#〈 . . . ▸ feed the wolf ──── peter ]

[fruchtfliege]

no but listen...

This is thiam

This is sterek

This is Petopher

And yes covid might have given me neurological damage but more importantly I'm right

[placeabo]

Beacon Hills was behind him — a reality that had been the present not too long ago which he wished to turn to past, to bitter memory. If the death of his family wasn’t evident enough that life worked in horridly interesting wars, nor his own gruesome and firey death, then an accident not one hour away from the accursed town certainly sent symbols. It was just dumb luck. No, lucky did not exist. It was just stupidity. A shit pile being dumped all over his head. For all the monsters he faced and lives he had taken, Peter Hale could honestly say it was his first car accident. 

An ugly, bitter laugh fell from his lips at first impact, then it was followed by a groan of complaint, hands slamming against the steering wheel. Pristine all-electric car now damaged goods. His inner wolf wanted to be released and tear the throat of the other driver. Teeth grinded together, and the all ready very angular features of his face became more prominent and stiff. Car was set to park before Peter exited the vehicle, and he did not feign any emotions as the car door was slammed. 

      ❝  If you don’t have any insurance, so help me god I will. .  ❞   Peter must have carried the energy and bravado of an inflated asshole, and there were many who would vouch that wasn’t too far from the truth. He was an animal, a beast who had tasted blood and flesh, and he was REALLY trying not to let the inner wolf out. Despite furious body language, hand moved for the wallet in the pocket of his jeans to retrieved his insurance information. So caught up in his own fury and thoughts however, it took too long for Peter to catch the familiar scent of WOLF. Expression transformed from anger to suspicion as blue hues studdied the other were more carefully. 

▸ 𝑯𝑶𝑾𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑶𝑶𝑵 .  .  .  .  CAR ACCIDENT.   𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈   @atlatsofstories​​​​​​ .  .  .     〈  meet uglies & ugly situations  〉

[petitemistletoe]

She-Wolf

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader, Sirius Black x Reader, Remus Lupin x Reader, Wolfstar x Reader

Warnings: smut, angst

Word Count: 4K+

A/N: She-Wolf by Shakira is such a Marauders song thank you Shakira for your contributions to society

S.O.S. she's in disguise

S.O.S. she's in disguise

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

“Alright James?” Remus asked as he set his books down on his bed, Sirius and Peter trailing in behind him. 

“Yeah, Prongs, what the hell are you doing?” Sirius asked, flopping down on his bed and watching James throw away a cluster of chocolate frog wrappers. 

“I’m cleaning after you animals.” James rolled his eyes playfully. 

“Why?” Peter asked. 

“My cousin is coming to visit and I got permission for her to stay here.” James held up a set of a dirty robes that had been hidden under Peter’s bed and gagged. 

“Your cousin? I thought she was up in the Pyrenees at Beauxbatons.” Remus bent down to help James pick up discarded candy bean packages. 

“Is she still a foul little bitch?” Peter said, flopping onto his bed and scowling.

“Whoa Wormy! Didn’t know you even knew that word!” Sirius laughed. 

“Don’t tell me you’re still upset with her for your little quidditch incident when we were seven.” James laughed.

“She hit me with her broomstick and broke my nose.” Peter sulked. 

“That was years ago, Peter. Beauxbatons has a holiday for some French event and I got Dumbledore’s permission to stay. I need everyone to be on their best behavior because she’s going to meet Evans for the first time.” 

“I will not be nice to her.” Peter crossed his arms.

“Yes, you will.” James’ words were clipped. Sirius was going to fire off some other ugly compliment when there was a knock at the dorm door. 

“Professor Dumbledore,” James took a step back from the door. 

“Hello gentlemen. James, your cousin’s chariot has landed by the black lake. She’s in the great hall now, waiting for you.” Dumbledore smiled. James, Remus, and Sirius bounded down the stairs while Peter sulked upstairs.

Remus was absolutely knocked back when he saw you. Sure, you were absolutely gorgeous but there was something about you, something he couldn’t quite name that had him enraptured by you. 

You were seated at the Gryffindor table in the great hall, talking to Mary. You hand was light on Mary’s arm, your head thrown back in laughter at something Mary had said. 

“Potter! You didn’t tell me your cousin was so hilarious.” Mary grinned as the boys sat down next to you. 

“It’s so good to see you, James.” You gave your cousin a tight hug before looking at the two boys seated next to him. “I imagine you must be Sirius and Remus. James never shuts up about you.”

A domesticated girl that's all you ask of me

Darling, it is no joke, this is lycanthropy

The moon's awake now, with eyes wide open

My body's craving, so feed the hungry

“Guilty as charged.” Sirius winked.

“Where’s Peter?” You asked. 

“He’s still cross with you about the broomstick.” James rolled his eyes.

“Oh my God that was like ten years ago.” You laughed and rolled your own eyes. 

“So how long will you be staying with us?” Sirius asked. 

“The whole weekend!”

“That long?” James looked alarmed. He had told the boys that you were only staying for the night.

“Is that alright?” You cocked your head. 

“Of course, of course. Moony, Pads, can I talk to you for a second?” James stood from the table and gestured for the boys to follow until they were out of earshot of the table. 

“So she’s staying for a week?” Sirius glared at James. 

“I didn’t know! What are we going to do?” James moaned. 

I've been devoting myself to you Monday to Monday and Friday to Friday

Not getting enough retribution or decent incentives to keep me at it

I'm starting to feel just a little abused like a coffee machine in an office, ah

So I'm gonna go somewhere cosy to get me a lover and tell you about it

“Do about what?” Peter asked, joining the group. 

“James’ cousin is staying for the entire weekend.” Remus sighed. 

“What about the moon on Saturday?” Peter asked. 

“Yeah, that’s the problem Pete.” Sirius rubbed his temples

“I knew there was nothing good that could happen with that girl around.” Peter shook his head and made his way back over to the table.

“Alright Peter?” You grinned up at the boy. 

“Potter.” He glared down at you. 

“Don’t tell me your still upset about the broom!”

“It’s all he’s talked about for the past two weeks.” Mary said with an eyeroll. “You’re coming to the Three Broomsticks tonight, right?”

“Am I?” You looked up at James. 

“Yeah! We’ll do dinner here and then drinks at the pub and you can meet Lily. I think you’ll love her.” James smiled. 

There's a she wolf in the closet

Open up and set it free

There's a she wolf in your closet

Let it out so it can breathe

“Excellent! When’s dinner I’m starving?” You asked. 

“About an hour. I think James and I are going to do a quick spin on the pitch if you’d like to join. I’m sure Wormy would love it.” Sirius grinned at the thought of you being around Peter again with a broom. 

“I appreciate the offer but I actually was wondering if you could point me in the direction of Madame Pomfrey’s office.”

“What do you need to see Madame Pomfrey for?” James was immediately concerned, his hand going to your forehead to check your temperature. 

“I’m fine,” you laughed, “I’ve been wanting to explore the world of healing after I graduate and I hear that Poppy Pomfrey is one of the best medi-witches in the UK.” You explained. 

“I can walk you down,” Remus said, getting up and extending his hand to help you up. 

“See you all at dinner!” You waved to the group and walked down to the hospital wing with Remus. 

Remus left you in the hospital wing and made his way back up to the dorms, expecting to find it completely empty. He was surprised to see Sirius lounging on Remus’ bed, playing with a snitch. 

Sitting across a bar, staring right at her prey

It's going well so far, she's gonna get her way

Nocturnal creatures are not so prudent

The moon's my teacher, and I'm her student

“What are you doing up here?” Remus asked, sitting down hard on the bed and sighing. His body was sore, the way it always was in the days leading up to the moon. 

“Peter threw another hissy fit so James is calming him down. I didn’t want to hear him moan anymore so I thought I’d come here and hear you moan.” Sirius smirked, grabbing Remus by the back of the neck and kissing him hard. Remus chuckled and reciprocated, his teeth clashing against Sirius’ as he pulled off his shirt. Remus could feel Sirius growing hard beneath him and he chuckled, 

“You’re so needy for me.” Remus grinned. Sirius moaned into Remus’ open mouth and whispered, 

“You’re always so hot near the moon.” Sirius flipped Remus over so Sirius was on top and started to kiss down Remus’ jaw, then his chest, then down his stomach towards his cock. Sirius took Remus into his mouth and relaxed his mouth, trying to take in as much of Remus as he could. Remus knotted his fingers in Sirius’ dark hair and moaned, 

“Fuck yeah, Black. God that feels so good.”

Sirius moaned around Remus’ cock, taking out his own cock and jerking it as he sucked Remus off. Remus knew the moon heightened his emotions and impulses but he felt like his skin was on fire. It felt like every nerve ending was exposed and as he came he released a strangled, 

“Oh Potter.”

Sirius jerked his head back, his mouth still full of Remus’ cum and quirked an eyebrow at him. Sirius swallowed harshly and said, 

“You just killed my hard-on.”

To locate the single man I got on me a special radar

And the fire department hot line in case I get in trouble later

Not looking for cute little divos or rich city guys I just want to enjoy

By having a very good time and behave very bad in the arms of a boy

“I-” Remus was bright red and trying to make sense of what had just happened. 

“You don’t have a crush on James, do you?” Sirius joked. 

“No, no, not James…”

“It’s his cousin! I knew it! You’ve been acting weird ever since she got here.” Sirius was a little annoyed now, “I thought you were gay, you big liar.”

“I am! I don’t know what it is about her…something I can’t quite explain. Hopefully it’s all just related the moon.” Remus shook his head. 

“Maybe you should fuck her,” Sirius shrugged. 

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah. Get it out of your system. We could have a little threesome!” Sirius laughed. 

“With James’ cousin? He would murder us in cold blood.” Remus shook his head. 

You were making your way back up from the hospital wing when a girl started walking in stride with you. 

“Can I help you?” You asked her. James had warned you extensively of steering clear of the Slytherins and this girl wasn’t wearing her house tie so you were a bit concerned. 

“Sorry! I’m Lily, James’ girlfriend. You’re his cousin, aren’t you?” She stopped and stretched out her hand. 

“Oh hi! How did you know I was James’ cousin?” You asked, shaking her hand and resuming your walk.

“He’s talked about you for two weeks straight, I think I could’ve drawn you from memory. Also your powder blue Beauxbatons uniform makes you stick out like a sore thumb.” Lily giggled.

“Oh,” you released a laugh yourself, “I guess you’re right.” You fiddled with the sleeve of your uniform as you walked with Lily to the great hall. 

There's a she wolf in the closet

Open up and set it free

There's a she wolf in your closet

Let it out so it can breathe

It was far more alive than it had been just an hour ago when you had arrived. The four large tables were packed, each one was practically overflowing with students who were talking loudly and over each other. You expected a clear divide between each house, after James’ comments about Slytherin but it seemed like there was a fair amount of intermingling. The Slytherins generally kept to themselves but other than that you saw people of all tie colors sitting together, chatting, eating, joking around. You saw Mary sitting in the lap of a boy with a yellow tie at a table that was not Gryffindor’s. You couldn’t help but stare at the Slytherin table as you walked towards the Gryffindor table. There was a boy at the table that was staring daggers at you. He had impossibly pale skin, a large hooked nose, and long dark hair that seemed overdue for a wash. He was seated next to a boy who bore a striking resemblance to Sirius and you seemed to remember your Aunt Effie mentioning something about taking in Sirius after a fall-out with his family. He was a Black, if you remembered correctly, and even though tensions about blood status were not as high in France as they were in the UK, you were well aware of the Black legacy. Perhaps this boy was Sirius’ brother. Regardless, he wasn’t the one staring at you-that was the greasy haired boy. 

Lily had something to you that you hadn’t processed and she followed your gaze to the boy. To your surprise, her face split into a grin and she waved at the boy who only blushed red and dropped his head. 

“That’s Severus. He’s…an old friend of mine. James doesn’t like that we’re friends. I’m sure he’s told you all about how awful and foul the Slytherins are.” Lily’s voice and an edge to it. 

“He has,” you nodded, “but James has always been very passionate about what he believes in.”

“That’s an understatement,” Lily nodded as you sat. You two were the first of the group to sit at the table and you relished the few moments of quiet where you could talk with Lily uninterrupted. 

“I’m not going to say anything bad about James,” you said, diplomatically, “but I have no business in writing people off before I can make my own sound judgement about them.”

“Oh,” Lily seemed to have been released of an intense weight on her shoulders, “I’m so glad to hear that. It’s rich coming from James, too, considering that Remus-” Lily’s eyes went wide and she immediately sucked in a deep breath. 

“Remus has all those scars, right? Must make him a target for bullies.” You supplied. 

“Yes, yes exactly.” Lily said gratefully. Before she could say anything else, Sirius and Remus waltzed into the hall, followed closely by James and Peter.

“Look at that! My two best girls are already acquainted!” James shoved his way between you and Lily and wrapped his arms around you both. 

“Oh God,” you gagged, wiggling out of James’ grasp and covering your nose with your hand.

“James you smell disgusting!” Lily also scooted away from James and gave him a playfully disgusted look. 

“I was on the pitch!” James said with mock shock, “Don’t act like you don’t love it Evans!” He practically tackled Lily, peppering with kisses as she pretended to retch. 

“Are they always that lovey-dovey?” You asked Sirius, who sitting across from you.

“Unbearably so.” Sirius rolled his eyes. 

“So how was your talk with Madame Pomfrey?” Remus asked. It seemed like every time you turned your head Remus was staring at you with his deep, inquisitive eyes. 

“Great! She shared a lot of great resources about healing.” You nodded and took a bite of your food. The blonde girl at the table, Marlene, whipped her head around.

“Are you interesting in healing?” She asked excitedly. 

“Uh, yes. I was thinking about pursuing it after I graduate.” You replied cautiously. 

“So will I! I’d love to pick your brain about it.” Marlene had a wide grin on her face. 

“Absolutely,” you said with mock confidence, “another time though. I’m here to spend time with my cousin, if he can bear detaching himself from his girlfriend for a moment.” 

The table came alive with that, everyone laughing and hollering as James and Lily broke apart both red faced and sheepish. James was informing you of the evening’s itinerary when you felt a foot trace its way up your leg. Not too far up or anything, but it was definitely there and it definitely belonged to one Sirius Black. He was looking at you with a smirk as his fingers danced around the rim of his goblet. It took an active effort for you to tear yourself away from his gaze and pay attention to what James was saying. 

“Hold on a second,” you held your hand up and looked at James in astonishment, “you want to hit the pitch tomorrow at seven in the morning after getting pissed tonight? Are you insane?” 

“I’m giving you an extra hour of sleep!” James was wearing a face of true astonishment at your protests. 

“Didn’t you know that James Potter has never ever been hungover in his life.” Peter said with a head shake.

“He’s absolutely insufferable after a night of drinking.” Sirius chuckled. His foot was still tracing up and down your leg. 

“Oh I bet he is.” You chuckled but your eyes never left Sirius’. 

