#not Peter and y/n getting more trauma

[sundrop-writes]

Why Am I The One?

Isaac Lahey x Fem!Reader

I’ll hold you like I used to - you know that I am home.

So darling if you love me... would you let me know? 

Or go on, go on, go on - if you were thinking that the worst is yet to come.

Why am I the one always packing up my stuff?

For once, for once, for once, I get the feeling that I’m right where I belong. 

Why Am I The One always packing up my stuff? 

Summary:

Isaac loves you. He loves you more than anything else in the world - which is exactly why he has stayed away from you for so long.

But when Derek kicks him out onto the street in the pouring rain with absolutely no warning and no reasoning as to why, Isaac has nowhere else to go. He could claim that he sought you out because you're close by, because he knows that you won't turn him away in his time of need - but deep down, it's because he misses you. And staying away from you for so long is the hardest, stupidest thing he has ever done.

Isaac Lahey x Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Smut and Emotional Angst. Set during Season 3, Episode 4.

Word Count: 15,200

Teen Wolf Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this fic is equal parts smut and emotional angst/plot; the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; this fic DOES use Y/N; there is no description of the reader's race but the reader is implied to be plus-sized (I can't help myself lmao); the reader is completely human (doesn't have any supernatural powers); this is based on the part in 3x04 where Derek kicks Issac out of the apartment (without telling him that it's to protect him) and leaves Isaac with no place to go - and in this version, instead of going to Scott, he goes to the reader's place (and in this case, she is his ex-girlfriend); mentions of the reader's mother being killed by 'a monster' (Peter Hale in his Alpha form); mentions of the abuse Isaac experienced from his father (non-detailed); Isaac being emotionally constipated/being unwilling to accept help/love/affection as a trauma response because of the abuse he experienced; Isaac emotionally bashing himself due to his trauma; cheating - Isaac 'cheated' on the reader with Erica and there is a depiction of that (them kissing, and later in the fic it mentions and glosses over some of their sexual experiences together) (Erica x Isaac is very much a background element); light Erica bashing from the reader - but a lot of this is written from Isaac's perspective, who is favourable to Erica, so I think it balances out (and I didn't want the narrative to pit the girls against each other because I hate that); Isaac verbally insults the reader during an argument and shoves her (not hard enough to harm or injure her, just to get her out of his personal space); Isaac wears the reader's clothes - so this implies that she is a size where she can comfortably share her pajamas and loungewear with him (I didn't mention if those clothes would be too big on him, just that he does fit into them); some Derek bashing - just because of the optics of what happened to Isaac and the reader not knowing Derek or his motives; mentions of Erica's canon death; for the smut - this is not the first time Isaac and the reader have had sex with each other (this is reunion sex for them); Isaac is more dominant and the reader is more submissive; there is lots of verbal praise (from Isaac toward the reader); slight mentions of the reader feeling insecure about her weight (but this is chased away by Isaac's verbal praise and it's not a prominent theme); protected sex (for once in one of my fics) - they use a condom; penis in vagina sex; slightly dubious consent - the reader is reminded of Isaac's cheating during sex and moves to end it, and Isaac continues (but it's very messy and emotional and the physical pleasure makes the reader want to continue and drowns out any doubts) (it is a very 'humans are not perfect, we are messy creatures' situation); lots of dirty talk - Isaac doesn't miss the opportunity to wind reader up with his dirty mouth; the reader slaps Isaac while they are having sex - not as a kink, but because she is upset at him; the sex goes from very rough to sweet love making (once they 'make up' with each other); orgasm denial (once - toward the reader); Isaac uses his strength to pin the reader down and to hold her arms down (not really strength kink, and I don't know if I would consider it bondage? idk); I think that is all.

A/N: We all know I'm in love with Isaac. His wooby pull attracted me like earth's gravitational pull, and Derek kicking him out into the rain so suddenly is literally the perfect recipe for a fic - the sadness, the emotions, and Isaac wearing a soaking wet white shirt like a whore. How could I not write a fic about this moment? Also, you guys know that I have been vibing with Exes to Lovers a lot lately - I just fucking love the concept of 'right person, wrong time' - it eats so hard. So this fic was a no brainer to me. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. This fic is named after a song by Fun of the same name, and I actually found out that the song was written about the singer's experiences in foster care - having to constantly move from place to place and and feeling like he never had a true sense of 'home' because of it. And I love how well it suits Isaac's experiences - the fact that just when he started to establish a new sense of 'home' and family with Boyd and Erica, they were torn away from him. So I really wanted to use it for this fic.

...

It was a lonely night. 

But unfortunately, you had been experiencing a lot of those lately. 

Since the start of the school year, most of your ‘friends’ had been ghosting you. And that was putting it kindly. It seemed like everyone else was in some group, in on something else, always busy with something more important and not telling you why. 

You couldn’t think of anything you had said or done to offend them. And you knew that sometimes, people did just get busy, or drift apart. But you got the distinct vibe that they had been avoiding you intentionally for one reason or another - and you hated not knowing why. 

Sure, life had been weird for you since some giant prowling beast had murdered your mother, leaving your entire life in limbo. Since you had been locked in the school at night and discovered that one of your best friends from childhood, Scott, had the ability to turn into a fucking werewolf. But you were a bit more at ease when he used that ability to save your life from said giant prowling beast. 

You knew Scott would never hurt you. Which was why, only a few short weeks later, you used the much more human ability of an improvised hairspray flamethrower to save his life in return. 

But after you had witnessed that terrifying, burly beast lit on fire, forcing it to turn human - and then have its throat slashed by someone you later came to know as Derek Hale, Scott assured you that everything was ‘over’. Strangely enough, you trusted his words. And you actually expected your life to go back to some sense of normalcy after that night. 

Scott told you that he had mastered the ability to control himself on a full moon, and though there were others in town like him (no matter how much you nagged him, he wouldn’t tell you who), you didn’t have to worry about anyone else in your family being attacked. Not as long as he was around, he had assured you. 

Well, you didn’t have to worry about losing the little family that you had left.

With your mother gone and your father never in your life in the first place, you now lived with your sister in a small apartment downtown. She was attending the local college and working part time as a bartender and you were trying to finish up your education at Beacon Hills, despite the growing body count - which Scott still refused to tell you about. Claimed he didn’t know anything about, but you could sense the lies coming off him because you had known him for so long. 

You had a nagging feeling that him and Stiles knew far more about the recent wave of murders than they were letting on. And it had a whole lot to do with the reason why they were dodging all of your calls, texts, and any efforts that you made to hang out with them. Even Allison and Lydia weren’t returning your messages, and it was downright bothering you. 

So you were spending another Friday night at home by yourself while your sister went out on a date, as lonely as you had ever been and unable to do anything about it. But still, you were trying your hardest to make the best of it - getting ready to curl up on the couch to watch Netflix in your pajamas. All your homework was done purely out of boredom, and you had a pile of junk food ready to go, a few horror movies queued up when-

A knock on the door. Of course. 

It was either the creepy guy from down the hall who had ‘forgotten’ his key again, or your sister, who had forgotten one of several potential things. 

You put your bowl of chips aside, paused on the intro screen of the movie and heaved a sigh as you shrugged off your cozy throw blanket and shoved on your slippers to cross the cold floor toward the door. 

“Let me guess, you forgot your phone again?” You stated this loud enough for your sister to hear you through the door as you unhooked the safety chain and opened it, expecting her to come barreling in complaining about her poor memory. 

You found yourself entirely shaken with shock to discover that it wasn’t at all who you were expecting. 

“Isaac.” You breathed out the name in a gentle gasp, entirely in disbelief of him standing there. 

He was soaking wet from the rain, his white tee shirt sticking to his body in a way that shouldn’t have been as sinful and eye-catching as it was - his back slouched and his eyes low to the ground, indicating how truly shameful he was to be here at your doorstep, needing your help. He was shivering slightly all over, potent enough to be seen, clearly freezing from the cold water that had penetrated through his clothes and soaked him to the bone. 

He had walked through the pouring rain to get here - without a coat. 

And he was carrying a large duffle bag? 

Come to think of it, you had no clue where he had been staying since his father had died. But he had turned eighteen shortly before it happened (which was why they had been intent to charge him with murder when they thought he was responsible) - so he wouldn’t be a ward of the state just because he was an orphan. He had to be responsible for himself. Even if he wasn’t ready for that responsibility. 

He had been so damn intent on dodging your calls and ignoring you in person, so it’s not like he was letting you offer your help anyway. A large part of the reason that you were so surprised to see him here now. 

“What are you doing here?” You couldn’t help but to ask, hating the bitterness that popped up in your voice, entirely against your will. 

You weren’t even sure if you were happy to see him. Not with the way things ended between the two of you. With the fact that he hadn’t even made an effort to apologize. 

“Look, I’m sorry, but you were the only person I could think of-” His voice was curdled and pathetic, edging on tears and shaking from how cold he was. 

“Of course.” You scoffed, a nearly automated response filled with resentment tapering over from months ago. 

You hated that he came to you in a time of crisis, something so natural to him, just like he used to. But he couldn’t lean on you in comfort, he couldn’t take the good with the bad. Isaac could never tolerate goodness - that was something you had learned quickly with him. 

But you knew that had to come with the territory - loving someone so broken and slipping on their sharp edges. You were bound to cut yourself every now and again. Isaac left you with more cuts than you could count, and you kept on coming back for more - because you loved him more than his bitterness. You loved him more than his thorns, more than the fight he put up when you tried to love him. 

Isaac frowned and shook his head, turning to leave again, and your chest seized up with fear and pain. Instinctively, you reached out for him, just like you had so many times before, and you caught him by one of his wrists, digging your fingers in. His skin was freezing and it made you realize even more that he needed you. It was cold outside and he needed you for warmth, for shelter, and so much more that he couldn’t even begin to ask for. 

“Isaac-” You choked out. 

The touch caused him to look up into your eyes, and it was a deadly attack of icy blue through wet lashes - wet from the rain or from his tears, you couldn’t be sure. He looked every bit a kicked puppy, and you knew that you couldn’t turn him away. You couldn’t bring yourself to. 

“I’m sorry.” You pressed, trying to make sure that he truly heard it and knew that you meant it. “Please don’t go. You should come in - you need to get warmed up. Isaac, please don’t think that I don’t care about you anymore. Please don’t think that I would turn you away,” 

That was how things always went with him. You begging him to take the most basic of care and kindness, you begging him to open up and receive everything you had to offer him. You begging him to let himself be loved. 

‘A child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort.’ 

It was something you had read once and could never get it out of your head every single time Isaac did this - every single time he ran from you trying to be kind to him. His father had ruined him in so many deeper ways than the marks left on his skin. 

“You shouldn’t.” He said - responding to your words carefully, quietly. 

But ultimately, he flexed to your touch and stepped inside, letting you close the door behind him, now dripping onto the welcome mat. He placed his bag down by his feet as you puzzled at his words. The confused look on your face caused him to further explain. 

“You shouldn’t care about me anymore.” 

You let out a sigh, retreating to the couch to grab the blanket you had just been covered up in. With your back turned to him, you used this as a quiet moment to squeak out a vulnerability, simply because you didn’t have to see his face when you said it. 

“Look, Isaac, despite what happened - I still do.” 

You whispered, unsure if he would hear you. You had no idea that with his enhanced werewolf hearing, he heard every single word crystal clear, including the overly emotional crack in your voice. 

“No matter what happens… I don’t think that I’ll ever stop caring about you.” 

Isaac held his breath at this. 

Dammit. 

… 

You and Isaac had dated for two years before it all happened. 

Two years ignorant ‘bliss’ before a giant monster - well, two different giant monsters actually - came barreling through town and supremely fucked up both of your lives. The one that killed your mother and the one that killed his father. 

Before that, the two of you were happy together. Isaac’s life with his father was not exactly blissful. Far from it. But he escaped from the horrors of it when he was with you. He was planning a life after graduation when he could get away with you, be free of his father, and the two of you could live a happy, normal life together. 

You were the love of Isaac’s life. He never loved anyone else like he loved you. 

He would deny it - but there was no past tense on that. You are overwhelming still the love of Isaac’s life. The two of you had your first kiss together, you lost your virginities to each other, you were the first person that he ever said the big L to. You made him so impossibly happy. 

You were the only person in the world who had helped him start on the impossible journey of healing from even a small portion of what his father had put him through. In a lifetime when he had felt abandoned, unloved, useless, abused - you made him feel loved. You made him feel like he was worth something as long as he was loving you. 

When Derek Hale promised him a solution to all of his problems, Isaac didn’t believe it. Derek promised him freedom, power, family - things he never even dreamed of having. The only problem? In this new family, he couldn’t have you. Having all of this new power would put you at risk. There were new dangers - hunters, people who would try to hurt you. With this new power, Isaac might even hurt you himself, even if unintentionally. 

Isaac wasn’t entirely sure why he agreed to it. Maybe because Derek made it sound so appealing. Maybe because he thought it was inevitable, just a matter of time before you found out that he was a poison seed and you stopped loving him, and he thought that he needed a backup plan for when that happened. Isaac thought he needed to stand on his own two legs without you. He didn’t need something as fading and immeasurable as love - he needed power. And Derek could give that to him. 

So he accepted Derek’s Bite - and he transcended into something bigger, badder, and better. Something that would never be loved by you again. 

The only problem was: you didn’t know that yet. 

His father was dead, he had found a new pack - there was just one last severance from his old life that needed to be made. So he did it as cleanly as he could. 

He broke your heart because it was something that needed to be done. 

… 

‘Meet me in the boys locker room at 4:45.’ 

It was a note in Issac’s handwriting - it had been slipped into your locker, clearly meant for some late afternoon rendezvous. At the very least, you were filled with joy at the prospect of getting to talk to your boyfriend alone. 

He had been acting so strange lately. Which was more than understandable, considering that his father had been murdered and he had been arrested for it. You hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to him since you had exonerated him with your sworn testimony that he had been at your place on the night of the murder. (And of course, the cops hadn’t believed you until you had tracked down the take-out delivery guy who had also sworn that he had seen Isaac in your apartment when dropping off food that night.) 

You hadn’t gotten to spend any quality time with Isaac since then, so this felt like a breath of fresh air. You knew that lacrosse practice ended at 3:30, so the locker room would be empty - you wondered if Isaac just wanted to talk, wanted to walk you home, or something else entirely… 

Your stomach was bubbling with butterflies as you held the note in your hands and you rounded the corner into the locker room, excited to greet Isaac with a hug and feel his arms around you for the first time in far too long. 

You were surprised when you heard the sound of kissing. 

You wondered if you had walked in on someone else’s afternoon rendezvous by mistake - if the locker room was otherwise occupied and Isaac knew it too. Perhaps he had sent you a text to meet him somewhere else. Before you could pull out your phone to check, your eyes glanced up through the metal mesh and of the cubbies, and you caught a glimpse of absolutely unmistakable pale skin and dirty blond hair. 

A rough, muscled back with bright red scratch marks marring his skin. 

“Isaac?!” You gasped, utterly shocked. 

You charged further into the room, no longer caring if you were intruding on someone’s privacy - you needed to know. If this was just a terrible case of mistaken identity, then you would be embarrassed and profusely apologize. 

Your heart dropped, becoming a cold rock in your stomach when surely enough, it was your boyfriend standing there - shirtless, his pants undone, his face and chest smudged with red lipstick while Erica Reyes was pinned up against one of the lockers. She was smugly grinning at you, wearing nothing but jeans and a bra, her hair a complete mess. 

“Barge in, much?” Erica said, sounding more like a gloat than an accusation of your rudeness. 

You didn’t have the energy to pay her any mind. 

“Isaac, what the hell?” You screamed at him, sounding too pathetic to be angry, your voice already gripped by tears. 

“Can you give us a minute?” He said this to Erica, seeming far too casual. She simply shrugged, picking up her discarded shirt, jacket, and heels before she turned to leave. 

You clenched a shaking fist and simply gave her a glare. You knew that she had been on some kind of chaos streak lately, and Allison had mentioned that she had threatened to ‘steal’ Scott - something that more than left a sour taste in your mouth about a girl that you previously had a better opinion of. You didn’t think that she was cruel enough to actually go through with something like this. You used to think of her as a nice girl. 

But the bulk of your anger was most definitely directed at your piece of shit, cheating boyfriend. 

Isaac wiped the edge of his mouth with the back of his hand, not even getting off a small portion of the lipstick that was wildly smeared around his face. Then he moved to zip up his pants. You continued to gape at him in shock, a harsh, deep pain blooming in your chest as you waited for him to say something. 

“Isaac, tell me this is a joke-” You choked out, looking for some anchor to hold onto, some explanation. 

“A joke?” Isaac smiled, all teeth, the expression in his eyes downright dead. You found him impossible to read in those moments. “Y/N, the only joke here has been our relationship.” 

“You - you gave me a note.” You said, holding up the small slip of paper - the one that previously had you so giddy with joy at the prospect of spending time with him. “You told me to meet you here, I thought-” 

‘I thought you wanted to spend time with me. I thought you loved me.’ 

The words died off in your throat, clenching in on itself as the harsh waves of truth overtook you. 

If he wanted to break up with you, making out with Erica in front of you, putting on some show - it was one nasty way to do it. 

“Did I?” He asked, his tone sounding utterly sarcastic and mean, faking dumb in the absolutely worst way as he snatched the paper from you and pretended to look it over. “I guess I must have forgotten.” He shrugged. “When Erica came in here looking for me, I forgot all about you. Having her mouth all over me-” 

“Stop it.” You barked, cutting him off. 

Why was he being so cruel? Was he trying to make you angry on purpose? Why was he lying about forgetting that he had invited you here? 

Obviously he wanted you to see him kissing Erica - why was he lying about it now? 

“Why are you doing this?” You demanded, tears freely flowing down your face. 

Isaac’s eyes drifted to your cheeks, his wicked smirk flexing into a frown of his own - only for a second, a deep sadness penetrating through the mask he had carefully crafted. What the hell did he have to be upset about? He crossed his arms over his still shirtless chest, glaring at you. 

“Why is it so hard for you to understand?” He said, fighting to keep his voice firm. “I’m done with you. We’re over. Okay? I-” 

“If you wanted to break up with me, you could have just done it.” You told him, sadness gripping at your throat. “Why the hell are you being so mean? Do you want me to hate you or something?” 

‘Yes.’ A voice chanted in his mind. ‘Yes - fucking hate me. Stay the hell away from me. Keep yourself safe.’ 

He shrugged, his eyes avoiding you suddenly. 

When he went for too long without speaking, an obvious question popped up in your mind. 

“How - how long has this been going on for?” You asked. 

You wondered if that was why he had been acting so strange lately - dodging your calls, avoiding any attempt you made to see him. Had he been spending that time with Erica instead? 

“What? Me and Erica?” He posed, gesturing vaguely toward the door where she had disappeared. 

He grinned. You had unintentionally given him the perfect wedge - the final nail in the coffin of your relationship. Something that would make sure you steered clear of him for a long time, something that would make sure you made absolutely no attempt to be ‘amicable’ or be friends with him after this break-up. 

“A few weeks.” He shrugged. “Around the time I started getting bored with you.” 

You let out a sob. 

“You’re lying.” You wept. You wanted it to be a lie, but in those moments - you couldn’t have picked out the truth if someone smacked you with it. 

“Did you ever consider that I never loved you in the first place?” Isaac posed, sounding oddly menacing and steady in his declaration. “That you were just a placeholder for me until I found something better?” 

“No, that’s not true.” You cried, your voice becoming more wet with tears by the second. “Isaac, why are you lying? Is something wrong? Please-” 

“You’re what’s wrong!” He argued, raising his tone, hoping to piss you off, make you flee. “You’re just a… a dumb girl, okay? You’re not the only one who wants me, there are dozens more like you! I don’t need you now, and I never did.” 

You were used to pushing back with him. Pushing to get what you wanted. With the intense emotional chaos, you weren’t sure what else to do. 

“Please, just tell me-” 

You kept pushing, trying to get close to him - the moment your soothing hands crept into his space, he panicked and shoved you back, nearly knocking you clean off your feet with a strength he hadn’t yet learned how to control. The rush of terror and shock on your face was all he needed to remember why he was doing this - why it was important. 

“We’re done here.” He told you, entirely cold. “I never loved you, I just used you, and-” He hesitated before he said the next part, hating that it had to be done. “I hope you find someone who deserves an ugly whore like you.” 

It didn’t feel like the truth - but it still cut you like a knife. 

It made you more determined to figure out why he was lying. But in those moments, you had absolutely no fight left in you. You couldn’t stand there and pry, and pry, and pry in order to figure it out. So, against your better judgment, with nothing else left to do - he got his wish. 

You fled, tears ripe in your eyes. 

And from there on out, any attempts you made to talk to Scott, Stiles, or Lydia about the incident were successfully dodged, and when Allison’s mother died, you didn’t feel right putting the weight of your shitty break-up on top of her problems. So eventually - you just gave up on finding out about the truth. And you settled on trying to become friends with Issac - which he also dodged. 

And ultimately - you found yourself so achingly alone. 

… 

Eventually, you had let it go. 

You chalked everything - all of Isaac’s weird behavior, his avoidance of you - up to the fact that he had been cheating on you. You hated that your first love had done something like that to you. It was only made worse by the fact that you didn’t have any of your friends to lean on after you found out about it, but you moved on. You ended up throwing yourself into your school work to try and distract yourself from all the intense emotions, so now your grades were soaring and you were an A student, so at least one good thing came out of the mess. 

You tried not to focus on the bad memories now that Isaac was in front of you, clearly wounded and fleeing from something. Even if it was just as a friend, he needed your help now. You were still a human being, and you couldn’t deny him of that. He didn’t have any other family - he didn’t have anywhere else to go. So you grabbed the blanket - a large, fuzzy one that you had been using, and brought it across the room toward him. 

Then, as you took in the sight of his soaking wet clothes once again, his slightly purpling lips and the way he was shivering from the cold, you realized something. 

“Take your clothes off.” You told him. 

“What?” He gaped at you, clearly shocked by this demand. 

“Come on, clothes off.” You repeated your words. “You’re never gonna get warm if you’re wearing soaking wet, freezing clothes.” He hesitated still, and you added on. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.” 

It was true. Not only did the two of you lose your virginities to each other, but the two of you had a very active sex life during your two year long relationship. (It was one of the reasons why his cheating shocked you most. You thought that you had been more than enough for him.) You had to remind yourself not to think about that. You wouldn’t let yourself get angry at him. Not now. You had to be mature. 

Isaac nodded, and then kicked off his shoes, which were wet enough for the soles to loudly squish. You weren’t sure if you should advert your eyes as he peeled off his white shirt, the wet fabric sticking to his skin in a way that seemed far too sexual for the moment. It felt too intimate, letting yourself stare at his soft glistening skin, but you almost couldn’t look away. 

Sure, you had seen Isaac naked plenty of times before - but this Isaac felt entirely different than the one you were used to. He used to be more scrawny. He used to be much more on the leaner side, and now he was muscled, thick, glorious. You had no clue that taking up some god-like workout plan had been one of the things he’d done during the time since his father’s death, but fuck - he looked gorgeous. 

You scorned yourself for staring while he worked open his pants, his fingers still shaking from the cold, driving home his vulnerability all the more, driving a tinge of shame into you. And oh god, the fabric of his gray boxers were wet, sticking to the distinct outline of his thick soft cock- 

By the time he got his pants off and around his ankles, you didn’t wait to see if he would shed the underwear before you moved towards him, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders, partially for modesty and partially to start warming him up. 

“Better?” You asked, rubbing his shoulders through the fabric instinctively, hoping to get some blood circulating through his extremities. 

“Yeah, better.” He easily agreed, his voice coming out less shaky, his lips shivering less now. “Thank you, Y/N. Genuinely. You didn’t have to do any of this for me. I know you don’t owe me anything after-” 

He abruptly cut himself off, unable to make himself say the words, and you hated the clench in your chest as you thought about it. He was right, you didn’t owe him anything. Anybody else would have slammed the door in his face. Anybody else would have laughed at his misfortune. So why the hell were you doing this? 

You still loved him. 

That became all the more apparent to you as you stood there, close to him, holding the broadness of his shoulders under your hands, remembering what it was like to hug him, to be held by him, to kiss him every single day. Staring at his angelic face, having those sweet blue eyes gaze back at you, something in them still so sweet and affectionate towards you. 

He still looked at you the way he used to. Maybe you were delusional. But you thought it was still there. The love he claimed he never had for you, still lingering there. 

It grappled at something deep in your chest and pulled, tempting you to lean in and sink home, pressing yourself against his lips. 

But no - you couldn’t. 

You had to shake yourself back to reality. You had to remind yourself what he had done. He had hurt you, badly. You couldn’t let yourself be pulled in again by a stupid pretty face. 

“I should put your clothes in the dryer.” You said suddenly, breaking a tense silence that had otherwise only been filled by the sound of rain pouring down outside. 

That’s what you needed to do - go to the laundry room downstairs, get far away from him. You needed more than a few minutes to distance yourself and clear your head. 

You rushed to get away from him, leaning down and picking up his soaking wet clothes, the fabric chilly against your hands. 

“Don’t.” Isaac croaked out, barely above a whisper, surprising you entirely. 

You both knew that he wasn’t protesting having dry clothes - he was stopping you from leaving. He was trying to chase the tension that you were desperate to get away from. 

You felt betrayed. 

In your mind, you were the only one truly at risk of getting hurt by this. You had no idea how deeply he had missed you over the months, how many times he had resisted the urge to rush back into your arms. How many nights he spent plagued by nightmares with horrid visions of your dead body - how real it all was to him. 

“Isaac-” You tried to form a protest, but then you saw a flourish of movement out of the corner of your eye, and a flash of pale skin. 

It was enough to shock you and catch your attention, and your head whipped around to see that Isaac had dropped the blanket entirely, letting it pool around his ankles. Clearly, he knew that you had been admiring his body before and he was trying to use that to his advantage now. He knew that he was a smooth, beautiful, muscled, Adonis-like figure and he was trying to lure you in with that visual appeal. 

You were determined not to let it work. 

“Isaac, you must be freezing, you-” 

You were going to continue on - going to tell him about how he needed dry clothes and how you should attend to getting that done, and how he should put the blanket on and cover up while you were gone. But he cut off your words when he crossed the room toward you, gently cupping both sides of your face with his freezing hands. 

It was an icy shock that caused you to drop his wet clothes onto the floor once again. You reached up in an attempt to tear his touch away, but instinct took over - the second your hands were on top of his, your body flexed with gentleness. You found yourself leaning in, covering his hands with your own, unconsciously trying to warm him yet again. 

Caring for him was a muscle that had been well formed in your body, exercised often. It was difficult to ignore now. 

“Then warm me up.” He choked out, tears dancing in his eyes as he stared at you so steadily, unwavering. “Warm me up, please.” 

He begged you, clearly seeking more than a blanket, more than dry clothes, more than a warm bed. He was seeking the warmth that you had thrust onto him so many times that he had fought off before - your kindness. Your love. The thing rattling around inside of you that you shouldn’t even feel for him anymore. 

“Please,” He choked out. “I haven’t felt warm in so long.” 

The desperation curling in his voice was truly what got you - the gloss of sadness in his eyes, the way he looked so kicked and alone. It was something you had seen from him dozens of times before, when he had knocked on your bedroom window at three in the morning after having a bad night with his father - bruised, broken, looking for comfort that you would have to fight with him to accept. 

Everything else flew out of your mind then. It was an instinct - to hold him. It was an instinct to grab him up in your arms and make a home for him there. Your heart so easily forgot about all the pain he had made for you, because you were so used to pushing pain aside for him in the name of comfort. 

“Isaac,” You said his name gently again, this time reaching up and letting yourself give into the pull - your mouth drifting toward his and finally sealing into that deadly kiss. 

You couldn’t contain the moan that spilled out of you the second that you felt the smoothness of his lips against yours for the first time in so long. You hated how he still felt so good - how he still felt like home. 

His arms rushed to wrap around your torso in the most utterly possessive way - not just a hug, not just seeking comfort, affection, or warmth - but holding you in a way that said he had truly missed you. Holding you as tightly as he could, pressing your whole body against his, encasing himself around you as though trying to protect you from the world with his flesh alone. Your hands went to his hair, rabid and frantic as you tightly gripped onto the curly locks - holding him in place as you melted your mouth against his, your kisses quickly turning from smooth and sweet to downright frantic. 

You never thought that you would have this back again, that you would have him back, and you couldn’t help but to enjoy it now. The press of his body against yours, so thick and muscled now, quickly warming up, so different but still so Isaac. The gentle whimpers he released into your mouth, something so familiar - his sweetness coming through, as much as you tried to deny it. Within moments, it unlocked an intense need within you. It made you realize how terribly long it had been since the last time you had cum. 

If he was determined for you to make him warm, then you would get something out of it too. If you were going to make a stupid mistake, then you were going to make it right. (Or make it terribly wrong - you weren’t sure which it was yet.) 

You pulled away from his lips and he let out a disappointed whine, and while you panted, out of breath against his chin, you began pushing him, shuffling back toward your bedroom, hoping he would get the hint and understand. Which he didn’t, his whole body numb and dumb with lust, still tightly holding onto you, almost fighting against your movements. 

“Bed.” You huffed at him. “Bed, Isaac, go-” 

He let out a grunt of understanding, but then he moved a hand to the back of your head, pulling you into another kiss. You dug your nails into his shoulders, about to push him away, but you unconsciously melted into the movement, letting out another moan. Between the two of you, the path to your bedroom was stumbling and messy, and took far longer than it needed to be - heated mouths tonguing against each other, neither of you actually looking as you got lost in the kisses, frantically pawing at each other. 

