i like your shirt" you said before your eyes glanced up from his chest

all that stiles did was laugh nervously

he was shaky and you could tell he was highly-strung

what you couldn't tell though is that he was actually breathless

you were beautiful

kind of like lydia martin beautiful

but your cute attitude and kindness is what set you apart

and when you said you liked his shirt it meant you liked spiderman

that made you automatically perfect to stiles

eighteen-years-old and stiles was now in his jeep, driving to yours

you had been dating since you were sixteen

he asked you at your birthday party if you'd like to go on a date

this was after he handed you a giant present half the size of roscoe

you said yes immediately, and that warmth returned from when he was younger

the warmth that he got when he saw peter in love with mj

it made him think that one day, you'd officially be his mj and the thought made him smile so fucking wide

presently, you were receiving a text to meet your boyfriend outside

you were expecting him, but usually, he'd make his way inside your home

with a key that he acquired from a source he wouldn't tell you about

you walked outside and it was dark

the jeep was in your driveway but stiles was nowhere to be found

you made a move to walk down the steps of your front porch

but a yell scared you into jumping back

a scream escaping through your lips

stiles appeared in front of you, his body hanging upside down from the roof

he had a large grin between his cheeks and his eyes glistened with mischief

he crooned, a little chuckle sounding his words

"hey baby"

reaching out to hit his chest was a bad idea when he slightly maneuvered

your fingers grasped his shirt to hold him still before he could fall

and then

....trust your luck....

the ten o'clock sprinkler system was activated and you both began to get soaked

you glared at stiles

he laughed

and soon you were laughing too

your fingers remained holding his now crumpled, and soaked, spiderman t-shirt from freshman year

you hummed, "you know what this looks like, right?"

and stiles shook his head, but

his eyes were stuck to your wet matted hair and glowing skin from the water beads

"you're like spiderman and i'm like... mj"

he realised the scene you were referring to

the warmth returned

this time it was stronger

it had a forceful pull that gravitated his lips to yours

and finally, it ignited his body with fire coursing through his veins

your lips were joined and your hands moved from his chest to his cheeks

holding him

caressing him

stiles moaned softly as his right hand snaked around to your back

pushing you closer to his saturated frame

your bodies stuck to one another but you didn't care

not when your tongue slipped past his desperate lips

his needy teenage hormones got the best of him , though

he wanted to merge your bodies even closer until all he could feel was the slick wet skin under your shirt

and one move of desire later nearly led stiles to fall once again

you pulled back to hold him steady

lips swollen

his face now turning red

only, it was from the blood rushing rather than just a bashful flush of rosy cheeks

stiles didn't care though, despite your worrying and cursing under your breath

he smiled, teeth gleaming, eyes sparkling

he felt everything all at once when he kissed you

the kind of emotions and sensations that meant that his love for you preceded everything else

and he knew

he... just knew

"you're my mj"