“Where will you be sleeping?” Marlene asked. It seemed like dinner was finally coming to a close and you are were all just sipping at your goblets. 

“The boys’ dorm. I think Dumbledore was kind enough to set up an extra cot but we always used to sleep in the same bed when were little.” James pinched your cheek. 

“If you’re going to be insane about Quidditch tomorrow though I’m not sure I want to share a bed with you.” You chuckled. 

“You could always take Moony’s bed, he spends most his nights in Sirius’ bed anyway.” Peter shrugged. Someone breathed in sharply and everyone’s heads shot towards Peter like he’d said something out of turn. James’ gaze was stony, which was odd, you hadn’t known that your cousin had had a mean bone in his body. But here he was, glaring down his oldest friend. 

“You’re together?” You asked, looking between Remus and Sirius. 

“Yes,” Sirius said. James looked like he was ready to launch into a speech but you only shrugged and said, 

“You make a cute couple.”

There was a collective sigh as it seemed that the group was able to drop their guard again. You wondering how many people knew about Sirius and Remus’ relationship. You also found Sirius’ game of footsy all the more confusing. 

You had been a bit suspicious of the Gryffindors when you heard that James wasn’t prone to hangovers. You had assumed that the Gryffindors probably all passed around a bottle of spiked butterbeer and went to sleep a little warm and giggly. You were not expecting the rounds of shots, the drinking games, the chugging contests, the Weed. You were drunk out of your mind. Sirius was playing footsy with you again, being less subtle this time about the way he stared and ogled you. But everyone else was drunk too. Remus was staring, that was nothing new, but you figured maybe he was mad at you for capturing the attention of his boyfriend. But you could’ve sworn you had Remus’ attention first. 

“I’m gonna get another round.” Remus slurred, standing on shaky legs and walking over the bar. 

“I’ll go help,” Sirius followed Remus, slapping his ass hard as he made his way to the bar with his boyfriend. 

“Cheers Moony!” James laughed. His glasses were lopsided on his head and his jaw was covered in red lipstick kiss marks. Lily was perched comfortably on his lap and was resting her head in the crook of his neck. Marlene, Mary, and Peter had tapped out and returned about an hour before with their respective partners, no doubt trying to find unoccupied areas of the castle for a liquor-fueled hookup. 

“James I gotta question for you,” you giggled, knocking over an empty bottle of firewhiskey. 

“Anything for you, love,” James sent a wide grin your way. 

“Why do’ya call Remus Moony?”

“It’s actually a very interesting story,” James took his glasses off and pointed them your way but Lily slapped her hand over James’ mouth.

“I think you’ve had much too much to drink, James.” She said with a panicked laugh. Remus and Sirius returned with the tray of shots and you turned to the boys, 

“Remus, why does everyone call you Moony?” You asked him directly. 

“Just a nickname.” Sirius was casual, relaxed. An odd change from Lily. 

“Mooooony.” You crooned the entire way back to the dorms. “I like that. It has good mouth feel, you know.” You giggled at the sound of your own voice. James was brushing his teeth now, Lily had returned to her dorm and you were laying in James’ bed, just a blink away from falling asleep. 

S.O.S. she's in disguise

S.O.S. she's in disguise

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

“I quite like when you say my name,” Remus said, quickly and smoothly in your ear. His voice sent shivers down your spine. And then, you would tell yourself in the morning that you imagined it because you were so drunk, but you could have sworn that Remus licked up the side of your neck. 

When you woke up the next morning, your brain was pulsating inside your skull. You heard someone retching in the bathroom and you turned and found the bed empty. You tried to remember if James had even returned the night before or if you had left him in the pub when he sauntered back in, sweaty from a few rounds at the pitch. 

“There’s no way you aren’t hungover.” You groaned, turning over onto your stomach and wrapping your pillow over your ears. 

“Why don’t we get some breakfast? You’ll feel better.” James teased gently, trying to pull the covers off you. 

“Shut the fuck up James!” Remus snapped from behind his curtain. 

“Alright Moony, don’t yell just because it’s your time of the month. I have a bad enough headache as it is.” Peter was rubbing his temples as he exited the bathroom. He must’ve been the one vomiting earlier.

“Time of the month?” You asked. 

“Breakfast time!” James said suddenly, clapping his hands around your head. 

“Go away!” You groaned again, burying your head in your pillow until you were able to fall asleep again. When you woke up it was just you and Remus in the dorm. You dressed quietly as Remus explained that you two had slept through breakfast but you would be able to make lunch. Sirius and Peter had left just a few minutes before and James had already showered and finished an essay and was now waiting for you downstairs. You two made your way together down to the great hall where you wrapped your hands around a cup of coffee and nibbled at a piece of dry toast. Remus had loaded up his plate with a variety of lunch foods and you were staring at him in astonishment. Other than Remus, James was the only one with a normal appetite. 

“How are you not hungover?” You were flabbergasted, shaking your head at James. 

“You inherited Aunt Camille’s Veela status, I got her ability to avoid hangovers.” James shrugged. 

“So! I was thinking that you could spend the night in the girls’ dorm tonight. We’ll have a little sleepover.” Lily said with a grin. 

“Oh I’d love that but I actually want to spend more time with Jamesie here.” You smiled. Lily shot James a panicked expression that you weren’t able to fully understand. Remus leaned over and looked at the boys, sharing a knowing look that meant they all needed to talk. Luckily for the boys, you and Marlene were going to head to the library which meant the boys had free reign over the dorm for the foreseeable future. 

“Maybe it’s not a good idea for you all to come with me to the shack. We can’t risk your cousin finding anything out.” Remus sighed. 

“No! Moony we’ll figure it out, don’t worry. We can give her a strong sleeping draught tonight and sneak out after.” James reassured Remus. 

Remus was even more on edge than usual. Having you nearby and the approaching moon had his skin on fire and he just wanted to get the moon over and done with. Luckily for everyone, you had decided that your hangover was still plaguing you so you decided to spend the night in the hospital wing. 

S.O.S. she's in disguise

S.O.S. she's in disguise

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

The moon had been incredible. More than that. Remus had never felt so amazing and free. He was surprised, however, that he wasn’t back in the shack when he came to. He was shaking when he saw Sirius, James, and Peter staring over him concern written all over their faces. 

“What’s wrong?” Remus asked. 

“There was another wolf. You couldn’t keep away from each other. We have no idea where she came from.” Sirius was wringing his hands. They helped Remus up and were starting to head back to the shack when they saw someone stumble out of the woods and collapse at the edge of the clearing. 

“That must be the other wolf.” James said. The boys all ran, with Sirius supporting Remus still, over to the collapsed figure. 

“Oh my God.” Peter gasped. 

“There’s a she-wolf in disguise.” Sirius looked up at James, who could only stare down at your unconscious body below them. 

There's a she wolf in your closet

Let it out so it can breathe

[averyfortshire]

Watched Late Night With the Devil and I now am forcibly compelled to mention James Randi, who is undoubtedly referenced in their fictional sceptical guy.

Randi was a gay guy who started as a magician. More importantly, Randi saw mystics and psychics take advantage of the public and used his abilities as a stage magician to debunk it. He did this because he could not stand to see people being lied to, or for those in grief be exploited.

A notable achievement of his was exposing faith healer, Peter Popoff in the 80s. Popoff made people fill out a form before his shows about their personal life and his wife would feed him info during his live acts through an ear piece. This was to make his claim that God told him this information to heal them feel more credible. Randi exposed this by planting fake participants in the auidence, my favourite being a cis guy in a dress that Popoff claimed he cured of uterine cancer. As you can imagine, Popoff caused massive harm.

My man also fucking hated Uri Geller, stating that "when I die, I want to be creameated and my ashes to be blown into Uri Geller's eyes."

Uri Geller is a massive fucking phonie and Randi wanted so badly to expose him. And he did. Frequently. Randi was not applauded for this. He was hated for it. Because people want to believe in the mysterious. Randi put out a one million dollar bounty for someone who could prove they had psychic abilities, and it was never claimed.

What Randi did, was to help those. To make sure that faith healers and psychics weren't taking people for a fucking ride. And it was a thankless job. He died and it was a legitimate loss.

I'm not the best writer, but Super Eyepatch Wolf did a phenomenal video on him and on how dangerous this shit is. Please go watch that.

[christinesficrecs]

Hello! I've been reading a lot of the fics you rec. I was wondering if you have any more fics that are like or are similar to Waiting by isthatbloodonhisshirt on a03? That's my favorite fanfic and would greatly appreciate it, please and thank you!

Waiting is completely brilliant!! It deserves to be your favorite. ❤️ Here are a few more feral/full wolf Derek fics that I love.

Waiting by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) | 81K

Not wanting to think on it took much, Stiles took a step forward and passed his hand between the bars, moving the bleeding side closer to Derek’s mouth.

“Not too close, he bites.”

Stiles snatched his hand away just as Derek had been about to lick at it. The snarl he got in response was not comforting.

“He what?” Stiles asked nervously, turning to Deaton.

The man looked a little amused. “Don’t worry, only if he doesn’t like you.”

“Well, he probably hates me, now!” Stiles insisted, turning back to Derek.

He looked extremely displeased.

The One With The Scottish Wolf Lord by Stoney | 11.7K | Explicit

The Hales are alive and a royal family in Scotland; Stiles is the waif sent to work in the kitchens, elevated to personal attendant/servant to the young Lord Hale. Who happens to be a wolf who can’t shift back. 

The Wolf in the Tower by  exclamation | 57K

Too many people are scared of witches so when Stiles accidentally sets a building on fire with magic, he is taken prisoner and dragged before Lord Hale. Rather than leave an untrained magic user free, Peter Hale thinks he might be able to make use of Stiles’ skills and hands Stiles over to his sorceror Deaton to be trained. Stiles is still unsure about his future, but he’s even more confused when he finds out that one of his new duties involves feeding the black wolf imprisoned at the top of one of the towers. There’s something very strange about this wolf and Stiles can’t help wondering if magic might be involved.

Lock All The Doors Behind You by  entanglednow | 25.9K

He has no idea what you’re supposed to say when you find one of your…werewolf acquaintances, completely out of their mind, growling like they’re about to see what your insides taste like. There’s no handbook for this. Stiles is thinking that if he survives he might write one.

The Hale Beast by secretfanboy | 17.7K | Mature

Stiles would rather be at home playing X-Box than attending the ceremony inaugurating the Wolf nation’s sovereignty over the Argent kingdom, but he’s the Sheriff’s son so those are the breaks. What he doesn’t expect is the feral werewolf Prince Derek AKA The Beast to take an interest in him.  

Fully Grown by thedaughterofkings | 36K

Stumbling across a wolf in the preserve is not what Stiles expects when he goes for a run the last night before school starts again. But even if the wolf acts more intelligent than a mere animal, he can’t have anything to do with Stiles’ unusual soulmark, four vicious scratches down his forearm, can he?

And what is Kate Argent doing back in Beacon Hills for the first time since the Hale Fire?

Stand Fast in Your Enchantments by DevilDoll, Rahciach | 76.9K

“Stiles knew damn well what a pissed-off wolf sounded like, and every hair on the back of his neck was telling him that somewhere in this room was a very pissed-off werewolf.” An AU in which Derek is feral, Stiles is magical, and they eat a lot of fast food.

Fire, Fury, and Flame by IAmAVeronica | 124.5K

Stiles Stilinski was never going to be the omega who got knocked up right after high school, and then he’s accidentally artificially inseminated with a stranger’s sperm. Awesome. And the father of Stiles’s baby just so happens to be Derek Hale. Half-feral, quite possibly a murderer, and pursued by a gleefully sadistic band of hunters who are only too eager to use Stiles and his baby to hit Derek right where it hurts. Joy.

Don’t Feed the Wolves by Amazonia_8 | 30.3K

Stiles took the dare, because what else was he supposed to do when the whole lacrosse team was chanting his name? Even though the werewolf pack had left Beacon Hills years ago, nobody was stupid enough to set foot on the Hale property.

Except, apparently, Stiles.

Now he’s got a feral werewolf following him around town with the sole purpose of claiming Stiles as his own.

I’ll wrap up my bones, And leave them by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 65.1K | Explicit

The sign on the cage actually reads Beware: The Beast! in that crappy horror movie red paint that trickles down the paper in a failed attempt to appear like dripping blood.

And it would seem stupid if not for the living supernatural creature currently trapped behind its bars. Little hard to dismiss the big, hulking werewolf as a poorly constructed horror movie prop.

Oh how the mighty have fallen. Dude, cannot catch a break.

Where the Real Beasts Are by kaistrex (weishen) | 109K | Explicit

Crown Prince Stiles is gifted a direwolf on his eighteenth birthday by King Gerard I of Venatia. The only instruction? Never remove the collar.

Stiles never has been one to do as he’s told.