When his hand found the hem of your cotton sleep shirt, part of you blinked in protest, slightly hesitant. But still, you found yourself pulling away from his lips for a single moment and then the item was gone, shed and ditched on the floor. This revealed you completely to him, braless. 

Of course, he had seen you naked before too. Plenty of times. But still, you felt a stitch of regret that you hadn’t used the time since the break-up to get some kind of ‘revenge body’. You hadn’t been religiously hitting the gym as apparently he had been. Instead, you had been obsessively hitting the books and spending nights alone with junk food, and-

“God, you are so much more beautiful than I remembered.” He breathed out, the words so utterly passionate and sacred on his lips. 

Your stomach clenched at this. You felt yourself being involuntarily swallowed up by your affection for him again. Drowning in a love for him that you had long since locked away deep somewhere, trying to smother it out until it died. Apparently you had been unsuccessful in that. 

Isaac only made it worse when he dove in for another kiss, smothering your lips with heat again as he ran his hands, now much warmer, over your body - up your stomach, gently tracing the stretch marks there as though he appreciated each one. His hands coming to cup your breasts and oh-so-lightly flicking at your nipples, teasing them as he tongued along your teeth. 

You could barely handle it - the gentle treatment, the way it made your pussy flutter and leak wetness into your panties. You knew all too soon, you would be entirely weak to him. If you weren’t careful, you would let him do anything he wanted to you. 

You continued to back him up, your hand going to the doorknob of your bedroom and finally, successfully pushing him inside. You pushed him back until his knees met the bed and then you brought two hands to his chest, shoving him out of the kiss and tossing him back onto the bed - this caused him to make a startled noise as he fell back onto your neatly made covers and collection of fluffy pillows. 

And then, he looked up at you with an utterly cocky smirk - strangely, one that only made you want to fuck him even more. 

“Come on, c’mere-” He encouraged you, full of breath, holding out his hands to you. 

You felt a rush of lust-fueled bravery and you tucked your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts and underwear all at once, shoving them down over your hips, pushing out any last bits of insecurity that you felt. 

You waited for Isaac to follow your lead and strip out of his last remaining bit of clothing. Instead, he sat there, sprawled out on the bed, leaning on his elbows, looking at you in the low lighting (the streetlamps coming in through the window with the sound of rain still pouring, pounding against the glass) - his jaw dropped and his eyes wide, looking at you with a unique kind of awe that you hadn’t seen on his face before. Not even the first time he had seen you naked and he had given you that ‘teenage boy seeing tits for the first time’ look. 

It was like he was well and truly seeing you for the first time - like the distance had made him appreciate you so much more. It made you feel so much more naked, and gave you the urge to cover yourself. 

Just as you were about to, he spoke again. 

“You are so utterly gorgeous.” He told you, his voice full of that epic passion that made your insides quake. “So fucking perfect. Fuck.” 

“Isaac-” You squeaked out his name, entirely unsure of what else to say. 

He pushed himself up, grabbing you around the waist and pulling you forward until you stumbled and tripped, landing on the bed between his thighs. You let out a breathy gasp as he began kissing down your neck - smoothly, softly, seemingly intent to appreciate you now that he had you here. It brought more of those dangerously warm feelings washing up - it made you feel soft and sappy inside, made you miss the days when you called Isaac your boyfriend. Days when the two of you used to lay on the couch together and cuddle, when you held hands in the hallways, when you would tell each other everything. 

It was a dangerous feeling to have now. 

One of his hands pulled on your thigh and you understood his unconscious wish - moving your legs to straddle around his waist as he began sucking a spot on the base of your neck, a tender bit of skin he knew was a weakness he could exploit. This sent warm waves of pleasure through you while he squeezed both hands across your ass, bringing you to sit down fully on his still clothed crotch. It sent a shockwave through you - feeling his hard, clothed cock pressing right up against your hot, naked pussy - it made you intensely needy, caused you to unconsciously grind down on him and let out a high, needy moan. 

“Isaac, please,” 

You knew that you were hovering in a dangerous place. All of this was settling you back into familiarity - if you weren’t careful, you would set yourself up for hurt all over again. You were letting him pry you open, inviting him to tear through your heart all over again, and then - what would be left for you? 

No - you needed mindless sex. You needed to fuck him, for closure. And then you needed to put him out of your life completely. 

You leaned over to the nightstand, unlatching him from your neck in the process. You tried your hardest to ignore the sweet kisses he peppered along your shoulder as you dug through the drawer for a condom, checking to make sure it wasn’t expired (because woefully, he had been the last person you had used this pack with) before you came back with it in hand. 

When Isaac saw you bring it to your teeth with the clear intentions of ripping it open, it began to protest. 

“Woah, Y/N, wait-” He rushed out the words, and you glared at him. 

“‘Wait’, what? I thought this is what you wanted.” 

The words came off your tongue much crueler than you intended - a result of you being harshly at odds with yourself. You were trying desperately not to stumble back into being that foolish girl who loved him too much. Trying to get over your feelings for him, to prove to yourself that you could be as emotionally detached as he was on that day. 

He swallowed thickly, looking at you with those godforsaken puppy eyes. Those eyes that had drawn you in so many times before. 

“I just-” 

‘I wanted to kiss over every inch of your body. I wanted it to be slow. I wanted to make love to you. I wanted to prove to you how much I missed you, how huge of a mistake I made.’ 

“Nothing.” Isaac choked out - and then, surprisingly, he snatched the condom from you. 

In one smooth move, he captured your mouth with his again, wrapping his arms around your back and flipping you so that you were underneath him. It was a strong, powerful move that had you whimpering into his mouth, feeling utterly pathetic in his shadow as your cunt leaked more needy wetness against his boxers. You hated that you unconsciously leaned into his touches, desperate for more. 

When he pulled away from the kiss, you looked on breathlessly as he shoved down his underwear and kicked them off, causing his impressive cock to spring free and smack against his stomach. Something you stared at like a beacon, your pussy clenching hungrily around nothing while he tore open the condom and rolled it on. 

He then took the base of his cock in hand, putting the other hand on the bed beside you to prop himself up while he teased the tip of his cock along your folds, parting your pussy as he teased inside - lightly bumping your clit in a way that drove you insane. 

“Ready?” He asked, his voice breathy and full of need, something you had so dearly missed hearing from him. 

“Hurry up,” You egged him on, partly due to impatience from the teasing, wound up by the nagging feeling of the thick cockhead prodding against your throbbing cunt - and partly because you were eager to get this over with. You were eager to prove to yourself that you could do this and feel nothing inside. That ultimately, you were over him. 

He grinned, all teeth, almost evil, and he let out a sharp breath. Then, finally, pushed forward, shoving his cock inside of you all at once - one smooth push that had his hips shoving right up against yours, his coarse pubic hairs brushing against the sensitive, swollen lips of your pussy. 

You let out a throaty moan as you felt the full stretch of his cock so abruptly - a slight sting as your inner muscles struggled to become accustomed to him after going for so long without. Sure, you had masturbated, struggling to get past the sexual frustration while being single. And you really hadn’t wanted to resort to calling on any of your random male classmates for a ‘no strings attached’ fuck because you didn’t want to deal with the social interaction or the potential rumors. 

And really, your fingers were nothing compared to the stretch of Isaac’s magnificent, thick cock. 

Isaac saw the shock on your face as you felt just how big he was, as your body ached to remember it and you felt so fucking full again. He felt a wave of cocky pride flow through him as you clenched down on him, truly feeling every single inch. 

“You asked for it,” He told you firmly, the confidence in his voice sending waves of pleasure through you - he had never been so outright cocky before. And you were turned on even more, even wetter when he added on a quiet, sharp whisper of: “Fuck, I missed this.” 

But it was a bitter, double edged sword. As much as it turned you on to hear that hushed whisper coming off his lips, it only reminded you that the two of you had been parted. That he had done something cruel to you in order for that parting to happen - that his stupid decisions were the reason that you had been forced to miss him. 

“Don’t.” You said sharply, raising your hands to his shoulders and digging your nails in as a type of warning, hoping that he would simply shut up and fuck you - mindless and hard, just like you needed. That he would make you cum, and then he could sleep on the couch for the night before finding other arrangements. 

He gave you a smirk - one that said he had found the perfect button to push, and rather than turning away from it, he was going to slam on it until he broke you. 

“What?” He said, all breath, all need - that tone that made your pussy absolutely flutter. “You don’t want me talking about how much I missed this pussy?” 

“Isaac-” You said his name in a warning tone, digging your nails into him again, but your words were cut off by him pressing his pelvis into you, angling sharply against you in a way that put pressure against your clit. Like he knew exactly what he was doing, like he had picked up the skill with someone else-

Erica. Of course. It only served to piss you off more, and you moved to shove him off you. 

But he began moving his hips, then - his knees poised against the mattress, using it for leverage as he began fucking you. It was a sensation you hadn’t realized you had missed so much - the smooth, wet slide of his cock in and out of you, the slight burn from him fucking you so harshly, unstretched - the pure need pulsing through you, the feeling of being so full. 

Your little gasp was quickly drowned out when he began talking again. 

“I’m not allowed to tell you how much I missed this feeling, huh?” 

Isaac grunted, his voice only wavering slightly from the effort as he sped up, slamming his hips into you harder, rougher - quickly filling the room with the sound of skin slapping against skin, easily making your pussy lips glow with a beautiful kind of pain that only made it feel so much better. 

“You don’t wanna hear about how much I missed this tight little cunt squeezing my cock?” 

He had never been like this with you before. 

Every single time the two of you had been in bed together, it had always been slow, sweet. The Isaac you knew before always made love to you. He was always so shy and loving. This was a side of him that you had never seen before, and if your mind wasn’t slowly melting between your ears from the pure pleasure, then you would have had the room to be shy about how much wetter you were getting around his cock, how much sloppier the sounds were becoming as he drilled into you even harder.  

“Sh-” You squeaked out, the potential words that you had wanted to be ‘shut up’ easily drowned out by a pathetic moan. He chased more noises out of you when he reached down and thumbed across your clit - just a light tease, but enough to send shocks curling across your spine, enough to have you curling against the bed and squeezing his cock in that way he loved so much. 

“What was that?” He mocked you, the tone of his voice a cocky imitation of the sweet way he used to talk to you, condescending in a way you should have hated. 

It was definitely not something that should have made your head float and not something that should have brought even more heat to your face. Clearly, he sensed it from a mile away, saw it written all over your face - saw another button to push, and kept on going. 

This was a game to him now. And regrettably, he was winning. 

“Aww, baby, you wanna hear more? You wanna hear more about how much I missed your sweet little pussy?” 

You choked on your own breath trying to protest against him, hating how perfectly his words got to you. And now, even your hands were numb and limp and you couldn’t claw at him as your own kind of petty revenge. You could barely even hang on as he continued pounding into you roughly, shoving you across the bed, making the headboard shake. 

All you could do was choke on your own spit and take the blurring pleasure of his thick cock slamming into you while he leaned down to purr his next filthy words into your ear. 

“You know, nothing can compare to the feeling of this sweet pussy gripping my cock,” He said, putting cruel emphasis on these words, causing your heart to bitterly ache in your chest. 

Was he mocking you on purpose? Was this his way of asking for forgiveness, saying that he regretted what he had done? 

It was something you couldn’t discern now - not with your brain so thoroughly melted by his cock. 

You let out a whimper in return, the sadness mixing strangely with the pleasure he was fucking into your throbbing pussy. 

“Nothing is better than the feeling of your soft, gorgeous body underneath me.” He added on, running his hands up your hips and to your breasts for emphasis. “Nothing is better than cumming while your pretty eyes look up at me, Y/N, you-” 

Something inside of you snapped. 

Perhaps it was because he was saying all of the right things, drifting back into that sweet man that you had fallen in love with. Inadvertently triggering all of that affection inside of you again, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

You reached up and slapped him broadly across the face. 

It was a very weak hit from your pleasure-numb hand, barely enough to make him flinch, but it was certainly enough to get his attention. 

In response, in a fraction of a moment, he paused his rough movements, completely still his hips from fucking you, and grabbed both of your wrists, pinning you down to the bed with the impressive strength of his newly worked muscles. He shoved his cock deep inside of you, settling it there, pressing his hips tightly against yours in an almost spiteful way. 

This created the battling sensations of your orgasm curling up in your stomach, already so close, and the fiery anger you had for him, along with the love for him that you didn’t want to release caged up inside of you. It was almost too much, too overwhelming while you stared into his eyes, trying desperately to read the stiff expression he wore. 

“Why are you doing this?” You demanded sharply. 

You desperately wanted to know what he wanted out of this. He had begged you for warmth, for the touch of another body against his - but clearly, this was about so much more. 

Did he want forgiveness? Did he genuinely want to work on the relationship because he had missed you? Did he see what he had done as a mistake? 

Did he want to simply rub all of it in your face? Did he want the bragging rights of having cheated on you and the ability to come back and fuck you whenever he wanted just to lord it all over you? To know that he could screw you over and still screw you? 

He leaned in closer to your face, and you were praying that he would give you a definitive answer. 

“You let me in.” He told you gruffly, his eyes dark. 

You both knew that this had a dangerous double meaning. You had dared to let him in the front door when he knocked. You had let him into your life when he had told you over and over again that he was simply ‘poison’, that it would end in pain for the both of you. Had he been right about that, after all? You knew that he had more trauma than you could reasonably comprehend, but you didn’t know that heinous self sabotage was his number one reason for ruined relationships. 

When would fighting for him no longer be viable? 

Before you could puzzle it all out, he began fucking into you harshly once again. 

“Fuck you,” You squeaked out, breathless - it wasn’t clever, but it was all you could come up with. 

Your mind was useless while his cock was turning your brain to mince meat once again, making your pussy delightfully sore and unfortunately, quickly bringing your orgasm to life in your belly with rapidly hotter waves of pleasure that he was forcing through your body. 

“You - you can’t tell me that you didn’t miss t-this,” He grunted out. 

He pressed his hips tightly to yours and grinded in deep, angling his hips in that skilled way once again that put pressure on your clit. He knew how to perfectly trap that swollen bead between your two bodies, slowly torturing you with rapid little shocks while he drove home just how full he made you feel with each stroke of his hips. 

At this point, even though you were dizzy and desperate to cum, you were also sick of his self righteous attitude - still looking to deny him. 

“I - I didn’t,” You choked out in reply, your body more than betraying your lie. 

Your muscles seized toward him and you struggled against the hold he still had on your wrists, unconsciously fucking your hips against him. You needed more friction on your clit, needing just a bit more before you could cum. 

Isaac stopped. 

He completely stilled himself, making your orgasm cold and stale, ebbing off inside of you. Tears leaked thick and bold from your eyes - partially from the denial, and partially from all of the cruel emotions battling inside of you. 

You had missed Isaac. You hated lying - but you hated what he had done to you so much more. 

You let out a choked off wail, continuing to struggle underneath his impossible strength. 

“You’re lying.” He growled in your ear, a sharp sound that sent shivers down your spine. 

It was a truth that pierced through you, utterly revealing. Perhaps you were raw from the state of being, from being open on his cock and so desperate to cum, but you knew that he could absolutely see your truth. 

You had no clue that he could literally smell it on you - your defiance, your lies, your arousal. The love you were holding back that he was absolutely rabid and starving for. 

It was a hunger that he had felt for months - one he had tried to fill by having mindless sex with Erica, by blindly running forward on the search for her and Boyd, by running headfirst into stupid fights with the opposing pack that had nearly gotten him killed. He had tried so damn hard to dull that impossible hunger with the pain of claws and hits smashing against his skin. 

But it was something that could only be satisfied by you. 

So he had come crawling back to you, lapping at your door like a kicked puppy - a powerful wolf like himself begging you, a human, for something only you could give him. That love that would fill all the holes inside of him that he claimed were never there in the first place - all those empty spaces he so desperately tried to ignore. 

“Isaac-” You breathed out again, further reminding him of just how hollow he felt when the sound of his name coming off your lips echoed off all that empty space inside of him. 

“Tell me you didn’t miss me.” He choked out in return, tears of his own blooming in his eyes. “Tell me you didn’t miss me and I’ll stop.” 

“Isaac,” You let out his name as sob, your pussy clenching tightly around him. Both of you knew that you couldn’t - you could muster this up now. 

Maybe it was a trap he had perfectly set - maybe it was something Derek had accidentally taught him. Trap the vulnerable, make them depend on you, and they can never leave you. Build a home out of glass walls and you’ll be happy for a while. 

“Tell me.” Isaac wept. “Or I’ll leave and I’ll never come back.” 

He said, his voice shaking - it wasn’t a threat. To him it was a golden promise. He was a starving dog, and if you did this now, if you truly showed him that you had nothing left to give, then he would disappear off into the woods - he would starve to death or he would learn to get his food somewhere else from now on. 

“Tell me honestly that you didn’t miss me and you’ll never see me again, Y/N, I swear.” 

It was a sacred promise on his breath, barely a whisper on his lips as he tightly gripped your wrists once again, sending slight pain shooting through you, assuring you of his desperation. 

In those moments, all you could summon was the truth. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to care about his motives - the sheer pain in his warbling voice only did what it had always done to you before. It made you want to care for him more. It made you honest in that caring as you always had been. 

“I missed you.” You choked out, and took a deep shuddering breath, finding the courage to say it louder, more firmly. “I missed you, Isaac. Okay? I missed you! I missed you, I-” 

Your repetition of the declaration was cut off - he couldn’t help it. 

He sealed his mouth to yours in a messy, passionate kiss, his tearful cheeks clashing against your own as his hands slid up to link with yours, his fingers tangling with yours in an utterly needy way. You couldn’t help but to grip him tightly back, your fingers almost painful from how hard you did this. 

Your chest exploded with everything you had been denying - the love and affection and longing you had locked away for months, those feelings that you had damned and cursed over and over again. 

Instinctively, he began moving his hips again, fucking into you deeply. This felt more like making love - it was slower and so fucking deep, as though he was trying desperately to get as close to you as possible, trying to climb inside and find the essence of your very soul. 

You thrashed against him in response, so overwhelmed. You wailed and wept into his mouth, entirely overcome with your horrible clash of emotions. 

It was a perfect storm for one of the best orgasms of your life. 

His pelvis grinding against your clit, the relief of finally having him back, finally having told him how much you missed him, feeling his tears against your cheek and knowing that he had missed you too - finally having everything you had secretly been dreaming about, yearning for. 

Your body couldn’t help but to sing with joy over these realizations, fucking yourself against him and bowing into an utterly epic release as all your emotions crashed over you. It forced you away from the kiss to cry out brokenly against his mouth while you squeezed his fingers numbly as the sensations rocked your body. 

“Isaac, Isaac-” You chanted his name, entirely overwhelmed. 

“I know, I know,” He gurgled back, continuing to fuck you, chasing his own release now. “Fuck, Y/N. I know. Fuck, I missed you-” 

His voice broke down into a whimper as he finally came, pumping his hips a few more times before he finally planted himself against you and emptied his cum into the condom. (In the back of his mind, having a passing thought about how he hated it being there, how he wished he could feel you raw). 

That was when you saw it - a flash of bright yellow, a literal glow in the dimly lit room that was absolutely unmistakable. The only other time you had seen anything like it was when Scott had transformed in front of you to save your life. In a single moment, everything came to you in a crashing realization while your orgasm was still echoing through your body-

The newfound seemingly epic strength, the muscles, the way he had been acting so strange after his father’s death, his eagerness to get distance from you. He had been bitten and transformed into a fucking werewolf. He had been one this whole time. Wait, how long-? 

He captured your lips once again while he continued to enjoy the feeling of your hands tangling with his own, the feeling of you warm and wet, nestled around his cock - the feeling of finally being home. After a too-short moment, you pulled away from the kiss to catch your breath, puffing wildly against his chin while your nose brushed his flushed cheek. 

The realization was still crashing over you. 

How long had he been lying to you? Did he lie to you to protect you? Did he think that you knew nothing? Did he think that you were in danger because your mother had been killed? Were you in danger? 

You wanted so badly to bring it up, to ask him more questions, but instead, you basked in the silence - the sound of his slowing breaths, the last bit of enjoyment you could get from the fullness as his cock softened inside of you. Which reminded you-

“Isaac, you - you have to throw away the condom.” You whispered, terrified to break up the moment. 

“Oh. Yeah.” He said, clearly bitter at the idea of being distanced from you, but knowing that it was just the reality of things - that the two of you would have to part eventually. 

He finally released your hands, which were now slightly numb and painful from being in the same position for so long, and from being gripped so harshly by him, tingling with blood in that ugly sharp way. You couldn’t bring yourself to truly mind it. 

When he pulled his cock out of you, you whined from the soreness and your own hesitation at parting, and he kissed a silent apology into the top of your breast as he took off the condom and tossed into a wastebasket that was at your bedside - your room well memorized by him and still so unchanged since he had last been in here. 

In fact, he had helped you move in and had done a lot of unpacking with you when you had made the transition after your mother’s death. He felt so comfortable in this room. More than he ever had at ‘home’ with his father. 

You scooted off the bed, your body already protesting with soreness, and you moved to the doorway, intending to go to the bathroom. You needed a moment to yourself to comprehend everything and also, you needed to clean up. 

You paused in the doorway, feeling Isaac’s eyes heavy on your back. You picked up one of your shirts that had landed on the floor beside the laundry hamper - one you had been wearing just the night before. It was a black shirt with the Jigsaw spiral on it. In a sense, it reminded you of him - willing to take a lot of pain and suffer in silence, sacrifice a lot for the ones he loved. 

You picked up the shirt and tossed it at him, causing it to land awkwardly on his head. 

“Get dressed.” You told him quietly. “I don’t think my sister will be a huge fan of some naked guy sleeping in my bed when she comes home.” 

It was your not-so-subtle way of telling him that he would be spending the night, and definitively staying in your bed. 

“What am I now - your whore?” He joked, letting out a small nervous laugh as he peeled the fabric off his face. 

This was his not-so-subtle way of asking what the relationship meant to you now - posed as a joke. Did he get the precious title of being your boyfriend again? Even after all he had done? 

You shrugged. 

“I’ll be back in a minute.” You told him - another insinuation. You would be back to have that grand talk. “You should get some pants. They’re in-” 

“-in the bottom drawer.” Isaac finished off the sentence easily. “I remember.” 

Of course. 

You left the room then, and Isaac watched your back until you were gone from view. He picked up the shirt you had given him and lifted it to his nose, taking in a greedy whiff of your scent - and his heart ached as he thought about all he had put you through. But he also felt like telling you the truth wouldn’t have been much better. 

…

“You’re sure that you wanna do this?” Erica posed, stepping into the locker room with Isaac. 

She was going along with his plan simply because she wanted the petty thrill of stealing someone else’s boyfriend - even if it wasn’t entirely real. 

“Yes, I’m sure.” Isaac told her, checking the clock again, counting down the moments until his relationship with you would be over. “I need her to hate me.” 

Erica hummed in affirmation and nodded, and then kicked off her shoes and stripped off her jacket. When she went for the zipper on the front of her top, Isaac flinched and put up his hands in protest. He didn’t want to actually cheat on you - he thought he had made that part very clear when posing the plan to Erica. He didn’t want to actually have sex with her (no matter how much she suggested it). 

“Woah - what’re you doing?” He gaped, and she rolled her eyes at him. 

“Making it look real, dumbass.” She told him, unzipping her top and tossing it aside without care. “You don’t have to fuck me, but make it look like you were going to, at least. Make it believable.” 

His insides churned with guilt… but - she had a point. 

“You said you want her to hate you. So make her hate you.” Erica added on with a smirk. She was enjoying this far too much. 

“Fine, fine, yeah.” Isaac agreed, and then he thought of something. “Do you have the uh-?” He motioned to her mouth, to the bright red lipstick that she was wearing. “The one that you have on?” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

She reached to the back pocket of her jeans, took out the lipstick tube and handed it to Isaac. He uncapped it and - much to her horror - stuck his fingers all over it to begin smearing it across his cheeks and then his chest. Staging the scene to make it look like she had been kissing him. 

“Gross!” She complained, snatching it back from him. “You - ugh!” 

She inspected the top of the lipstick for a moment before deciding that Isaac had ruined it entirely - so she sighed and tossed it into a nearby trash can. 

She wanted to complain further about it, but instead - she got petty. 

“Okay, you want real?” 

Before he could predict what she meant by this, she reared her claws and dug large scratch marks into his back, wicked stinging and painful - marks that wouldn’t heal for at least a few hours due to his Beta status. 

“Dammit!” He cried out in protest. 

He turned and looked in the mirror then - out of context, the marks would look oddly sexual. 

She grinned at him. “You’re welcome.” 

“You are such a bitch.” He sighed in defeat. 

“Takes one to know one, sweetie.” 

Before he could come up with a clever reply, they both heard you coming down the mostly secluded hallway, able to notice you from far off due to their enhanced hearing. 

You were humming brightly to yourself. You were so happy. 

Isaac churned with regret already, but he knew he couldn’t turn back now. 

“Showtime.” Erica grinned, and pinned him up against one of the lockers, kissing him fiercely. 

… 

That had easily been one of the worst days of his life. But he had felt entirely validated when he had witnessed Gerard attempt to use the Kanima to kill Allison - the impossible power of the large reptile tightening its tail around her throat, her own grandfather ruthless enough to want her dead without caring. Something that might have actually come to terrible fruition if Scott hadn’t thought steps ahead to outsmart him. 

You were someone so kind. You were someone who always wanted to help people, wanted to save people - and it would have gotten you killed. You would have gotten in the way, trying to help someone who couldn’t be saved, and you would have died because of it. 

Erica suggested to Isaac many times that he simply let Derek give you the Bite so that you wouldn’t be ‘weak’ anymore - so that you could fight for yourself and you could be strong alongside them. But Isaac refused to even consider it. He refused to even let Derek talk to you because he knew that you would be making the choice for the wrong reasons. You would want to be Turned to be with Isaac. You wouldn’t want it for yourself. 

And - as Derek had warned all of them - there was a small chance that the Bite could kill you. And Isaac would never let that happen to you. He wouldn’t put you in that kind of danger, not for his own selfish reasons. 

So Isaac stayed far away from you. 

He started having sex with Erica after he broke up with you - the kind of harsh, mindless sex that took his mind off you for at least a few minutes. And thankfully, Erica didn’t mind when your name slipped from his lips as he came. She said that she thought it was ‘cute’ - how in love with you he was. It was likely more okay with her because she was seeing Boyd and Stiles on the side at the time. 

Her and Isaac were never anything exclusive, never anything close to being in love. It helped him see the more human side of her. It definitely made them closer friends. And it caused it to hurt a lot more when he found out that she was dead. 

Maybe it was part of the reason why he had come back to you tonight. Because Erica thought the way he loved you was sweet. She was always pushing him to go back to you because of how hung up on you he was. She thought that he should just push all of his fears aside and be with you instead of hiding from it. 

Isaac let out a harsh huff and shoved the shirt over his head before getting up to find a pair of pants. 

… 

As you made it to the bathroom, you felt an intense chill biting at your skin from walking around the apartment naked. You couldn’t help but to find it ironic that a single shiver had started all of this. Perhaps you had given all of your warmth to Isaac. 

What the hell had happened? 

Isaac had cheated on you with Erica. Or so he wanted you to believe. Either way, he had set you up for the hurt of believing it, rather than just breaking up with you. Rather than just telling you the truth. That truth being that he had been transformed into a werewolf. 

Isaac was a werewolf. 

That was a lot to take in. 

Perhaps the most shocking part - for some fucking reason, he didn’t trust you with that information. 

The basis of it all being: he didn’t trust you. 

It made you crash with hurt and betrayal all over again. Almost worse than you had felt on the day you had walked in and seen him and Erica all over each other. 

You had to ball up some toilet paper to wipe up your tears, and you stared at yourself harshly in the mirror, wondering why. 

Why didn’t he trust you enough to tell you? 

Was he afraid that you would consider him some kind of monster? Did he not know that Scott had saved your life at the school that night and since then, you considered every single werewolf to be an ally of yours in some way, rather than feeling afraid of them? Did he think that you would have shunned him as dangerous and scary because of his newfound abilities? 

Had he actually killed his father? 

You highly doubted it, seeing as he had been with you all night on the night of the murder. Even if he had been the one - you would have congratulated him for doing so. His father was a cruel bastard and you never would have judged him for finally snapping on the man. 

So why? Why? 

You finally gathered yourself enough to go back to your bedroom, and you found Isaac wearing your shirt and pair of your plaid pajama pants, leaning against the pillows, clearly waiting for you. You silently gathered some clothes of your own, and then you sat on the edge of the bed with your back turned to him. 

There was a tense moment before either of you spoke. The rain had come to a calm patter outside, making the gentleness of your voice cut through the room in a much harsher way. 

“You didn’t cheat on me with Erica.” You spoke it as a statement, rather than a question. 

You knew it to be virtually true, and you were simply waiting for him to confirm it as a fact. 

You stepped into your underwear and pulled them up, and he kept his eyes carefully on your back, trying to memorize each precious inch of you in the low lighting - as though this would be the last time he ever got to see your naked skin again. 

“How did you know?” He wondered quietly in return. 

“It’s that self destructive thing you do.” You told him. “I got you that nice watch for your sixteenth birthday, and then you ‘broke it’ running late night lacrosse drills.” 

You said, putting sarcastic emphasis on the words, not pretending to believe the lie he had told you at the time. You and Isaac both knew what had happened. 

He didn’t believe that he was worthy of nice things. He had smashed it on purpose in an emotional fit, maybe not even knowing that he was desperate to see what your reaction would be. It was an instinct to sabotage the relationship with you. 

