stiles wants a kiss tbh (is there a symbol for this meme???? i dont kno????)
It is a testament to their friendship that she’s able to get Stiles to do some pretty fucking weird shit with her.
Like this. They’re at a tea party looking for werewolves. Yes, a tea party – a real, live, Upper East Side brunch tea party. Being held in the lobby of a very expensive hotel, where most of them are staying. And apparently, one of the men wearing an all-white suit and a top hat and cravat is actually a very dangerous werewolf who’s been terrorizing the streets of Manhattan for the past two weeks.
Beside her, Stiles keeps fidgeting, uncomfortable either with the clothes she’d bought for him to wear ( he’s dressed like a nicely put-together Victorian gentleman right down to the walking stick ) or the people around them ( that many rich people can make someone break out in hives ). She’s got her arm linked through his, introducing him to the people her parents vaguely know and who only invited her out of a sense of obligation, as her boyfriend, her business partner – at one point, her live-in television repairman. Anything to keep people distracted while Stiles tries to determine who the werewolf is.
And once it’s made exceptionally clear that the werewolf is, in fact, a man named Gaspard Delacroix ( and if that’s not an assumed name then Astoria owes Stiles forty bucks ) they’re upstairs, breaking into his hotel room, searching through his things, looking for something, anything, to solidify their suspicions, and to see what he’s doing next. And they make it. Really.
She hears him before she sees him, talking loudly as he walks down the hall with a lady friend, and Astoria immediately grabs Stiles by the arm. They can either hide in a closet, and be trapped with a dangerous predator –
– or they can improvise. Which is why, after a murmured trust me, Astoria is tugging him gently out the door, just as Gaspard is turning a corner. “Sorry,” she mutters, pulling the door closed behind them, and then she’s got her lips pressed to his.
She’ll say this for Stiles – he knows what he’s doing. And he knows what she’s doing, too, as she slides a hand underneath his jacket to tuck Gaspard’s cell phone, carefully turned off, into his back pocket. For his part, he’s got one hand gripping her ass like it’s his job, the other trailing absently up and down her side, and good lord, she doesn’t have to pretend to be breathless when she hears Gaspard approach, clear his throat.
“Sorry.” She flushes, reaches up to brush her thumb under her lip as if to catch her lipstick and force it into submission. And so what if her knees are a little weak and Stiles hasn’t stepped back from her yet? “I – is this your room? Sorry, we – ”
Gaspard only chuckles and nods. “I can tell. No harm. Do you mind taking this elsewhere?”
She nods, smiles, takes Stiles by the hand and tugs him after her as she walks away.
( There’s a smug grin on his face once he realizes that she’s still a little weak at the knees and she considers leaving him there to be eaten by the rich. )
germansingergirl
yousharknotpass
dailybridgerton
kianamaiart
dededos
jacobvanloon
turnnoffyourmind
snowghoul
discoholicmusic