[theywontletmebeprincipal]

anyway here’s my cornley polytechnic drama society into the woods fancast because I think it’s the perfect sort of show for them to fuck up 👍

jonathan plays the baker, alongside sandra as the baker’s wife. I imagine this is shortly enough after peter pan that they’re still very bitter at one another. said bitterness absolutely shows onstage, but it fits the characters perfectly and the audience ends up thinking that they’ve just finally gotten good at acting. jonathan brings a homemade “medieval feast” to celebrate opening night and it poisons the entire cast

annie plays the witch. this was the only casting decision that was unanimously regarded as good until chris let it slip that he’d ultimately done it because she was “the loudest singer.” robert took great offense at this and, despite having no interest in the part before, began campaigning to play the witch instead. it did not work. annie’s witch costume has two layers to make the quickchange at the end of act 1 easier, but the top layer keeps falling off before the reveal is supposed to happen. her magic staff is supposed to emit a smoke effect but it keeps malfunctioning, and at a certain point she just gives up and tapes lit cigarettes (stolen from trevor) to it. this goes about as well as you’d think

dennis plays the narrator. everyone had assumed it’d be an easy role for him since he could just read all of his lines off his book prop, but this is proven wrong near instantly when he starts genuinely reading the book instead. when dennis actually does start reading from the script, it becomes immediately clear that he somehow has the director’s copy and the entirety of the rehearsal notes are read out loud, including several deeply personal things that chris has written in his script for convenience

dennis also plays the mysterious man, but he keeps forgetting which way he’s supposed to be related to the baker. over the course of the show he goes from father, to son, to brother, to father again, to distant cousin, to grandmother

chris plays cinderella’s prince, alongside robert as rapunzel’s prince. they spend the entire show trying to out-act one another, and it goes without saying that this ends up a complete disaster. robert makes any moment into an unplanned duet to try and prove that he could have succeeded in seducing the baker’s wife. chris shows up at rapunzel’s tower and attempts to choke robert out with her wig. they get in an opt-up battle at the end of agony (reprise) that ends with robert singing a note so high it shatters a stage light

in accordance with typical into the woods casting, chris also plays the wolf. he orders a very expensive “wolf suit” online from someone he thinks is a bespoke costume artist. it doesn’t arrive until opening day, and it becomes immediately clear that what chris has actually bought is a full on fursuit. it’s very hard to see in and he keeps running into the fake trees

robert is double cast as milky white. there is no practical reason for this whatsoever, as milky white could’ve just as easily been a puppet or some kind of cutout on wheels, and it’s very obvious the whole thing is just a power move on chris’ part. during the scene where milky white is meant to “eat” the props, vanessa misunderstands and literally feeds them to him. he chips a tooth on cinderella’s shoe

due to a lack of numbers, vanessa is playing both cinderella and rapunzel. her costume is split down the middle, and due to this she can only face in one direction as each part. this means that half of the time she’s facing away from whoever she’s talking to, and that she frequently has to walk/run backwards without turning her head at all. whenever cinderella and rapunzel talk to each other she faces straight forward. the break-off mechanism in rapunzel’s side of the wig doesn’t work (sandra ends up stealing a single, barely visible hair), so she’s also constantly tripping on her hair

max, being in a new relationship with sandra, desperately wanted to play alongside her as the baker so that they could kiss onstage. unfortunately for him, he is playing jack instead. although this is maybe the single most-fitting role he’s ever been cast in and he’s genuinely giving a great performance, the opportunity is ruined by his having to do every scene accompanied by robert’s milky white

lucy was supposed to play little red, but was pulled from the production the day before opening by her parents, who have banned her from performing with “robert’s troupe” after what happened in peter pan

consequently, little red is now being played by trevor, who is wearing a costume far, far too small for him. trevor manages to get away with reading his lines off papers pinned to the inside of his cloak, but he doesn’t know any of the songs, so sandra has to sing them offstage for him while he lipsyncs

all of the ensemble characters are played by a celebrity “guest” frantically switching between various comically large hats. chris tried to get francis back for this part but after some careful deliberation he determined that it would genuinely be easier to kidnap a famous person than to get francis to come back after the disaster that was peter pan. the tension is only worsened when, via a botched music cue, it’s revealed that francis is now an active member of trevor’s metal band

the giant was supposed to have been played by trevor via voiceover from the sound booth, but now that he’s onstage playing little red the part is left to approximately four members of the run crew who are desperately trying and failing to say the lines in unison. lucy breaks into the theatre sometime during the baker’s wife search sequence and takes over the giant’s part the next time she’s on, much to trevor’s dismay

the worst fuck-up award goes to annie, for accidentally knocking the supports out from under dennis’ narrator platform during last midnight and triggering a chain reaction in which every fake tree onstage topples each other one by one like some terrible, life-threatening game of dominos. honorable mention goes to chris for spending $6000 of max’s inheritance on a custom costume without actually seeing it at any point during the process

the worst injury award goes to max, for getting his circulation cut off and almost losing a hand after his arm got stuck inside the golden hen puppet midway through act 2. honorable mention goes once again to chris, who got stabbed with a bunch of glass shards when robert broke that stage light

[freddieslater]

Make Me Write

OKAY SO. I have too many WIPs. Please help me complete them by sending me the title of a fic/number and forcing me to write a paragraph for it otherwise they will never be finished. Also all of the titles are just placeholders, they will probably not be the final title lmao (Explicit fics will have an E next to them and Mature fics will have an M!)

1. Back From the Dead (like mother like daughter) [EastEnders]

2. A Tale of Two Peters [MCU]

3. Sambastian hookup [Glee] (M)

4. Windows to the Soul [Hollyoaks]

5. Opera Ordeal [Lucifer]

6. nudist resort [Lucifer] (E)

7. What happens in Vegas… [Lucifer] (E)

8. Facetime [EastEnders]

9. Love in the Villa [TVD]

10. BFB [EastEnders]

11. Adventures in Babysitting [EastEnders]

12. Spin the Bottle [Hollyoaks]

13. You Are In Love [Hollyoaks]

14. Do Nurses Turn You On? [Grey’s Anatomy] (E)

15. American Pie Reunion: Stifler Version [American Pie] (E)

16. Wedding Woes [Friends]

17. The One Where Rachel Kisses Joey [Friends]

18. 7 Minutes in Heaven [Boy Meets World]

19. Coach’s Office [Teen Wolf] (M)

20. You Have A Date For This Thing? [American Pie]

21. Cotton the Pony [Friends]

22. What Does George Have To Do With This? [Hollyoaks]

23. Let’s never go back [TVD]

24. A Proper Goodbye [Outlander] (E)

25. New Traditions [Girl Meets World]

26. Bigger Than The Whole Sky [TVD]

27. You Have A Vampire In Your Bed [TVD]

28. Feed [TVD]

29. Rules of (A Fake) Engagement [Gilmore Girls]

30. My Tiny Prince [Crashing]

31. You Needed Me [Crashing]

32. Marley and Teddy [iCarly]

33. Hey There, Delilah [Glee]

34. ASMR [Glee]

35. Were in the Woods? [Teen Wolf]

36. Beefsteak Club [Outlander]

37. He’s Your MJ [Amazing Spider-Man/MCU]

38. Veronica [Boy Meets World]

39. Welcome to the Black Parade [Life With Derek]

40. Eichen [Teen Wolf]

41. He Doesn’t Belong There [Outlander]

42. I’m Not Sick, I’m the Devil [Lucifer]

43. The Origins of Stefanie Bennett-Salvatore [TVD]

44. Let the Games Begin [MCU]

45. You’re On the Front Page! [DCTV]

46. Veil Dropped, No Enzo [TVD]

47. High School Musical: The Reunion: Glee Edition [DCTV/Glee]

48. Truth, Dare or Die? [TVD]

49. Spilled Coffee & Scars [Lucifer]

50. The Kissing Booth [Life With Derek]

51. Mind-Dive [TVD]

52. Male Code Blue [Life With Derek]

53. Guardian Enzo [TVD]

54. Greenhouse [Legacies]

55. Hope living with Jeremy [Legacies/TVD]

56. Love Letters [Legacies]

57. Cake by the Ocean [EastEnders] (M)

58. An Unexpected Gift [EastEnders]

59. History Repeats [TVD]

60. Blonde and Bitchy Just Happens to Be My Type [EastEnders]

61. Return of the Gay Uncles [EastEnders]

62. SilverSpider [MCU]

63. Vampires In Vegas [TVD]

64. Would You Maybe Want To… Be My Date To My Parents’ Wedding? [Legacies]

[fahye]

First of all, bless you for writing A Marvelous Light! I couldn’t put it down! Unfortunately, now that I’ve finished it, there is a gaping hole in my life. I was wondering if you could recommend any similar books? Books that inspired you? It’s so hard to find queer romance novels that 1) have happy endings, 2) are well-written, 3) have smut that isn’t creepy. Thank you again for writing such a perfect book!!

well-written queer romance novels with happy endings and good smut! this is an area in which I AM AN EXPERT!

m/m

[gestures at literally every single book by k.j. charles] my faves are band sinister, think of england and the will darling adventures which begin with slippery creatures

of cat sebastian's many wonderful books my faves are the ruin of a rake and peter cabot gets lost

pansies and something fabulous by alexis hall; he has a huge fantastic backlist of various varieties of queer romance, and I'll also shout out rosaline palmer takes the cake which is m/f with a bisexual lead and a total delight

work for it by talia hibbert

honeytrap and tramps & vagabonds by aster glenn gray

peter darling by s.a. chant

the wolf at the door (and sequels) by charlie adhara

f/f

all of olivia waite's books: the lady's guide to celestial mechanics, the care & feeding of waspish widows, the hellion's waltz

delilah green doesn't care by ashley herring blake

how to find a princess by alyssa cole

one last stop by casey mcquiston

I haven't read it yet but I have heard good things about mistakes were made by meryl wilsner

[phefics]

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞. ophelia. early twenties. she/they. multi-fandom. horror enthusiast, cozy gamer, swiftie & daughter of cain. here to indulge in my slutty fictional fantasies.

𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬. do not copy or repost my fics, or feed them to ai. do not follow me if you are under 18. only send requests when i am accepting them & respect my boundaries. read my rules before sending. most importantly: be nice!!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 | 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 | 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬: 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 (𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰)

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐬. (𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐬)

baldur's gate 3. astarion; karlach; shadowheart

criminal minds. aaron hotchner; derek morgan; emily prentiss; jennifer jareau; penelope garcia; spencer reid

death note. l lawliet; light yagami; misa amane

fear street trilogy. cindy berman; deena johnson; kate schmidt; samantha fraser; simon kalivoda; ziggy berman.

five nights at freddy's. mike schmidt; steve raglan/william afton.

grey's anatomy. addison montgomery; cristina yang; george o'malley; meredith grey.

grishaverse. alina starkov. inej ghafa. jesper fahey. kaz brekker. nina zenik.

harry potter. blaise zabini; cedric diggory; draco malfoy; fred weasley; george weasley; harry potter; hermione granger; ginny weasley; luna lovegood; nymphadora tonks; theodore nott.

miscellaneous. dean winchester (supernatural); kurt kunkle (spree); luke castellan (percy jackson); riff (west side story). roman roy (succession). ryan (thanksgiving 2023). stiles stilinski (teen wolf). sweeney todd (sweeney todd).

saltburn. felix catton; oliver quick

scream. billy loomis; sidney prescott; stu macher

spider-verse. hobie brown; miguel o'hara; peter parker (tasm)

stardew valley. abigail; alex; haley; harvey; leah; maru; penny; sam; sebastian.

stranger things. chrissy cunningham; eddie munson; jim hopper; nancy wheeler; robin buckley; steve harrington.

the hunger games. coriolanus snow; finnick odair; gale hawthorne; haymitch abernathy; johanna mason; katniss everdeen; lucy gray baird; peeta mellark; sejanus plinth; tigris snow.

𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬.

yes. afab!reader. aus. biting. bondage. choking. degradation. edging. fem!reader. fluff. foot fetish. gender-neutral!reader. hickies. overstimulation. praise. scratching. sex toys. smut. spanking. threesomes. tickling.

maybe. amab!reader. angst. blood-play. “daddy” as a title. dub-con. knife-play. male!reader. parenthood. pregnancy. specific aesthetic for reader. watersports.

no. age-play (sexual or non-sexual). cheating. eating disorders. f!receiving anal. gun-play. incest/step-cest. pedophilia. rape/non-con. scat. vomit.

[mrsstruggle]

The Lost Child - Chapter 35 // Teen Wolf x Marvel AU

Summary: Y/N Stark was taken from her family when she was three years old. It's fifteen years later and her family believes she is dead. Then how is she living in Beacon Hills?

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Death/Injury/Grief/Torture, Possible Grammar Mistakes (please let me know if there is anything else)

Pairings: Derek Hale x Reader, Steve Rodgers x Bucky Barnes, Bruce Banner x Natasha Romanoff, Vision x Wanda Maximoff

Previous Pairings: Tony Stark x Pepper Potts, Scott McCall x Allison Argent

Words: 5.8k

Note: There is only an epilogue left and that should be posted tomorrow!

Additional Note: While this is a Teen Wolf x Marvel AU, not everything is true to the shows/movies/comics. I had to change things for the story.

One Last Note: Y/N was adopted by Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. I did this so more people can see themselves in this story.

***I do not own Teen Wolf or Marvel or any related characters. This is a work of fanfiction and is meant for entertainment purposes only.***

Masterlist

The Lost Child Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Epilogue

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

“Can you tell me something about her?” Peter asks.

“What?” Stiles shakes out of his thoughts and turns to look at Peter. They have been slowly walking around the perimeter of the fighting waiting for someone to call for them.

“Can you tell me something about Y/N?”

“Like what?”

“Like what was it like growing up with her?”

Stiles thinks for a second, “Other than when our mom died, it was pretty good.”

Peter watches Stiles fiddle with the straps of the bulletproof vest he’s wearing. Stiles told them about their mom dying earlier but he hasn’t thought about it too much. Now thinking about it, not only did Y/N have one mom who died early on in her life, but she also had another mom who gave her to Hydra to be experimented on. He can’t even begin to comprehend how much that has messed with her.

Peter has so many questions that he wants to ask Y/N after all of this is over. He’s not sure if she’ll even be up for them or even want to answer them. The only things he knows about her are things other people have told him. Even then, how much has he not been told? How much will he never know?

They continue to walk in silence until Argent’s voice rings out from their walkie-talkies, “Stiles, we need you!”

“Shit,” Stiles mutters under his breath as they take off toward Chris and the others. Stiles tries to keep up with Peter while also trying not to trip on his own feet. He doesn’t have the speed that Peter has.

By the time they reach Chris, Derek, and other Peter, the Anuk-Ite is already gone. Derek and Chris seem to be okay but the Anuk-ite got Peter.

“What happened?!” Stiles asks out of breath.

“What do you think?” Derek huffs.

“Where did it go?”

“Our eyes were closed. How would we know where it went?” Chris responds, rolling his eyes and pulling a knife out of a fallen hunter.

“Well, we need to trap it soon or else he and the others are going to stay like this forever.”

“What others?” Derek questions.

“Malia and Bucky are also statues.”

Derek curses under his breath.

“Maybe instead of waiting for it to come to us, we should make it come to us,” Chris states.

“How?” Peter asks.

Chris thinks for a second, “It feeds on fear, so let’s give it some fear.”

“Again, how?”

“I don’t know. We’ll have to figure somethi–”

Chris gets cut off by the sound of Scott’s voice coming out through the walkie-talkies, “Guys, we need help!”

“What’s going on?” Stiles responds.

“We’re outnumbered and they’ve got a kanima now!”

“What’s a kanima?” Peter asks.

“A lizard that can paralyze you,” Stiles mutters, trying to decide in his head if it’s a good idea to go help them or if he and Peter need to focus on the Anuk-Ite.

“We’ll go help them. You two go after the Anuk-Ite and take it down now. You don’t have much time.” Chris states. He turns to nod at Derek before they run off in the direction Scott is in.

“How?!”

“Figure it out!”

“That’s so helpful! Thanks!” Stiles rolls his eyes before looking back at Peter. “We need a plan.”

Peter throws his hands up in defense, “This is your realm of expertise. I’m just here to help.”

“My realm of expertise requires research and a lot of guessing and hope that we don’t die.”

Stiles and Peter look at each other in annoyance. Time is ticking down and they need to kill the Anuk-Ite as soon as possible. Waiting for people to call for them is taking too long and they keep getting there too late.

“What if we tell everyone to go to one side?” Stiles suggests. “If everyone is in one area, then it only has one place to go.”

“I thought they wanted us attacking on all sides?”

“Yeah, well, people are dying and our current plan isn’t working.” Stiles pulls the walkie-talkie in his hand up to his mouth, “Everyone go to Scott’s side.”

It’s silent for a moment before Kira’s voice comes through, “We’re already here!”

“Why do we need to go to Scott’s side?” Liam’s voice came through after hers.

“Just go to Scott’s side.”