He thought that you would scream, yell, fault him for being ‘stupid’. He thought that you would break up with him over a watch - over him not taking care of your nice gift well enough. Instead, you told him that it was okay - comforted him about. And a week later, you replaced it with a slightly cheaper version that he still had. 

“After the first time I told you that I loved you, you got into that huge bloody fist-fight with Greenberg because you said that you saw him staring at my ass.” You recounted. “But you’re not the jealous type.” 

Again - true. He wasn’t jealous, he had just been looking to get a reaction out of you. Again, it was a desire entirely unconscious to him - projecting all of that discomfort and annoyance onto Greenberg at the time. He felt like things were too good with you. You were too loving, too sweet - he was going to fuck it up sooner or later, and one day, he was going to make a mistake too big for you to forgive. 

He simply thought he should make that mistake and get it over with, rather than waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

You sighed and hoisted your shirt over your head, slipping your arms through the sleeves and letting the loose fabric fall down over your back before you finally turned to him. 

“The one thing I couldn’t figure out, though-” You told him carefully. “Was what I had done to evoke you cheating on me.” You said, your voice choppy and tearful once again. 

“Y/N-” He begged quietly, reaching across the bed toward your hand, which you quickly snatched away. 

He didn’t want you to think that his vile nature was ever your fault. 

“I finally get it, though.” You added on sharply. “You could have just told me, Isaac.” 

His chest jumped with anxiety. How did you know? You couldn’t possibly know that-

“Your eyes were glowing yellow earlier.”

Isaac sighed in defeat and slumped back against the bed. 

“How do you know?” He asked, curious about how you knew about the existence of werewolves in the first place. 

“Scott.” You said simply. 

“Scott.” He echoed back dully. Of course. 

Isaac ground his palms into his forehead, exhausted by the fact that you had found out about something he had been trying to protect you from. That he had put you through so much unnecessary pain. 

“I was trying to protect you.” He said quietly. “I didn’t want you getting hurt, I wanted you as far away from me as possible-” 

“Protect me from what?” You cried out, entirely exasperated with him. 

If there was truly some source of danger, you wanted him to tell you about it. 

But of course, that wasn’t what he meant. 

“Me.” 

He finally admitted it, the thing the two of you had been dancing around for the entirety of your relationship. 

“I’m not good for you, Y/N.” Isaac added on, his throat tight with tears once again. “You need to stay away from me, you-” 

“So you pretended to cheat on me?” You bit back sharply. 

There it was again - the stupidity of his own regret that stung him so much. 

“It worked, didn’t it?” He replied, sounding bitterly regretful rather than any kind of smut. 

“Yet we’re still right back here.” You sighed in return. 

“Like I said - I didn’t know where else to go.” 

He felt a unique guilt in running to you. But as much as he tried to deny it, you were his safe place. You were the only one he could turn to when his world was crashing down. He had done the same thing too many times when his father had been alive, so the habit was far too ingrained into him. 

Rather than reminding him why you gave him that safety, driving it home, you asked a different question that had been burning at you. 

“Where have you been staying since your father died?” You asked. 

Isaac hesitated heavily at this. He didn’t want to delve into the stupidity of his choices; the mistakes that had led him up to this point. 

You waited patiently in his silence. 

You began to busy yourself - stood up and began plucking certain pillows off the bed to put them aside, causing Isaac to stand up to the side to let you pull back the covers. You didn’t ask him to leave, which was as good as wordlessly inviting him to sleep there with you. It gave him a certain comfort, knowing that you weren’t entirely paying attention to him as you fluffed the bed and then sought out cream for your hands, going about a nightly routine. Knowing that he would still get to fall asleep with you after all this. 

“You know Derek Hale?” Isaac posed. 

That was a complex question for you. 

You knew him as the man who had ultimately killed the beast that had killed your mother. In your mind, that made him someone favorable. But Scott had warned you to stay away from him - had said that Derek was not the kind of person you should ever be mixing with, werewolf or not. And you trusted Scott with your life, and thus far, had absolutely no reason to interact with Derek Hale. So you had steered clear of him. 

But you weren’t sure how to form your opinions around him. 

“I know of him,” You replied. “Scott talks about him unpleasantly. Told me to stay away from him.” 

Isaac was happy that Scott had done so, but that didn’t set the stage so well for what he had to say next. 

“He - he kinda took me in after my father died.” Isaac explained, purposefully vague. 

“Oh.” You said, your aptitude of mixed feelings for Derek flowing through the air so easily with your voice saying this simple word. 

Clearly, Scott didn’t like him. He had never explained to you why, but whenever he spoke about Derek, there was always an oddly calm rage bubbling under the surface. Derek had taken Isaac in, which seemed like a kindness on the surface - but clearly, he didn’t care for Isaac. He had left him homeless in a rainstorm with nowhere else to go but to come crawling back to your doorstep in utter desperation. 

Derek sounded like an asshole. 

Again - you trusted Scott completely. And whatever reasons he had for not liking Derek… they seemed to be coming to light without an explanation needed from him. 

You put two pillows at the head of the bed, and then you crawled to sit on your side while Isaac leaned against the bench underneath your window with his arms crossed, staring at you with his jaw clenched. He knew you well enough to know what was on your mind. 

“Look, it’s not as bad as it sounds.” He told you, instinctively defensive of Derek, his pack Alpha. “He helped me out. And not just me. Boyd, and Erica-” 

“Oh.” You sighed, rolling your eyes, still feeling sensitive toward the name even though the cheating hadn’t been entirely real. “He helped Erica. Big fan of Erica.” You scoffed sarcastically - the image of her red lips all over Isaac still seared into your brain. 

“Please don’t be like that.” Isaac shook his head. “She was my friend.” 

“Was?” You questioned, now entirely caught up on the tense. 

Were they no longer friends, or-? 

“Erica is dead.” Isaac choked out, barely able to say the words. 

It was the first time he had spoken these words in a conscious state, out of the ice bath. It was the first time that he had truly come to terms with it. Even after Derek had brought her body back and he had helped him bury her under a circle of Wolfsbane, just as he had done to his sister Laura before (until the grave had been disturbed by two idiots not knowing what they were doing). 

This came as a shock to you. 

You had seen the missing posters plastered all over town - all over school, and you had heard people whispering rumors about her, none of which you believed. Things about how she ‘shacked up’ with an older man who ended up killing her and burying her body somewhere. Whispers about how she became a prostitute and probably overdosed, how she simply ran away because Beacon Hills sucked so much. 

Even if you didn’t like her at the time, you had always felt bad for her, and hoped that she was truly okay. You had always felt bad for her parents because they never had answers. 

You had no clue that she had been involved with Derek Hale and other werewolves. 

“Boyd just got back after being missing for months,” Isaac continued, his voice still saturated with mourning. “But it’s like he’s still gone. I don’t blame him, after what happened.” 

You badly wanted to ask what Isaac meant by this, but you held back. His eyes were distant, swimming with intense thought - he was off somewhere else, clearly speaking into open air things that he had been dying to get off his chest. So you were going to stay silent, giving him the space to let it all out. 

“And Derek -” 

He cut himself off abruptly, replaying the moment in his mind, wondering where it had all gone wrong. It made him sick - the sound of Derek’s booming voice, the glass smashing over his head. Isaac knew that somehow, it was all his fault. What had he done wrong? What had he done so wrong to make Derek react that way? 

What was so poisonous, so inherently unlovable about Isaac that made people act that way around him? 

“Derek kicked me out for no reason.” He mumbled quietly, continuing. 

“Isaac-” Your urge to comfort him was welling up again. 

And now that he had opened the dam of these feelings - unfortunately, he couldn’t turn off the flood when it came. 

“I feel so alone.” 

He declared sharply, his voice edging into a near-sob that made your chest bitterly ache. His eyes were wide and wet with tears, and you nearly rushed across the room just to hold him. 

“I just - I feel so wrong. There is something inside of me that is so wrong, that is so damn broken. I felt like… for a moment, for a split second, things were good. I had a family, I had a purpose. But it’s me, ya know? I’m just broken. I break things. I fuck everything up. If I love something, it dies. So I can’t - I just can’t be loved.” 

“That’s not true.” You rushed to say it, and before you could stop yourself, the words came tumbling from your lips. “I love you.” 

It was the first time you had spoken the words since the break-up, the first time you used those words in such an anchored, present tense. 

Isaac looked at you with the most broken expression you had ever seen. 

Thousands of demons fighting to get out, his eyes so glassy with hurt. His lips quivered as he fought with it himself - he wanted so badly to say it back, but the moment he did, he became liable again. The moment he did, he became yours again and you became his - you became something he could lose. 

It felt like a death sentence in his mouth. One that he couldn’t bring himself to curse you with. 

He let out a sharp, nasal breath as the words fought hard inside of his chest. Your own pain struggled inside of you, and you knew you had to do the one thing that you did best - comfort him. Release him from his pain. 

“It’s okay.” You told him gently. “It’s okay, just come to bed.” 

You patted the empty side of the mattress, and all of the tension left Isaac’s body in an instant, looking as though he was about to collapse in on himself. He practically fell across the gap from the window to the bed, falling into the comfort you provided once again. You raised the covers for him to crawl in beside you, laying your head on his chest so that you could enjoy the sound of his heartbeat as you pulled the covers up over the two of you. 

“You are loved, Isaac.” You told him - you had to tell him. You had to let him know. “And you aren’t alone. You’ll never be alone as long as I’m around.” 

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” He replied, the words so quiet that they barely broke free from his throat. 

If you weren’t careful, you would start crying again. 

“Just go to sleep now.” You told him, putting an arm around his stomach, holding him tightly while he put a hand around your back, holding you to him, anchoring you there as though you might drift away while he slept. “It’s all gonna be okay.” 

For some reason, that felt believable to him when you said it. 

… 

Isaac slept for a few wrecked hours, maybe less. 

He was woken up by a nightmare - a vision of Erica crawling toward him, desperately crying out for help before her throat was slashed by Kali. The sound of her choking on her own blood remained swollen in his ears when he jolted awake and stared at your ceiling. It was a while before he realized that calm, sweet pattern beside him was your breathing. 

He laid there and listened to it for a long time before he got up. He found himself too thankful that he could hear your heartbeat now - that he could know with his own ears that you were so alive, so safe. 

He watched you sleep - took in your peaceful face, the way the first golden rays of the sunrise kissed at your skin - and he knew that he could never let anything worthy of tainting his nightmares happen to you. He was a damn selfish dog, but he would never let you truly get hurt just because he wanted something as fading as sex or comfort. 

So Isaac kissed you on the forehead - gentle, careful not to wake you. And he gathered his things. He crept out the door still wearing the shirt that smelled like you. He would claim that it was because he didn’t have any clean laundry - not because he was greedy for your scent. 

… 

When you woke up, Isaac was gone. 

Your sister’s bedroom door was closed and her shoes were back by the front door, so she was home safely. Isaac was not in your bed, and his duffle bag was gone. He had even picked up the soaking wet clothes that he had strewn all over the floor. 

The only evidence you found that it hadn’t all been a dream was the used condom still in the wastebasket, and a tiny note on your bedside table that said ‘I love you, too’ scribbled in his handwriting on a piece of torn notebook paper. 

You were going to track him down - and when you did, you weren’t sure if you were going to kiss him or kill him.

...

Please keep in mind, this is a oneshot, so there will not be a sequel or a 'Part 2'. If you enjoyed this fic, please consider reblogging it to show your appreciation, or commenting on this fic, or you can take a look at my Teen Wolf Masterlist for more of my fics from this fandom.

However, please do not comment on this fic asking for a sequel or asking for more - I generally consider that stressful and impolite. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written.

I really enjoyed writing this fic, and I do have some ideas for a potential sequel, but it's not something that I am rushing to write, and it's not something that will be on my schedule anytime soon. If you would like to, you can come into my inbox and chat about my ideas for the potential sequel - but right now they are just ideas and they will stay that way for a long time before becoming a full realised story (if they ever become one). I hope you enjoyed this fic as the capsule story oneshot that I always intended for it to be, and that you enjoy my other works if you do check them out.

Happy reading!! -Sunny <3

[lavender-butterfly-cookie]

Hey if you could can you write for the Ancients comforting a fellow ancient reader who got kidnapped by their beast and chat with them? (I don't know how else to work this I'm not good at explaining things)

Plot suggestion: basically it's kind of just the scene from Sam Remy Spider-Man from Peter Parker getting kidnap to Green Goblin giving them a proposition then flying away saying "THINK ABOUT IT "HERO"" but with some alterations

Here's the scene that I'm talking about

https://youtu.be/sAfxBXAQCZM?si=LfuEqW_z1cqA9uqp

Brother, I had to go watch that scene- I will gladly do it. Side note, most likely going with the light of patience Y/N cookie because that's currently the only Y/N ancient cookie I've created.

Comfort after the chaos

After a long lasting series of VERY unfortunate events, you were back in your kingdom and exhausted. You just endured what seemed to be a forever lasting trip to and from Beast-Yeast and you had a lot on your mind. Especially after your encounter with the beasts. You have no idea how, but you had to travel there 5 times. And in all those five times you found yourself held captive. You were doing this to help your fellow ancients, NOT BE KIDNAPPED 5 TIMES IN THE TIME SPAN OF FIVE WEEKS!

Speaking of the ancients, they were all worried about you. You didn't have a previous holder of the light of patience, so there was no particular beast who was after your soul jam. But that was more of a reason to help your companions in defeating their beasts. However, you seemed to be targeted more than your allies, and no matter how hard you tried you found yourself in the same situation. In the clutches of the beasts.

The Beasts didn't harm you physically, but the mental trauma was far from ceasing anytime soon. Everything each of them said correlated to the conclusion that you'd be better off joining them and giving in to the corruption. Because there's nothing more the people love more than to watch a hero fall. In the end they'd all grow to be bitter to you, grow to hate you despite how much you've done for them. They'd hurt you and part of you knew it was true. "So why not hurt them fiirst?" That was always the question. All those interactions ended with them leaving you to think about it and you had never quite recovered from the experience

Your discomfort and unease did not go unnoticed by the other ancients, oh not at all. Every time you returned from beast yeast you seemed more shaken up and all of them felt guilty for having you tag along only to return traumatized. With this in mind, they all tried to comfort you as best they could. Though you never actually told them what had happened during your time being a hostage, they were determined to soothe any discomfort.

"Do not allow Shadow Milk cookies words to get to you, Y/N cookie. Anything from that Beast can not be trusted." Pure Vanilla cookie stated as he pulled a placed a tea cup on the table in front of you. He walks behind you and pulls a blanket over your shoulders as a means to make you feel at ease. And it's working. "I promise you that he will never be given the chance to disturb you so much. I will always be here to stir you in the right direction if he ever tries to get in your head again"

"I apologize once again that you had to be dragged through that issue, Y/N cookie." Dark Cacao said, he had grown a bit soft after he saw how being kidnapped had effected you. Despite you reassuring him that it wasn't his fault, he couldn't just leave it be. Though he wasn't exactly... best with comfort, you could see he was trying. Caramel Arrow Cookie and Crunchy Chip cookie were doing more of the direct comforting for him, CA occasionally hugging you and making sure you were ok whilst CC had his cream wolves huddle around you to comfort you. Both methods worked quite well. They did this because Dark Cacao himself genuinely wasn't sure of how the best way to console you would be after encountering Mystic Flour cookie. But you did appreciate the effort.

"Go on Y/N cookie! I insist. Anything you want shall be yours" Golden Cheese said. She had a plan, and that plan was to spoil you filthy! Anything you had taken an interest in was immediately yours. And even if you didn't want anything she'd still buy you things she knew you liked or gave you comfort. She would take you on flights around the kingdom too. She had also grown a habit of hugging you and wrapping her wings around you as though to protect you. And she was protecting you. Protecting you from Burning Spice cookie, as she should've done when you were still in Beast-Yeast. She's got you, and she ain't letting NOBODY try taking you away from her. They'd have to catch these hands first! And that gave you a sense of security

"How are you feeling, Y/N cookie? You doing better?" Hollyberry cookie asked as she prepared another cup of juice. You were both outside and she had been more of an energetic comforter than the previous three. A bit of fresh air and exercise should be a good distraction from whatever the heck Eternal Sugar cookie had said to you. She had also gotten you a lot of juice. Like- A LOT. You weren't sure if she was trying to get you drunk or something but fortunately none of them seemed to have alcohol. At least not the ones she had given you. She was also quite insistent on a bit more training so you could better prevent such situations, which was something you expected more from Dark Cacao but for some reason it didn't happen. Regardless, she's wants you to be protected, even if it's not by her.

"Please don't stray too far away, Y/N cookie. I still have yet to fully adjust to the forest myself." White Lily cookie requested as you both took a stroll under the night sky. She had been a lot more cautious with you after having lost you to Silent Salt cookie. She tried everything that usually made her feel better with you. Taking you to flower gardens, having a cup of tea whilst reading a good book, cuddles, any and everything. She also had the faeries take care of your needs when she couldn't be near, which they did gladly since they were aware of your contribution to their queens victory. White Lily will make sure you are as comfortable as possible and having her around is comforting in itself.

[evanchantingpeters]

How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 3)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff, Romance

Summary ─ Just as Y/N thought she had it all figured out in LA, her world spins out of control when Evan Peters storms in like a tornado. Their electrifying hook-up leaves her reeling, but waking up alone, she fears the worst. Then, a note appears—his number and an invitation to a date teasing her with a chance. What starts as a romantic evening quickly spirals into a frenzy of hide-and-seek and sex.

Warnings ─ Swearing, semi-public, oral (both receiving), doggy, shower sex, overstimulation, fingering, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, extra smutty—you savvy pros, you know the game inside out ;)

Read Part 1 here and Part 2 here.

Word count ─ 5K

18+ This is ADULT content. I’m not your mummy to supervise your net access. If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

You stir awake, blinking sleep away and squinting against the sunlight that streams through your curtains. A lazy smile curves your lips as you stretch, reaching out for...empty sheets. Mmhh, you just love the taste of nothing.

Evan’s not here... Emotional damage, even if what you had was an agreed one-off fling.

A soft groan escapes you as you fumble for your phone, the bright screen momentarily blinding you. 9:30. As you bury your nose into his pillowcase, you inhale deeply, catching a generous whiff of his essence’s sweet residue. You sigh deeply as your eyes land on the bedside table. His missing keys solidify the reality that he’s bounced, and you can’t help but frown.

“I feel like his side hoe when I should be the main character,” you think aloud, grumbling, and it’s giving trauma dumping and anxious attachment. What a refreshing concoction of disaster.

But what really puzzles you is the extra blanket draped over your duvet like a surprise guest. You wrack your brain, trying to recall if you snuggled up in it during the night, but it’s as hazy as trying to piece together a fuzzy Freudian dream.

With a resigned sigh, you roll out of bed, already craving his warmth. Mindlessly scrolling through your phone, you distract yourself with social media updates, news snippets, and the day’s weather forecast while you shuffle to the kitchen for your morning caffeine fix. A pang of disappointment hangs around like a lost sock in the dryer, but you refuse to let it dim your day and activate your female rage.

Or so you tell yourself.

Podcast blaring in the background, you tiptoe your way to the bathroom, facing your reflection in the mirror. You impulsively retrace the invisible path of Evan’s touch on you—from lips to chin, jawline, and neck down your cleavage and stomach. Each sensation has left its mark, and you can’t get enough of the sweet echoes. You sniff through your hair and arms in a desperate attempt to capture his scent on you—a tantalising hint of cinnamon and the musk of his natural oils that never fails to make your knees go weak.

You hop into the shower, letting the scalding water wash away your frustrations. Emerging revitalised and ready to conquer the day, you hastily throw on your work clothes and toss your keys and lanyard into your bag.

And that’s when you spot it by the entrance door—the note board. That bold black marker circling today’s 9 pm to 6 am time slot on your shift calendar, an arrow pointing directly to a message, practically winking at you, “Dinner and quality time with Evan. Text this number for more details.” Your heart somersaults with joy as you read the note over and over again, a goofy grin spreading across your face like wildfire.

You press a quick kiss to the note, folding it carefully and tucking it away as if it holds all the secrets of the universe. With a sense of anticipation bubbling in your chest, you dash out the door, already fashionably late.

On the subway, you retrieve the scrap of paper, tracing your fingers over his elegant handwriting with a soft smile. With a sarcastic tonality, you already craft your message, “I thought ghosts just floated around, they don’t ask you out.”

Within seconds, his response lights up your screen. “Morning to you too. Slept well? I’m the upgraded phantom version. Meet your Casper tonight at 9?”

You can’t help but giggle at his wit. Another text pops up, complete with coordinates to the restaurant he’s inviting you. The excitement builds inside you like a shaken soda bottle, and you’re practically fizzing with anticipation to see what the night has in store.

Time seems to trudge along at a sloth’s pace as you grind through your shift at the boutique. You flash your best retail smile as you serve customers on the cash register. Though, your mind is a million miles away, replaying the reel of moments with Evan; those moments when you convinced yourself that your insides were gonna spill out while he was going to town on you.

Half-heartedly, you tidy up the shop floor, picking up stray items and straightening displays. But let’s be real, your fingers move mechanically, and your brain is on autopilot as your thoughts wander back to the anticipation of tonight’s date. The enthusiasm is buzzing through you like a sugar rush, making it damn near impossible to focus on folding clothes or rearranging racks.

Each interaction with a customer is a blur as you absentmindedly tackle the fitting room. They might as well be talking to a mannequin for all you care. Your mind is firmly planted in Evan-land, where every moment is hot and heavy, and you’re too busy mentally undressing him for the umpteenth time.

“Girl, let me in your bubble, would you?” The voice of Trisha, your department’s jokester, slices through your daydreaming like a ninja with a chainsaw.

You blink, momentarily disoriented, before bursting into laughter at her impeccable timing. “Trish!” you exclaim, relishing in her knack to crack you up with her quirky humour. “Sorry, this bubble is strictly reserved for someone today.”

Her giggle rings out like music in the store as she playfully rolls her eyes. “Fine, fine! You do you, boo. Just make sure to save some of that magic for the rest of us in Stylista Gine, deal?”

With a saucy wink, she sashays off to attend to her own tasks, leaving you to shake off your giggles. The minutes tick by, and eventually, your shift mercifully comes to an end. With a sigh of relief and a bounce in your step, you clock out, knowing that soon you’ll be back in Evan’s arms (and on his dick).

You hastily trod along Sunset Boulevard, your sleek dark coat swinging with each step, and your little black dress add an extra sway to your stride. You’re practically power-walking in heels, like you’re in a race against time and your destination is the finish line.

Arriving at the hotel he’s staying at, you adjust the strap of your black stilettos around your ankle, ensuring no wardrobe malfunctions with your stocking will disrupt your night. With your heart thudding, you breeze through the sliding doors and past the reception. 

The tantalising scent of watermelon cocktail teases your senses as you strut in the bar restaurant, scoping out the room with mounting anticipation.

“Hi there, reservation for Peters?” you inquire, shooting a charming smile at the host, your racing emotions briefly receding.

Reciprocating with a polite grin, he quickly checks his tablet before nodding in confirmation. “Got it! Table 8. Right this way, miss,” he affirms, extending his arm in a welcoming gesture. 

Following the host, you can’t help but feel a surge of excitement as you round the corner and spot Evan’s back at the table. He looks effortlessly handsome in his blazer, like he’s just stepped out of a magazine spread, making your stomach churn with blissful nerves.

“Looks like my date’s here, thanks,” you note quietly with a soft smile.

“Awesome! Enjoy,” the host replies cheerfully, heading back to his post.

As you approach Evan, you lean in and give his shoulder a cheeky squeeze—a silent yet affectionate greeting that speaks volume. His gaze lights up with recognition, and he practically jumps from his chair, his grin widening as he’s eyeing you from top to bottom.

“Hey!” he exclaims, his voice laced with enthusiasm. “My eyes needed a bit of a warning for this stunner. Your fit’s so sleek, it looks tailor-made,” he adds shortly after, beaming, as you flow in a warm hug, his arms clinging around you like he never wants to let go.

With a crooked smirk, you blurt out with a touch of sarcasm, “Thanks. I picked it up with you in mind.”

His eyes widen in surprise, his grin expanding by the second. “Seriously?” he squeaks, visually delighted by the notion. 

You giggle, shaking your head. “Nah, but imagine if I did,” you fire back, your hearty laughter dancing in the air like confetti.

Before you know it, an electric tension fills the space between you as you stand mere inches apart, locked in a silent yet smouldering gaze.

“Are we on a ‘try not to kiss’ challenge?” he spills out, his voice an alluring murmur as his minty breath pleasantly prickles your skin.

A sly smile tugs at your lips. “Let’s see who caves and closes the gap first,” you hum as you flicker between his lips and his eyes. He feels the tension coil in his gut but forces it down with a hard gulp. 

Leaning in closer, his breath mingles with yours as he whispers, “You gotta give your best shot not to kiss me, then,” his tone carrying a seductive undertone that sends a delicious thrill rushing through you.

“You wish. No chance I’m smudging my tinted lip balm,” you retort and playfully pinch his nose, punctuating your mocking banter with a wink.

With a graceful flip of your hair and a coy smile, you ease into your chair, feeling the heat of his gaze on you, all self-assured about the sensual spell you’ve cast over him. 

He’s practically eye-fucking you right now, and you’re loving it.

“If that’s your idea of payback for sneaking out this morning, Y/N, I’ve been running errands and exploring new job prospects for next year,” he explains earnestly, handing you a straw for your cocktail and cutlery for your appetisers.

“And I may or may not have picked up a little something for you,” he announces next, pulling out a wrapped box from his blazer pocket, mischief sparkling in his eyes.

Your playful vibe evaporates, replaced by a whirlwind of shock and emotion. “Shut the…front door, no way,” you utter sheepishly as you cautiously reach for the unexpected gift.

With a throaty chuckle at your reaction, he jerks his eyebrows upwards, silently encouraging you to dive into the gift.

You eagerly rip open the packaging, gasping in disbelief. “Roland Barthes, Mythologies…Oh my days,” you cry out, unable to believe your luck. Your eyes flit to the curious glances from other patrons in the corner, and you swiftly tone your enthusiasm down a notch.

He nods in understanding, smiling fondly at you. “Yep, saw his Lover’s Discourse on your bedside table, and the bookmark was dangling on the final pages,” he justifies, a knowing twinkle in his gaze.

Overwhelmed with emotion, you slide the book in your bag and rise from your seat. “Ugh, Evan! Thanks a ton, you’re the best,” you gush, your voice thick with gratitude as you move closer to him.

He stands up too, his eyes fixed on yours, soft with affection. Stepping closer, his dark eyes dart from your lips to your eyes, as if he’s wordlessly asking for permission. Instead, he reaches out to pull you into a hug, but you gently lift his chin and crane your neck, sealing his plush, pink lips in a brief yet tender peck.

As you break the kiss, Evan blinks in surprise, seemingly caught off guard by the sudden shift in energy. His eyes search yours, silently questioning the unspoken feelings that hover between you, his own heart pounding with anticipation.

“Why did that take so long today?” he sighs against your ear, softly touching his lips. His voice, like honey dripping from velvet, resounds in your ears like a melody as he delicately brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes—the colour of rich black chocolate—are glued on yours, and the gravitational pull of his euphoric visual abyss draws you in.

Your heart flutters at the intensity of his gaze, feeling the heat expand through you. “It took long for momentum,” you retort, your tone light with playful teasing as you flash him a coy smile and sit back down.

The buffalo cauliflower bites aren’t the only thing heating up at your table; your conversation’s spicier than a jalapeño popper and with more layers than a double-decker with extra cheese. One minute you’re debating the perfect burrito toppings, embarrassing childhood nicknames, weird dreams, European cinema and 80s bands, and the next, you’re digging into careers, beliefs, goals, and life’s deepest truths.

It’s like a game of emotional Jenga—one block, or in this case, one topic leads to another, and before you could utter ‘Evan, eat me,’ you’ve both laid your souls bare without even realising it.

Fully immersed in the flirtatious banter, Evan beckons invitingly to the seat beside him with a subtle tilt of his head. “Why don’t you slide here, so I can properly admire your outfit?” he mumbles in a husky timbre, his eyes ablaze with desire.

But just as the tension between you ignites like a volcano lava, the waiter interrupts with his timely arrival. “What can I get for you both?” he interjects, shattering the moment. 

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you gesture Evan to go first, shooting him a ‘hold up, let me cook,’ look. With a bold move, you slip off your shoe under the table and discreetly brush your foot against his pant leg.

You feel him stiffen as he places his order, his composure wearing out. Stifling a giggle, you almost sadistically enjoy his flustered state as he clumsily fumbles and drops his menu, the clatter against the plate resonating like a thunderbolt. 

He’s a ten, but he stumbles over his words and over-apologises when aroused in the most inappropriate settings. Take my money, that bumps him up to a solid thirty.  

“Would you like extra cheese with that?” the waiter chimes in, oblivious to the charged atmosphere crackling between you.

Evan nods, swallowing thickly as your foot ventures higher up his thigh, stoking the flames of his growing hardness.

“And you, miss?”

“Eh? Umm, double everything, please. I’ll have what he’s having. Thanks,” you mutter with a half smile, your leg rubbing against his throbbing erection to a fever pitch.

As the waiter marches to the kitchen, Evan clenches his jaw, frustration painted all over his stormy gaze. He bunches his cloth napkin from his lap and tosses it onto his plate, blowing out a sharp, exasperated breath.

“Evan,” you call out with an apologetic expression, watching him push his chair with the backs of his knees and storm off to the bathroom.

You shoulder the heavy door and step into the empty men’s bathroom, your insides wounding themselves in knots. You scan the room, hunting for any trace of Evan, until your gaze lands on the locked door at the end. Curiosity gnaws at you, nudging you to investigate.

With a hesitant knock, you signal your presence. Before you can react, the door swings open, and Evan’s dark eyes greet you from the other side as he pulls you into the room.

The door clicks shut behind you as you quickly take in the gold-hued surroundings: a lavish toilet, a gleaming sink, and a long bench strewn with plush towels and designer toiletries. The place gives you a babushka-esque feel—a mini, fully-equipped restroom within the main one, and it’s like stepping into a VIP sanctuary.

Though, as you register Evan’s proximity, his body pressed flush against yours, your thoughts scatter like marbles on a polished floor, and pleasure sparks sizzle through your veins like a live wire.

“Hey,” you bleat, feeling the tension twist in your gut as you swallow hard, trying to steady yourself. 

His strong arms cradle your waist. He draws you into a tight embrace until you’re cocooned on his lap, the heat of his body searing into your skin.

You cross your legs as he closes the distance between you, his veiny hands fondling and squeezing your thighs greedily and possessively. 

“Evan,” you croak out, clearing your throat to ground yourself as he strokes your cheek with his knuckle. “I realise that might have been a bit much for public display…and I’m sorry,” you mumble, flashing him an apologetic look before averting your gaze.

But his expression remains stern, a furrow creasing his brow as he lets out an exaggerated huff—eyes hooded and mouth set in a grim line. “That won’t fix it, I’m afraid. I’m still hurt and embarrassed.” 

You quirk a brow at him, a hint of defiance in your gaze as you meet his unwavering stare. “And what do you suggest now?” you challenge with a sly smirk, a daring spark igniting in your face.

His lips curl into a sinister smile as he leans in, his scorching breath against your ear sending a tremor down your backbone. “Get on your knees, and use this beautiful mouth of yours to show me just how sorry you are,” he whispers as he’s massaging your tits, his words like an electric current buzzing through you at a high voltage.

You snort, your hand weaving through his silky hair as you draw him closer. “Oh, you think you’ve won? I’d be more than happy to suck you up—day and night, overtime included,” you purr, your voice husky with longing as you sink to your knees.

Positioned between his legs, you look up at him with a mischievous smile. “Someone’s suffering in there,” you coo and outline his stiff shaft with your tongue, feeling him twitch beneath the smooth fabric, aching for freedom.

Pinned against the wall, he sucks in a breath through gritted teeth, his hips buckling forward in desperate response.

The button of his slacks loosely holds on, barely containing his throbbing beast from bursting it open. Gripping the cold metal of his zipper between your teeth, you drag it down slowly, your pussy dripping as his low growl rumbles from his chest like distant thunder when he finally finds release.

You reach up, flipping down the elastic waistband of his boxers so you can slip your hand in, dragging your fingers along his pulsing crimson tip.

“Suck it, don’t tease,” he commands, his tone rigid and thick with desire. You comply without hesitation, eagerly licking off the subtle traces of his seed off the tip, twirling your tongue around it.

Your mouth is immediately slick with his precum, the thick fluid coating the corners of your lips. The heady scent drives you wild as you savour every drop of his essence. You keep using your tongue to smear some of it to the underside of the head, teasing at the ridges and pressing into the squishy flesh of his head.

He bites down on his lips, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he battles to muffle his grunts, his body quivering with need.  

When you finally close your lips around his painfully hard cock, he reacts with a sharp intake of breath. His fingers thread through your hair as he breathlessly whines your name like a fervent prayer. From that angle, his dimples appear as dark slits along his cheeks, adding to his rugged allure.

You meet his gaze with a sultry mewl of pleasure, giving your throat more room to take him in harder and deeper into your mouth. Flattening your tongue, you glide lower on him as you hold onto his pelvis until his head crushes the back of your throat, testing your gag reflex.

Challenge accepted; you handle him like a pro.

“Y/N, you’re… oh, fuck… No,” he sputters out with an intense shudder, rubbing his eyes as he fights the overwhelming tide of his impending orgasm.

“Load me,” you exhale teasingly as you pull him out of your mouth only to pump him back down with renewed hunger. He intertwines his fingers with yours, guiding your movements as you kick off a slow, torturous rhythmic ordeal just to gauge his reaction.

With a choked moan, he tightens his grip, sticking his convulsing cock all the way down with urgency, thrusting in your mouth with a ruthless pace.

His move and the resonance of his deep voice send a surge of heat to your core that consumes you, tripling the moisture in your panties.

You want him in ways that will add new sins to the bible.

Each time you rise, you suck his tip with fervour before slamming back down on his throbbing length. The symphony of moans he’s emitting are almost sinful—you’ve never gotten soaking wet just from hearing a man groan. He’s gonna be the death of your ovaries.

As you steal a gaze upwards, his abs glistening with a sheen of sweat, you watch his head fall back. “No,” he breathes out repetitively, his chest heaving and his Adam’s apple bobbing—a tell-tale sign that he’s on the brink of letting his load spray onto anything in the room.

His balls tighten, cock pulsing as his thrusts into your mouth turn sloppy and messy. Blinded by pleasure, his mind goes blank as he teeters on the edge.

Still panting, he hauls you off him more forcefully, his fingers hooking onto the hem of your stockings. You notice his nose scrunch up in clear disapproval as he glares at your lips—swollen and shining with wetness—immediately stripping you off your undergarments with raw intensity.

Flipping you over so your upper body’s bent over the wooden bench, he gropes your ass cheek before slapping it harshly, making you squeal with excitement. “Why do I have to say no twice?” he growls, his voice ringing with dominance as he claims you as his own.

You’re ovulating, so your audacity and inhibitions are thrown to the wind, acting like you’ve been dick-deprived your entire life. “I wanna tick you off so much you show no mercy. Just take me already,” you demand, your voice heavy with despair.

With a guttural groan, he obliges, rutting his hips as he lines up his leaking tip with your entrance. The moment he meets your wet folds, you both gasp in unison as he plunges in you. The sensation of him filling you up sparks fireworks as he humps you in long, steady thrusts, his velvet plush head bumping against your swollen clit with a delicious friction.

Your cries threaten to spill out, but his hand clamps gently over your mouth to shush you, his dark eyes flashing with warning. “We have to be quiet, baby,” he rasps, his voice tinged with lust. You turn over your shoulder and nod underneath his grasp, your half-lidded eyes glazing with pleasure.

A muffled yelp roars against his palm as he drills his aching cock deeper inside of you. You grip the edge of the bench tightly, and the sound of it banging against the wall echoes through the room, adding a primal rhythm to your ecstasy. The sensation of your slithery walls stretching to accommodate his thick dick is nothing short of mind-blowing for both of you.

Using the bench for leverage, he thrusts harder, his hand trailing up to caress the curve of your ribs as you writhe beneath him. “Fuck, I love your wet little pussy,” he hisses with primitive desire. “Cum for me, Y/N, all over my dick.”

“I’m getting there, baby. I wanna drown in your juices,” you moan, feeling his jaw slacken against your back as your walls pulse around his throbbing cock.

Just as the bench keeps bashing against the concrete wall in sync with your rising orgasms, a sudden crash breaks the intensity of the moment. The yellow paint plastic box from above the shelf tumbles down—its contents splattering over both of you and the wall, creating an impromptu abstract masterpiece in the spur of the moment.

You both freeze, paint trickling down your bodies, adding vibrant hues to your flushed skin. Evan blinks in surprise, his hands still gripping your hips as he takes in the colourful chaos engulfing you.

“Well, we certainly went hard on the paint,” he quips, trying to lighten the mood despite the unexpected interruption.

You chuckle nervously as you survey the lively mess. “Looks like we got more than we bargained for tonight,” you shoot back, your voice filled with playful mischief.

With a wicked smirk, Evan swipes paint off your cheek, leaving a colourful streak between you two as you embrace. “We’ve got a cleanup on our hands before we can get back to what we—” His words are abruptly cut off by approaching footsteps.

Though the intoxicating passion still clouds your mind, one detail arises with sobering clarity: You’re screwed (literally). 

“You hit it off with the first three cubicles, I’ll handle the ones from the end, and we’ll meet in the middle,” a deep man’s voice echoes from outside, sending a jolt of panic through both of you. 

Evan winces and involuntarily grabs your hand. Your body stiffens as you lace your clammy fingers with his, the paint already forming a small puddle at your feet.

Acting on pure instinct, he ushers you deeper into the toilet, using his foot to discreetly slide the torn condom wrapper closer to your hiding spot.

“What’s the plan now?” you mouth. Your palms are raised in a questioning gesture, fingers wiggling subtly, as your breath comes in shallow, shaky huffs.

Evan shrugs. “That was a plot twist, didn’t see it coming,” he replies, barely audible in his hushed response.

You hang onto his shirt for dear life, your face taking a ghost-like pale complexion as you weigh the consequences of the trouble you’re about to get in. “The door’s locked, but there’s a little slot under it. Shall I wait up here until they’re gone?” you pantomime your words, attempting to convey your plan to Evan with the finesse of a silent movie star. But as you try to hoist yourself up and chamber onto the toilet seat, you slip, almost tumbling backward.

Evan swoops in to catch you like a superhero, his forehead wrinkled by worry lines, eyes wide with alarm. “You good?” he whispers urgently, pressing a finger to his lips in a frantic plea for silence.

You nod vigorously, gesturing toward the door with exaggerated motions, communicating your escape plan like you’re on the charades: “Let’s go check if we’re clear, then sneak out.”

Nodding in silent agreement, he unlocks the door with a flick of his wrist. Poking his head out, he peers cautiously into the corridor. You stretch up on your tiptoes, craning your neck to peek out over his shoulder, scanning the corridor for any sign of movement.

Finding no one in sight, you both spring into action with the speed and stealth of seasoned spies. You snatch up as much toilet roll as you can, using it to hastily wipe away the evidence of your paint mishap. The paper becomes saturated with soap and water as you scrub your life away, determined to leave no trace behind.

Before you know it, Evan seizes your hand, purse and shoes, and you skitter out of the bathroom like you’re escaping a high-security prison. You zip past the slightly open doors of the other stalls, and as you weave the maze of hallways, you catch a glimpse of the two cleaning men hard at work—one wielding a toilet spray like a weapon on the lead, while the other, two doors ahead, diligently mops the floor.

 

You burst out of the bathroom, hearts racing and adrenaline pumping, feeling like you just pulled off the heist of the century. In the dimly lit corridor between the toilets and the restaurant, you exchange triumphant grins, basking in the rush of your daring gateway. With a quick, victorious high five, you’re both ready for the next phase of your adventure.

But before you can catch your breath, Evan pulls you close, his lips crashing against yours in a fiery kiss that sets you on fire. His tongue dances with yours, igniting a fierce passion between you. As his hands start to wander along your ass and clit, you can’t resist and melt into his touch, a soft moan slipping off you.

Reality hits you like a freight train, and you protest against his lips, reluctantly swatting his hands away and pushing him back gently. “You can’t waltz back to your table looking like nuggets dipped in mayo, and I don’t have a spare wardrobe stashed in my purse,” you whine. With a determined swipe, you rub off a scuff mark from his cheek, your thumb tracing the contours of his face as he nods in understanding.

“Okay, let’s go,” he says, and without missing a beat, he takes your hand and leads you in the direction of the toilet. But as you reach the door, he steers you towards the emergency door instead. Throwing yourselves outside, you’re met with the frigid night air, an uninviting shock after the warmth of the restaurant.

The cold bites at your skin, raising goosebumps along your arms. But Evan is quick to replace your coat, which still hangs off your table chair, and envelops you in an embrace, rubbing your arms to warm you up.

You cling to him, his body heat a comforting embrace as he cups your hands in his, blowing warm breath into them. The moon casts a soft glow over a secluded pond before you, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the hotel.

“I’ve got good and bad news,” Evan chirps, his voice tinged with a mischievous undertone. You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued as you lean closer to him, flakes of paint dropping off your arms as he intensifies his rubbing.

“Spill the good news first. Enough shocks for today, I wanna buy myself some time.” 

“The good news is,” he begins, a grin spreading across his face, “my rented place is over there,” he reveals and points behind you. You follow his gaze to the tall complex of flats that extend from the main hotel.

You hum in acknowledgment, planting a quick peck on his lips. “Alright… and what’s the bad news?” you inquire, already bracing yourself for whatever curveball he’s about to throw your way.

“The bad news is that if we wanna keep the prying eyes at bay,” he continues, his eyes fixed on you in mounting suspense, “we’ve got some climbing to do.”

The grass crunches under your feet as you wade through the greenery, your heels sinking into the mud with each step. You duck under the low archway in the middle and reach the towering fence.

“Damn, that’s taller than I thought,” he mutters, eyeing the fence with a furrowed brow.

“Piece of cake,” you counter with a coy smile, tossing your heels on the other end. You make the first move by planting your toes on a cracked piece in the wall, gripping the hurdle tightly to propel yourself upwards.

As he gives you an extra push, his hands boldly grazing your ass, a mischievous sparkle gleams in his eyes. “Speaking of cakes,” he cheers, squeezing your curves as his eyes linger on the enticing view of your cunt beneath your dress, his grin broad and cocky.

“Stay focused, dude,” you hiss, playfully waving him away as you divert your attention back to the task at hand.

With a hint of concern in his voice, Evan watches you climb, ready to catch you if you falter. “Take it slow, Y/N. With this velocity, you gotta use one leg at a time...” he advises, his arms poised to assist you.

Rolling your eyes, you brush off his instruction. “The mansplaining’s redundant, Peters. I’ve got this,” you scold jokingly, confidently manoeuvring over the obstacles.

“It’s hard... oh, mind your head on the branches…” he mumbles, absentmindedly repeating “it’s hard” as he observes your every move with a mix of awe and disbelief.

When you safely tumble over to the other side, he can’t help but chuckle nervously, astonished by your agility. “Oh, that was easy…it was really easy, actually” he mumbles with a shake of his head, mouth agape, still processing your swift ascent.

“Come on, slowpoke,” you taunt, your voice laced with playful challenge. You dust off your hands, the thrill of the escape still coursing through your veins.

“I’m just taking my time,” he defends as he carefully navigates his way over the fence. 

“Says the guy who played Quicksilver,” you mock, giggling, and run your tongue along your teeth with a cheeky smile.

As Evan finally makes it over the fence, he stumbles on a loose stone, his footing giving way beneath him. You gasp, lunging forward to catch him as he starts to fall backward, his arms flailing wildly as he tries to regain his balance.

“Watch out!” you cry out, and you manage to pull him back from the brink of spraining his ankle on the way down. 

He winces in pain, clutching his leg as he tries to stand. “Ouch, that was close,” he groans, his breath hitched. 

Concern floods through you as you help him to his feet, supporting him as he tests his injured ankle. “You okay?” you ask, worry evident in your voice.

Evan nods, his expression strained. “I think so,” he replies, clenching his jaw against the discomfort.

You sigh, realising that your adventure may have taken an unexpected turn. “Maybe we should take it easy for now, old man,” you suggest once you realise he’s fine, suppressing a laugh as you guide him back to safety.

As you playfully rib Evan with the “old man” label, he retaliates by tickling you, his fingers sending ripples of loud laughter down your spine. You squirm and wriggle, trying to escape his teasing grasp, but he’s relentless.

“Alright, alright, I give up!” you yell, breathless from both laughter and excitement. But Evan doesn’t stop there. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he picks you up into his arms, his lips hammering against yours in a passionate kiss, his tongue swirling with yours. 

“Let me show you who’s the old man,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice dripping with desire and challenge as he carries you off.

The reception area lies deserted, and the dull glow of an overhead light seeps through the crack at the bottom of the slightly ajar cleaning storage door. 

“Anyone here?” he calls out, testingly, but there’s no response. Without wasting any time, you make a beeline for the elevator. The ding of the lift makes you jump, you launch your bodies up the stairs, bounding them up like a panther on the prowl, your feet padding down on the carpeted floor.

You creep into his room, edging the door shut until the latch clicks into place, and you pause to laugh at the yellow patches on your body. “I feel like I’ve just wrestled a pig in a mud pit.” 

“I’ve got the best way to clean it all up?” he mumbles sloppily into your lips, his arms folded around your waist, massaging your ass.

Hot water spurts out of the shower faucet, raining down marvellously on the tiled floor. You smile, holding your hand up to it and watching the paint, mostly dried now, run off your legs before landing on the ground and swirling around the drain. The temperature is heavenly, able to ease even the deepest aching of your shoulders, and your smile widens.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs, planting a few teasing kisses along your exposed collarbone.

You bite down your lip at the sensation. “Finger-fuck while you kiss me, first. I need it,” you huff in despair, eyes imploring.

“You wish, I deliver, baby,” he breathes out, suckling on your pulse as you lightly pump his erect shaft in your hand in your fluid motion. He seems way too horny and too into you to say no.

He grunts and grounds his hips against your inner thigh. Against the wall, his fingers dip in, gathering some of your warm, slithery wetness and splotching it over your shiny folds. His free hand claws on your face, dragging you for a breathless kiss.

“Gosh,” you moan chokingly, an exhilarating lilt in your words. Your back arches as you feel that knot in your stomach beginning to snap. The pad of his middle finger keeps tapping and circling your clit, and you feel the escalating climb of your orgasm. Your legs start to twitch, and once he realises this, his fingers slowly drift away from your weeping cunt, his slick fingers gripping your thigh.

“Wh-why?” you protest in frustration.

Without uttering a single syllable, he snatches the detachable shower head, a smirk playing on his lips as he winds the cable around his wrist. He cranks the setting to its highest level and kneels down, parting your slopping folds with a confident touch. His lips curve in a devilish smile as he takes sight of your pulsating pussy clenching around nothing, giggling as he realises he’s edged you so badly.

As he positions the shower head near your throbbing clit, you instinctively clamp your hand over your mouth, stifling the shrill whimper that threatens to escape. The sensation of the water hitting your sensitive bud forces your breath out in punchy, laboured gasps as you feel the vibrations bringing your high closer.

He laps at your cunt like it’s a melting ice cream cone, and it doesn’t take long for your sweet cream to leak out along his mouth. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, eyelids fluttering as you’re consumed by the tsunami of your looming orgasm. Each flick of his tongue sends tremors through your thighs, the wet, slick sounds filling the room.

His tongue flattens out against your clit and you let out a needy whine, your hips instinctively bucking against his mouth. He presses his face deeper into your wet folds, tongue jerking at the underside of your clit. As he licks at your entrance, he sinks his tongue into your soaking hole, you cum on his tongue, grinding his face, moaning his name in heavy, ragged pants.

As the aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through you, he stands up straight, his hands gently caressing your waistband in a soothing gesture. But you’re not done yet. With a hungry urgency, you pull him into a kiss, your lips melding together.

He backs you against the wall, hiking up your thighs and wrapping them tightly around his waist. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, guiding him to your dripping entrance. As he slams into you, the world around you fades away, and your head lolls back in ecstasy.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he grunts as he pounds harsher and faster in you, his balls slapping against your ass cheeks.

Your slick is trickling down his cock, creating a slippery mess on his thighs as he drives into you relentlessly. His breathing picks up pace, the air thick with the heady scent of sex and steam. You almost had him, until his hands forces your hips down onto his cock as far as they would go, his tip nudging against your cervix.

A scream tears from your lips as you squirm against his ruthless assault and bruising force. The tip of his cock brushes against that spongy spot inside you time and time again, the lewd squelching sounds of your poor, swollen cunt only a faint indicator that you were close.

In the misty haze of the shower, you catch him smirk crookedly, pleased with the visual above him. Your tits bounce tantalisingly in front of him, a tempting feast he can’t resist as he reaches out to grab them in his mouth, eager to taste every inch of your trembling body.

As the unbearably tight, hot coil in your abdomen snaps, you’re unable to contain the set of moans that spill from your lips. A tingling heat spreads across your body, your muscles contracting and burning with the intensity of your release.

His face contorts in pleasure, his brows knitting together as his jaw drops in awe. His breaths come out in hurried, choppy huffs as he pumps inside you, warm, white strings of cum painting your walls as if he marks his territory and you as his own.

“Ugh, I’m dizzy...and l look like shit,” you huff out, your voice laced with giggles. Evan stays still for a moment, burying his face into the crook of you neck.

“You’re dizzy but beautiful,” he rasps, chuckling breathlessly, and you feel your cheeks flushing. He strokes your face, his touch tender and loving as he presses soft kisses against your lips. Your tongues dance together in a sweet and intimate exchange as soft moans escape both of you.

Slowly, he pulls out. A mix of your juices coats his tip as it drips from your hole in a seductive display of your shared ecstasy.

“I want cuddles on the bed now,” he says, his voice soft and pleading, a hint of a pout playing on his lips as he gazes at you with adoration.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: sillysillygyal, junkie4weezer, frankiesweird, divinerulerz, nickrhodeslittledarling

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Wicked Felina (The Girl That I Love)

Part 2 - “Peter”

Azriel x Reader/Rhysand’s Sister - Angst

Visions of a past life plague Felina as she recovers from burnout. Rhys seeks answers. Azriel comforts his mate as past-trauma comes crashing down on her. A former lover tracks her down.

Part 1 - El Paso Series Masterlist Part 3 - Vampire

warnings: past trauma, panic attack, references to sex, elements involving death, blood drinking, violence

Forgive me, Peter. My lost fearless leader.

“Quit fidgeting, Y/N.” Mother whispers as she runs a brush through my tangled hair.

Father is in Windhaven this week and I’ve been free to roam the skies as I please, whenever mother turns a blind eye. The arts district is vibrant with life and so often my family carries me out kicking and screaming. Well, aside from my brother who hides his amusement behind a mask of irreverence. He knows I love the rainbow.

Of course, Rhys has been gone on courtly business for weeks and I am dying to see him. My brother, the one person who truly understands me. Well, as much as one’s older brother can understand their sister.

I miss him.

“Sorry, mother.” I sigh. “I’m just excited to see my brother tomorrow on our travels.”

A pause of the brush strokes gliding through my hair shoots worry through me. I grit my teeth, bracing for her next words. “What is it?” I inquire, turning to see Mother’s lovely face downcast before her warm gaze meets mine. “He’s been held up and cannot travel with us tomorrow.”

“Oh.” I sigh. Hurt running through me. It’s not his fault, he’s busy and a far more benevolent leader than our father is a ruler, though he plays the game quite well.

An hour later as I lay in bed my heart races, my thoughts spiraling into the places I do my best to forget. The males of this court always let me down. Oh the perils of being the second born heir, younger than those surrounding me, female, and never taken seriously.

The goddess of timing, once found us beguiling.

A note appears at my bedside.

“Night’s truest bloom, there is no starlight without you. Won’t you cast thy gaze upon my room? Xx, Peter”

I smile at the flirtatious note, biting my lip. “You know I can’t but think of me as you bask in sunlight while mother and I trudge through the Illyrian forests tomorrow. Rhys bailed.”

“I don’t like that you’re traveling alone. Shall I come escort you?”

I blush at the thought of walking arm-in-arm with him. Gods, I’m so totally enamored. How did it end up like this?

“You High Fae, so territorial.” I write back.

“You are partly High Fae yourself, my lady. In fact, I’m pretty sure you offered to kill the last female who got too close for your liking.”

My stomach turns. I would. The female’s a lech.

“Semantics. I’ll see you when I get back. Dream filthy dreams of me.” I press a kiss to the letter and send it off.

“Only the filthiest, my sweet Felina.”

She said she was trying. Peter, was she lying? My ribs get the feeling she did.

—————-

Felina

“Y/N?” A cautious voice stirs me from my dream. I wake to find myself in a very large bed, surrounded by luxurious blankets that likely cost twenty-fold the standard linens I’d become accustomed to - the ornate room around me more spacious than anywhere I could recall resting my head.

My body is sore, lethargic. I stretch my arms and - ouch - stiff as well.

“Take it, easy, okay? Your body was under a lot of stress.” I blink my bleary eyes to see Azriel’s concerned gaze fixed upon me.

My body feels weighed down from exhaustion but my heart, it feels heaviest of all - a feeling I’ve continued to carry since Azriel found me at the Inn. Shouldn’t I be happy to have a piece of my life in place? I have a mate - and from what I can recall, a damn good one as well.

I open my mouth to speak but his eyes go distant, a look I’m familiar with but trying to place.

An urgent knock intrudes upon the silence, a look of irritation crossing Azriel’s features before he mutters an apology to me. “He couldn’t wait for me to speak with you apparently.”

My gut clenches, dread overtaking it as the door opens. In walks a male with a face so familiar that my heart’s pace rushes. My brother, Rhys.

“Y/N.” He chokes out, love and longing written all over his beautiful face. “You’re home.”

The name. Y/N. So familiar and so foreign. I remember it now but Felina brings me comfort. “Felina, please call me Felina.” Pain flickers across his features before giving a subtle nod. “Okay, Felina.”

His eyes sparkle as tears form in his eyes. “How? How are you here? Where have you been?”

I reach a hand to touch his face, the scruff beneath itching my palm, his hand instantly finding it and leaning in. It feels so warm and familiar and yet, I yank my hand away like lightning. “I don’t know.” My breaths quicken. Flashes of centuries of lies and manipulation rush into my head and it’s all too much. I can’t process this. I can’t relive it.

My hands find my torso, wrapping myself tightly, I can’t catch my breath. The hot blur of tears fill my eyes as I screw them shut. “I’m sorry- I- I“ can’t finish the sentence as I heave, trying my best to even out my breathing and failing miserably. The inky feel of power seeps from my skin and I can’t process the male voices speaking beside me. My name; a cold, icy voice giving a command; a broken voice of night giving in to whatever was commanded as heavy footsteps pace away, and then -

Darkness. Warmth. A heartbeat in my ear. A brush of lips against my hair. Azriel.

I stay there, sobbing as the emotions crash into me like the surf to rocky shores. The pain doesn’t alleviate for what feels like an hour, the rhythm of my mate’s chest finally bringing me back to the present.

When my eyes open, Azriel is draped over me, wings cocooning protectively around my body, his heartbeat the steady constant in my ear. “I’ve got you.” He whispers. I give into his warmth and drift off again.

————————

Said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me.

Lovers in a field. Brushed hands at balls. Green eyes meeting violet. Shared smiles.

Words from the mouths of babes

Tears cried into a broad shoulder. Whispers of “It’s not fair”, drunken chants of “fuck the cauldron!”, late nights and long dances beside reflections of starlight.

Promises oceans deep

Young lovers questioning eternity, the forces of fate. Letters signed with pen names.

But never to keep

————————-

“Brother, you need to sleep.” Rhysand stressed into Azriel’s mind.

The stubborn bastard had refused to leave Y/N’s side for the days she’d been unconscious. A huge part of Rhys beamed at that. Who was he to question the bonds forged by fate? Was Azriel being his sister’s mate ideal? In a sense, no. As an older brother, he’d always felt protective over her. But Y/N had always gravitated to Azriel, even as a child his shadows could calm her when she was fussy, his patient demeanor had always been a soothing balm to her inquisitive mind. He’d listen carefully as she pondered the great mysteries of life out loud long after the rest of the family had tuned her out.

“I’m fine.” Azriel’s conscious growled in return.

He sure as hell didn’t sound it.

“Let me send darkness to soothe her, just long enough for you to eat and get some sun.”

A pause and then the mirthful reply of “Is it an order?”

Maintaining composure the High Lord replied, “Is it necessary for me to do so?”

Ten minutes later, Azriel appeared at the bottom of the stairs, the light of the foyer emphasizing his hallowed eyes and drained skin. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks.” Azriel muttered.

Rhys knew he sounded like a prick but it was true. “How about you go sun your wings in the garden?”

The energy of the room shifted as Azriel’s eyes rolled, caught between humor and bitterness as he reminded his brother for the fifth time that week of the current circumstances. “Despite your good intentions, you seem to forget that prolonged exposure to the sun is exactly what I do not need.”

“Shit! I am never going to get used to this.” Rhys placed a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “Fine, sit. Amren brought a fresh blood supply this morning. She says it’s goat from Sevenda’s but she was in a mood, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the blood of whatever poor souls had the nerve to cross her path on the way here.”

Azriel wanted to grin at the attempted humor but didn’t have it in him. What a strange turn of the tables, Amren no longer the bloodthirsty one.

The males sat in silence, Azriel nursing the goblet of blood Nuala had kindly brought in to him. Soft footsteps padded into the space, a familiar floral scent wafting through the room, as Elain entered.

“Oh.” the middle Archeron sister gasped. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” She gave a wary smile, sad eyes falling on Azriel before flicking back to Rhys.

“Not interrupting, Elain. What do you have there?” Rhys glanced to a piece of paper in her clutched in her grasp. “Oh, it’s nothing,” she spoke too quickly, her pulse fluttering. “Writing secret love letters, Elain?”

She shook her head, glancing to Azriel once again. It grated Rhys to know the recent history, or whatever it was, that transpired between Azriel and Elain. With his sister being thrown into the mix now, he was battling that instinct to protect her at all costs.

Elain blushed a soft shade of pink, nearly matching that of her pastel dress. One hand grasping the delicate wrist of the opposite. “I’ve been writing to Lucien.”

“Ah, and how is dear Little Lucien?” Rhys raised an eyebrow, lip quirking upward.

“He’s fine.” Her words were clipped. “I have to go now. Cerridwen is waiting for me in the gardens. We’re planting a new variant of night-blooming jasmine.” She gave a nod and scurried from the room.

Azriel’s lips remained in a firm line as Rhys nursed the whiskey he’d poured himself.