They wait a moment for a reply but no one does.

“Let’s just go and hope they do too,” Peter says, already walking away from Stiles.

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

Y/N tries to ignore the throbbing pain of her ankle as it feels like the bear trap keeps getting deeper. Is it possible for it to decapitate her foot from her body? She looks up and sees that Kate is still slowly approaching her but the other hunters and Berserkers have stopped.

“The whole world knows who you are now!” Kate calls out. “You’re all anyone can talk about.”

“Your plan isn’t going to work! People aren’t afraid of the Hulk and they won’t be afraid of me!” Y/N yells back. She hopes she sounded confident saying what she said because she’s not sure she believes it herself. She knows she’s capable of a lot and she is technically a monster, so she couldn’t fault people for being afraid of her.

Kate laughs, “You think I want people to be afraid of you?!”

“Why else would you leak my information?!” Y/N tries to pull the bear trap open but the pain is causing her strength to weaken. She can’t seem to get it off. She knows she could easily take the hunters and Berserkers down without having to move, but she’s not sure she could concentrate enough to do so.

“Not everything is just about you.” Kate stops ten feet away from me. “Is that really the best thing you could come up with?”

“Then why the fuck are you doing this?! For an army that wants to get rid of the supernatural, you seem to have a lot of them on your side!”

“They want you dead,” Kate points back to the hunters behind her, “I, personally, think you’re better off alive.”

“Why?”

“Do you really think I told the world who you are so that I could kill you? Or—what did you say—that people will be afraid of you?”

Y/N’s hands keep slipping from the metal trap and blood continues to pour from her ankle, “Then why did you do it?”

“For the same reason why you let Pepper Potts go—suffering for eternity is so much better than the instant kill.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “That doesn’t explain anything. And I actually have a reason to make her suffer and you’ve got nothing on me.”

“You want to know why I told the press who you are? It’s not to make people afraid of you. If I wanted to do that I would’ve also told them why you smell like wet dogs and have fun playing in the shadows.” Kate walks closer to Y/N before kneeling down a few feet away from her. “You’ve seen how the internet has reacted so far. Just wait until they start to really dig into your life.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Do you really think the best they can do is find out where you live or who you’re dating? Just wait until they find out about the multiple friends of yours that have died within the last few years or the fact that there seem to be a lot of unsolved murders under your dad’s watch. Better yet, what happens when they start looking into Derek’s past and find out about Paige?

“I’m going to watch as the world tears you and everyone you associate with limb from limb. I’m going to watch as the world plasters your face and your life on every news article, every gossip page, and every social media platform.

“I don’t care if people fear you. I want them to fear the people closest to you. How much longer do you think they’ll stick around once you ruin their lives just by association?”

Y/N scowls at Kate. She doesn’t even know how to respond to Kate because Kate’s right. If people were able to find where Derek lives, they’ll be able to find more. They’ll never be able to link him to Paige’s death, but what about his sister’s? Even though he had nothing to do with it—thanks to Stiles and Scott—he does have an arrest record for it. What other things could they find out about him?

What about her dad? There are indeed a lot of unsolved cases due to the supernatural being involved. There is also a suspicious amount of deaths ruled ‘animal attack.’ Not too long ago there were human sacrifices going on too.

What about the rough patch he hit after her mom’s death? Is it even possible for people to find out about that? What if this situation drives him into another rough patch?

Would being associated with her affect her friend’s futures? If she gets exposed—which exposes them too—will that affect their college chances? Stiles is interested in working for the FBI; will this affect his chance to work with them?

It doesn’t matter what she tells people or what she does, people will make their own judgments about her no matter what. If the extent of the Hydra experiments gets out, she will be branded a murderer. It won’t matter her age at the time or that she was forced to do them, they’ll see her as a monster. Bucky has been out of Hydra’s grasp for over a decade and people still look at him with fear as if he’ll become the Winter Soldier again if something slightly upsets him. While not everyone treats him like that, there is a loud, large majority that does.

“If that’s all you wanted to do, then why gather an army to kill us?” Y/N asks.

“I don’t want to kill all of you. That would make my whole plan irrelevant.” Kate replies. “I just want to kill one of you.”

“Why do you have to be so fucking vague?”

“When do people get obsessed with digging into people’s lives? When drama happens. What’s a bigger drama than you running off with the Avengers after daddy sheriff will no longer speak to you after his son was mysteriously killed by a wild animal?” Kate stands up from her kneeling position. “Do you think people will blame you or one of the other wolves you run around with? Do you think Scott will forgive you after you dragged him and his best friend into your world? What about the others?”

Y/N eyes start to glow bright blue and her fangs drop down in anger. She smirks as Kate takes a slight step back, but she doesn’t see what Kate sees. She doesn’t see that her eyes flicker from blue to black before going back to blue.

“What makes you think that I’m going to let you do that?” Y/N asks.

“I think that you find yourself to be a bit too busy to save him,” Kate smirks, running and jumping down into the tunnels through the hatch Y/N just climbed out of—narrowly missing Y/N’s claws that swipe at her.

As Y/N yells at Kate, the hunters and Berserkers start running toward her. She starts to pull at the bear trap in anger, trying to rip it apart. As her eyes go solid black, she rips the trap apart and off of her ankle. Screaming in pain and anger, complete and utter darkness engulfs her, the hunters, the Berserkers, and their surroundings as darkness comes off of Y/N in a wave of immense power.

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

“Where the hell did it go?!” Natasha yells out.

“I don’t know!” Kira yells back.

Steve and Isaac are propped up against a tree waiting for the kanima venom to wear off as Nat and Kira circle around them in protection. The kanima keeps coming back to them but they’ve been able to hold it off so far.

“Are you sure we can’t kill it?!”

“Scott says not to because it’s not like the hunters! It doesn’t want to hurt us! It’s only doing what it’s master says and we don’t know if, whoever it is, is doing this willingly or not!”

“How does he know that?!”

“Personal experience!” Isaac yells out.

“I think I’m starting to get feeling back in my hands. I can feel my fingers moving.” Steve says. He hates that it only took a little scratch on his neck to knock him down and prevent him from being a part of the fight.

Isaac glances down at Steve’s hands, “As someone who can see your hands—they aren’t moving.”

“Well, yours aren’t moving either!”

Nat and Kira quickly turn toward the right side of the trees as they hear footsteps quickly approaching them. They tighten their grips on their weapons as the footsteps get closer.

“Derek?” Kira lowers her sword as Derek and Chris step out of the tree line.

“Scott said that he needed help,” Derek says. “What’s going on?”

“They’ve got a kanima and some really big Berserkers,” Isaac says from behind Kira.

“Isaac?”

“Hey, Derek. Hey, Mr. Argent. I’d greet you properly but I can’t move.”

“What are you doing here?” Chris asks.

“Scott told us everything.”

“Us?” Derek questions.

“Braeden’s here too,” Kira says.

“Great,” Derek mumbles under his breath. He hasn’t spoken to Braeden much since he and Y/N got together unless it had to do with supernatural business. There’s no big reason why they don’t talk, but there is a bit of an awkward tension between the three of them.

“The others are closer to the house. We’re keeping these two safe until they can move again while the others are fighting whatever else.” Natasha states, pretending not to notice Derek sigh after hearing what Kira said. She makes a mental note to ask Y/N about it later when all of this is over and hopefully they’ve gotten closer.

“Chris, you stay with them and I’ll go help Scott.”

“No!” Everyone’s heads turn to look at Stiles and Peter running toward them. “We need everyone to be in the same spot. It’s the only way we’ll be able to kill the Anuk-Ite before the others die.”

“What do you mean ‘before the others die?’” Natasha questions.

“Malia and creepy Peter are currently almost statues for the rest of their lives.”

“So is Uncle Bucky,” Peter adds.

“What?!” Steve yells, trying to will his legs to move to go question Peter but nothing happens. His mind is racing. Bucky better not die on him again. He promised not to do that to Steve again.

“Hey! I can feel my hands again!” Isaac calls out. Steve glares at Isaac as Isaac’s fingers start to slowly move. Steve’s eyes quickly widen in horror as Isaac flicks out his claws before digging them into his leg.

“What are you doing?!”

“Triggering the healing process,” Isaac grunts out, digging his claws in deeper.

“Like I was saying,” Stiles says, pulling the attention back to him, “we need everyone to be together. It’s too hard to catch the Anuk-Ite when we’re all spread out. It’s gone by the time we reach the area it’s supposed to be in. If we’re all in one spot, then it only has one place to attack us.”

“We’ll move toward Scott and the others,” Derek states.

“Someone will need to carry those two,” Kira says, pointing to Isaac and Steve behind her.

“No one needs to carry me!” Isaac yells, slowly standing up from the ground. “I’m okay!”

“If you scratch me, will I turn into a werewolf?” Steve asks, looking up at Isaac.

“No, I’m not an alpha. Even then it’s pretty rare.”

“Then scratch me to speed this up. I don’t like not being able to do anything.”

“I’m not sure if it works the same for humans.”

“I’m a bit more than human. Just do it.”

Isaac sighs in annoyance and flicks out his claws—bending down next to Steve’s legs, “I’ll try not to hit anything important.” Steve watches as Isaac digs his claws into him—the claws easily pierce through his suit and into his thigh.

“One of us will still have to carry him until he can carry himself,” Chris states.

“I’ve got him,” Isaac grunts, pulling Steve up and putting him on his back in a fireman’s carry. “Let’s go.”

Kira leads as the group starts to walk toward Scott and the others. Derek tries to focus on his surroundings so he can be ready if anything tries to attack them but his mind is on Y/N. Is she okay? Is she hurt? Has she found Kate or is she still looking for her?

As they get closer to the house, the sounds of fighting become more clear. Emerging from the trees, they can see Scott and Liam fighting a large Berserker together. Next to them, Sam and Tony are fighting off the other three while Braeden is standing protectively in front of Wanda—who is propped up against the house and appears paralyzed.

“Kira, go help Scott and Liam. Isaac, go to Braeden. I’ll go help the other two. The rest of you take down the kanima and anything else that shows up.” Derek orders, charging toward the Berserker that just swiped at Sam while Stiles and Peter move toward the house.

Isaac runs over to Braeden and not-so-gently sets down Steve next to Wanda. Steve winces in pain as the feeling starts to come back to his legs.

“What happened to you?” Steve asks Wanda.

“The stupid lizard got me when my back was turned.” Wanda practically growls out in anger.

“Good to see you back on your feet,” Braeden says to Isaac, quickly glancing over at him before continuing to watch for the kanima.

“What’s going on?” Isaac asks.

“Any hunters that were still left have now run away. It’s just them now and the lizard.”

“Have you seen Y/N again?”

“I haven’t seen her since she ran off.” Braeden looks behind her at Steve regaining movement of his limbs and Wanda eyeing Steve in jealousy. “Do you know who these people are?”

“Not a clue. Scott told me who they were but I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“Aim for their masks!” Derek yells out, narrowly missing the bone claw that swiped at his face.

Tony aims his hand at the mask of the Berserker running his way. The mask is obliterated as soon as the powerful ray from his suit hits it. They watch as the Berserker quickly turns to dust.

“Why weren’t we told that earlier?!” Sam yells out.

Derek ignores him as he knocks down the Berserker next to him. His fist slams down onto the mask before the Berserker moves to get up. The mask slightly cracks before shattering when he brings his fist down again. The Berserker now lies on the floor of the woods dead.

Derek looks up from the dead Berserker and watches as Scott jumps on the back of the Berserker he’s fighting and rips the mask off it. To his left, Tony blasts the mask off the last standing Berserker.

“Thank god they're dead. I’m not sure I could’ve lasted much longer.” Liam huffs out, gripping his side in pain.

“Where’s the kanima?” Scott asks.

“Where’s Y/N?” Derek asks, looking around at everyone for answers.

“She went looking for Kate a while ago,” Isaac says.

“I’m goin–”

“Watch out!” Scott yells, tackling Derek to the ground as the kanima jumps out from the trees behind him.

The kanima lands on it’s feet before turning toward Tony. It takes two large strides toward him before jumping in the air, claws ready to swipe at him. Before it reaches him, it is shot down by Chris, falling to the ground unconscious.

“I thought we weren’t going to kill it?!” Kira yells out. She could’ve killed it a long time ago but Scott told her not to.

“I didn’t,” Chris says, walking over to the kanima. “I shot it with some darts full of ketamine. It should be out for a while but we should put some mountain ash around it just in case. We should also move it out of the way.”

“I’ve got it,” Isaac grumbles after nobody else moves. He drags the kanima out of the way and Chris follows him while digging through his bag looking for the extra mountain ash he brought.

The hair on the back of Derek’s neck feels like it’s standing up as he pushes Scott off of him and rises from the ground, “Can you feel that?”

“Stiles, get ready,” Scott says. “Everyone close your eyes.”

Everyone closes their eyes as the uneasy feeling starts to wash over them. Stiles can hear someone murmuring close to him. He can’t tell if it’s something the Anuk-Ite is doing to him or if someone else is talking to it. He tries to hone his hearing in to locate the Anuk-Ite but he’s not like the werewolves and superhumans next to him.

Stiles takes a deep breath—trying to think of what to do. That’s when he feels some kind of magical pull. It feels like it’s pulling him toward the Anuk-Ite. He can sense the Anuk-Ite getting closer to him but he doesn’t understand why nothing else is happening. Where’s the vision trying to get him to open his eyes or anything?

Stiles can feel his heart beating faster as he senses the Anuk-ite standing in front of him. Trying to think quickly, he pours a bit of the mountain ash into his hand before blowing it into the Anuk-Ite’s face. Stepping back as the Anuk-Ite struggles in the cloud of ash, Stiles opens his eyes and throws the rest of the mountain ash in a circle around it.

He watches as the Anuk-Ite’s powers turn on itself and turns itself into stone before disintegrating into ash.

“It’s gone!” Stiles yells out.

Scott is the first person to open his eyes, “What happened?”

“I don’t know. Its powers didn’t seem to work on me and I could just sense it in front of me so I threw the mountain ash around it and now it’s gone.”

“What do you mean it’s powers didn’t work on you?” Everyone else slowly opens their eyes to look at the interaction between Scott and Stiles.

“It’s supposed to mess with your mind but nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened to me either,” Wanda speaks up, standing up from her spot on the ground now that the kanima venom has worn off. “I could hear Steve speaking to something but I didn’t get anything. I think my magic blocked it.”

“I could hear Bucky speaking to me…Bucky!” Steve’s eyes widen before he runs off in the direction Bucky’s supposed to be.

“I don’t have magic though. I don’t understand why nothing happened?” Stiles can’t seem to wrap his head around the situation.

“Maybe you do and you just don’t know it,” Scott says.

Stiles goes to say something before Derek cuts him off, “You can figure it out later. We need to find Y/N.”

“She’s a bit tied up at the moment!” Everyone’s heads turn to look at Kate as she emerges from the house—claws wrapping around Stiles’ throat.

Stiles struggles against Kate’s grip but it only seems to tighten, “You little bitch!”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say.” Kates tuts.

“You’re outnumbered, Kate. We both know it so let Stiles go.” Scott says, trying to subtly move closer to them.

Kate laughs a little to herself, “It’s been years and you have yet to catch me. I think I’ll take my chances.” Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Chris trying to move into a position to get a shot at her. She pulls Stiles closer to her body so that if someone tries to hurt her they hurt him too.

“It’s over, Kate. Any hunters left standing are now gone. They left you.” Derek says, his glowing bright red eyes never leaving her hand around Stiles’ throat.

“Derek, you nev–” she cuts herself off as a cloud of darkness engulfs them.

“What the hell?” Sam mutters. He tries to turn on some lights on his suit to see but they don’t make a difference.

Stiles screams, falling to the ground, as Kate’s grip on his neck is released and something pushes him forward—if anyone asks him later, he will deny that the scream came from him.

“Stiles?!” Scott yells out. He wants to go to him but he doesn’t know where he is. He tries to use his werewolf senses but it’s as if they’ve been dulled. He can’t sense anything.

Almost as quickly as the darkness came, it quickly disappears. As their surroundings become apparent, they notice Stiles standing up from the ground while staring at something in shock in the house that they can’t seem to see.

“What just happened?” Peter asks.

“Sorry about that.” Y/N steps out of the house with a slight limp, her body covered in blood. “I kinda lost control there and I didn’t know how to control it. I didn’t even know I could do it.”

Derek sighs in relief and runs toward Y/N, scooping her up in his arms and pulling her into a tight hug, “Are you okay?”

“My ankle has seen better days but I’ll live,” she murmurs, burying her face into his neck and hugging him just as tight.

“What happened?” Scott asks.

“I got caught in a bear trap and Kate ran off while her little followers tried to kill me so I killed them first.” She pulls away from Derek and raises her hand as she cuts off Scott from trying to say something. “I know. Killing people is bad, but I only killed the ones that I had to, and that just happened to be all of them.”

“So what you’re saying is you robbed me of seeing Thor fight because ‘we don’t want to kill people we don’t have to’ but you went ahead and did it anyways?!” Stiles yells. He doesn’t actually care that Thor stayed behind or that she killed anyone—he’s just in a bit of shock and he doesn’t know how to react to everything. He still doesn’t know how to react to what happened with the Anuk-Ite.

“What happened to Kate?” Isaac asks, moving out from his position in the woods.

Y/N steps into the house and grabs a chain that’s lying on the floor. Yanking harshly on the chain, Kate comes flying out of the house, chains wrapped around her, and lands in front of Stiles. She’s cursing Y/N out but everyone ignores her.

“Where did the chains come from?” Natasha asks.

“I made them,” Y/N smiles proudly.

“What are we going to do with her?” Kira questions.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” Tony says, glaring down at Kate.

“We aren’t going to do anything,” Y/N says, pulling a matchbox out of her pocket and holding it out to Derek, “You are.”

Derek looks at her confused before Chris moves closer to her with a bottle of lighter fluid in his hand, “I told you you didn’t want to know what I got in my bag.”

Y/N grabs the lighter fluid from Chris and pours it on Kate. Kate’s eyes squeeze shut and she sputters as some of it gets in her mouth. Stiles steps back before any of it can get on him—he’s not trying to burn to death too.

“Ready?” Y/N looks at Derek who’s looking at her with so much love in his eyes.

“Always,” Derek says, grabbing the matchbox from Y/N’s hand.

“Make sure the fire stays contained to her and doesn’t set the rest of the woods on fire,” Y/N says, looking around at the Avengers and hoping one of them has the powers to do that.

Derek pulls out a match from the box and lights it on fire. He takes a deep breath, staring at the small flame, and throws the match onto Kate’s body. She screams out in pain as her body starts to burn. They watch as she continues to scream agony before her screams come to an end but her body continues to burn.

As they watch the last of her burn, Steve, Bucky, Peter Hale, and Malia run out of the woods with looks of confusion and fear on their faces.

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, his eyes landing on the fire burning.

“It’s over,” Y/N nods her head at Wanda who extinguishes the fire with her magic, “let’s go home.” She grabs Derek’s hand and starts to walk away from Kate and what’s left of the hunter’s safehouse.

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

“How are you feeling?” Tony asks Y/N.

It’s been a week since the fight against Kate, the hunters, and the others. It was a big night for the FBI and sheriff’s offices who arrested all of the hunters that were still alive. Tony made sure to clear all of the dead hunters before the police arrived, even though Sheriff Stilinski and Scott’s dad wouldn’t have questioned it.

Rumors and conspiracies are still circulating online about Y/N, her family, and friends. While Lydia has been keeping up to date with everything, Y/N completely turned off her phone and refused to turn it back on until she figured everything out.

After the big fight, Y/N and Derek went back to their place to relax and take a few days for themselves. The Avengers went back to their lakehouse and have been waiting to hear from Y/N. They understood why she needed time to herself and why she turned her phone off but Tony’s eyes never left his phone hoping she’d reach out. When she finally texted and asked to meet at the lakehouse, he nearly fell running down the stairs to tell everyone.

“I’m fine,” Y/N gives him a small smile. She doesn’t want to go into all of her current feelings or else they’d be here for a few days. She’s currently sitting on a sofa in the middle of the Avenger’s lakehouse with Derek to her right and the Avengers spread out around them.

“Whatever you want to do, we understand.” Wanda blurts out. “This has been really confusing us but it’s definitely been more confusing for you.” Wanda sat everyone down the night before and gave them a stern talking to about how they can’t control Y/N and they can’t force her to do anything that she doesn’t want to.

“This has been a little more than just confusing, but I’ve done some thinking and I know what I want to do,” Y/N says as Derek places a hand on her thigh in comfort. “I do want a relationship with you.”

“Really?” Peter asks, smiling like he just won a big prize.

“Yes, but I’m not abandoning Beacon Hills and I’m not abandoning my family here.”

“That sounds pretty reasonable,” Bruce says.

“I also just need you to be patient with me. This is a lot and I can’t promise that there won’t be days where I lock myself away and have to get away from everything. I also can’t promise that within a week we’re all going to be super close or anything. We’re all strangers to each other. Yes, you knew me when I was really little and I get glimpses of memories, or sometimes things feel familiar, but we are all completely different people now.”

“We understand,” Steve gives her a small smile of reassurance.

“Thank you. Also, one more thing,” Y/N looks directly at Bucky, “Derek means everything to me, and his place in my life is not allowed to be questioned or anything.”

Bucky huffs in slight annoyance, “I won’t say anything…anymore.”

Y/N smiles in relief, “Great. Now we just have to do the hard part.”

“What’s that?” Tony questions.

“Making a public statement.”

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

Dozens of journalists and photographers are waiting patiently for the Avengers press conference to start. They already know what it’s about since it’s being held in front of the sheriff’s station in Beacon Hills.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Derek asks. He and Y/N are currently sitting in her dad’s office with Tony, Peter, Stiles, and the sheriff himself.

“Yeah, I just want to get this over with before Lydia tells me about another conspiracy about how I’m lying for money because my boyfriend’s money has started to run dry due to my ‘spending issue.’” Y/N rolls her eyes. Those aren’t even the worst of it but Lydia refuses to tell her about those.

“And you’re sure you don’t want me up there with you?” Tony questions.

“If you’re up there with me, it will look like I’m choosing the Avengers over my family here.”

Tony tries not to flinch at her calling them the Avengers and not her family too. It will take some getting used to but he doesn’t want to run her off by forcing her to talk about them exactly like the family she grew up with.

“But you want us to go up with you?” Stiles points between himself and Peter.

“You’re both around my age. It shows that you’ve confirmed my identity with at least one Avenger up there, but it also shows that I’m not abandoning my Beacon Hills family with you up there. People are also less likely to say things about you two than Tony and Dad.”

Lydia opens the office door before Stiles can reply, “Y/N, they’re ready.”

Y/N huffs, standing up and looking at both Stiles and Peter, “Let’s get this over with so I can home and take a nap.”

“A nap?” Peter questions.

“Well I plan on doing something else too but I’m sparing the others in the room from hearing about it.” She glances over at Tony and the sheriff.

“That’s already more than I want to hear,” Tony says, frowning while looking between Y/N and Derek. They promised not to say anything about their relationship and Derek has proven to be a good boyfriend to her, but he doesn’t want to hear about what they do.

Y/N places a quick kiss on Derek’s lips before walking out of the room with Stiles and Peter trailing behind her. She walks out of the sheriff’s station and walks onto the little stage they have set up. The crowd turns silent as she steps up to the podium as Stiles and Peter stand silently behind her.

Y/N clears her throat and looks out at the crowd of people and cameras, “Hi. There’s been a lot of speculation and rumors about who I am so I’m here to clear a few things up. My name is Y/N Stilinski, but you may also know me by my other name, Y/N Stark.”

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

Hello! I figured I would write this here instead of on the epilogue. Thank you all so much for supporting my work and for all the kind messages you've sent me! Even if you haven't commented or liked any of my posts, thank you reading my work! I started writing this as a way to get back into writing. My dream has always been to write a book but my parents preferred me in sports than me doing my artistic ventures. Over a year ago, I decided to back into writing but I felt like I needed some feedback that wasn't my own so I started posting this. It's definitely far from perfect but I did enjoy writing it and I'm glad that so many people enjoyed reading it! My writing has a long way to go but thank you for being on this journey with me! Like my note at the top says, the epilogue will be posted tomorrow. I was also thinking of writing a bonus chapter with some smut if anyone would be interested in that! I hope y'all are doing well and I appreciate every single one of you!

xoxo mrs.struggle

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[placeabo]

[liz-allyn]

sugar and vice, pt. 10 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: Everything you need to know about Peter Parker.

words: 10.6 k

warning: graphic descriptions of violence and gore, including murder. *implied animal cruelty/killing*, dubcon situations, voyeurism, masturbation, references to domestic violence

series warnings: mob-typical violence, bang bang shoot shoot, whump. hurt/comfort. sensual/sexual situations. spousal abuse. family trauma. drug use. coersion. kidnapping. gore. blood. toxic/yandere!peter (maybe, sorta), negative self talk, shameless forced proximity trope. ‘only ten one bed oops’ trope, imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions. extremely toxic relationships.

This version of TASM Peter is far from canon. The relationships and characters here are not healthy.

18+ You’re responsible for your own media consumption, but if you don't remember drinking yoohoo in a school cafeteria, keep it moving.

a/n this chapter starts with a time jump, and does a lot of skipping around.

Back to Part 9.

Part 10

EIGHT WEEKS LATER

If there was one thing she could tell you about Peter Parker, it was that he was always more than one thing. He had two sides to him. Two identities. Two names. He was hot and cold. Up and down. Ebb and flow. Darkness and light. Love and rage. 

It made her head spin. It drove her crazy. Paralyzed her with paranoia. Made her question everything going on inside and outside her head, dreading that she had read this chapter before. This was just another page out of the same book.

John was that way too. For a while. Until she could eventually see him for what he singularly was: a sociopath. A family man in the sense that he would be a family annihilator one day. A horrible mistake, and a misjudgment of character. A false messiah. He was the Devil She Knew, in every sense of the phrase.

Not everyone had been taken by John’s charms. Rita seemed to know. Rita Nimitz was the 74-year-old woman who lived across the street from the Walkers in Loudoun County. A Westie breeder. Widowed. Former LDS, or “reformed,” as she liked to say.

She knew. She probably saw Mrs. Walker limping to take out the garbage, and she knew. She must have heard shouts coming from inside their home while walking her dogs one day, and she knew. When Rita came to her door, asking for some baking soda (which was probably just a ruse) and saw the poorly-plastered concealer on her face in a futile attempt to cover bruises, she knew. 

She knew, and she tried to do the right thing. She called the police. She didn’t know it would be John’s friends who responded to the call. 

A week later, Mrs. Nimitz was found dead in her home. Her dogs too. No foul play suspected. And Honey knew in her heart it was because of her.

There’s a saying about everyone having two wolves inside of them. The one that survives is the one that you choose to feed. That’s bullshit. No one should have two wolves. No one should have one wolf.

Why does everyone have to have two sides to them, some sort of ulterior motive, or alter ego? She wasn’t like that. What you see is what you get. Why couldn’t things be simple? Be nice to everyone. Smile. Tell them to have a good day. Remember their names.

Miguel Ferrer O’Hara. Son of Conchata and…actually, who really knows. Probably some daddy issues involved there, she was pretty sure. Had a cushy job at Alchemax before he supposedly got canned for “substance abuse” and lost everything.

He was quick to anger. Cocky, but never callous. He’d take a bullet for his crew. Loyal. Practical. Fair.

“Peter Parker saved my life,” he quietly explained to Honey as he sipped on a beer. “Helped me get clean. I owe ’em.”

She’d learned this during an aside one night, before one of Peter’s meetings at the penthouse. It wasn’t often that Honey got any one-on-one time with Peter’s crew, especially after the Peanut Butter Cookie Incident. (She also noticed that every form of peanut and tree nut had been removed from the kitchen).

But she’d use the opportunity to ask people about themselves and about Peter. To satiate her curiosity. Harmless questions, FYIs. Just for her knowledge. And for John’s.

Despite his loyalty, she’d witness Miguel and Peter butt heads constantly. The two of them always seemed to argue about strategy. About the right path for “the business” to take. About the endgame. Peter always won. 

“Whatever you say, Boss,” Miguel would concede with tight lips.

“He helped my sister get out of a tough spot,” Johnny Storm told her. “Helped her disappear.”

Apparently, Johnny Storm was his real name, much to her disbelief. Jonathan Lowell Spencer Storm, from a little town called Glenview on Long Island. Mother died in a car accident. Father died in prison. He inherited the looks and charm from his dad, as well as a passion for mechanical engineering. When not working for Peter, he owned his own shop fixing up cars. It was a passion of his, and also a convenient way to smuggle drugs across the border.

Johnny was the only one allowed to touch any of Peter’s cars. She wasn’t sure if Peter made that decision out of admiration for his skill, loyalty, or pure paranoia that he’d end up with a bomb under the hood.

“I’d do anything for the guy,” Johnny stated emphatically, while Honey watched him install a radar jammer into his boss’ Gentian Blue Porsche 911. She hung out in the garage along with Miles and three of the guards. “Love ‘em like a brother, y’know?”

This conversation occurred three weeks after an incident near a shuffleboard table in Peter’s game room. After securing another victory, and this time beating Honey, Johnny reached over and warmly patted her on the shoulder, giving it a little consolatory, slightly-flirtatious pinch. Suddenly, he ripped his hand away, face turning white like he’d stuck a fork in a socket. Honey looked over to spot Peter glaring daggers at Johnny.

Johnny quickly excused himself with a great game, champ, catch ya later!, and hadn’t shown his face without a direct invitation from Peter since then.