Months ago, her words would have hurt, sliced like a dagger at Azriel’s own lack of a bond. Now, well, he still felt jaded toward Rhys for the solstice that he essentially banned him from pursuing a relationship with Elain. But- it worked for the best. There was nothing in this world he wanted more than his own mate, his Y/N, his Felina - as she insisted she be called.

Guilt tugged at him, he should be up with her, not downstairs. What if she needed him? What if she woke with a night terror and he wasn’t there?

“She’s fine, brother.” Rhys broke him from his thoughts. “Your shadows will alert you the moment she wakes, and I have darkness soothing her.”

Shaking his head, Azriel rested his face in his own palms as if he’d rub his face hard enough and all concerns would fade away.

Finally, he looked up. “How do you do it, Rhys? How do you stay away when there are so many questions that need answered?”

Sitting his glass down onto a coaster, Rhys leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. “I know she is in good hands. You brought her back to me. And I know, a mate can help her right now far more than an older brother.”

The thought warmed the icy chill that had settled into Azriel’s bones, he reveled in the moment before replying. “There’s so much we don’t know- So much we need to know.”

“You’re the spymaster, Az, and she’s your mate. I know you need answers. And gods, don’t think for a moment that I don’t want answers too. It takes every ounce of will not to just dive in to see what I can find, but…. It’s her story to tell. And, when I send my darkness to soother her, her shields, there’s something about them that my own darkness recoils from.”

Digesting the words, Azriel took another swig from his goblet. “I need to go back upstairs.”

Rhys only gave a knowing nod.

—————————

Love’s never lost when perspective is earned

Dreams shifted from young love and light to pain and darkness plague my sleep state with visions of bloodshed on pristine snow. Brutal hands of power-hungry males. Sharpened blades. A mother’s scream. Shredded wings falling to the earth.

Lost to the Lost Boys chapter of your life

And then, warm hands and a familiar face. Love and terror in emerald eyes. Strong arms carrying a broken body. Cries of “Please just hold on for me.”

A promise of “Stay right here. I’m getting help.” The back of a lupine creature running toward the distance.

Forgive me, Peter, please know that I tried to hold on.

The effort of holding on is growing too hard. My head slumps as blood trickles from my wingless back. An unheard plea of “Peter!” falls from frozen lips.

Then there is darkness. Void. Impending death.

A cold, pale hand chills my skin. A cruel, beautiful face promises eternity. Unfamiliar arms drag me away and I do not fight.

But the woman who sits by the window has turned out the light.

———————————

Azriel

Azriel had finally settled in beside a sleeping Felina, resisting the urge to take her in his arms and never let go.

His shadows alerted him to the breach in the wards first, shock running through him at the intrusion. Apparating to the entryway, he found Rhys at the front door, baring his teeth at the intruder, waves of night rolling off of him in a way that would send most running.

Icy rage shot through Azriel’s veins at the audacity of the male to show up at their door. The urge first, ask questions later pulling him toward the intruder. His lunged was interrupted by a sharp inhale behind him behind, diverting him from his war path.

His mate had walked down the stairs, her first time out of bed since arriving to the River House. Her slim form trembled, those otherworldly eyes swirling with emotions he couldn’t comprehend.

“Peter.” She whispered through rapid breaths. Azriel ran to her, bracing an arm around her back to steady her uneven footing as she climbed down the grand staircase.

The blonde male fell to his knees, his tears falling ricocheting off the marble floors.

Azriel has no time to ponder the incorrect name she’d used, focusing on her steps, observing the sight before him. He’d only ever seen the male solemn or filled with rage. Never this.

And Felina, there was no fear or hate in her eyes, no wariness, as she took in the male. No, the only emotion he could now read was one his heart wasn’t prepared to face.

So, Azriel watched as his mate’s eyes lined with tears, her slow steps increasing and filling with purpose as she reached the entryway, stepping out of his brace and flinging herself into the arms of the High Lord of the Spring Court.

—————————

Tamlin

Are you still a mind reader? A natural scene stealer?

He didn’t believe it when Lucien wrote to him sending word that Elain mentioned that Y/N was in Velaris. That she was alive. There was no way and getting his hopes up would kill him.

How many nights had he spent plagued by the memories of the day it all came crashing down? The ruination of a beautiful friendship, of a love forged from two kindred souls damned by fate, and the role he played in it.

They were both so jaded at an early age, he and Y/N. And for whatever reason he couldn’t fathom, the princess of night found the youngest heir of spring to be worthy of her presence. She was everything and he was just, a lost male. Everyone wanted her time but she wanted his, and so began the affair of sneaking off at parties, stolen kisses under starry nights, long rolls in soft grasses, love notes written with pen names.

He was Peter, the lost boy forced to grow up too soon - who wanted nothing more than a life of music and poetry but doomed to strengthen ties to Hybern, to be married off like seed stock to a mate that he hated, Hybern’s wicked general.

And Felina, feline, curious and sleek as a cat. She’d been heartbroken by a one-sided mating bond, by a mate who only saw her as the child she once was, a mate too busy pining over her cousin to notice the gem he had right in front of him.

They’d found comfort and peace with eachother, two young adults who could be whomever they wished in their stolen moments.

They were careful to avoid being caught. So careful, until the day he snuck off to watch as she traveled through the Illyrian forests with her mother, that instinct to protect those he cared for surfacing at such an early age. He thought he’d lost her forever. He’d tried so desperately to save her. By the time he returned with a healer, she had disappeared. To this day, Felina had been his greatest loss.

And moments ago when her cry called into his mind, “Peter!”. There was nothing that could hold him back from her, no wards too strong, no distance too far to winnow. There was only he and his need to see her for himself.

And now, here she was in his arms. Repeating over and over how sorry she was for not holding on, for not having faith that he’d return.

All he could choke out was, “Felina.”

We both did the best we could do, underneath the same moon in different galaxies.

—————————————

Tags:

General ACOTAR: @lilah-asteria

Series tag list: @saltedcoffeescotch @julesofvolterra @glittervame @nocasdatsgay

SPOILER FOR THIS STORY (in case you need to know who is end game) : click here

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Other Parts: Part Two, Part Three (short version) Part Three (long version) and Part Four.

You were the younger sister of Johanna Mason from District 7. You were her only remaining family and were put in the 73rd Hunger Games as punishment for your sister's behaviour after she won her games. They thought killing her only remaining family member would convince her to behave and stop being so reactive. It of course didn't work because you won the Hunger Games.

They'd underestimated both you and your sister. Johanna had suspected they might do something like this so had been quietly training you and teaching you survival skills since she got out. Then when your name was called and she became your mentor, she put every fibre of her being into making you win this. She taught you how to play the game, how to appear pretty, charming and get sponsors. Caesar commented on how unlike Johanna you were. "You're a lot more likeable than your sister" he said plainly and you smiled, pretending you weren't visualising pulling his tongue out through his teeth. You were exactly like your sister and proud of it, you just had to play a different game to her.

When you won and were let out Johanna was right there waiting for you. It was the first and only time you saw your sister cry and the trauma brought you both closer. You managed to form some life for yourself, you became friends with the other tributes and tried to keep your head down but you weren't good at that and neither was Johanna. Then Snow announced his stupid spin on the games and you were reaped...and Johanna volunteered as tribute instead of you.

There was nothing you could do as you watched your sister be submitted for the games again and you were furious. So it was of no surprise that when the rebels contacted you, you jumped at the chance to sign up with them. That's how you found yourself in District 13 at the end of the quarter-quell games. You watched Katniss, Beetee and Finnick come in but not Johanna. She'd been captured and while Katniss was freaking out about Peter you wanted to scream because nobody was bothered about your sister, nobody except Finnick.

He came to you as soon as he was able. "Y/n I'm so sorry" he told you "I went to look for her, I tried to find her I really did, I promise" he told you and you nodded "I believe you Finnick". He was the first person you cried with over your sister.

You found out after that, that Finnick had lost Annie. Apparently, she'd had a breakdown from all the stress and the drugs they gave her were too powerful. She'd overdosed the first night Finnick went into the games according to Heavensbee. You had no idea and hadn't heard anything about it but that was the capitol and you had been distracted with a rebellion. With your mutual loss, Finnick and you bonded. You'd always gotten along but you'd never been close which didn't make too much sense.

As soon as you became a victor Johanna introduced you to her victor friends and you hit it off with Finnick immediately. You were both social butterflies who could charm and flirt with pretty much anyone however after a few parties where the two of you clearly were the centre of attention, you felt him pulling away. You asked Johanna about it but she'd just shrugged and said she didn't know anything. So you'd remained civil but never been that close again, until now but in a completely different way.

You responded to loss a lot differently to Finnick, but then again your sister was alive while his love was dead. You could've argued your sister being alive and tortured daily was worse than being dead but didn't think that would help Finnick. The second he found out about Annie he fell apart. He had to be hospitalised and was a shell of himself. You'd responded to your sisters's loss by throwing yourself into work but everyone grieves differently.

You heard sobbing as you passed the medic bay and knew immediately who it was. You unlocked Finnick's door and he turned away before he saw it was you. He wiped his face and sat up. "It's okay" you told him "you don't have to stop". Finnick looked at you and shook his head "any news?". "No but that's not why I'm here, I'm not great at comforting people but I'm here for you Finnick. My sister would want me to look out for you". Finnick paused and then smiled. It was a sad smile but it was a smile. "It's funny" he said "because she said if anything happened to her, I had to look out for you". You smiled sitting down on a chair at the end of his bed "well funny how things change huh? Now, when was the last time you showered, ate or went for a walk?". Finnick shrugged "I don't remember for all 3". You nodded "well that's where we'll start".

And that's what you did for the first week. You visited Finnick for every meal between shifts. You took him for walks around the corridors and made him shower. You stood outside with a towel and clean clothes for him. You figured if he started acting more human it would make him feel like one again and it slowly worked. His appetite increased, he dragged his feet less, he cried less. There were still down days, one day you walked in to find doctors with him and heard he'd cut himself having nightmares so you spent the next few nights asleep at his bedside, ready to hold him down if he tried to hurt himself. Your life revolved around making him get better and you weren't even sure why, neither was Finnick.

"Why are you being so kind to me?" he asked one day when you revealed the sugar cubes you'd snuck into the kitchen and stolen for him. You passed him the cubes and looked at him "because we're friends and you'd do the same for me". He nodded "I would have but you aren't the most touchy-feely sentimental victor". You smiled, pleased Finnick was feeling well enough to poke fun at you. "That's true but I have a soft side to me, Johanna and I both do". Finnick shot you a look "see you I can believe but Johanna?" and you laughed.

It was nice to feel happy and you felt a sharp jolt of it, before remembering where your sister was. It suddenly hit you she was somewhere being tortured as you spoke. Finnick saw the look on your face and didn't have to ask what you were thinking. He gently took your hand. "It'll be okay" he told you "we'll get her back". You nodded and squeezed his hand "I thought I was supposed to be the one comforting you?" you said. Finnick shrugged "we're friends remember?" and for some reason that made you smile like a goofball.

Once Finnick was discharged from the hospital he began taking an active role in District 13 and you helped him settle in. He was moved to a room just across from your own for stability and even though you didn't work together, you sat together in the cafeteria and spent most evenings together. One of the main perks of being an ex-victor/murderer was you got special training with fun toys courtesy of Beetee. You were down there every free minute you had but you felt like Finnick wasn't using this to his full advantage.

"Can you give me tips on how to throw?" you asked Finnick one day after work. He blinked and looked up at you "as I recall, you have a pretty good arm on you already" and you smiled remembering the time you accidentally hit him in the face thinking he was Joanna. It was at a Capitol party, one you'd actually enjoyed and the memory was a good one. "Yeah short range but not long-range, I want to know how to throw a spear or maybe a trident. Know anyone who can teach me". Finnick did not look in the mood but you gave him your best smile and he couldn't resist. "Fine" he pouted getting onto his feet stroppily "but not for long, I'm shattered". You grinned "yay thanks Finnick!" and gave his arm a squeeze before pulling him down to the toystore of weapons.

You saw Finnick's eyes twinkle as he saw the trident Beedee had made for him and smiled. Finnick swirled it effortlessly around himself looking very hot as he did it and he knew it. He turned to you, his shoulders lifted and confidence risen "so, let's get started".

Finnick had you throw a few spears first and after observing he began to adjust your posture and angle. You got better with the spear but couldn't seem to get the trident anywhere near the target. "You've got good power which is no surprise" Finnick smiled "but this isn't an axe, it's bigger and heavier. That's why your aim needs to be better for the trident to find its mark". You nodded before a thought occurred to you "have you ever thought you could be pitch Pitchfork Boy instead of Trident Boy? I mean a trident and pitchfork are basically the same thing". "What? No they not! They're completely different!" Finnick said utterly flabbergasted by your claim and taken-aback by your sudden declaration. "But they are!" you argued continuing the fight "long stick, 3 spiky bits at the top!".

Your bickering escalated and your arguments became sillier until finally, Finnick couldn't stop laughing. You weren't sure if it was because of how strange your argument was, he actually found you that funny or a semi breakdown but either way, it was the most you'd heard Finnick laugh since this all happened. He had tears streaming down his face and he was laughing so hard he had to sit down. You sunk down beside him also laughing and when you both caught your breath he smiled at you. "Thanks Y/n". You looked at him "for what? Being so hilarious?" and he smiled again. "For reminding me there are still things to live for like having a laugh with you". There was a lot of weight in those words and you could tell Finnick had really been contemplating if there was anything worth living for. You should've suspected it but you hadn't and you were suddenly so thankful Finnick was still here. So much so you did something you never did...you hugged him!

Finnick was also surprised and tensed as you pressed up against him and wrapped your arms around him. "Thank you for staying here with me Finnick, I'm glad you're still here" you said into his neck and then Finnick relaxed and hugged you back. "Me too" he agreed.

Time settled and you stayed in the embrace before pulling back feeling slightly flushed. You were searching for something to say when Finnick spoke "I'm glad you got me to come down here and train, can we do it more often?". You nodded "as often as you want".

Finnick started smiling more after that and he was beginning to get back to his charming jokey self. Katniss commented on it one day when you and Finnick teased her for daring to change her hair up. Finnick smiled when she said how much better he was doing. "Well it's thanks to Y/n, she's the one who nursed me back to health and dragged me out of bed each day". You shrugged "nursed is a strong word but I did drag him around a lot". "Well good work" Katniss said "I'll tell Prim you might try out for nurse too yeah?". You showed her a finger and the 3 of you laughed. It was nice to hear your 2 friends laugh together.

Finnick kept you to your promise of training as often as he wanted and you tended to go every other evening after work. It was a stress relief in many ways but you also just enjoyed hanging out with Finnick. He was skilled and you learned a lot from him, as well as helping him master a few skills yourself. It felt productive, fun and you loved that you had something in your control. It was honestly the highlight of your week and Finnick agreed.

You'd had a really good training session so for the last part you got a little cocky. You were sparring with Finnick and decided to use the trident. You'd gotten a lot better at using it but still Finnick smirked as you picked it up "really?" he asked "baby you really want to use my weapon against me?". You felt a little fluttery when he called you baby but didn't let it show. You stood up taller and twirled it in one hand, the exact way you'd seen Finnick do "I certainly do pretty boy". The grin Finnick had on his face was delicious, so much so it was all you could think of for the first few seconds of your sparring match.

Finally your brain came back to you and you nearly knocked Finnick over with the staff of your trident but at the last second, he caught it. You knew the second his hand connected with it, it was gone and sure enough, he ripped it away from you. Finnick did it with so much momentum you stumbled into him and couldn't help but smile at how impressive he looked when he did that. Finnick grabbed your arms to stop you from falling and noticed the look on your face "why are you smiling I won?". "Did you?" you asked honestly thinking the situation you were in was pretty victorious. Finnick Odair standing over you, his hands firmly on your body while he stared at you with his brooding smoulder. Finnick chuckled as he got your point "I guess we're both winners then" he replied and let you go softly. "So that's a draw right?" you asked and just like that the two of you were back to bickering playfully.

After you talked at him until Finnick agreed it was a draw you headed to the showers for a quick wash before bed. You were only allowed a shower once a week so this was another reason you were both in such high spirits. "The way you hit the target without even looking was so cool!" you told Finnick as you entered the co-ed bathroom. Finnick shrugged "well I try, I've lost a lot of muscle mass over the past few weeks". "Well it looked pretty good to me" you smiled hanging your clothes and towel up. You pulled the shower curtain around you and got undressed. Finnick did the same in the cubicle next to you. You enjoyed your 5 minutes of warm water and totally forgot you'd not brought your towel into the cubicle with you. You peeked out of the curtain and sure enough, it was hanging across the room. You sighed, shut the water off and walked across to grab it.

It was late so there was nobody around and you had the towel in your hand and were about to wrap it around yourself when Finnick opened his curtain and saw everything. His eyes quickly took in your body before he looked away and you turned around. "Dammit Finnick" you commented and worked on getting the towel around you. You looked up and realised you were now in front of the mirrors and Finnick was staring at you through them. When he saw you'd spotted him he turned his back and you chuckled. You tied the towel and turned to him "if you wanted a look Odair all you had to do was ask" you smiled at him. Finnick's usual swagger had gone so you let it drop to not make it awkward.

You both dried off and gathered your stuff. You made conversation about how nice it was to be clean and Finnick gave you one-word answers. You said goodnight and stepped into your room. Your first thought was, it wasn't a big deal. You were friends and friends saw each other naked all the time! But then you thought about the way Finnick had been looking at you and there was no way of denying he was turned on. He liked your body and was attracted to you. You'd thought the two of you had chemistry back when you first met him but knew with Annie nothing would ever happen. However she wasn't here, it was just the two of you and Finnick could do whatever he wanted and judging from his eyes when he saw you naked, that was you. You debated your next move, should you just let it go? Wait for Finnick to approach you? Leave the moment and see if there was something there tomorrow too and build on it? You were never good at waiting so you decided to shoot your shot. You'd always wanted Finnick so why not go for him at the end of the world?

You crossed the corridor in nothing but your towel and knocked on Finnick's door. He opened it and looked at you "Y/n?". "I saw the way you looked at me when you saw me naked and I'm just going to be honest. I think you're hot and I want to sleep with you and I think you want me to. Want to do something about it?".

"Yes" Finnick said pulling you inside way quicker than you expected. He didn't even give it a second thought telling you he'd also been pacing his room thinking about you.

Finnick was just as eager once you were inside. He kissed you the second the door was shut and was so needy it was beautiful. He took control initially but as he got more and more heightened and his hands started pawing at you, you started to tease him. You pushed him down on his bed and held him down with one hand "hmmm is someone impatient?". Finnick made a noise reaching for you but you trapped his other hand with your leg "nope, I want to hear you say it. Tell me what you want honey". Finnick made a gorgeous moan and looked at you dead in the eye "I need you to drop that towel, jump on top of me and make that workout earlier look like child's play". You leaned back and loosened the towel "done" you said and let it fall to the floor before completing Finnick's other steps happily.

***

The next morning Finnick woke up and knew something was different before he opened his eyes. Then he did and he saw you laid next to him. You were facing the other way from him with your back to him and he started to panic. What had he done? Annie hadn't even been dead a year and he'd slept with another woman! He'd betrayed her in a way he knew she wouldn't have done to him. He felt like the worst person alive and then you turned around and he got it.

Finnick saw your face and couldn't help but smile. You looked so calm asleep. Awake you always had some guard up but asleep you looked so peaceful and naive. The lines the games had left on your face were gone and Finnick realised he felt happy just seeing you. You'd become the face he got most excited to see and it was almost instinctive now. He enjoyed seeing you peaceful and happy like this because he liked you. You were also so fucking hot. When he saw you naked yesterday his mind had nearly exploded! Your body was incredible, you had abs and your muscle-to-curve ratio couldn't be more perfect. So when you appeared at his door he realised he acted with sanity and clarity. He hadn't slept with you on a whim, he did it because he liked you and genuinely wanted to. He thought Annie would understand that and so he turned towards you.

He pulled you closer so you were resting against his chest. "Finnick?" you asked sleepily and he nodded rubbing your arm "yeah, don't worry is early. Go back to sleep" and you nodded. "Who knew your abs were so comfy" you sighed nuzzling into him and he chuckled. He kept his arms around you protectively and fell back to sleep.

So guess who saw The Ballad of the Songbird and Snakes, went home and rewatched all the HG movies and fell in love with Finnick again?

This will be a four-part series and I'll be posting two more parts next week!

[zozowrites]

The Three Times Steve Put Exactly What You Wanted in Your Hands and the One Time He Didn't

I'm reposting some old works from AO3 on here, this is a

Steve Rogers x avengers!fem!reader

Words: 3.8k

TW: mentions of past trauma/descriptions (surgical), angsty-ish

“Ready for the jump?” Steve yelled at you in the back of quinjet. He would never yell at you except if absolutely necessary, and in this scenario it was. Over the roar of both the wind and the engine, only words spoken at an ungodly decibel could reach your ears. You nodded. 

Nothing is as fun as the jump. You used to think it was the debrief, which meant it was all over, but you quickly learned that missions stay with you far, far after the debrief. And the missions themselves slowly gained your amusement. Gradually it became more and more fun to jump into a forest in Germany with a few other agents and walk to the base, break in, take their data and log the men, and take the tunnels back for rescue. 

On the ground, the walking was the most boring part. When you were on missions with Nat, you would play I spy. With Peter you’d help explain concepts for his science classes, and with Bruce you’d debate different new occurrences in the science world. And theoretical physics, but that's besides the point. You’d only been on missions with Steve with other people. Never alone. 

The sticks crunched as quiet as possible as you kept walking. Left at the tree, right at the creek, and stop when you get to the rocks or the forcefield will stop you first. You couldn’t help but memorize every mission plan you got, because if anything went wrong it wasn’t just your life on the line. It was Steves and any other name that managed to squeeze out of you if you got captured, because they weren’t about to kill Captain America and SHIELD’s best agent before they spilled their guts under mind control, poison, or truth serum (the last one was a rumor). You pretended not to notice when Steve was looking at you in the moonlight but you kept close track so that when he wasn’t you could look back. The feeling of him looking at your swishing ponytail and side profile made you kind of nauseous. First off, the ponytail was certainly incredibly messy due to the drop and the hike. And secondly, you weren’t really a fan of your side profile. It wasn’t your least favorite quality, but when you thought about things you loved about yourself, it didn’t show up (but don’t worry, the list was quite long). 

You held your arm out to stop him once you had gotten to the rocks. Once you bent down to pick up some dirt from the ground, you stood up again and lazily tossed it at where the forcefield should be. It floated until it lit up a fence shape and disintegrated. 

“Well at least we know where the fence stops,” Steve said and sighed, putting his hands on his hips. Old boomer man was too slow to keep up with you. “Whats-”  He looked up at you, already halfway up the nearest tree. 

“The lowest branch is fifteen feet up, Y/N, how did you get up there already?” You responded by silently pointing to the rope that was still hanging on said lowest branch with your foot before you continued climbing. After you had made it to sit on the same branch a good thirty feet up in the air, you spat out the dirt you had been keeping in your mouth. You watched it fall over the forcefield fence, lighting up the extent of the barrier. 

“When Nat said you were unconventional, this is not what I had in mind.” He said and shook his head at himself. What had he had in mind? 

“Ok Captain, we still have a mission to do,” You told him and slipped the goggles off where they rested on your forehead to cover your eyes. You turned yourself backwards and took a deep breath, puffing your cheeks and holding your nose closed before falling in backwards as if scuba diving. 

On the ground, you walked faster in the shadows of the night and talked in quieter whispers. 

“That's not a move they teach at the Academy.” He said, amused. 

“No, but they do at scuba certification in the Maldives.” You responded. He held in a snort. “What? Does that not fit into your Unconventional box?” He didn’t have the time to shake his head in fake disgrace before you peeled back the closure of a vent and slithered in like a snake. He followed. 

The layout of all the remote Hydra bases are slightly different, but nothing too drastic. It's like stepping into the Target two miles from your house and not the one three blocks over. Everything is practically the same, you just came in the hopes this store isn’t out of pretzels like the other always is. 

Well, this Target was one with pretzels if you had ever seen one. You had done dozens of these missions but never actually encountered a real, live agent of the other side on one. There were two at the door to the lab that you shot with your stunning pistol before you called clear and Steve joined you. Through the locked doors of the lab you watched three or four scientists with steaming test tubes pacing back and forth, but not actually doing anything. 

“This has to be it!” You whisper yelled at Steve, finally excited. 

“But they aren’t actually doing anything, it has to be a hoax or a trap.” He rebutted. 

“Everything is a trap if you think about it too long. That's how capitalism gets you!” You said. “Pick up one of the soldiers hands and scan the door. Fifty bucks says those scientists aren’t even real people.” 

He did as he was told. But this time you were wrong. They were real people. Real mad people, too. Steve took them all out with one throw of his glorified frisbee. You put in the tiny USB shaped like the Eiffel tower and walked around the room. It was different from the others. It was brighter, with the light coming up through the white floorboards. They felt as if they were on the verge of breaking away and dropping you into the depths of nothingness. 

“Y/N” Steve called as the nearest scientist starter to stir awake. You pointed your gun at his shoulder and shot him down again. Without noticing how light your gun felt, you put it back into your waist holster and yanked the USB out, knocking over a bottle of blue substance off the counter. 

“Lets go,” You said and motioned him back to the door. But getting out was much, much harder than getting in. Pairs of soldiers came running after you as soon as the doors closed, shooting like their lives depended on it. For everything you knew about Hydra, it would be a safe bet to say it did. You sprinted around the next corner and shot back at the men before your gun clicked empty. Cap was standing right next to you, anticipating the next catch of his shield, but still made time to effortlessly slip one of his guns out of his holsters and place it in your empty hand, rendered useless without a weapon by your side. 

“Thanks” You shouted back at him and left the place back to back.

As soon as the doors to the Quinjet closed, you took off all your equipment. You unsnapped the parachute that had been on your back all this time and flung the utility belt full of resources to the ground. It skidded across the metal floors before coming to a rest under the line of seats. 

“What's the rush, Agent Y/L/N?” Steve asked you in a way that was intended to be flirty (hopefully) but it really wasn’t the right time. Before you could respond, you reached into your mission bag and found exactly what you were looking for. You popped the cap of the lipstick tube and quickly used the knife inside to cut off your pants. Why was this a jumpsuit in the first place? It's difficult to take off enough as it is. 

“Are you alright, Y/N?” He changed his question. No, you obviously weren't alright. The blue liquid you had spilled in the lab had gotten on your suit had soaked through the suit so it could burn your thigh. You slid against the cold back of the Quinjet and sat down, surrendering to the increasing pain. You didn’t care anymore that you were sitting in your underwear with your suit pants down by your ankles in front of Steve. You just wanted the pain to stop. He poured a bottle of emergency pure water over the hand-sized burn on your thigh. You liked to watch the water roll off your skin and turn on the floor with the movement of the Quinjet. What you didn’t like about the water, however, was how much more it made your leg burn. 

You closed your eyes to hold the tears back and let a long, slow, (accidentally loud), breath escape from your lips. This wasn't the worst pain you've ever been in. Not by a long shot. But it still made you feel like you could taste colors and hears smells. 

“Good? Bad?” He asked, concerned. 

“Bad, really really really bad” You said so fast. Immediately, he stopped the slow pour. He tightened the cap on it and put it back in the emergency kit. He stood up from his seemingly extremely uncomfortable position on the floor and over to the comm center. 

“We’ll need med on site when we land.” He said with as much control in his voice that he could muster before coming back to sit with you. 

While he was up, you debated whether or not it would be an appropriate thing to ask him. But the water was reacting with the acid in your skin and starting to bubble and boil and fizz. He was looking at you, right in the eyes, asking what you needed without actually using words. 

“Steve, will you-” You started to ask and held out your hands. Somehow, he knew exactly what you were asking him to do. He put his hand in yours and pulled you out from the little crevice you had nested yourself in and slid in behind you. Then he wrapped his hands around yours and used them to wrap both your and his arms around you and pulled you into him. You sighed and leaned back against his strong chest, matching your breathing with what you could hear of his. 

“I think I’m gonna go to sleep,” You said, tired of fighting to stay awake. The sun was just starting to rise, rays of sunlight penetrating through the windshield and reflecting contorted shadows of reality onto the back wall. 

“No, Y/N, I need you to stay awake for me.” He said in the calmest voice but it was already too late. You had given in to the pain.

It had been almost a year since your last mission. And it had taken almost as long to recover. But now you were fine. They figured out that the substance was the most aggressive form of acid, and it broke down every substance they tested it on except for your suit material. That included a sample of a civilian cadavers leg (don’t ask how they got that because you do not want to know). The new running theory was that you were superhuman. Anytime someone asked what you think about that theory, you responded “I will neither confirm nor deny that information” with a stern, monotone voice. Sometimes it was fun to play robot. 

Tony had decided to host another party on a whim, and you had decided to actually attend this one. For the last year you had been avoiding people like they were a virus to avoid their questions and stares about why you were always wearing some form of pajama shorts. The answer was because tight pants (the only type of pants you had) were too painful the first time you tried them on a couple months ago, so you just went back to Amazon and bought more pajama pants. But today you decided, would be different. You were finally ready to tell the world that a little unknown acid eating the skin and some of the muscle in your leg wouldn’t get you down. So you put on real jean shorts to prepare yourself to open your closet. 

The three racks of clothes stared back at you blankly. This was a lot. You wanted to wear a dress because Tony’s parties were black tie only (and that rule was strictly enforced). You tossed a couple cute dresses you rarely wore anymore onto your bed. There was the red one with the open back and gold collar, the pink one with the lace and sweetheart neckline, and the black one that clung to your body like wet dog smell. 