In Felicia’s words, Johnny was “the biggest slut in the tri-state area” and had a problem getting into trouble with the women in his life. Particularly their boyfriends. And husbands. Peter wasn’t either of those things to Honey, but the point was made. And Johnny wasn’t stupid. 

“Pete gets his knickers in a twist every now and then, but he’s a softie, deep down,” Felicia explained to her. “He’s smart, 90 percent of the time. The other 10, he’s just a sad sack of boring. And a giant dork, 100 percent of the time.” 

Felicia Sara Hardy, daughter of Lydia and Walter. Her father was a thief and she followed in his footsteps. It started with small schemes — credit card fraud, petty theft — and progressed into multimillion-dollar artifacts and jewels being stolen and sold on the black market. Honey learned that drug running was just a small portion of Peter’s business. It was her work in stolen goods that was pivotal to the enterprise. 

She was an expert in hand-to-hand combat, with or without weapons. In her spare time, she liked to skydive. And rock-climb. And street race. She was a trained gymnast too; almost went for the Olympic circuit. She didn’t take shit from anybody, not even Peter. Unlike the rest of the crew, she wasn’t afraid of her boss. Or of anyone, for that matter. 

Honey deeply admired that. Felicia also terrified her. Made her heart flutter whenever directly talking to her.

Felicia acted as Peter’s equal. Peter treated her as such. Honey felt embarrassed that her first impression was that she and Peter were a romantic couple, as it seemed to imply that’s the only way Felicia rose to her station. 

Such a distasteful, ignorant assumption. Sex wasn’t the only currency a woman had to offer. Despite her past choices. Despite the things she had to do to escape them.

However, occasionally, Honey still wondered if there had ever been something romantic there. Maybe they kissed once. Maybe they fucked. 

Why would she even care? Why would she think too hard about it? It’s not like she was jealous. 

No. There was some other reason that Felicia pledged her loyalty, she suspected. Something painful that was kept hidden. 

“I have a debt to repay,” is all she’d ever say. Honey respected that.

Peter Parker was protective of the people he cared about. Ferociously so. He’d told her as much. And more than a little possessive.

Honey witnessed it the night Johnny stepped out of line. 

In a tone that was more of an order than a request, he gruffly told her ‘time for bed,’ having sought her out wearing nothing but a delicate chain holding two modest wedding rings, and a tight pair of trunks. She ignored the heat rushing to her face as she attempted to avoid looking at his endowment. The prominent outline in the dark cotton of his underwear made her heart race embarrassingly. 

She argued that it was too early for bed, she had had too much coffee, she was getting to a good part in her book, and how she didn’t appreciate being commanded like a dog.

“You’re not a dog,” Peter plainly answered back, not relenting an inch. “I don’t own you. You’re not my pet. There’s no collar around your neck.” He fixed her with a patient stare, unfazed by her brattiness. “During the day, your time is yours. Do whatever you want, as long as you’re safe.” 

Then, his eyes grew darker. He leveled a stern gaze at her. “But you’re kidding yourself to act like you’re just a guest. And at night, when you go to bed, it’s next to me.” 

He set a dominant stare on her that made her stomach weak. “That’s the deal. Understand?”

She didn’t argue further. 

Not that night, or the ones after it. 

Every night, like clockwork he’d come looking for her in the dark. It was a wordless exchange. She didn’t need to be told. She’d take the hint and follow him obediently into his bed. 

On nights where he wasn’t home until late, she’d section herself off on ‘her side’ of the bed and wait for his arrival. Staring at the ceiling. Patiently. Thinking about how he didn’t ask her to wait for him, she just did. A subservient role she slipped into, as good as any collar around her neck.

She thought about how much she regretted kissing him. Kissing him was a mistake. It made things complicated. Particularly for her. 

She lay awake and tried not to think about it. The images searing her brain. The taste of him lingering on her tongue.

Possessive. Protective. Especially when it came to her.

A few days after returning from her trip to the hospital, she got into a spat with one of Peter’s faceless guards. She’d entered the penthouse, trailing behind Peter, with her hands buried in her pockets.

One of them stopped them, stepping in between them. “I’m sorry, sir,” he explained to his boss. “We’ve detected an unknown signal. We need to search you both.”

She looked panicked. The guard took a step towards her and she practically shrieked, “No! Don’t you touch me! I don’t want you touching me!” He wrapped a beefy hand around her forearm. “Let go of me!”

“Sorry, miss, it’s for security—”

The guard suddenly went flying. Peter stood in between her and his men, nostrils flaring, fists balled, eyes blackened with anger. The wolf in a defensive stance, defending his territory. “What the fuck is the matter with you,” he snarled, glaring down at the guard at his feet. 

Although it wasn’t directed at her, his sudden anger made her quake behind him. 

“Didn’t you hear what she said?” his voice bellowed. “She asked you not to touch her.” He looked up at the rest of his flustered guards, a warning flashing in his eyes. “Next one of you that lays a hand on her is gonna lose it, got that?” 

They avoided looking directly in his eyes, looking anywhere else.

Peter glanced back over his shoulder, his gaze gentle and placating. “You good?”

It took her a moment to realize he was speaking to her. She nodded rapidly, trying to calm her nerves. Trying not to think about how close he was. 

Or her proximity to death.

Fire and ice. Always two sides to him. The bad man and the blustering boy. Fists that could damage. Fingers that ached for gentle connection.

Peter Parker was a man of many skills.

On a rare quiet evening at the penthouse, Honey’s exploration led her to the parlor. She was seated on the bench of an eight-foot Steingraeber baby grand with an ebony glaze so polished that she could see her own reflection in the dim light. Shyly, with the silent reverence she once took into cathedrals, she gently pressed on one of the white keys. The note came out as a gentle whisper as she tested the weight of the Japanese spruce and Ivorite bar.

“You play?” His voice startled her. Her head popped up to see Peter leaning with one arm propped up the edge of the sofa. He looked cozy wearing a wool crewneck patterned with a bold black-and-white exploded houndstooth. Watching her quietly, with a half-smile on his lips, he looked uncharacteristically soft in the dim lamplight.

“Jesus,” she hissed beneath her breath, heart skipping. “You need a bell.” His grin widened as he casually approached the piano. Her heart rate struggled to return to its previous rhythm. “Um, no...” she answered his previous question, sheepishly. Almost embarrassed. “We could never afford piano lessons.”

He hummed with acknowledgement, leaning playfully over the rim of the piano at the lid prop. “I got lucky, the lady who lived a couple’a houses down the block taught outta her living room.” He gazed down at the luxurious instrument, running a gentle hand across the finish. “Well, lucky now. Hindsight. At the time, I was pissed about it. Told Aunt May it was cruel to make me waste my whole summer.”

A gentle laugh warmed his chest, but the further it traveled away from him, the more his smile faded. Like using a tiny flickering taper candle to heat up a castle. Nostalgia played in the depths of his honey-hued eyes, as he watched ghosts in the distance.

He sharply inhaled, snapping himself out of his lament. Pushed a smile back on his lips. “Ah.. it was nothin’ this fancy, though,” Peter remarked, gently tapping his knuckles on the cabinetry. “Can’t even remember why I bought this thing...”

The sentence faded away into contemplation. Peter Parker was contemplative. Honey could see it, an entire lifetime of choices whirling behind his eyes. A pathway that led him to who he is today. Whoever that’s supposed to be.

“Do you still remember how to play?” she asked, hoping the question would bring him back out of the dark.

He met her eyes with a boyish smirk, nodding. “A little.”

She scooted off of the bench, her eyes bright with curiosity. Gestured hopefully at the keys. He tried to hide the blush in his cheeks. “Okay, okay,” he groaned, his voice trembling with nerves. 

They shuffled around and switched spots, with her now looking down at his trembling hands as they mapped the keys. He refamiliarized himself with the instrument, a delightful tinkling sound filling the space. Honey noticed the way her cheeks stretched into a dopey grin. Her face was beginning to hurt from it.

His wide hands and lengthy fingers organized themselves into chords. First the bright G major. Then adding an F#, deliciously melting it into Gmaj7. Swooping down to a discordant G7. Upswinging to C major, and conversely dropping back to Cmaj6. Up to G major again. The pitch swung playfully back and forth, a pendulum between two extremes.

“You’re just too good to be true,” his normally deep voice was lifted up into a higher register. Her breath hitched, simultaneously recognizing the song and stunned that he was singing to her. She’d never been sung to before. 

“Can’t take my eyes off of you.”

She flushed with heat building beneath her face. The bourbon of his eyes poured over her.

“You’d be like Heaven to touch... I wanna hold you so much...”

The slyest of all smirks played upon his lips.

“At long last, love has arrived... And I thank God I’m alive...”

The longer she held his gaze, the more she felt something breaking open in her heart. His sweet croons pierced her, leaving behind a helpless, delicious agony.

“You’re just too good to be true... Can’t take my eyes off of you.”

She was fucked.

Peter Parker could be cold and calculating, but could also be a Casanova. Charming when he needed to be. 

Not just with her, either. 

She saw it with her own eyes during a particularly tense visit with an associate of his. Oddly enough, it was broad daylight. Next to a parking lot in the FiDi, specifically in front of a taco truck parked on the curb called Tacos El Guero. 

This associate would frequent this truck, apparently. She and Peter got in line at the end of the lunch rush. They made it all the way to the front before she realized that the person they were meeting actually owned the taco truck. 

Wearing a grease-stained apron and some kind of red-and-black, full-body, zentai suit with a hood over his face, she watched in awe as he diced up Guajillo peppers while simultaneously stirring a stock pot of birria. She admired the sombrero sitting atop his masked head, embroidered with the cheeky phrase ‘My pork tastes better in your taco.’

This—??? —was the infamously-deadly hitman that Peter’s crew nicknamed “the Merc with a Mouth.” “A nut job,” some would say. “The Crispy-Fried Freak,” (which was a little insensitive once Honey learned that supposedly he had burns beneath the mask). And sometimes they’d call him by his chosen name, “Deadpool.” 

Peter had his own terms of endearment.

“C’mon, Wade, it’s just one job,” he pleaded, looking up at him with doe eyes as he accepted his order of carnitas street tacos. Honey was midway through her cochinita pibil taco. It did not disappoint. 

The truck line had cleared out, and most of the the stragglers were guys taking a break from a nearby construction site, distracted by their own conversations.

“Just one job?” the masked man scoffed, offended. He hung out of the window of the taco truck, like a colonial-era judge looking down at them with disdain. “Webs, you’re sending me into battle to take out Hammerdick—”

“—head—”

“Jesus, Pete, getta hold of yourself. There are ladies present.” 

Multitasking as he spoke, he shoved the diced peppers off his cutting mat into the stew. “You’re asking me to take out Hammerhead and his whole crew,” he whined, “without even the courtesy of a reach around!” 

Peter rolled his eyes but didn’t lose his good natured grin. 

“What about my needs, huh?” the assassin grumbled. Despite the mask, Honey swore she saw the outline of a pout. “You promised me I’d get to be your mafia princess and you’d sail me on a yacht to your safe house-slash-Mediterranean villa in Ischia! When will it be my turn, huh?”

“I don’t have a villa,” Peter coyly shrugged, kindly apologetic. “Or a yacht.” Their rapport was unique, to say the least. It was like she was watching Peter interact with a horny old woman who lived upstairs with a bunch of cats.

“Well, isn’t that just typical!” he spat bitterly. “When you said you’d take me for a ride, I didn’t realize it was a euphemism.” He crossed his arms across his chest and sulked. 

The mob boss sighed softly, running a hand through his soft waves, “You’d be doin’ me a real solid here.” 

“Nuh-uh! Dirty talk won’t work on me this time.”

Peter gazed back up at him wearing his own brand of pouting. He pinched the cherry flesh of his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Neither will any of your other ruthless ploys, Bambi,” Wade, er— Deadpool— bitterly countered.

Peter tilted his head, wounded, but the amused grin never falling from his face. The masked man’s resolve remained solid. “Next time, put a ring on it, Parker.”

“Wade,” Peter purred, his voice dropping to a lower octave. “I don’t forget favors. Or the people that do them for me.” His heated whiskey eyes glowed — Jesus H. Christ, was he actually flirting with him? omigod he’s really flirting right now? whats happening here do i need to leave— with an almost seductive flame. “You know that.”

Honey nearly choked on her taco. Stunned and uncomfortable, she blinked several times, watching the rising tension between the two men. 

Wade let his shoulders drop, slouching in defeat. “I bet you say that to all the YNs,” he grumbled, barely audible. She watched the masked man shoot her a dissatisfied glare from his window perch, whisper-shouting at her. “Usurper.”

Later that night, as Honey stared up at the ceiling, feeling the heat radiating from Peter’s half-naked body, a million questions filled her mind. 

Did Peter have that kind of tension with everybody? Was it just in his nature, or was it a tool he used to influence people? Was he trying to make her jealous? Did it work? Did that make her the possessive one?

If he was so confident, then why did it seem like he was flustered around her sometimes? 

Did he swing both ways? Was he a top or bottom? Is that really something she should be thinking of while laying next to him in his bed? 

She was wrong to have kissed him. It was wrong to lead him on. It was wrong to catch feelings for him. What was wrong with her?

Choose to feed the one you want to live. She only had one wolf. Right? 

She built a wall of pillows in between them, fortifying their separation and the ‘no touching’ rule.

Peter Parker was a criminal, after all. A criminal that followed the rules. Mostly.

Honey startled awake on a different night, hearing the panicked sounds of heavy breathing beside her. Peter was raging in his sleep. Again. 

This time it seemed worse.

A sheen of sweat coated him. She watched as he twitched and pleaded incoherently, mumbling pathetic sobs into the darkness. She sat up, quietly observing his distress with a worried expression. 

Breathless nothing-words spilled from his mouth. She could see his pulse in his neck, the cords of his throat pulled tight. Wherever he was, he was fighting for his life. He was losing.

Timidly, she lifted her hand, gently bringing it closer to him. She settled it down on his chest, feeling the rapid hummingbird beat beneath her palm. 

With a gasp, he shot awake, wet eyes full of terror. He roared, teeth bared. He seized her wrist with bullet-like speed and aim. Clutching it in a crushing hold.

She cried out, flinching in pain. “Peter, it’s me!”

The hold loosened immediately. His lashes fluttered with confusion as he blinked away the remnants of his nightmare. 

He looked up at her, stunned. Terrified. Eyes full of remorse. Tears building. She heard a choked sob escape his lips, his voice shattering. “Gwen…?”

He dropped her wrist in horror, like it was a serpent. Turned his head towards the pillow, racked with grief, and let out an agonized cry.  She sat there holding her wrist to her chest, the first signs of bruises beginning to form on her forearm. Perplexed by whatever it was that had just occurred. 

Gwen. 

Who was Gwen? She’d never heard that name uttered once. 

Gwen. The girl of his dreams.

A jealousy crept up inside of her that she didn’t understand. She sat quietly, listening to him attempting to control his shuddering sobs. He cupped his palm over his mouth, trembling into an almost-fetal position.

She had no idea where that jealousy came from. Nor could she source her urgent need to comfort him. 

She broke the ‘no touching rule.’ Cooed gentle words into his ear. Let her fingers card soothingly through his hair. The touch seemed to pacify him. And only then did she feel the slightest bit of relief. When he settled, he finally faced her, laying on his side. Tear tracks stained his face. His lip trembled.

“I-I didn’t mean—” he began with a shaky voice. “I-I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

She shushed him, also leaning on her side. She reached across the gap between him, taking his hand. Squeezing it tight. Threading her fingers through his. Their first real ‘touch’ since the kiss, as chaste as it was. Drifting off to sleep. Together. Hand-in-hand in the safety of his den.

Getting information was the hardest out of Eddie, simply because he made himself sparse. She felt horrible about this. It wasn’t Eddie’s fault that she tricked him in order to escape. It wasn’t his fault that she’d almost died. 

She wasn’t sure what Peter said directly to Eddie following the escape attempt, but he didn’t come around for several weeks. It was good news to some of the group, particularly Miles, who had an uncharacteristic contempt for him. 

“You know how some people are nothin’ but trouble?” Miles explained to her. Honey knew intimately. “He’s nothin’ but a disaster. I don’t even wanna get into it.”

The next time Honey was present during a meeting, she prepared a batch of cupcakes for the whole group. But really, they were made for just one person.

“No nuts in these,” Honey nervously blurted, with an apologetic half-smile tilting her face. She handed Eddie a chocolate cupcake with a Hershey’s kiss center, homemade buttercream frosting adorning the top. It was presented to him on a napkin, on which she’d written ‘I’m sorry. :-( ‘ 

Eddie wasn’t impressed. Rejected, she placed the dessert and napkin on the bar next to him and left it alone. 

Maybe it was a burned bridge with no hope of repair. Maybe the cupcake was in poor taste. There wasn’t really an appropriate consolation gift for ‘sorry, I almost got you fired.’ Or ‘sorry, I almost got you whacked by your boss.’” 

By the end of the night, she was pleased to see that he took the cupcake and napkin with him on his way out the door, licking the icing from his fingertips as he left.

Regardless of how the others felt about him, Peter kept Eddie on the team. He’d argue that Eddie always had everyone’s back. He wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. And sometimes, in a war, that’s the kind of person you need. 

The way Eddie told it, it was the other way around.

“I owe Pete a lot,” Eddie told her one afternoon on the rooftop patio of the penthouse. He leaned back in a redwood armchair, smoking a joint, enjoying another batch of cupcakes. Lemon cake this time. “He’s a good guy.” 

Edward Charles Allan Brock, originally from San Francisco. Used to be an investigative journalist of some kind, according to Felicia. Covered the crime beat. Ended up leaving town in disgrace. 

“I was in a rough spot,” Eddie said cryptically, taking another drag. “He helped me control my demons.”

Everyone on the crew had a testimonial like that. Each one of his friends had a story. They were all indebted to him, in some way.

“He saved my uncle’s life,” Miles explained passionately. “He saved my family.” 

Honey sat with him in the game room after finishing a round of Mario Kart. She listened as he spoke with reverence. 

“He’s a hero,” he declared. “But he’d never say it about himself.”

Indeed, the term made her raise her brow. 

Miles Gonzalo Morales, son of Jeff and Rio. Smart kid. Wants to be an artist one day. Maybe. Or a game designer. Or something. He’s weeks away from finishing his GED early. Wants badly to go to ESU, but Peter is lobbying for him to choose Stanford.

His father was a former cop, his mother a former nurse. His Uncle Aaron was a career criminal who got mixed up with the Kingpin. Aaron’s mistake was believing he could get involved and just walk away. Foolishly, Aaron tried to escape, but that led Kingpin to his next course of action: punishing Aaron’s brother and his family.

Kingpin sent his goons to kill Jeff and his wife at their home. Jeff killed the intruders, but not before Rio took a bullet to her spine. Not before those goons kidnapped Miles, then only a 13-year-old boy. 

Kingpin attempted to use Miles as a hostage to draw Aaron out. It was Jeff who made the connection between the attack on his home in Brooklyn, and a similar attack that happened in Queens years ago. 

It was Jeff who sought out Peter’s help.

Peter Parker saved the day. He helped Aaron fake his own death. He helped cover the cost of Rio’s lengthy rehabilitation, although money was little to compensate for never walking again. He made the family a new identity, provided protection, and secured them a home with nursing services far outside of the city.

He also rescued Miles from his captors. And then he beat the men that kidnapped a 13-year-old boy to death with his bare hands. 

The act of savagery would’ve terrified anyone else, especially a child. But Miles didn’t see it that way. 

As kind as Miles was, as pure of heart as he was, there was a reservation about the way the teenager recanted his story. A quiet part that suggested that a brutal death was, in this rare case, justified.

Peter was Miles’ hero. 

There’s also a saying about never meeting your heroes, because they’ll eventually disappoint you.

“I said stop lyin’!” 

She heard Miles’ voice raised in anger one night. It cracked like thunder, sharp and bright with blinding heat. Honey sneaked down the stairs to see Peter and Miles heatedly standing toe-to-toe in the foyer. The teenager’s chest was puffed up, standing off against his mentor, his dark eyes brimming with hot tears. “You think I’m stupid?”

“No, Miles,” Peter stated calmly. He remained passive, refusing to react with the same rage being tossed at him. “I’m not lying—”

“I know you, man!” Miles sneered with a betrayed tone, throwing hands in the air. His body crackled like a lightning bolt. “You can fool everybody else in here, but I see you! No jodas! You’re on that shit again, aren’t you?”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Este hijo de puta, I told you he was trouble!

“Enough!”

The older man’s voice echoed. The tension reached a boiling point. The two of them glared at each other, unblinking, with a stillness that made her sick to her stomach.

“Nah, whatever—I don’t need this,” the teenager hissed, breaking the standoff. “I’m outta here, man.” He stormed past Peter towards the exit, slamming the door as he exited. Peter was left standing alone in his foyer. Stoic. Still. Steady.

Then he put his fist through his brick wall.

Black and white. Ebony and ivory. No patience for gray. No mercy for it.

“I have to say, this is a little unorthodox.” 

Peter and Honey sat at a small table across from a silver-haired man with a graying beard and his lovely wife. Both were probably in their 60s or 70s, but Janet van Dyne looked as if she was maybe 50. 

Honey couldn’t take her eyes off this woman’s nearly-immaculate face. The only sign of age on her plump skin were a few faint wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. Long, icy blonde locks flowed in wispy waves down her shoulders. Her neck, ears, and hands were dripping with multiple-carat diamonds. She was the definition of eye candy, and the jewel in the crown of her husband, Dr. Hank Pym.

Dr. Pym was well-known as a brilliant scientist, but an even more lucrative businessman. Having chosen fields in both neurobiology and pharmacology, he was also President, CEO, and controlling stakeholder of Pym Pharma, the most profitable drug manufacturer in North America.

Honey recognized the name from the news. Allegations that his company was pushing their opioid products on patients made them come under recent congressional scrutiny. It was no surprise that Pym’s private lawyers contacted Peter discreetly. 

When she asked why they would reach out, Peter explained to her that Pym wasn’t worried about an investigation. There was a pinch of bitterness as he said it. Gravel in his voice. Pym could easily pay the politicians off. 

What Hank really needed from Peter was a new distributor.

“I wish you’d have come by the lab first,” Hank said sheepishly. “I could’ve given you the grand tour.” 

Peter and Honey were also elegantly dressed for the night out. He wore another black-on-black ensemble, a Saint Laurent suit with wide satin lapels. She wore an Oscar de la Renta dark-floral-print, tea-length gown, with a fit-and-flare cut and 3/4 sleeves. Her favorite feature, however, was that the dress had pockets. 

They practically had ambushed Hank and his wife at their private dinner. It was at one of Manhattan’s most exclusive, 5-star restaurants. A favorite of Janet’s, particularly. It was the Pyms’ 40th anniversary, and after several months of planning, Hank had bought out the entire restaurant just for their dinner. 

He was obviously surprised to see Peter there. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, though. It was Peter’s restaurant.

“I’ve been to your lab, Dr. Pym,” Peter smoothly explained, as a waiter he knew by name refilled the wine glasses at the table. A 1990 vintage Giuseppe Quintarelli. 

Honey figured she was supposed to be Peter’s ‘eye candy’ counterpart for the evening. But she couldn’t keep her eyes away from him. She was hypnotized.

Somehow the candlelight made him look even more suave, more dangerous. Adding an enchanting, sunset glow to the intoxicating bourbon of his eyes. The shadows played enticingly on the sharp lines of his suit as well as the lines of his jaw. “But when I’m considering entering a partnership with anyone, I’m more interested in getting to know who they are. No frills attached.”

Hank chuckled warmly, fondness in his eyes. “I have it on good authority that you know your way around a lab, Peter.” Apparently they were on a first-name basis now, she noted. “One of your early mentors was an apprentice of mine—Curt Connors.” Peter’s jaw locked at the mention of the name. “He’s still a close friend even to this day,” he added with admiration in his voice. “He told me you’re brilliant.”

Honey glanced over to catch the light dimming from Peter’s eyes, melancholy peeking through. “That was a long time ago,” he replied. 

Honey turned to address Hank and Janet. “Did you get t-boned?” 

The detour in conversation caught them all off guard. The couple stared at her in confusion. 

“Like, were you crossing an intersection and, like, someone hit you from the side?”

The couple flicked their eyes towards one another. Buttoning up an amused smile, Hank gazed down at Peter’s companion. “Nothing that dramatic, no,” he answered gently, with a tone reminiscent of telling a child there’s no such thing as Santa Claus. “Thankfully. The car’s a loss, but it could’ve been worse. Right, dear?”

Janet agreed with a simple hum of acknowledgement. She sipped on her wine, lifting the glass with her non-dominant hand. Although concealed by the bell sleeves of her evening gown, Janet’s other forearm was swollen and wrapped in a fresh, bulky cast. A fractured radius. A nuisance, more than anything, Hank told them.

Honey gazed at Dr. Pym, blinking at him with confusion. “What kind of car was it that hit you? Were they speeding? Was it a drunk driver?”

Hank’s next response sounded more like an uncomfortable chuckle. He gave Peter a look, but Peter said nothing. Instead, he passively observed the line of questioning.

“A pick-up,” Hank replied, clearing his throat, “I believe.”

“What color was it?” she asked, fully invested in the story. “Were you in the driver's seat—?”

“You know, it’s funny,” Hank answered swiftly, his agitation bubbling up in his chest. “Sometimes after a traumatic experience, like a car accident, the details get fuzzy. It’s called dissociation. It’s a common occurrence.” 

Honey pulled her chin back, frowning. She was vaguely familiar with the term. 

Dr. Pym spoke slowly, and chose short words purposefully, as to not confuse her further. “All of these details are being handled by the appropriate authorities, I assure you,” Hank said with a plastic pleasantry. “But we appreciate your concern.”

He looked back at his wife, who shed a tiny smile behind blood red lips. Hank brushed aside the conversation and turned his attention back to the other man at the table. “Now. Peter—”

“I-I’m sorry, I’m just... I don’t understand,” the younger woman cut in again, more persistent this time. Hank fixed her with an impatient glare. 

“Sorry, I know it sounds like a dumb question.” She pressed urgently, undeterred by his frustration. “If you both were in the same car accident, then why is she the only one with bruises?”

The silence that followed was deafening. 

Janet went still, like she had become a mannequin. Hank looked like a deer in the headlights, his heart rate increasing steadily. Blood pressure rising. Honey watched a twitch form on his top lip as he forced himself into a smile.

A wine glass slammed on the table so hard it was a wonder that it didn’t break. Janet came to an abrupt stand. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, flashing her teeth. “I’m going to freshen up.” 

The smile she wore as she hastily left the table looked painful. It likely was. Her split lip had opened back up.

Uncomfortable silence passed between them, with Hank attempting to recover while avoiding shooting a dirty glare at Peter’s nosy little whore.

“I need to go too,” Honey announced, jumping at the chance to exit. She laughed nervously as she stood. “Broke the seal.”

When Honey entered the washroom, she saw Janet anxiously dabbing powder at the shadowy ridge beneath her right eye. The light did her no favors, harshly revealing cracks in the facade of her almost-pristine face. The illusion vanished. The tungsten light revealed caked canals of far-too-much concealer that clogged her pores. Like heavy plaster attempting to cover up the stains of purple, yellow, and green.

Honey knew those stains. She knew those canals like the lines of her own hand. It’s not enough to cover them. You need to correct them, applying complementary colors to cancel them out. Yellow for purple. Orange for blue. Green for red. 

She knew.

Janet’s gorgeous blue eyes found hers in the mirror, burning a hole through her reflection. Honey frowned at the familiar sight, her heart swelling with sympathy. 

“Listen,” she began gently, “I can help you—”

“No,” Janet spun on her red-bottom stiletto, glaring down at the younger woman. Acid spewed through her lips. “You listen. Who the fuck do you think you are,” she hissed with an icy tone, narrowing her eyes. “You’ve got some nerve, embarrassing me like that.” 

Her mouth fell open in shock, struggling to find the right words. She wouldn’t have had the chance to use them. Janet was right back at her with another devastating blow.

“You think you know something about my life?” she challenged lividly. “About my marriage? About me?” She glowered down at the younger woman, the way an exterminator observes a cockroach. “I’m not some goddamn damsel in distress, you stupid slut.”

Honey felt the first inkling of a sting in the corner of her eye. 

Janet lowered her tone with seething disdain, injecting venom into every word. “You don’t know shit. You’re just a perky pair of tits and a wet pussy for him to shove a couple of babies into. If he even lets you keep them.” 

Honey swallowed dryly.

“Regardless,” Janet continued, skewering her with sharp words, “once you’ve served your purpose, he’ll be on to the next one. Step out of line, and he’ll take you out with the garbage. Because at the end of the day, you’re just common.” Eyes narrowed, her voice softened like a feather, as she added, “And we’re nothing alike.”

The younger woman trembled in her shadow. The dressing down shook her to the core. Ripped out her insides. She felt like she was going to cry. And she loathed herself for it. 

“Stay out of my business,” Janet muttered, almost sweetly.

Honey’s vision went blurry as she disappeared from view. She heard the clacking of her heels growing more distant, until the sound disappeared beneath the door of the washroom. She bit her lip in an attempt to stop her tears. 

Anger burned inside of her. Rage. A hurricane in her heart she wasn’t used to. 

Fury that made her feel crazy. Bitter contempt. Like she wanted to run after Janet van Dyne and slap her. Shake her by the shoulders. Let her know she’s so stupid for staying in an abusive marriage. Choke her. 

Honey was crying again. Rageful. Goddamn it. 