Once the party had died down, Tony had decided it was the right time to take out the really nice vodka. You didn’t much care for alcohol but after standing in insufferable gold heels and talking to insufferable people who asked about your leg and made sad faces at you for a couple hours made anything alcoholic sound like liquid heaven. Gathered into the stiff couches of the living room on the party floor (the living room you only sat in after parties, that is), Tony announced the game. 

“We’re playing strip truth or dare. If you don’t want to answer or do, you take off an item of clothing of your choice” He said. Then he turned to Peter, “So kid, that means you gotta go.”

You took off your gold shoes and tossed them at Peter, who wrapped them in webbing and tossed them back at you laughing. He was the only one who never asked about what happened. Well, besides Steve. At first he asked if you were okay every time you moved to stand up or sit down but you shot him daggers each time and conditioned him to stop bringing it up. It was embarrassing enough that you passed out in his arms and took your pants off like that in front of him that you never wanted to talk about that night again. 

“I choose Bruce,” Tony said and proceeded to tell him a dare, despite Bruce’s request for a truth. “I dare you to turn into the Hulk right now” 

“Tony, no” Literally everyone besides Tony in the circle said. Instead, Bruce took off his shoe. He tossed it onto the center of the “living room” table and the clothes of rejected truths and dares started to turn up there. 

It was Carol’s turn to pose a truth or dare and she chose Steve. 

“Dare.” 

“I dare you to kiss someone in this circle.” She said with smug arrogance on her face. This would surely get him to strip, right? 

“Wow Carol was not the person I would’ve pegged as the pervert of this group.” Vision stated plainly. 

“And who would that be?” Tony asked. 

“Why, you, Mr. Stark” He said back and we all snickered like we were in middle school and he just laid a sad burn on the teacher. 

“It’s not a perverted dare to pose, it's like the most common in truth or dare, frankly I’m surprised it hasn’t already come up” She said, defending herself.  Regardless, Steve put his finger to his temple to feign thinking and Tony groaned. “Stop pretending it's hard to choose, we all know you want to kiss me.” 

This one got an eye roll out of everyone this time. Steve just stood up from his spot on the loveseat next to your sofa and leaned down to whisper something in your ear. 

“Is it alright if I kiss you?” He asked in a gentle voice. You nodded. He cupped the back of your head before he brought his face away so he could bring it back. The kiss was short and sweet, just once with no tongue, but it wasn’t entirely impossible to imagine what it would be like with it. It would be like home. You knew that now. 

He pulled back and you couldn’t help but blush a little, no matter how hard you didn’t want to. Tony wolf whistled and a few others joined them. Another round of truths and dares went around before you were asked the inevitable. 

“Y/N, tell us about your supernatural family history.” Tony asked. You had chosen truth despite knowing this would be it. You didn’t want your next kiss with Steve to be another dare. 

You weren’t going to answer this, but you could entertain them. You held your hand out in Steve's direction. He handed you the bottle of vodka and you took a long sip. You extended the amount you downed by breathing through your nose. You set the bottle down and stood up. “Nat unzip me” 

She stood up too and gently tugged the golden zipper from the top collar of your tight, black dress down to your lower back where it ended. You slipped it off your shoulders and stepped out of the circle of fabric it left on the floor before bending to pick it up and toss it on the pile. You sat down with a satisfied smile on your face. You knew you had to drink that much to take off your dress. When this party had started you didn’t want to show your scars, but now you’d do anything to make it feel normal. So, you thought to yourself “what would you do if you hadn’t got that scar and were asked this question?” and the answer was take off your dress.  It was one of the good days for Moana -- the name you had given your scar after careful consideration and one watch of the movie -- because it wasn’t very puffy or painful, it was just a faded yet vibrant red. You felt fine and confident about the rest of your body. Surprisingly, it hadn’t changed much through the months of recovery. As long as no one asked about your first scar, Gennadon -- named as tribute to your past self, you would be fine. It was hard to ignore a large scar running up the left side of your stomach from a few inches below your bra to a few above your underwear. You hoped a copious amount of cleavage was enough to distract them. 

Most people in the circle were watching and whistling as you showed yourself off and sat down again. Most people excluded Steve Rogers.  “It's okay to look, Steve,” You told him. Besides you, every other person in the circle had noticed how he tried very hard to do his very best to respectfully not look at you almost naked. He allowed himself to meet your eyes and you smirked when they fluttered down to the rest of you.

"Scalpel,” The lead surgeon on the team asked the scrub nurse in a commanding tone. 

“Scalpel,” She echoed as she placed one in his hand. You were awake on the table, and no one noticed. But that was the point. All of their last attempts had resulted in a dead “volunteer”, so this time they tried to transplant the very same foreign organ with you awake. 

After a few hours, an intern bumped into the part with your head and moved the drape covering your face. She saw you blink and screamed. 

“She's awake!” She yelled. “This is inhumane!” She huffed and left. She didn’t bother to cover your face again. After that basically everyone else in the operating room left too. They said it was inhumane but no one ever came to save you. No one reported it to the hospital that an illegal organ transplant was taking place right under their nose because that meant they were involved in such a thing. 

So when the lead surgeon finally needed an assist again, the only one left was you. He set up a mirror so you could see the reflection of your abdomen in it. He gloved your hands and looked at you. You held your hand out for a scalpel and he placed one in your hand. Slowly the surgery came to a close. Well, he had you close. And he left you the bad suture string for you to close with. He gave you the type that left ugly scars. 

He reversed the anesthesia with another illegal drug. “I always knew you’d make a good surgeon, Dr. Gennadon.” He said with an antagonizing smile. 

You glared back at him. 

You woke up in a cold sweat and gasped for air. You tried in vain to throw the blankets off of you and run into the bathroom like you normally did, but it led to no avail. Steve had a steel grip on you even in his sleep. His face was sweetly nestled into the soft spot of your neck between your shoulder and face, but it couldn’t stay there. You needed to breathe. You did the only thing you could think of, and frantically ran your hands through the sheets feeling for anything fleshy and not yours. You finally grabbed something and yanked, not realizing what you had done. 

“YOW!” Steve awoke with a jolt. 

“Sorry sorry sorry I’m so sorry Steve that was not what I wanted to grab! Are you okay, honey?” You asked him, sitting you both up. You tilted his face so that he’d look at you. 

“Yup I’m fine” he said through gritted teeth and a forced smile. That means he must’ve seen the involuntary tears running down your face that, unfortunately, always accompanied the dreams. Now he was focused on you, using his simultaneously soft and calloused fingers to lovingly wipe the tears from your cheeks. “Want to tell me?” 

You shook your head, you never did. 

“Well, it's just a nightmare, right?” Steve asked you, searching on your face for some sign of fake reassurance. Both you and him knew very well that that was a blatant lie. “Well it's over now. You’re here now.” 

He wrapped his arms around you in an attempt to draw you back into bed so you could sleep but that didn’t help. It activated your stupid fight or flight response and you slapped him across the face when his hug intensified. 

“I’m so so so so sorry, Steve” You said again. It seems you couldn’t stop hurting him. But he stayed. 

“It's totally fine.” He said and rolled over to fall asleep. 

“It's just a nightmare” You repeated his words to yourself as if they would make it true. You both knew it was a lie. Those were memories.

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Jason Todd Week Special! Day 4: Grave + Lifeline

A/N: this unofficial mini-chapter is part of the event being run by @jasontoddweek2025 and can be enjoyed without reading the rest of the story

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, let me know if I missed anything worth tagging!

warnings/labels: deals with character death, trauma, and healing

wc: 980

CIGYN? Chapter Selection

The rain stung against my cheeks as I trudged down the path. I pulled my cardigan tighter around myself, shivering in the cold. The first rays of morning were just starting to peek over the city in the distance, and a light fog filled the air. I could feel Wayne Manor looming behind me like a disapproving aunt as I slipped through the wrought iron gate of the Wayne family cemetery.

I could almost hear generations of Waynes demanding an explanation for my presence among them. This part of the grounds felt almost sacred, a place for the family, and only the family. And I was an outsider, intruding on their rest. But Jason was out there, alone in the cold and the wet, and something told me he shouldn't be allowed to stew in his thoughts for too long. With a murmured apology to the Wayne ancestors, I slowly made my way down the path toward Jason, who stood over a grave like some kind of gargoyle standing guard.

My feet padded softly in the puddles. I could have easily avoided them, but the sound would make sure Jay knew I was coming, and it was always best not to sneak up on him. I finally stood beside him, frowning softly; his expression was almost blank, a far away sort of look in his eyes. Never a good sign.

“... Jace?” my whispered voice cut through the stillness like a hot knife through butter. 

He blinked a bit, tilting his head toward me. “... Hey, mama.”

I gently rubbed his shoulder; “you're soaked to the bone… how long have you been out here?”

“... A while. … It's … the anniversary.”

I looked down at the grave, blinking repeatedly, as if it might change the words I was reading;

JASON PETER TODD

Sleep undisturbed within the peaceful shrine till angels wake thee with a note like thine.

“... I see ... Well … got to appreciate the irony I guess?”

He chuckled ruefully; “... For a while I suspected Bruce arranged it … he knew Ra's, he knew Talia … it seemed too far-fetched that they'd just … stolen me, without a word. And then I get back, and that's the epitaph they chose?”

I nodded. “But now?”

“It was just the paranoia talking. I know that …” he sighed softly, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Still feels weird sometimes though …”

“That's fair. It'd feel weird to anyone.” I held him closer. “... What did they even bury?”

“Ra’s gave Bruce some kind of … clone mannequin. ... Sometimes I dream that I'm down there … in a box. … I claw my way through the lid, through the dirt … it fills my mouth and I can't breathe … and when I finally get out there's a clone living my life. … It's perfect, and happy, and … everyone's better off with it. … They hate me for digging my way out.”

I cupped his cheek, gently pulling him down to kiss his temple. He stroked my hip, leaning against me more. “... What are you doing out here, baby girl? It's freezing…”

“I could say the same to you.”

He sighed softly; “... I just … sometimes I need to see it. … Reminds me I'm alive. … I'm up here, and that thing's down there. … It's not gonna steal my life from me.”

I nodded slowly, wrapping my arms around him. “I gotcha … it's staying down there, and you're staying up here with me.”

He stared down at the grave, stroking my back gently. Eventually he laughed softly; “... Of all the quotes …”

I chuckled; “well what would you have picked?”

“I dunno … not that. … Next one's gotta be better though. … Promise me?”

I nodded slowly. “Promise. ... ‘Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.’” 

He smiled softly; “... That's nice. Who said that?”

“Emily Dickinson.”

He nodded. “It’s perfect… It's a nice thought … love being a lifeline.”

I ran my fingers through his hair, smiling softly. Jay leaned down and kissed my shoulder. “... Ok, let's get inside, baby girl.”

I nodded, letting him lead the way back toward the house. Just crossing the gate I felt warmer, like the Wayne ancestors were silently ushering us back to the safe embrace of their living descendants. Alfred appeared as we crossed the threshold, a tray of hot chocolates in his hands. As we took a pair of mugs Bruce arrived, wrapping warm towels around our shoulders. Jason shifted, subtly leaning into his father's hands, and Damian took my hand, tugging me along to the family room where Duke was setting out handfuls of blankets. We all got comfortable on the couches, basking in the warm glow of the fireplace.

The rest of the family slowly joined us. Dick hovered over the back of the couch, hugging Jason tight for as long as he’d allow. Tim eventually stumbled through the door with a box of donuts. Cass’s hand ghosted over Jason’s shoulder as she passed him, taking a seat in silence. Steph sat next to me, offering us a small smile. No one spoke much for a long time, the weight of the day sitting heavy on everyone’s hearts. Eventually Babs joined us, rolling over to an open space between Jason and Dick.

Dick smiled softly. “... You know, if we’re going to mark an anniversary, shouldn’t it be a happier one?”

Tim snorted softly; “Ok, you wanna get together on the anniversary of the day he tried to kill me, or the day he killed all those dealers?”

“Or we could just … not?” Jason grimaced.

Bruce smiled gently. “If we’re marking a happy anniversary, it should be the first time he joined us for family dinner, after everything. … That was the day I got my son back.”

Jason blinked repeatedly, head ducking down against my shoulder. “... Whatever you want.”

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Fanart in the header by: @crowkip

Jason Todd Week Taglist: @cottage-worm

[alloftheimaginesblog]

merry christmas {peter parker}

plot: you and peter broke up around christmas one year ago but he heard that you've moved on and he comes to see you.

character: female reader x peter parker (tasm)

His body was on auto-pilot as he swung through the streets of New York; it was a second nature to him now to swing absent-mindedly and get to his required destination safely. However, his mind was not so clear. His mind reeled over the information he'd heard from Aunt May just a few days prior.

"I met (y/n) today, Peter. She looked good, really good actually... She asked about you."

Peter's heart thudded hard inside his chest at the mere mention of your name. Aunt May eyed him curiously, she hadn't brought you up in months because every time she did, Peter's face would drop and his volume grew loud. Today, though, seemed different. Peter swallowed hard, "Yeah?" He asked, trying his hardest to not sound interested, "How is she?"

Aunt May hesitated. She didn't want to tell him but she had to. You and Peter had been broken up for almost a year and he hadn't moved on; still blamed himself for you getting hurt and still regretted his decision of walking away every single minute of every single day.

"She's dating again." It was those three words which broke Peter's heart in two, "She seems really happy." And then those four words shattered the two halves into millions of little pieces.

For the last three days, it's all Peter could think about; the fact that you were dating again and... you were happy. You and Peter had been happy once a long time ago.

The two of you had grown up together though not very close until college, after Gwen... Your friendship was solid but there was always something more to your relationship and then three years ago, it transformed into something more. It was really good. You helped Peter to heal, he helped you let go of past traumas and then... he got stupid, careless and you ended up getting put in harm's way. You got hurt, badly hurt, and Peter couldn't live with the guilt no matter how much you tried and pleaded with him that it wasn't his fault. He pulled back and you had no choice but to leave. You wanted to stay and you tried - you tried so hard to fight but after months of coldness, of him pulling away... you couldn't do it anymore. You lost the fight and gave up.

"When you're ready, Pete... I'll be here."

He figured you would move on but he didn't realise that it would actually happen. He didn't think you would actually be able to move on. And yet, here he was swinging to your apartment on Christmas Eve as snow fell around him and flashing lights filled the night's sky and then, there you were... in the arms of your new boyfriend.

You were curled up together on the sofa watching - Peter released a breath he didn't know he was holding - Home Alone. You and Peter used to always watch it on Christmas Eve too. Jealously raged in his stomach, boiling hot and angry but it was the overwhelming sadness which poured down on him like a wave crashing into him that won the battle. He moved closer, landing on your fire escape though out of view. Your apartment was mostly the same though you didn't have the pictures of the two of you littered over the walls anymore... Instead the walls were bare, he hated that. Your Christmas tree decorations were the same, same gaudy tinsel that used to give Peter a sore head if he looked at it for too long and...

He stilled.

You still had the decoration that the two of you made together. It was clay which you'd imprinted both of your thumbs into the shape of a heart onto the surface. He couldn't believe that you still had it. He didn't think a new boyfriend would like that but he realised you'd hidden it at the back of the tree for that very reason - maybe so that if Peter were to swing on by he could see it and know that you still loved him?

He shook his head. You had moved on. You were over him. Done. Finished. But why didn't it feel finished? Why didn't he feel like he could move on? Peter knew he shouldn't but he needed to. He needed to tell you how he still felt even if it was to say goodbye but he couldn't just barge into your apartment when your boyfriend was here - that would be an awful first impression, wouldn't it? Instead, he jumped off of the fire escape and swung his way down the street to Sal's Corner Store.

There, he bought a cheesy Christmas card which looked like a three year old threw up glitter on it, "Can I borrow your pen?"

"Sure thing, Spider-Man!" Sal said chucking him a pen which Peter caught effortlessly. To serve Spider-Man in a store these days wasn't all that unusual. It usually meant quicker service so Peter often would pull his suit on when Aunt May needed groceries - it was just easier.

It took him a few minutes to write everything he needed to write down and then he handed the pen back, "Merry Christmas, Sal!" And he was off again, swinging back up to your fire escape.

You yawned, leaning into the embrace of your boyfriend when a flash of blue and red from your window caught your eye. No fucking way. Your heart suddenly quickened by about 100 times the speed as you stared frozen in your seat staring out the window. All you could see was darkness, no one was there but you had seen - you were sure that you had seen...

Slowly, you stood, telling your boyfriend some lame excuse about being too warm, and moved towards the window of the fire escape. It was empty but as you slid the window open you saw it... A red envelope which was stuck to the railing with... a web.

You could leave it there, leave it to disintegrate in the snow never knowing what he wanted to tell you, never knowing how he felt... Could you live with that? Knowing that he had stretched out his hand and you had ignored it, turned away and shut the window on him. You released a long breath and stretched out your arm and yanking the letter from the web and coming back inside. You excused yourself to the kitchen to read it as your heart beat faster and faster.

Dear (y/n),

It's Peter.

I know that you've moved on and I saw how happy you looked and I had every intention of writing you this card to try to win you back. I wanted to tell you that I was ready for a relationship, I was ready to let you in and letting you go was the biggest regret of my life but... I'm standing in Sal's and I can't write what I want to write. What kind of person would I be to ruin your current happiness in hopes of chasing a dream we once shared together?

I want to be happy... with you but you're so happy so... I guess I'm going to try and let you go. It's not going to be easy but I need to let you go, for your own good and for mine.

I'll always love you.

Merry Christmas, (y/n).

Peter

Your hands trembled as you read the card over and over soaking up every letter, every scribble, every scratch of ink on the paper; every trace of Peter. You had gone without any inkling of him in a year and now you had a taste and you needed to soak it up as much as you could. You were so focussed on the card that you didn't hear footsteps come up behind you, "What's that, babe?" Your boyfriend asked, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your shoulder.

"Nothing," you said quickly, closing the card and sliding it into the bin, "Christmas card from an old friend." You swallowed the lump in your throat and turned to him, forcing a smile, "Ready to go finish the movie?"

You were happy, you were and you weren't going to throw your happiness away just because Peter wrote you a card. You couldn't. You wouldn't. You were happy so... with a breath and a smile, you walked into the living room and fell back into the arms of your boyfriend with the words of Peter's card still floating around your head.

[simpcityy]

First off, love your stories. Second, can I request a Miguel O'Hara x daughter! Child!reader (maybe 4 or 5 or whatever age you want it to be) gets adopted by him and he notices how extremely shy she is from the trauma she has. Like one day he took her to HQ for the first time to make her open up more and Hobie or Peter B (anyone really) scared the hell out of her and she was crying loudly and they tried to make her smile and Miguel just slaps one of them and it makes you laugh (have you seen ice age? The scene where Manny and Diego hit him and the baby just laughs? That's what I'm thinking that happens. The video is linked just in case)

First off, I would like to apologize for how long this took to complete, I swear I didn't forget! The cons of being a young adult in this world but finally! I was able to write this wonderful idea of yours into a short one-shot. Yes! Ice Age was my childhood movie and that particularly scene was my all-time favorite.

Word Count: 744 Warnings: Trauma, adopted child, Ben being smacked...ughh that's all

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Being a hero came with pros and cons. Miguel, who is currently Spider-Man 2099 was facing with a problem, you. A small 5-year-old child. Your parents were gone thanks to a villain who was after you. Sitting on the rooftop, Miguel held you as you slept in his arms after the intense crying of seeing your parents gone. Thinking carefully what he was going to do. "What will it be Miguel?" Lyla appears in front of him, glancing at the small child. The man only grunted, " If I were to drop them off at the orphanage, most likely they will get them...I have no choice but to adopt her." He gets up holding you close as he swings off the roof.

It's been weeks now, close to 3 months. Lyla was having blast teasing Miguel seeing how protective he was over you. A small call from the daycare and he was out to pick you up right away. Miguel grumbles as he waited in line at the daycare with you clinging to his leg as many mothers were whispering how adorable you were and how hot Miguel looked being a protective and active father. He watched a young boy of your age walk over to you. He raised an eyebrow when you rejected the offer of wanting to play outside in the playground with him." ¿Qué pasa, cariño?" He kneels down to your height rubbing your cheek as you cling to him more, to the point he's back up carrying you in his arms. The sight of Miguel carrying you made many of the parents' awe. "Mr.O'Hara?" Your daycare teacher calls out the next person on the list. " Now, go out to play with your friends?" He smiles before it slowly fades as you only shake your head no and cling to him. Leaving him no choice but to hold you in his arms throughout the meeting.

During the meeting, Miguel nods as your daycare teacher express her concerns. " I know (Y/N) was adopted by you Mr. O'Hara but...is there any sort of trauma that prevents them from having a social life? They are too shy, to the point they even refuse to play with their peers, and I fear this can prevent them from building a social life." The woman explained as Miguel nodded, paying attention. He knew she was right; you were too shy around strangers and whenever he took you to the park, you would beg to go home right away and watch movies with him instead. He was mad at himself for not seeing those struggles and odd behavior right away. Mad at himself for sheltering you from the cruel world when he should've been exposing it you slowly so you can fight you way around it. As it was told by all dimensional Spider-Mans, being a Hero has many pros and cons, mostly cons.

After the meeting, Miguel held your hand as you both walk home " (Y/N), don't you like making friends?" He looks down at you as you ponder his question. "No..." You whisper holding his hand tightly. "por qué?" He picks you up in his arms walking home faster. "It's hard" was your only answer that lingered in Miguel's mind. As nighttime came, Lyla appears on Miguel's shoulder seeing him look up programs to help children with trauma. "Are you really considering that?" The AI asked before Miguel shook his head "No, I'm just seeing what the programs are based so I can do something similar with them at home." He mutters as he kept reading and reading till Lyla's idea turned the light bulb in his mind.

"Why no bring them to HQ and meet Mayday, maybe they feel less shy around someone who's younger than them" The AI shrugged.

The next morning, that's what Miguel did. You looked around both in awe and fear seeing so many people in this big place. "¿Te gusta?" He whispers to you, holding your small hand into his larger ones. You only shrugged feeling mixed emotions. Upon arriving at his office, he hands you a couple of papers and crayons. " I'll be up there working, soon, I want you to meet someone okay. ¿Puedes hacer eso por mí, cariño?" He smiles petting your head. Once the words meeting someone has gotten you on edge but slowly nodded, knowing this meant a lot to your adopted father. "Okay" You whisper and began to color waiting for the suppose someone you were meeting.

After a while you were busy drawing a picture of you and Miguel before seeing small hand grabbing your crayons. Looking up, you saw a small baby. Slowly, sitting up on your knees, you kept coloring. Miguel watched carefully with Peter. "Relax, they will click soon alright Miguel, and here I thought I was the overprotective father." Peter smiles before sighing seeing Miguel wasn't even listening to him as he was busy watching the interaction between you and Mayday. After a while, Miguel smiles a bit seeing you help Mayday color and stopping her whenever she tries to put the crayon in her mouth. Peter kept quiet watching Miguel, enjoying the small smile before it could fade. Both fathers watched afar their children enjoying their company until Ben walked in.

"Woah! Is this Mini Miguel?!" Ben walks over and picked you up from the back of your shirt taking a good look at you. Miguel and Peter stood stiff seeing your tears forming. You looked at the masked man and all hell broke loose. Ben panicked as you wailed reaching for miguel. "papá!" You cried as Miguel jumps down his platform with a frown. " ¡Idiota! Everything was going well until you came!" He yells and grabs you, holding you close. Trying to calm you down but so far nothing was working. He sighs and curses at Ben. Meanwhile Ben apologizes over and over, "Look, I am so sorry, I didn't know they were going to get scared!" He looks at Miguel before being smacked behind his head "OW!"

Miguel felt somewhat satisfied after smacking Ben before hearing your small giggle. He stops and looks down at you, seeing a small smile covering your mouth. He slowly smacks Ben again causing you to giggle out again. "Oh, let me try!" Peter walks over holding Mayday and smacks Ben behind the head. "Ow!" Ben yells as both you and Mayday giggle. "This is really a stress relief." Peter admits waiting for his turn as Miguel smacked Ben again. Ben held in the pain as his punishment for scaring you. "Anything for Mini Miguel!" He says acting like a tough guy as both fathers took turns, the room filled with giggles from you and Mayday. Lyla recording the whole thing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spanish Translation: 1. Qué pasa, cariño - What's wrong, Sweetie? 2. por qué- Why? 3.Te gusta - Do you like it? 4. Puedes hacer eso por mí, cariño - Can you do that for me, Sweeite? 5. ¡Idiota - Idiot

[littlemessyjessi]

"Herbal or Verbal?": A Holiday Marauders HP Imagine: Sirius Black

A Holiday HP Marauders Imagine 

Sirius Black x Plus Size Reader, PS Reader, Reader

Use of Y/N because frankly if I tarry too long on flushing out an oc… it will never get written and we’ll all be lucky if I post it by NEXT holiday season.  

Fem identifying reader because I love women and I just want to.   

Warnings:  Mentions of Sirius’ terrible mother? Mentions of the first wizarding war with Moldysnort and all of the trauma kind of attached to that. 

Also, if you’re under 18, get out.  I love you.  I wish you well.  A very happy holiday season to you! But get out.  Auntie says this with as much love as possible but hit the bricks, kid.  Come back when you’re older. Love you but git.  Stay warm, drink some water, eat well and be kind to yourselves though.   Just because you ain’t allowed here doesn’t mean I don’t wish you the best.  You’re worthy of love but I must insist.   Scooch on out.   

Now, then. Let’s begin. 

………..

………..

………...

Thick puffs of smoke billowed out into the cold December air. 

A sigh with a mixture of irritation and anxiety followed it. 

Sirius Black sat on the steps of his girlfriend’s flat. 

A girlfriend that was nowhere to be found at the moment despite the fact that today she’d invited their whole friend group to a holiday get-together at her own home. 

His best mate, James, was also nowhere to be found… and HIS girlfriend hadn’t a clue of his whereabouts either. 

Sirius was not often irrationally jealous when it came to Y/N and today was no different. 

However, the both of them gone at the same time had him on edge for a myriad of reasons. 

The thought of his love and his best mate having been attacked… or worse… had his blood boiling and running cold simultaneously.   

His stomach was a complete mess of knots.  

Business with the Order hadn’t been good as of late with two recent deaths and death eater numbers growing every day. 

He’d ran into his oh so delightfully awful cousin, Bellatrix, just yesterday. 

Always a pleasant experience, that one. 

Nearly tried to kill him and Sirius would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about kicking her off a cliff on more than one occasion. 

Tensions had been high between him and Remus. 

The latter of which was currently sat inside the flat with dark circles under his eyes, a few new scars and barely concealed irritation as he waited ‘patiently’ on this chocolate tea that Y/N promised him. 

Lily, despite acting as if it were nothing, kept flitting back and forth in front of the fireplace as if the two of them would suddenly appear by floo powder when everyone knew damn well that Y/N sooner die than get soot in her hair before a party. 

She always apparated and floo powder was a last resort. 

“I can never get it out of my hair, Siri. Even with magic. And that must be awful for your lungs.  I can’t be bothered.” she’d told him once before when he’d suggested it as a opposed to a half a dozen trips by apparating to get the shopping home. 

To which she shamed him by shrinking the groceries, giving him an unimpressed look and apparating away in her sassy little fashion… leaving Sirius standing in the alleyway puzzled … and even more in love than usual. 

He rubbed his hands together to try and get the feeling back into them before heading inside only to be immediately mauled by Lily. 

“Have you seen them? Are they here yet?” she bombarded. 

“No, Evans.  No sign yet.” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

The two of them shared a look. 

This didn’t feel good. 

At all. 

“Where’s Peter?” he asked, aggravated at having not seen their friend today when he knew that Y/N had most definitely invited him. 

“Said something came up.” Remus supplied from the couch, his fingers digging into his temples at the headache coming on.   “I don’t remember all the details but he said to pass on his apologies to Y/N and that he’d come by when he could.” 

Sirius ground his teeth together but chose to let it go. 

He knew expressing it would only cause a disagreement between him and Remus and given that two of their group were literally nowhere to be found… now did not seem like the time. 

He had all but decided on putting out an alert with the order when the door opened and the familiar scent of gingerbread that seemed to haunt him this entire month hit him. 

He whirled around and snatched the person into his arms, burying his face in their neck. 

“Siri, love, what’s happened?” 

He squeezed the soft, cushiony woman into his frame even tighter and refused to answer but the slight shivering that coursed through him told her he was either cold or scared. 

Given the month, it could’ve been both but she figured on the latter. 

“Sirius, sweetheart, it’s alright.  I’m sorry to have worried you.” she said finally pulling him away enough to look into those stormy eyes of his. 

“Have you seen James?” Lily butted in. 

“Lovely to see you too, best friend.” Y/N teased the ginger who gave her a pleading look.  “Yes, he’s outside.  He’s been with me the whole time and he’s fine.  Although, he is standing outside my home as a deer with his tongue stuck to the fence so you might want to take some warm water with you when you go.” 

“I’m ripping him off of it without any help.” she growled. 

“I thought you were fond of his tongue, Lillian.” Y/N teased. 

“Y/N!” Lily gasped. 

“I’m sorry, Lils.  The opportunity presented itself and it was just too good to pass up.  Had to.” Y/N admitted. 

Sirius couldn’t help but smile. 

Behind those chubby cheeks and soft, sweet face was the mind of a filthy little beast and he adored her for it. 

Merlin’s beard, he was so happy that they were both safe and sound but in recent times every second of worry was justified. 

She leaned up to peck Sirius’ lips once before looking around the flat.  

“Sorry it hasn’t been decorated.  I thought we’d be back long before now but your mother was apparently very lively today.” she said pulling out her wand and with a flick the whole flat had been transformed from it’s usual decor to a magical Christmas wonderland. 

A tower of tiny cakes emerged from nowhere where a giant poinsettia set atop it like a red star. 

The table became decorated with a glittering tablecloth, tea cups adorned with a holly print and shining baubles here and there.

Sirius smiled in awe despite the rage boiling inside him at that moment. 

Y/N was everything he wanted in a person and she could turn even the simplest things into magical moments. 

Which was saying something as everyone in that flat literally went to Hogwarts but he'd never got to experience the nostalgic things of childhood holidays.  

When he met her… he realized that Y/N celebrated everything and she gave it to others as well. 

Life was an experience with her and she made every moment count. 

It was a huge driving force of what drew him to her and something that made him fall in love with her more and more every day they spent together. 

“Alright, now that that’s settled.” she said. “I need to change my outfit quickly and then we’ll be ready.  Well, once James has been detached from the fence. I did tell him not to do that but then again, I also told him not to change into a deer this time a year because it would attract children who wanted to see Santa’s reindeer… but he never listens to me anyway which is another reason as to why we're late because a tiny little ginger girl wanted to ride Santa's reindeer and because she reminded him of Lily... he couldn't very well say no. So his dumb ass did three rounds and we're both standing there freezing our bits off. And he comes back and immediately decides to lick an icicle. I honestly don’t know why I’m even surprised anymore.” 

“Y/N.” Remus spoke from the couch cutting Sirius off before he could explode. 

“Yes, dear?” she said, turning towards him for the first time that day.  

“This tea you’ve been telling me about…” he spoke tiredly. 

“Herbal or Verbal?” she asked. 

“What?” 

“Herbal or Verbal?” she said again.  “Are we talking actual hot tea or hot gossip?  I have both today.” 

Remus simply blinked at her for a moment but smiled eventually. 

The two of them had weekly ‘tea time’ during school in which they would discuss a book, have some tea… and also spill it. 

Y/N knew EVERYONE and Remus was quiet so no one suspected him. 

The two little twerps sat there under the ruse of discussing a book and gossiped for a solid hour. 

Sirius was convinced she was cheating on for a solid week until Remus told him to shove off and that he would never date someone who he viewed as a sister.  

It would be like dating Lily. 

Lily, who happened to have been standing behind him at that time, was caught between admiring him and being completely insulted. 

The tea sessions continued through school but after graduation they had been few and far between since then. 

Remus chuckled, “Both I supposed but you did tell me about a chocolate tea when we spoke last week.” 

“I haven’t forgotten, dear.” she smiled. “I think I’ve got quite a few treats that you’ll like today actually.” 

“If you two are done flirting.” Sirius said impatiently rolling his eyes. 

“Sirius, it’s not like that-” Remus began. 

“Oh, he’s not serious, Remus. Well, he is but- oh for Merlin’s sake. I am not doing this today.” she huffed. “He’s not actually jealous.  That little vein in his neck isn’t popping out yet.” 

Remus lifted an eyebrow at her and Sirius only smirked despite himself. 

“What is it, my love?” she asked, coming to stand in front of him before speaking to Remus over her shoulder.  “Remus, feel free to begin.  We’ll all join in a moment but you’re absolutely no fun when you’re peckish.” 

“Gee thanks.” he responded. 

“You’re welcome.” she sassed back before turning her gaze back to Sirius.  “Please continue, love.” 

“Why did you go to my parents’ house? Do you realize how dangerous that is in general, much less alone?” he pressed. 

“I didn’t go alone, my love.  James was with me the entire time.” she said. 

“Why go anyway?” he pressed. “It was crawling with the wrong sort even before all this started.  Y/N, I don’t like that. If something had- if- if she- if they- if you-” 

“Sirius, darling, I’m so sorry to have frightened you.” she said, her chubby fingers coming up to curl around his jaw. 

Sirius loved her hands. 

Always had. 

He’d always loved how soft they looked. 

He loved the roundness of her fingers and the smoothness on the back of her hands. 

“I promise that we were perfectly safe.   We were in disguise. Polyjuice potion in fact on James’ end.  We never separated.  We changed our voices as well.” she soothed him. 

“Why did you even go?” he pressed. 

“Well, it was one part justice for my beloved/justice for James as you and he are as brothers.” she explained. “And the other part was that it was a mission for the Order.  I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, love, but it was top secret. I couldn’t risk you stopping me.  There has been news that that house is being used as a meeting place for the death eaters.  You know the charms I’ve been working on lately?” 

At his nod she continued, “Well, Dumbledore asked me to place one at Grimmauld Place.  He figured with my metamorphamagus abilities, I could likely go a little more unnoticed.  He had Kingsley brew up some polyjuice potion for James and we went disguised as a couple of those children that play in the street there.” 

Sirius still didn’t like it but he also understood how Order missions went. 

“One hell of a well placed game of ding dong ditch, a snowball right in old Walburga’s face and your lady had the house bugged.  We were gone before they even knew what hit them!” came James’ voice as he and Lily finally entered the flat.  “It was brilliant, Pads, really.  She was brilliant.  I reckon old stuffy is still standing there picking snow out of her eyelashes as we speak.” 

Sirius laughed in spite of himself. 

He hated the idea of either of them going to his childhood home for more than one reason but the image of his best mate and the love of his life playing ding dong ditch and bashing his mother in the face with a snowball was just too hilarious for even him to ignore. 

“Please tell me that one of you looked at her and can share that memory.” he finally said once he’d stopped laughing. 

“Oh, mate.  I got you.” James laughed. 

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Yes, he does because whilst I was trying to safely get us back someone insisted on getting a good look for, and a quote, 

‘Sirius has to see this.  He’ll shit himself.’ So you’re welcome to get the pensieve out and piss yourselves with laughter.  Just don’t do it on my carpet.  I’ll be back in a moment.  I have an outfit picked out specifically for today and it shall not be going to waste.” 

Sirius watched her go before he and James rushed to retrieve the pensieve. 

The two of them were rolling on the floor laughing when she returned in her holiday best, complete with a rather intricately braided mass of red and green hair in a crown atop her head adorned with holly.  

Being a metamorphamagus did have it’s perks sometimes. 

“Alright, children.  It’s time for tea.” she said, taking her seat. 

“Herbal or Verbal?” Remus smirked at her, life and color back in his face a bit more since he’d already consumed two cups of this chocolate tea and about four chocolate biscuits. 

Y/N smiled at him, “Herbal this time, love.  Mind tapping that cranberry vanilla tea for me?” 

“Ew, stop flirting with each other.” Lily teased. 

“Oh, Lillian.” Y/N said, a smirk of her own crawling onto her mouth. “I think we both know that’s not how I flirt or shall we relive the Christmas of ‘76?” 

“What happened the Christmas of ‘76?” James asked curiously, far too aware of how quickly his girlfriend’s face was beginning to match her hair. 

“Lillian’s bisexual awakening.” Y/N said only for Lily to throw a biscuit at her. 

She caught it and simply dunked it in her tea. 

“What is this about then?” Sirius asked curiously. 

“Before we got together, love.  But only just.  We were together by the following Valentine’s Day.   Lily, a bit too drunk on the firewhiskey, accused me of being too soft and sweet for the likes of you.” she said, chuckling as Lily sunk in her chair. 

Sirius nearly choked on his tea because he knew all too well that of the two of them… Y/N had a far dirtier mind than he did. 

“And you call yourself her best friend, Evans.  You don’t know her at all.” he laughed. 

“Oh trust me, I got to know a whole new side of her that night.  I finally understood why she gets whatever she wants.  She’s fucking adorable usually but when she turns on the charm… merlin, woman.  That should be illegal.” Lily said, cheeks still aflame. 

“It only works because it’s used few and far between.  It’s more shock value than anything.” Y/N said with a shake of her head. 

“Explain Sirius then.” Remus piped up. 

“He loves me.  That’s different.” she shrugged. 

“I do, love but, er, I don’t know that it’s love that causes the rerouting of every single drop of blood in my body when you give me those eyes of yours.”  Sirius admitted with a nervous laugh. 

“Yes!” Lily chimed in.  “It’s unsettling because she’s normally so cute and then, bam! She just turns it on-.” 

“And turns you on?” Remus teased. 

“I think the two of you are evil twins separated at birth.” Lily said.  “Evil, the pair of you.” 

Remus and Y/N smiled coyly at one another, thoroughly enjoying both the verbal and herbal tea that had been served today. 

And all the rest wanted to smack the pair of them. 

“Happy Christmas, Remus.” 

“Happy Christmas, Y/N.” 

“Oi! Where’s my Happy Christmas? You are my girlfriend!” Sirius interrupted, vein popping out in his neck as a smidge of true jealousy flared. 

Y/N reached out to card a hand through his hair, “I had planned on giving you part of your Christmas later on when we we didn’t have an audience, my love, but I suppose it is the holidays.  Tis the season, I guess, if you have suddenly decided you would like to try voyeurism.” 

“Oi!” he said, panicking at the idea. 

And Y/N sat there, giggling into her tea, happy to have effectively flustered the lot of them. 

Even Remus who was less flustered and more shocked at the sheer cheek of her. 

A very Happy Christmas indeed.

……

……

……

….. 

Hello, loves!  I hope you enjoy this holiday content! 

Hope ya’ll are having a great day! 

Love you. 

— 

Permanent Taglist:

@thickemadame

@toomanyfictionalboyfriends

@blackirisposts

@alisoncdariel

@therealmrshale

@thegreatirene

@angelus320

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@m-rae23

@shycupcakealissa

@minshookie29

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@maxis140403

@fortunecookiesworld

@lathalea

@skyys-universe

K, Love you, Bye!

[deathofacupid]

waiting | peter parker

summary: you're trying to be paitent with him, the war with thanos can't possibly have been easy to deal with, much less the trauma. you've given peter all you have, but it's gotten too much.

angst? mentions of past ed, mentions of purging, mentions of sex (like one), cursing a bit, mean petey, panic attck kinda

after the war with thanos, peter had grown distant. and you didn't blame him, you figured that he was giving himself a break, he was taking time to heal. and you understood that, peter was grieving. 

you always tried to be there for him, but he made it hard sometimes. 

never did you hold it against him.

peter had lost his mentor, his teammates, and beyond that- his family. you didn't expect him to move on, it was a lot at once, even more so with the blip. he was still adjusting (you were too, but this was different).

he spent nights on the couch, outside who-knows-where, and sometimes... sometimes he would drink. you took note of the fact he tried not to do it around you. 

but some nights he would come home late, stenched in the strong odor of beer and sweat. peter would be drunk and snappy, and yes, at times it scared you. 

not that you'd ever tell peter that. 

but his "grieving" grew unhealthy, and who were you to let that slide? he wouldn't eat or drink properly, god knows about his hygene, and he wasn't getting enough sleep. so you made him cooperate, which did result in many arguements, but it did work for the most part. but your relationship, you felt, wouldn't ever be the same.

date nights? what were those?

kissing? nope.

sex? no. never. (not that it was a big deal for you, you could care less about that.)

no hand-holding. 

and no cuddles. cuddles. none of those. 

peter snapped at you often. he struggled to contain his temper, and easily grew annoyed. it was like even the smallest remark could lead to something big.

"peter, you have to eat. you didn't have breakfast."

"you didn't either."

"that's different. i haven't been skipping my meals."

"why? you've been throwing up instead?"

he watched as your face twisted into disbelief and pain. but you pushed it away, dead-set on getting peter to eat.

"this isn't healthy, love."

"neither is you getting on the scale a hundred times a day."

you had been checking your weight more frequently again, part of the reason being the fact that you were scared peter didn't love you anymore because you were getting fat. but it wasn't unhealthy. 

you recognized the problem. you told your therapist, stopping it from becoming something bad. 

but peter wouldn't know that. he wouldn't know anything.

"please don't go there," you whispered quietly, "i just want you to be happy, okay? and healthy." that must've been where he felt like the conversation had ended, so he left. you didn't know what to do anymore. so you cried. because that felt like the only thing you could do right.

-

(first person)

"i just don't know what to do-"

"you know you have, like, an actual therapist for this, right?" mj asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"well, yeah, but she doesn't know peter like you do."

she sighed, locking eyes with me, "y/n, peter's being a dick, and i don't know when he'll see that you aren't somebody for him to take his anger out onto. you shouldn't be taken for granted."

"mj, it's not like that. he's just-"

"what? grieving? is that what you've been telling yourself? babes, this isn't even that anymore. it's unhealthy. not just for him, but for you. yeah, he lost people. i did, too. my mom died, y/n, she died. and i wasn't in that hospital with her while she was on her deathbed. why? because of the fucking blip. but i've moved on. everyone has, because where will moping around like an alcohol addict get you?

"know what? i'll answer that for you. nowhere. it'll get you nowhere. i get it, you want to be there for him-"

"no! you don't get it! i love him! i-i need... i need to be there for him," my sentence broke into quiet sobs, and mj pulled my close to her, rubbing my back. 

"i know, i know," she cooed. soon enough, my crying ceased, and i pulled away with red eyes. 

"what do i do, then? just leave him? he doesn't have anyone."

"talk to him. maybe he'll change."

"and if he doesn't?"

mj gave me a look, because i already knew the answer. yes, in a way she was right. it was an unhealthy, toxic relationship. peter was pulling me down, and he was breaking off a piece of my heart every passing day. 

thinking about not being with him, left me with a dull ache, but at the same time, it was a crushing sensation, one that broke me down completely. i couldn't imagine a life without him. 

he was my life. he... is my life? was it too late to be speaking in the present tense? 

maybe mj was right. maybe i needed to talk to him. 

but i was scared. i was really, really scared. what if...? what if it ended horribly? and i never saw him again?

what if i left him, and no one was there for peter... and he'd- he'd die? because he wasn't sleeping right? or eating enough? or staying hydrated? 

what if he needed someone to help patch him up? but no one was there? would he simply bleed out? 

my heart sped faster at the thought, and my breath came out ragged. 

"woah, hey, breathe."

i pushed away any and all thoughts of him, focusing on inhaling and exhaling, trying to get my heartbeat to normal. 

-

(peter's pov)

"peter!" y/n chirped, a grin on her face. i sighed, already feeling a migraine come on. i didn't want to talk. i wanted to sleep, or... i don't know. just not talk. 

"you know that book i've been reading? it's really good, by the way, i think you'd really like it. there's this boy who reminds me of you," she wiggled her eyebrows, "he's like, super scared of spiders. which is ironic."

i tried to tune her out, but her voice was loud. really loud. my head was blaring, and i kind of wanted to puke. 

stop talking. please.

"-coming here! they've got a convention and everything? can you believe it? and, get this, i got us both freaking tickets! we can, like, have a date or something. it's from 2:00-6:00, so we can get food at this fancy new diner that just opened up-"

has y/n always been this annoying? there's no way. if i'd known before, i doubt i would've started this. 

i gritted my teeth, ready to pull all of my hair out. how much would it take for her to fuck off?

"oh my god," i muttered, completely done and exasperated. "do you ever consider carrying around a plant for all the oxygen you waste everyday?"

i watched her smile drop instantly, satisfied. for once, it felt good to hurt someone. i was so goddamn tired of always helping everyone. this was barely a tenth of how i felt. she blinked rapidly, and i went back to the web shooter. 

damn thing just wouldn't-

"can we talk?" i inhaled sharply.

"what, y/n? what? what could you possibly have to say that you haven't already said yet?"

"i-i, um, i-"

"is that all you know how to say?"

"no, i'm sorry. no, wait, no i'm not. you're the one being a dick. which is precisely why i wanted to talk."

"jeez. what do you want me to say?"

"you don't have to say anything. not yet. can you- can you just listen?"

i didn't answer, going back to tinkering. if this would make her feel better, then whatever.

"i just... i feel like we aren't the same. you aren't, at least. and maybe i've changed too, i don't know. i can't really dicate that for myself, that wouldn't be fair," she laughed, and i could practically feel her nervousness. y/n's heartbeat was loud, too, so loud that it felt like it was banging the in the back of my head. i could smell the sweat on her hands, too.

 what did she possibly have to say that was freaking her out like this?

"i love you, peter. i haven't stopped."

"...okay?"

"i'm trying to say that i want things to go back to normal. i don't know if that's even possible, but i know we can try. because i'm willing to make things work, and give you another chance."

i spun around, narrowing my eyes at her. ""i'm sorry, 'another chance'?"

"um... yeah?" y/n said, and i could tell she was getting less confident.

"why the absolute, and i cannot stress this enough, the fuck would i need another chance?"

"do you hear yourself? the way you're speaking to me? how- how did we go from that... to this? my gosh, you used to be the sweetest boy ever. you apologized for things that weren't even your fault, and you said 'thank you' for things you didn't need to say to. what happened to that?"

"spider-man happened. and why are you making me sound like the bad guy? i save lives because i can, out of my free will."

"i miss you," she whispered. "i miss my peter. this isn't- you aren't-"

"aren't what? go on. because i-"

"shut up. shut the fuck up and let me talk. for once in your life, listen," i snapped my mouth shut, waiting, and shocked.

"a memory. a faded picture. a failed potential. because that's all we are now, right? why fight for something i know will go nowhere? why fight for someone who can't fight for me back? you know what i've realized? 

"i've realized there is so much more to the world than this, than you. i realized how much love i could give to the world and how stupid i was for only giving that love to you when you didn't even deserve it.

"this is what i feared the most. this moment right here. the transition between having something and having nothing but regret. and it's happening right now, right in front of my eyes, and there's nothing i can even do about it. 

but, peter, this is for me. this is so i can grow and let go. because now i know that you won't change. if this is the way that it's going to go now, i want no part of it." 

she was crying now, and i scoffed. "what the hell are you even saying? what do you mean?"

"what i mean is, i'm going to stop watering a dead flower, expecting it to grow again. it's over. this is over."

i didn't know what to say, so i gaped at her. what did she mean "over"? y/n wasn't going to just leave, i knew she didn't have that in her. 

"so that's it? because once i get out of that door, what we once had will perish. i'm afraid i'm not ready for that yet. maybe i never will be."

"fine, then. leave. you'll be back anyways," i shrugged, and she sighed, shaking her head. 

so i let her. i let her leave. 

and then i waited for her to come back. 

i waited a long time. 

i still am. 

that's when i realized how she felt. 

she'd been waiting, too. 

the only difference was that we'd switched roles.

[latinotiktok]

Propaganda:

Percy

-Percy Jackson porque yo lo digo idc (no hay explicación blanca para ese muchacho ese mae es latino)

-Percy Jackson from the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series. Has mad silver teeth energy.

-Percy Jackson. He's an outsider. He works hard to get where he wants to be. He's cool. He's funny. He's an icon. He's from New York. Must I say more.

-percy jackson pq ele é rato de praia e só se fode se isso não é a experiência unificadora da América Latina não sei o que é

-Percy Jackson. Eu sei que tem pessoas com argumentos legítimos para isso, mas estou indo apenas pela ~vibe~

-Percy Jackson porque es de nueva york yo digo que es puertoriqueño 🫡

-percy jackson. he has to be latino he lives in nyc and is coded to be a minority. personally think he's argentino but i've seen hcs for venezuela, brasil, and puerto rico. shoutout to tumblr user latinopercy btw

Percy Jackson, por que ele claramente é latino. Ele deveria ser especificamente brasileiro e carioca. Filho do DEUS DO MAR !!!!! bebendo um mate na praia!!!!! 

Percy Jackson. Mírenme a los ojos y díganme que no. Trauma con su papá ausente. Mamá adolescente. Un padrastro de mierda al que su mamá asesina. Un medio hermano al que al principio no quiere pero después adora. Le dan una espada y procede a desafiar dioses. Eso es muy de niño latino peleando con las autoridades del colegio. 

-Percy Jackson, not only he lives in the harlem (wich im told is v latino heavy in the us) just look at him!! the attitude, the sarcasm the underdogism the jokes the flavour the disrespect to autority cmonnn, meu filho brasileiro eu sinto desde os 13 essa verdade! me diz se a sally n tem mó cara de tia mãe do seu amigo da escola, bota ai um sandra nela e fechou. (pros brarg ainda podiamos vencer por percabeth aka percy brasileiro/annabeth argentina abram seus olhos!!) enfim façamos o que rick não teve coragem!!

-Percy Jackson. He just has the vibes. After all the bullshit my boy went through, he just deserves it, as a treat.

- percy jackson bc seeing a demi god kid have adhd AND be latino would be epic especially bc he's the main character of the series also when i first read the book i kinda did read him as latino bc of certain thing described in the book

-Percy Jackson. en el libro dicen que su madre y poseidon cojieron durante un verano pero su cumpleaños es en agosto, lo que significa que tuvieron que cojer alrededor de diciembre. eso solo tiene sentido si es del hemisferio sur así que en mi corazón es latino

Peter Parker

-Spiderman. ya sabés

-Spiderman (Peter Parker). Por vibes y porque en cada maldita esquina de Latinoamérica hay un tipo vestido de spiderman. Qué sería de nosotres sin él

-El hombre araña, literal no hay trencito de la alegría o pelotero donde no aparezca, no importa la edad si le preguntas a alguien por un superhéroe te lo van mencionar. Es básicamente como Goku pero de cómics, hay publicidades y graffitis de él por todos lados, vas a una parrilla y lo tenés ahí pintado al spiderman en un pared preparando unos choris. Tenemos canónicamente? nuestro propio hombre araña (Julián 💙) y tengo fotos de un hombre araña con la camiseta de la selección festejando sobre un camión. (Disclaimer soy argentina 😅)

-Peter parker de Ultimate Spiderman 2012 por que NO DEJO DE VER UNA PROPAGANDA DE BELDENT CON SU ACTOR DE VOZ. TODO EL CAST DE DOBLAJE DE USM ES ARGENTINO Y ME ATORMENTA.

-homem-aranha, tem forte presença no carnaval de rua brasilero e claramente sabe dançar funk

[questionableratatouille00]

𝓜𝓸𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓞𝓷 8

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: When the anniversary of Natasha’s passing comes around, Y/n feels another wave of grief coming to knock her down. But with the support of her friends, and a special visit to Natasha’s grave, she knows that she can keep going. And she knows that Nat would be happy for her.

Warnings (Entire Series): This series deals with mature topics, including, but not limited to: death, mental health issues, physical, emotional, and sexual abuse, grief, trauma, general unwellness, illness (both mental and physical), and a most likely inaccurate portrayal of group therapy (though it’s much better than whatever was going on in TFATWS.) Please mind the warnings below.

Warnings: cursing, dead romantic partners, death, wind symbolism, graves and cemeteries, way too many references, depression and depression themes, therapy, bad hygiene, and mental health issues. As always, let me know if more needs to be tagged.

🌻Series Masterlist 🌻

𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧

It had been a while since that...incident. The leaves had changed colors and fallen off the trees, which all turned dark. Snow had began to dust the ground, and the wind had begun to bring shivers to everyone outside.

And with the cold weather came a dreaded anniversary. One you knew was coming, but that hadn’t made it better.

Everyone else could see it too. The way your mood seemed to dampen, the way your smiles began to not reach your eyes, the way you seemed more and more tired each time they saw you.

Snow was on the ground now, but some things stayed the same.

Group therapy was still going on, and it gave you a reason to get out of your house.

“Now, I’d like to talk about support, and why it’s so important to have a support system.” Coulson introduced the topic. “Does everybody know what a support system is?” As the group nodded along, he grinned.

“Great. Why don’t we go around in a circle and share one reason why having a support system is important?” He invited the conversation.

Every session had the same structure. You walk in, everyone shares how they’ve been that week and what they’ve done or whatever, then the topic is introduced and discussed, then you play some kind of game, and then everybody chats a little bit before leaving. You found comfort in the routine.

Clint went first. “It’s important because if you have one, you’ve got people to rely on and help you out with stuff.”

Tony nodded, before beginning to speak. “And people who can tell when you’re having a breakdown.���

Then it was your turn. “When..when you feel like nothing is getting better and nothing is going to get better, having..having people around to talk to, or to..relate with, even….it helps.” You murmured.

“Yeah. And when you’re spiraling, you’ve got friends and family who can pull you out of it.” Wanda nodded along. You gave her a small smile.

“See ya, kid.” You waved to Peter on your way out. He waved back, beaming.

“Bye, Ms. Y/n!” It had taken so long to convince him to not call you Ms. L/n, so you accepted the name.

“Bye, Maria.” You shot a smile at the receptionist.

“Have a good day, Y/n.” She smiled warmly.

“You too!” You called as you walked out the door. You let out a breath as the cold wind picked up outside. You walked down the bumpy sidewalk towards your car.

“Y/n!” Wanda called for you, a smile on her face.

When you turned to look at her, her smile dropped.

“Oh, hey, Wands.” You used the nickname.

“Are you okay? You seemed more..down, than usual.” She noted.

“Yeah, just..tired. Didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.” You explained. It wasn’t exactly a lie. You truly hadn’t slept very well. Stupid nightmares.

“Oh. Okay. Uh..do you wanna FaceTime later or something?” She asked. It had become normal for the two of you to FaceTime every so often.

“Sure,” you answered, as you gave her a nod before you began to walk away.

The worst part is when you start losing your sense of joy.

Your favorite meal, which you’d cooked for dinner the night after therapy, didn’t taste as good. And it wasn’t an error on your part—you’d cooked it perfectly, just like you normally would. But when you ate it, it…just didn’t hit.

It was hard to not think your brain was broken. Well, in a way, it kinda was now, but apparently that’s not a good word to use.

You began to fall back into old routines.

You get up. You get ready. You go to work. You drive home. You turn on the TV. And then, you just sit. 

Sometimes you call Wanda.

You turned down the group’s offer to go to lunch that week. And the week after that.

Normally, the group would go to lunch together once a week. You were all really becoming friends. Sometimes it would be right after therapy, other times it would just be a different day of the week.

You were interrupted in your moping by the sound of your phone buzzing. It was Wanda.

Hey! Made some tea and I have some extra water. Feel like stopping by? The text read.

Sorry, I’m busy today. Maybe some other time, though! You typed back.

No worries. I thought you stopped working weekends though?

“Shit.” You murmured as she caught you in your lie.

You sighed, before pressing the FaceTime button. “Hey.” You greeted.

“Hi.” She smiled, her mug of tea visible. You were propped up on something on her kitchen table, so you could see her from the chest up. Her hair was up in a bun.

“I..I’m not busy.” You confessed.

“Yeah, I know.” She admitted.

“It—I just—“ you sighed. “Today’s the uh, the anniversary, so..”

“Oh, Y/n, I’m sorry.” She frowned. “Her grave’s at Dreykov Cemetery, right?”

“Uh…yeah?”

“Can you be there in two hours?”

“The hell—sure I guess?” You were really fucking confused. Was this a normal things for friends to do for each other?

Regardless, you got up off your ass and took a shower. You changed into some clean clothes and brushed your teeth, something you’d been neglecting as of late (much to your shame and embarrassment.)

You grabbed your keys and walked out of your apartment, down the stairs, and to your car. You drove out to Groot&Rocket, a local floristry business. You picked out a nice bouquet of flowers suited for winter, paid for it, and began to drive down to the cemetery.

You found the whole group waiting at the entrance. They all gave you warm smiles, with Wanda rushing up and giving you a tight hug. You wrapped your arms around her, making sure to not mess up the bouquet.

“Oh, I’m sorry Y/n.” She murmured in your ear.

You just rubbed her back in response. You both pulled away after a moment and walked towards the rest of the group.

“Hey, you guys.” You breathed as you stood before them.

“Hey.” Steve replied, a gentle smile on his face. Bucky gave you a tiny wave. Tony gave a nod in greeting, and Thor opened his arms for a big hug as he walked towards you. You passed the bouquet to Wanda, knowing that there was no escaping this.

He squeezed you tight in a massive bear hug, shaking you from side to side ever so slightly.

You laughed a little, and he grinned, knowing he’d done his job right.

“You guys really didn’t have to come out here, you know.” You said awkwardly.

“Relax,” Bucky hummed, clapping a hand on your shoulder, “you’d do it for us. You did it for me.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “It’s the least we could do.” You noticed they each had something in their hands. Flowers, small trinkets, normal stuff.

In Wanda’s were a small bouquet of flowers, not a sunflower in sight. She also had the yellow Care Bear in her left hand.

“Oh, uh, right this way.” You said, awkwardly leading the group through the graveyard.

Natasha was buried beneath a tall and beautiful tree. You looked up at it, its leaves still looking okay, even in the cold winter. You kneeled next to her grave, dusting away the snow gently. You adjusted some things already left at her grave, either from friends or family, before setting down the flowers. Then you stood up and took a few steps back.

Everyone took turns leaving stuff. First Bruce. Then Tony. Then Thor. Steve. Sam. Clint. Bucky. And then Wanda.

It’s gotta be wrong of me, your thoughts echoed around in your head. Bringing the girl I kind-of-maybe-sort-of have a crush on to the grave of my dead former girlfriend.

Just then the wind swirled through, and you watched as Wanda’s hair danced in the wind. She was beautiful.

It felt like Nat was telling you that you were being a stupid idiot. And that she was happy.

That it was okay. Okay to let her go.

No, a part of you wailed. Just like you had in her hospital room. Just like you had when you got home that night. Just like you had when Yelena showed back up.

It’s okay, the wind seemed to sing as it blew through again. Let me go.

And so you let her go.

A/n: hi everybody!! I hope you all had the best and most wonderful holidays. I would love love love to talk about this series, so don’t be afraid to send in an ask!

[ncstalgicz]

⋇⊶⊰ 𝗕𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗗 𝗠𝗘𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗦 ⊱⊷⋇

miles morales x reader

During ITSV - ATSV | !SPOILERS AHEAD!

sypnosis: where you lose your memories helping Gwen in a battle and only remember one certain event, also that some of the scenes mentioned are from atsv and itsv plot: angst, fluff warnings: minor blood, trauma, slow-burn, atsv or itsv does not belong to me words: 3.3k music: i bet on losing dogs - Mitski

~ part one ~

Before Miles was able to catch the monitor, Doc Ock took it with her tentacles on her back. Miles was falling off the branch but before he and Peter B. Parker could fall, webs tangled on their body. You and Gwen zoomed past both of them using your webs. You shoot your webs towards the two tentacles on her right while Gwen took the two down on the left.

You land next to Gwen as you take off your mask. “Hey, guys.” Gwen greets them both. “Wanda?” The boy with the Spider-Man merchandise asks looking at you mostly. “It’s Gwen actually.” “You know her? Very cool.” Peter comments sarcastically. “I’m Y/n!” You tell them cheerfully. “We’re from another dimension. I mean another another dimension.” Gwen specifies. (I’ll skip Gwen’s intro and move onto yours)

Alright let’s do this one last time, for real this time. My name is Y/n L/n, I was bitten by a radioactive spider. And for the last 1 and a half year, I’ve been the one and only spider women. I saved my Uncle, I couldn’t save my brother. “Peter…” You hold his body hugging him close to you as you weep softly. After that I distanced myself from everyone, my boyfriend broke up with me. It hurt more because my brother was always there for me, but not anymore. I was trying to figure out who killed him when suddenly this weird thing appeared in my room. I got sucked into the weird looking portal and ended up in New York, except it wasn’t my New York. My spider senses told me to head to Visions Academy where I met Gwen. We told each other that we were both Spider Women. I wasn’t the only one was my first thought, we both belonged in the same dimension and we became close and that’s when I met him.

Miles Morales saved New York from being sucked into a black hole. He became my new friend along with Peter. He’s the reason why I didn’t grieve about my brother anymore. I finally socialized and became friends with other people. I became a new role model to children, The PDNY soon started connecting the dots and found Spider Women to be a suspect of the murder of my brother. My dad was a police officer as well. He would always tell me how close he was to catching Spider Women. He never knew it was right in front of him this whole time.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

1 MONTH LATER

You were currently fighting the Vulture along with Gwen. You were thrown against a wall and so was Gwen, vulture soon grabbed you both and pinned you against the wall. Vulture lifted his talons up getting ready to scratch Gwen when suddenly a red neon web got attached to the talon. Suddenly a familiar looking portal appeared and a weird-looking Spider-Man came in throwing himself towards Vulture as you look at him making eye contact. You and Gwen get out of vulture’s grasp as you and Gwen swing yourself towards the unknown man. You look at his hands and notice claws and a watch.

“I’m sorry who exactly are you supposed to be?” Gwen asks first. “That’s classified.” The man turns his head around glancing both of you a look. “You’re…The Blue Panther?” “No.” “The Caped Blue Seder?” “No.” “Dark Garfield?” “Stop.” “Macho Libre!” You exclaim this time. “I’m from another dimension.” The man tells you two. “You are?!” Gwen puts her hands over her mouth in shock. “Wow, actually I am not confused.” You snicker at her comment. “My name is Miguel O’Hara.” The man was about to tell Gwen about his backstory when she stops him. He was telling you both about the watch, how he can go through different dimensions without glitching with the watch, and convincing you both to let him fight Vulture by himself. “Alright, knock yourself out.” You told him noticing Vulture appearing behind him. “What is that supposed to mean—” Before he can finish his sentence he was attacked from behind by vulture. (I’m going to skip the whole battle scene lol)

Miguel was about to bite the vulture until he noticed a helicopter telling him to put the body down. “I’m a good guy.” Miguel reassured them. “You don’t look like a good guy.” They answered back. The vulture threw his knives towards the helicopter as the aircraft started going down. Your spider senses warned you as you looked up and see the helicopter going through the damaged building. You and Gwen looked at each other as if you had the same idea. You used your webs to make a spider web, you shoot your webs into different directions until the helicopter starts getting close to the ground damaging most of the building. You were to busy to notice the pieces of the building started to fall off. Gwen swifts through them but notices you were to busy saving the helicopter. “Y/N LOOK OUT!” She shouts for you. You get out of your daze before a piece of the building hits you on the head.

You felt the harsh pain in your head as you started falling down. Jess soon comes to the rescue with her motorcycle as she catches you in time. “We’ve got an injured spider.” She tells Miguel through the Watch. Gwen hurriedly shoots her webs to catch the helicopter, with all her strength she grabs the webs as they start to rip from the hold of the helicopter. Once successful she lets go and pants heavily, she quickly goes down towards the floor where she tries to walk but falls on the floor. (I’m also going to skip the father and daughter scene)

Before Gwen’s father could shoot her. Miguel throws a device which locks her father into this red looking cage. “No, Dad!” Gwen tries to reach for him but Jess stops her. “It’s alright we got you, right Miguel?” On Miguel’s shoulder is Vulture and your unconscious body as he lays you down on the floor checking your pulse. “Y/n…” Gwen walks towards your unconscious figure, she looks at your bloody head as tears start forming. “Shes alive but she needs medical attention.” Miguel reassured her. “Lyla, scan this mess.” Lyla scans, “No further anomalies. Canon remains intact.” She tells him.

With the watch, Miguel opens a portal as Gwen’s father looks at his daughter who was holding you in her arms caressing your head. “We can’t just leave them here. She’s doing this on her own.” Jess tells Miguel who looks at both of your figures. “I don’t know how to fix this.” Gwen cries softly looking at her dad. Jess looks at Miguel as he sighs and pulls out two watches. “Yeah, well, join the club.” He tells Gwen throwing both watches towards her. She looks at the watch in her hand as she puts it on her and your wrist. Miguel grabs your body and hauls you over his shoulder. Both Miguel and Jess go through the portal with him carrying you as Gwen stares at her father one last time before she goes through the portal. Once you got into Miguel’s Dimension, he immediately transports you to the medical wing and gives the doctors a brief summary of what happened. Gwen was waiting outside sitting on the floor with her head buried in her hands crying softly for her friend and for what had happened with her father earlier.

Two weeks later you finally wake up from your long coma. Gwen was alerted immediately and gave up on her mission to head towards you not caring about the consequences. Once she arrived she sneaked past the lady who was answering a call and found your room. “Excuse me miss.” A nurse behind Gwen noticed her tapping Gwen’s shoulder. Gwen quickly grabbed the wrist of the nurse as she exclaims in shock unwrapping her hand from the nurse. “If you’re here for her..I’m sorry…she has post-traumatic amnesia.” The nurse told her as Gwen took off her mask sobbing silently. She looked at your figure who was staring emotionless at the ceiling. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Gwen asks the nurse. “Time is all we can hope for. Let’s hope in a couple of weeks she’ll be able to remember certain things.” The Nurse walked away from the grieving girl.

During the week, Nurses would always check up on you asking what you remember. “I remember feeling pain…someone shouting…” you muttered as you hold your head in pain. Gwen would always be there for you during the check-ups hoping it would help your memory if she was there. Once the nurses left Gwen tried talking to you. “Hey, Y/n. Do you know who I am?” Gwen asks. You look at her and shake your head, she sighs as she lifts up her mask. “What’s the outfit for?” You ask her. “You had one too. It’s for us Spider people. You know?” Gwen tells you as you shake your head.

Gwen starts telling you about spider man and the radioactive spider, how you became spider women along with her and had these amazing adventures saving people. She didn’t wanna tell you about your family hoping that it would help your social anxiety. “My brother…is he worried?” You ask, worry laced in your voice. Gwen never knew you still remembered your brother. She looks at you not answering your question, she decided to ignore it. “Have I told you about the time you saw me perform?” Gwen asked you changing the subject. You shake your head.

For the past week Gwen has been visiting quite a while that she sneaked in two of her friends, Pavitr and Hobie. You got along with them just fine, they would bring you tasty food, fun games and even taught you the basics of your powers. You never asked the same question ever again. You were soon gonna be able to leave again anyway so you would find out yourself later. Once you were able to leave, your friends took you everywhere, to Pavitr’s Dimension, meeting his girlfriend, drinking some chai tea which you got scolded by him, experiencing traffic. You visited Hobie’s dimension watching one of his bands. When you asked Gwen to go to your dimension she declined. “But why not?” You asked her again. “We just can’t, or well I can’t at least.” She muttered the last part.

You never knew how to go to your dimension so you were never able to go, but one day you will find out.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

1 YEAR LATER

Miles was on his bed listening to music on his headphones. Next to him was his notebook full of drawings of you and Gwen, mostly you. He wasn’t paying attention until Gwen called his name. “Miles. Miles!” He got up startled when he noticed the weird portal. Gwen got down with an orange jumper around her shoulders. “Nice room.” Gwen started observing everything while Miles was looking at her confused of where she came from. He hissed when she took off the action figure from the box, which pained him. She noticed the notebook. Miles tried grabbing it but Gwen was quicker and turned the pages noticing the drawings of Y/n. Her face held pain since he didn’t know about your condition yet. Then she stops on a drawing of her.

“We missed you too.” Gwen told the boy. “Wanna get out of here?” She asked. “I’m grounded.” Miles told her. “Oh.” She went towards the window and took off her jumper. “Is Spider-Man grounded?” She asked with her mask on.

Both Gwen and Miles were swinging around the city until they decided to stop for a short break. “So, how’s Y/n?!” Miles broke the silence watching the sunset while hanging upside down. “She’s been good…” Gwen faded. She toyed around with her watch nervously. Miles noticed her fidgeting around. “Let’s go back, yeah?” Gwen asked Mile’s starting to get up.

They got back and used their webs to grab food. They were underneath a water silo where they were eating all the fresh food. “This is what keeps you from glitching when you go to a different universe?” Miles asks Gwen holding the watch in his hand. Gwen spaces out until she notices Miles clicking something from the watch. “Oh, no no no. Miles don’t touch that!” Gwen hurriedly grabs the watch keeping it away from the kid. “My bad.�� Miles stands their guilty. “I’m sorry for thrashing out like that.” Gwen apologizes. “It’s fine.” It stays quiet for a while until Miles kept thinking about Y/n.

“Why didn’t Y/n visit me?” Miles breaks the silence. “We couldn’t.” Gwen tells him looking at the city view. ‘I have to tell him eventually.’ Gwen thinks to herself. “Listen Miles, something bad happened to her—” Before she was able to explain Miles parents appeared and started talking.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

A COUPLE MINS LATER

“I should probably go.” Gwen takes her leave, putting on her jumper that was given to her by Rio, Mile’s mom; “Wait, Gwen what about Y/-” Miles was cut off by Gwen leaving immediately. ‘What was it that she was trying to tell me?’ He thought to himself. “You should go after her.” Rio tells his son. “Just promise me you’ll be back. With a better cake.” She scolds him. Miles hugs his mom as he follows Gwen with his Spider-Man suit on. Gwen stops in front of an abounded building that seemed to have giant holes all over. She distracted the cops by reversing the car which successfully caught their attention.

She swiftly got inside the building and told Lyla to scan the area to figure out what has happened. Miles follows her inside as he uses his invisibility to not get caught. As she saw the scene unfold with The Spot creating more holes on his body to go to different dimensions. “Shoot! Shoot! Shoot! Shoot.” She kept muttering as The spot creates a tiny machine. Jess soon appears behind her. “Gwen. How’s the chase going?” Jess asks the teen noticing her stressed state. “Uh, it’s going great. Almost got him.” Gwen lies. “Jess we’ve got another anomaly who seems to be moving quickly.” Lyla tells her. “So you’ve almost got him right?!” Jess asks Gwen. “You made another visit to the kid again, didn’t you?”

Gwen stays quiet and nods softly. “Gwen you can’t keep doing that. Think about what would happen if the spot gets away, Y/n already tracked his location several times but he moves quickly.” Jess told the girl. Miles ears perk up at the mention of your name. “He’s here, no wait here, here, wow this guy moves a lot, okay he’s not moving anymore at Earth-50101. Y/n is heading there at the moment.” Lyla told the ladies. “Gwen you have one day to fix this mess, until then you can’t see the kid anymore.” Jess told her. “Alright.” Gwen looks down at the floor.

Miles eyes widen in betrayal. Gwen opens up a portal as she looks at the city outside. “Goodbye, Miles.” She goes through the portal. Miles turns visible now as he looks at the portal. He remembered the mention of you going to, Earth-50101? ‘What am I Doing? What am I doing?’ Miles hesitated before he went inside the portal where he was sucked into this tube and was transferred to Earth-50101. He kept falling where he passed roads as he shot out his webs but before he could grab on he started glitching, hurting himself in the process as he continues falling. Going through hanged clothes, pedestrians, and finally falling all over again.

He soon hears The Spots Voice and Looks over to see Gwen and..you. “Stay still.” Gwen looks at The Spot as he keeps going through different holes, trying to keep up with him you shoot a web at him while he was talking to people on a balcony. You were about to punch him until Miles shouts your name. “That’s the best you can do?” The Spot kicks your face by making a hole as you start falling. “Oh no, Y/n!” Miles catches you swinging away. “Did you follow me?” Gwen appears looking at the Miles who was carrying you. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to see Y/n real quick.” Miles told her looking at you. “Um, who are you?” You ask the unknown boy.

“What? It’s me, Miles..Miles Morales?” You look at him confused until you look away and see Pavitr heading towards you three. “Hey, Y/n, Gwen, who’s the new guy?” He asks. “This is Miles. He came in unattended.” Gwen told him. “Wow, you came in here without permission, new guy must be in love with you.” Pavitr teased as you laughed getting off of Miles as you shoot a web, swinging away until you found a place to land, the three following you. “Hey, Pavitr. Nice to see you again!” You throw an arm over his shoulder. Miles seems to notice as he looks at you hurt. He looks at Gwen as well. “We’ll talk about it later, okay?” Gwen reassured him.

The four of you enter Alchemax trying to stop The Spot. You were currently trapped when he put a wall mechanism to not let you four stop his idea. Miles puts his fingers on the wall trying to use his power until another Spider-Man came in using his guitar to remove the force field. “Hobie!” You exclaim in happiness greeting the boy with a handshake. Miles looks over at you as he notices that the handshake was the one he taught you when you first became friends. He looks away and notices Gwen looking at him sadly. “Don’t just use your fingers mate, use your palm as well.” Hobie advised him.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Nueva York - Earth 2099

“That’s not fair!” You chase after Hobie who decided to play a game of tag with you to let time pass by. Miles and Gwen were seated at a bench staying quiet while looking at the two. “How come she doesn’t remember me?” Miles asked the teen next to him. “I tried telling you- I swear I tried. But I couldn’t knowing how much it would hurt you and me both.” Gwen told him. “She got injured during a fight, she got a serious concussion and I wasn’t able to do anything but wait. Miguel took us in, and immediately took her to the hospital where we learned that she was in a coma. Once she woke up, the nurse told us that she had post-traumatic amnesia. All we could do was wait until she remembered certain things.” Gwen finished off fidgeting with her hands.

“Was she able to remember?” Miles asked the girl. Gwen looked up to see you tackling Hobie finally being able to catch him. “Her brother, she thinks he’s still alive.” Gwen told the boy. Miles eyes widen as he looks at you who looked back at him until Hobie tackled you back. “Isn’t he..dead?” Gwen nods. “She doesn’t know, and I don’t intend to tell her. You know how she acted before when she still remembered things, I don’t want her to be like that again. I love the way she is now.” Tears fill her eyes as she holds them back, not letting them fall. “You have to tell her one day, just like me.” Miles told her as she looks up and shook her head. “No, you can’t. I know it’s bad but if she finds out about his death she’ll probably want to change the canon. We can’t let that happen. She already wants to figure out how to visit him but we don’t let her.” Gwen warns the boy who just looked at you in worry.

‘Just what happened when I wasn’t here.’ Miles thought missing the girl he used to know.

[follows-the-bees]

I ended up writing a ton more OFMD meta posts than I thought. And for the sake of my own sanity, I made a master post of all of them.

Filmmaking Meta

How cinematography, blocking, and camerawork in S2 eps 6&7 show Ed's and Stede's emotions

Sound design in 2x3 MerStede scene

Full filmmaking breakdown of 2x3 MerStede scene

Scene that captures the thesis of the show

Filmmaking, camerawork, framing, in 2x1

Breakdown of love "confession" scene in 2x4

Progression of the candle light getting closer to Ed in 2x4

The contrast of sounds used in the bathtub scene

The use of greenery in negative space in 1x7: This Is Happening (Part One of Negative Space Series)

How center-framed shots of Ed's back show his emotional state and isolation (Part Two of Negative Space Series)

How negative space shows Ed a hopeful future (Part 2.5 of Negative Space Series)

Negative space shows Ed's isolation after shuffling on the Blackbeard/Kraken role. (Part 2.5.5 of Negative Space Series)

The camerawork, cinematography, and blocking during Blackbeard and Frenchie's "impossible bird" conversation at the end of 2x1.

How the camerawork used in 2x2 Red Flags shows the power dynamic and tension between Blackbeard and Frenchie.

The contrast of having these two shots (2x1 and 2x5) set in the exact same place.

Cinematography of sun beams on Ed in 2x5

Wild West/Western theme used with the original Blackbeard crew

Wild West theme coming back when Ed is The Kraken

More Western tropes that I found

Buttons as a conduit of death/purgatory

Ed and Stede jumping into the water for each other

2x3 and 2x8 Ed and water parallels

Light motifs show hope and love

Green lighting used in 1x6

Ed and Stede wedding cake toppers

Light motif during the lighthouse scene in 1x4

Mirror shots

Izzy's lighting in jail

1x8 and 1x10 depression era robe

Fanfiction Meta

Stede's costume color in S2

Face touching and Ed's outfits meaning

Character Meta

Stede is demisexual

Ed hiding his heart: the silk and cake topper

Frenchie's moments that lead to him being a great captain

Ed's body language in 1x7

Single layers and no shoes show Ed's emotional vulnerability

The crew voting to let Ed back on the Revenge

Stede heals the tattoos Ed puts on his body to get over/integrate his fears/image

Archie's role in the narrative

Jim's transformation in Calypso's Birthday

Jim's journey of embracing Stede's way of piracy

Ed not really wanting to die in the grav(e)y basket

Jim's journey, the epitome of queer joy

Stede touches Ed's elbow and back of head cause he knows it's safe

Ed touching Stede's chest

Frenchie's and Ed's instant friendship

Ed and Frenchie have similar coping mechanisms

Discomfort in a Married State

Doggy Heaven line

Izzy taking the blame for the painting

Ed hiding his heart (silk, wedding cake toppers)

Stede character study

Demi romantic reading of Ed

Stede Bunnet Symbolism

Choice of saying us not me

Ed's trauma response

Stede going quiet when grieving

Stede reading and writing

Reading Ed's body language

Fanfics!

Non-Meta

Stede is a cutie patootie

Ed's introduction

Comedic actors can't pull off drama

Small moments in PB scene

Jim as Peter Pan

Edward Teach, born on a beach

Pirates get by on sugar highs

Song Lyrics

All Shades of Blue

The Stable Song

Dark, Dark, Dark

Southern Star

Second Chances

Swallowed in the Sea

[apprenticestanheight]

THE FIVE DAYS OF SMUTMAS QUEUE: DAY THREE

Somno - Peter Strahm x gn! reader

Allllllll right, we are on to day three of this event and despite the fact that I never really write this many fics in less than a week unless motivation has come around and hyped me to a point where I'm capable of doing it across two days, I am still chuggin on and to be honest, the concept for this fic is largely what's kept me from going down the demotivated slope.

I have had a very not great last two months of the year and so body worship with peter strahm and a touch of angst with hurt/comfort it is, because I needed to write this idea out and figured this event would be a good opportunity lol.

Last note before this fic begins, this fic is meant for audiences of 18+! Minors, do not interact.

Fic type- this is smut and hurt/comfort

Warnings- somnophilia, oral (afab recieving), there is one mention of trauma/anxiety induced insomnia, and the reader is gn for all intents and purposes, but I went with an AFAB reader as that's the anatomy I know best, and this is edited but barely bc I wanted to post oops.

Peter is all too aware of how rough the last few months have been for you.

Granted, you've not said a word of it because you'd sooner see hell than let anyone know when you're going through a rough spot, but since your relationship has begun, Peter has learned to look for the subtle tells you display whenever you feel like your life is about to start falling apart.

Peter is something of a chronic insomniac because of how the on-call schedule of his work with the Jigsaw case has impacted his sleeping capabilities, and so he's used to staying awake for hours on end in case he gets a phone call from someone at the Jersey precinct.

You, however, work a decent and consistent job as a cleaner that pays more than well. You have a set of routines—you wake up at six thirty every morning, make a steaming mug of chai from the K-Cups you adore, eat an easy breakfast and a cliff bar on your way out of the house.

You're at work from seven-thirty in the morning to six thirty most nights, come home and do whatever needs doing around the apartment that you and Peter share, and you watch TV or read until Peter comes home and the two of you order dinner.

You always go to bed sooner than Peter does, typically going to bed somewhere around eleven or midnight where the earliest Peter goes to sleep is one, and then you wake up the next morning and your cycle repeats.

However, since September, whenever Peter has come to bed, you've still been awake, even if it's three or four in the morning. The chai you made with the K-Cups you adore has turned into a steaming cup of coffee that you have to sweeten with brown sugar, honey, and sometimes maple syrup to be able to tolerate.

You're at work from seven am to nine or ten most nights now, and by the time you're home, the housework has been looked after because Peters hired a cleaning lady to come by the house and make sure the house stays clean once every four or five days.

You come home and Peter tries to get you to smile but nothing really does the trick. Peter finds that he misses you, wants to try to goad you into talking it out with him but knows from too many attempts to do so that it absolutely will not work.

But, when he comes home on the 22nd at 7:30, a rarely early time for him get home as the stuff with Jigsaw has progressed, he's completely and utterly shocked to see you sitting on the couch in your living room.

When he closes the door, your gaze snaps to his.

"I owe you an apology," you say. "I've been very terrible at being a spouse the past few months. I shouldn't've subjected you to that. I know I need to be better at communicating and I just feel awful because I've pretty much shut you out and I just—it's just not—it's not fair to you, Peter."

"It's all right, Y/N," he says. "I thought that something had happened, yeah? I figured you wanted space and I was going to give it to you until you decided you wanted closeness again. I know I get angry really quick and am frankly a little surprised I haven't snapped about it but I have worked on not snapping a lot since we started dating."

You've been married something like a decade. It took a lot of storming for Peter to reach the level of evenness, the level of calm, where he stood.

"Yeah, but I've been terrible," you laugh. Peter approaches, sits next to you on your couch. "I've not—it's not been fair, Pete. I haven't talked, I've worked myself almost to the bone, I don't eat breakfast like I used to—all of my routines have been thrown off by this, and I can't imagine how yours have been."

He wishes he could say that he was fine, completely unaffected by it, but to say that would be to lie right to your face, which is something he promised never to do in his wedding vows. He worried about you all the time, desperately wanted to ask you if you were okay and try to goad you into talking to him even though that had never, ever worked in his favor.

Peter grins at you. "I'm just glad you're okay, Y/N," he says. "Had me worried for a stretch, if I'm honest."

"I'm sorry to have worried you," you say. "I've just—work has been driving me mental. I took more hours to get a bit of a Christmas bonus on top of the bonus I get tomorrow to try to ease the mental stuff I've been dealing with and yeah, the cushy paycheck is great but fuck if I don't hate dealing with people during the holiday season. I have been yelled at about how spotless houses need to be more times than I can count."

Peter laughs. "You're the one who decided to go into the cleaning business," he says. You laugh a bit yourself, press your forehead against his shoulder.

"I know," you mumble sadly, a laugh trailing through your words. "But when I started, I'd really hoped I would spend less time talking to people, more time deep cleaning carpets while I had decent music playing through a Walkman. I do get to listen to music but the people are becoming more and more of an issue lately."

Peter presses a kiss to the top of your head. "You're gonna take a bit of time off, mm? You definitely seem like you could use it."

"I booked it last night," you nod. "Tomorrow through til valentines day. I need the time to settle back into routines and I've been drinking coffee religiously—it's more than the one I drink here. I drink at least three cups a day just in the name of keeping myself upright and that needs to stop. I am beyond caffeine overdose. I can drink 600 miligrams a day and not feel a thing."

"That is definitely cause for concern," Peter laughs. "But I'm glad you're okay and that you're trying to get better. I've booked up until the New Year off so that I could catch up on sleep, too, but if we're both home, it means a lot of us time after Christmas. Still goin' up to New York?"

"My mother will put us to death if we don't," you laugh. Peter laughs.

For a solid few minutes, things really do feel like they'll be okay.

-

For what is probably the first time since before he was so much as a cop, Peter Strahm is asleep, you also asleep next to him in the bed that you share, at nine o'clock. He wakes up at six thirty from an unfortunately kinky dream and all he wants to do is part your legs and eat you out until he can't breathe.

Granted—you've spoken extensively about it before, and you've given him the okay to do it several times just as he has you, but still. The part of Peter that's turned on by the idea is equally matched by the part that kind of feels gross about it.

But then, approximately five minutes into unbearably loud thoughts about pulling down the sweatpants you'd stolen from him and parting your legs and devouring you, and five minutes away from just running to the bathroom and rubbing one out to the idea, he watches you press your face against the pillow and moan loud enough for him to hear it.

"Peter," you moan. "Fuck, feels so good."

Peters eyes nearly roll to the back of his head and he bites down on his tongue to keep himself from floating.

He tries to shake out his hands, tries to think of anything else while your quiet, desperate moans fill the air.

He thrums through the Jigsaw victims that've popped up in recent weeks, tries to think about something like the weather or the baseball scores or something to focus on anything but the fact that you're in the midst of a sex dream, one involving him, and the fact that you're moaning your way through it in a way that makes Peter want to lose his mind.

And then, you moan Peters name in a way that you know in your lucid moments drives him crazy, and Peter can't stop himself.

You've discussed it before, and Peters done it before, and every single time he's woken you up with his tongue rubbing wildly against your clit, you've moaned out and started rutting against his face and made a comment about how much you liked waking up to Peter bringing you to orgasm.

Peter is careful to remove the sweatpants you've taken from his drawer, lifting up the shirt you also stole and exposing some of your waist.

He licks a stripe through your folds, not at all surprised to find you're wet if the way that you're moaning from the dream is of any indication, and almost moans against your cunt right then and there.

He starts off slowly, licking stripes against your folds and drinking your wetness down his throat like it's water. Every single time you moan something within him flutters, and he knows it's been too long since he's taken his time with eating you out.

And then, as his tongue attaches to your clit, he feels one of your hands move to his hair.

"Best way to wake up ever," you whisper. "Oh, Peter. Thank you."

You sound half-asleep, but Peter moans against you and you tug on his hair encouragingly, so he keeps going.

He runs his tongue in circles over your clit, sliding a digit into your wet hole without a thought in the world, fighting a smirk when you moan and tug on his hair again.

He starts thrusting, sets a pace that has you writhing within minutes, and takes his fingers out in the last split second before you release, replacing his fingers with his tongue and lapping up your cum without thought, care, or merit. You thrust against his face in the aftershocks, moan as he gets up from his position.

He pulls you in for a kiss while you use one arm to amble through your nightstand for a condom, feeling Marks half-hard, clothed-but-only-by-flannel-pajama-pants length against your bare thigh.

You pull away only so that he can take his pants off, and you slide the condom on with care for how hard his cock is. He peppers your neck and jawline with kisses as he slowly thrusts into your sensitive folds, moaning as he bottoms out.

"I love you," he says to fill the silence while he waits for you to adjust.

"Thank you for dealing with me when I'm at my worst," you press a kiss to his cheekbone. "And for waking me up in the best way ever. Love it when you eat me out, Pete. You're so fucking good at it."

Your legs are wrapped around his waist and you squeeze his hips to tell him to start moving, and when he does, he sets a slow pace. Despite his fervency when it came to oral, he did intend to actually make it known that he did love you and wasn't always in it just to get you or himself to orgasm as quickly as possible.

His pace is slow indeed, but not slow enough that you're pretty much begging him to pick it up a little, and his thrusts are languid in a way that's perfect.

Both of you start moaning after a bit, and Peter, the guy who never moans and usually just likes hearing how you sound when you do, is moaning lewdly and loudly into the nape of your neck while you moan quietly near his ear.

"Peter," you moan. "Peter, fuck. You're so fucking good at this, yeah? You're treating me so well, baby. You're amazing."

Peter moans, clearly enjoying the praise, and you rut your hips against him.

"Fuck," he moans, picking up the pace just a little. "Fuck, Y/N. I love getting you so slick. You were dreaming about me, yeah?"

"Yeah," you nod. "Yeah. We were fucking at the precinct, in one of the storage closets."

Peter moves a hand to rub your clit, loving the moan that it brings out of you.

Minutes pass by of the same, and your release triggers Peters. You moan each others names as you come, and while you go pee to make sure you don't end up with a UTI, Peter pulls the condom off and trashes it, gets a bath going for the two of you.

In the bath, you talk of plans for the day, which will consist entirely of going to the shops together, reading books and doing last-minute christmas shopping.

All in all, you're happy that Peter woke you up with oral and Peter is happy that you're feeling okay enough to want to be woken up that way again.