She pictured herself, a foot taller, screaming at the rich lady’s bruised face. Are you insane? He’s going to kill you one day! You know that, right? How could you let him manipulate you after all this time? You fucking pathetic moron, you’re going to get yourself killed and no one’s gonna save you—

“Honey?” 

The soft voice jolted her out of her downward spiral. She realized that she was standing alone in the women’s washroom, her whole body trembling. Tear drops that she was numb to streamed down her cheeks. She felt hot, and cold, and clammy, and nauseous all at once. 

It was Peter who had come to find her.

The second he saw her face, his brows stitched together with concern. “What happened?” he questioned, a mixture of worry and outrage carving out his voice. His hands instinctively flew to her cheeks as he studied her, thumbs wiping away tears. He looked immediately on edge, hackles up, ready to punch a hole through whatever force caused her pain. He asked again, more akin to a demand, “Who did this to you?” 

It was unclear to either of them whatever this was. She felt floaty again, in that terrifying, untethered sense. A stray kite that would come crashing down at any moment. Her stomach dropped out from the Earth’s gravitational pull.

“I...” Honey stuttered, dazed. “I... don’t...”

“Honey,” Peter implored. His voice was gentle. And firm. “Tell me what happened. Please don’t lie. Are you hurt?”

She swallowed hard. Shook her head ‘no.’

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he urged, placatingly. She felt warmth from his lungs on her face. Whether it was from the heat of his passion or his fury, she didn’t know. Her eyes shut, bringing her fingers up to his wrists. Gently, she pulled away from his hold, putting those very important inches between them.

When she opened them again, he looked pained by her action. His lips were in a straight line. He gazed down at her, rejected. Took a long breath, swallowing whatever pain he was feeling. “Tell me what happened,” he repeated, calmer now. “Did somebody put hands on you—?”

“You can’t help him, Peter,” she blurted out. Her mind was also reeling, struggling to get back on course. “He’s... he’s n-not good.”

Peter raised a brow. “Pym?”

“You can’t trust him,” she swallowed, hard. Tried to stabilize the tremor of her voice. “He’s bad. Please. You have to believe me. I know.”

He fixed her with a suspicious gaze, apprehension growing. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s a monster!” she cried out in a pathetic whimper. She bit down on her lip to stop it from quivering, tasting self-hatred on her tongue. “His w-wife, she... He—”

“He beats his wife,” Peter finished her sentence, stoic and solemn. 

She blinked up at him with wet lashes. He stared at her with an empathetic frown, matching the sympathy of the one she wore when she confronted Janet. He sullenly scowled, “I know a right hook when I see one.” 

Her brows pinched together, confused. 

“The second I saw her face tonight, I knew. I’m just sorry you had to see it,” he explained, regretfully. Affection warmed his gaze. “I’m proud’a you, though. For calling ‘em out. Always knew you were a brave girl. Bastard looked like he was gonna shit his pants.”

She gulped dryly, stunned by his reaction. He was... proud of her? And... he knew? And... what was he going to do with that information?

“Peter,” she licked her chapped lips, trying to find her voice. “You can’t be on his side. I-I know I don’t know anything about your business, or-or any of that stuff, but-but y-you can’t help him—”

“You don't need to say it, Honey, I know,” he reassured softly. She was frozen, wondering what else he knew. “I don’t deal in stuff that destroys lives. And I damn sure don’t work with assholes that beat on women,” he stated with resolve, echoing a promise he made the night she first met Peter Parker. “The deal was dead before we even sat down.”

There she went again. Another out of body experience. She looked up at him, swelling with disbelief and a strange sort of pride. 

He handed her a handkerchief from his breast pocket. 

He put her mind at ease that it didn’t matter to him how many billions Hank Pym was worth. Peter had principles that weren’t for sale.

Peter Parker was a man of integrity. And of debauched perversion.

Peter and Honey spent their time split in multiple places, although the majority of it was in the Queens penthouse. One weekend, however, they traveled back to the cabin in the Catskills. She was surprisingly excited to return there. The property and house was beautiful, and it was still her favorite thing about her new life. 

She learned later that Peter had chosen the location because it was near the site of an old campground. The remains of which were on land that was now his. It had been a popular summer destination decades ago, and the place where May Reilly and Ben Parker first met.

Romantic. And a realist.

Small changes had been made to the cabin since she had last been there. Housekeepers had cleaned up the mess left behind from the peanut butter cookie incident. There was now an epipen in every room, and a trusted doctor who had been relocated to a separate house on the property, no more than a half-mile away. 

The house was once again spotless, but had also been fortified. Electronic steel locks on the windows and doors. Areas of the home that you needed a key card to access. Cameras visible in every room. Almost every room, she noted, except for the bathrooms and the closets.

It was invasive, she thought. Paranoid. Borderline voyeuristic. 

She was bothered by it. Distressed at the idea of Peter watching her through camera lenses. Or so she thought.

Later one evening after dinner, she wandered back into the expansive closet. Her intention was to take another closer look at the wardrobe and choose pieces to take with her back to the city. But as usual, she got distracted. Stuck at the lingerie chest.

It was worth looking over, now that some time had passed and her extreme modesty had eased a bit. She was even wearing shorts to bed instead of sweatpants. 

She was never really a fancy lingerie girl. It was an unnecessary expense, as she’d found that the few people she’d slept with were more than willing to fuck her in an oversized t-shirt.

These items didn’t really belong to her, anyway. She recalled feeling like they were someone else’s. Accessories for dolls manufactured for the male gaze. Costumes, like little sweaters on cats or dresses on dogs, transforming her into whatever her master desired. 

There was one dress, though. 

If she had to choose one that she’d ever think of buying. It would be that one. The one that felt most like her. Or, a version of her that lived in some sort of alternate universe.

It was the lavender silk babydoll dress, the one with the plunging V-neckline and soft pink French Chantilly lace floral accents. Each lace flower created a cut-out effect in the dress. It felt like a cloud in her fingertips. She examined the stitching carefully. It was likely handmade.

Holding it up in her view, her first thought was that there wasn’t very much of it. It was enough fabric to still be called a dress, but the backless, halter cut reduced the weight. The item shifted and flowed with the breeze. Cloudlike.

When she tried it on, curiously she found it felt light and airy on her body too. 

Standing in the closet in front of a full-length cheval mirror, she turned every which way, studying the way the dress moved. The V-neckline was kept modestly intact with three dainty ties, preventing any accidental ‘nip-slips.’ The dress was belted into an empire waist with a similar stringed tie, with dainty bows gathering the fabric on either sides of her torso.

From the belt, the fabric cascaded down her hips, rolling down her curves like fog on a mountain crest. It was a waterfall of silk and lace that flowed down front and center, tastefully crashing just above her knees. The skirt was split at the sides, two high slits rising just below the crest of her hips. It was enough to tease just a peek of the matching lace string bikini beneath.

It was beautiful. Soft and feminine. Tastefully enticing. And comfortable. She felt comfortable wearing it, much to her shock. Gazing at her reflection, she didn’t feel like she was looking at someone else. And yet, it looked like it was made for a fairy princess. 

It suited her. She liked the way it looked. She liked the way it looked on her. It was, much to her disbelief and astonishment, in a word—

“Beautiful...”

A deep murmur startled her. With a gasp, she turned to see Peter’s lithe form leaning against the doorway of the closet. His head was tilted to the side, with hungry, heavy-lidded eyes trained on her.

In an instant, she was a fawn. A frightened rabbit. Stunned still. Rendered motionless. Trapped in a hunter’s gaze.

His darkened eyes dragged across her body shamelessly. Drinking her in, intimately, in a way that was unapologetically obscene. Irises blown black with lust. The molasses hue was gone, crystalized. Seared off by the fire of his gaze. 

His soft lips were parted into a thirsty pout, ravaged red from being licked dry. Desire pulsed through his veins. Want filled his airways. His chest heaved raggedly in slow, shallow pants. He looked feral. Starved for her touch, her taste.

And impossibly hard. She blinked, eyes trailing low. Past the exposed, carved muscles of his torso, down to the bulge at his trunks. She had wondered about his size before. Peter in his underwear was no big surprise. 

But now, seeing the way the fabric stretched tightly over his erection, a straining outline of a neglected piece of him that was painfully awakened by her, it felt lewd. It made her squirm. Shiver. Triggering an uncontrollable drip down into her panties.

Had she stopped breathing? She felt dizzy all of a sudden. Why was he looking at her like that? When had her breathing gone shallow?

Suddenly, she flinched, reaching for the fabric covering her chest. She’d been overcome with the irrational fear that maybe she had been exposed after all. Some kind of curse, like in The Emperor’s New Clothes, where the dress had been an illusion. 

Or maybe it was some kind of new experimental fabric that turned invisible when it reached a certain temperature. 

That was the only explanation, she surmised, for the current look on his face. Like he could see through her clothes. Like she was presenting her naked body to him. Thread by thread, layers being cut away and unraveled with just a look. Slowly taking her apart in his mind. Penetrating her with his gaze.

She gulped, feeling a bolt of heat shoot down her center. The room was suddenly cold. And hot. Sweat beaded at the nape of her neck. Her nipples prickled beneath the fabric, behind her trembling arms. Gooseflesh breaking out across her skin.

She was faintly aware that she had begun babbling at some point. “Pe-Peter, I... you... wha—you can’t—”

“Can’t what?” His eyes trailed up to hers, radiating with challenge.

She was so fucking dizzy. “You... you... You can’t—”

He lifted his weight off the doorframe, stepping through the threshold. “What can’t I do?” 

Closing the tiny space between them. She felt her abs tighten. Pelvic muscles flutter. He stalked towards her, eyeing her the way a tiger stares down its prey.

Why was she panting? Why was she so hot? “Please—”

“Shhh... It’s alright,” he whispered, his chest rumbling so deep she could feel the reverberation under her skin. His pacifying voice only fueled the lightning down her spine. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.” 

Peter stopped, just an arm’s length away from her. She felt tiny beneath his gaze. The weight of his lust was pushing down on her chest, restricting her ability to breathe. To think straight. 

She wanted to faint. Fall right into his arms. Wrap herself around him.

A thousand lewd images flashed through her mind with a blur. Puzzle pieces scattered out, distressing her with their mismatched, disorganized state. She was almost afraid to put those pieces together. To see firsthand the erotic image they would create. Afraid. But curious.

“Don’t be afraid,” he murmured, himself lost in a wet dream. How did he always seem to know what she was thinking? Was she stripped that bare? “It’s okay. I’m just... looking.” She had to peel her gaze away from his pecs, away from the ridges of his torso, away from the pornographic vision of her tongue trailing down his front until she was on her knees in front of him.

“Nothin’ wrong with wanting to watch,” he breathed. She could feel the heat of his breath. There was a glimmer in his eye, a hidden smirk. He took another step towards her. She had to bend her neck to look up at him. 

Mesmerized, she was too enchanted to look away, but too terrified to look directly at him.

His voice dived deeper beneath the waves of his lust. “I knew you were there that day. Watching me in the shower,” he crooned with a dangerous whisper. She felt her heart skip a beat, eyes going wide. “Nothin’ wrong with looking. Especially if you like what you see.” He half smiled. “Did you?”

Her voice had left her as swiftly as the air from her lungs. She stood in front of him, dumbfounded, and shaken, and dripping with her desire. He licked his lips, like a cartoon wolf. They stood quietly like that, as he continued to rove over her. He was mocking the ‘no touching’ rule with only his gaze. Eventually, he met her eyes again. He took a step backwards. Then another. 

“Just came to tell you,” he said innocently. “Time for bed.” He backed himself up towards the door, letting him have one last deliciously-sinful look. He then turned and strolled out of her room, like he was going for a walk in the park.

She trembled in his wake. Both arms reflexively concealing her nudity. There were two wolves inside of her, after all. Both of them were howling. Both wanted to fuck him.

She shouldn’t have kissed him. It was a dumb thing to do. 

It was dangerous, toying with him like that. It was dangerous, imagining herself being ravaged by his hands. Split open by his tongue. Letting her fingers do the work of soothing her growing frustration, secretly giving into the ache he left her with, while breathlessly panting his name in the shower. 

Peter Parker was dangerous. There was no alternative.

She heard heated voices coming from the parlor. Then a crash. Shatter. A shout. A roar. It made her hair stand on-end. Rushing towards the source of the sound, she tiptoed up to witness a witch hunt in progress.

The room smelled of sweat and stress. Familiar faces pulled taut, as Peter’s friends stood around anxiously. The pack was huddled together. Heads down, bodies folded up. Giving each other silent glances of concern. 

Peter Parker didn’t have any friends. Just people that were indebted to him. Allies in fluctuating phases of fear. Soldiers forced into servitude. Houseguests under the illusion that they weren’t actually prisoners.

Fear settled thickly over the room as Peter raged through it, rabidly pacing, eyes wild with anger. 

“There’s a rat in my house and I’m gonna kill it!” he roared, in a state she’d never seen before. The fury in his voice made her want to run and hide under the bed. By the looks of it, she wouldn’t be the only one.

From the side, Felicia fixed her with a warning glare. The slightest shake of her head. So subtle that Honey barely saw it. Before she could think to respond, the whole room jolted.

Peter picked up his foot and shoved the side of the baby grand. It traveled across the room and crashed into the opposite wall, with the ease of a soccer ball landing in the net. The elegant instrument shattered, wood flying and strings popping. 

Now she was frozen, like everyone else. 

Miguel muttered urgently, his voice barely louder than his racing heart, “Pete, let’s talk about this—”

“What is there to talk about?” Peter shouted, wheeling on him with a glare that could impale. “Hobie is dead!” 

Her breath caught in her throat at this information, remembering the friendly Brit with the punk-rock style. Suddenly, she connected the source of his untethered rage.

“He’s dead! Not coming back! Ever!” Peter rampaged on, spitting poison and bitter contempt. “I say let’s honor the old ways, yeah? And eye for an eye. A life for a life.” He barked an order without looking at whoever would receive it. “Get ‘em in here!”

Honey jolted as the doors swung open. Two of Peter’s faceless guards were dragging in the one face she did recognize. It was the man who attempted to frisk her weeks ago. He was bloody. His suit torn. His face beaten, rearranged like a Picasso. Stumbling as he was dragged in front of the court.

“On his knees,” Peter coldly ordered. His guards didn’t need to do much. The man dropped to all fours in the center of the room. He was shaking. Terrified. Tail between his legs.

“We should do this in private,” Miguel protested. 

“Let ‘em see!” Peter roared back. “Let ‘em be scared! No one ever got anywhere by bein’ friendly. Let ‘em know! You know what happens to friendly people? They get cut down with bullets! Just like Hobie!” The room went deadly silent. 

Peter stepped up to the broken man in front of him, like he was stepping up to the batter's plate. She remembered The Sandlot. Tried to remember that version. Not this ruthless animal in front of them.

He narrowed his eyes, glaring down. “You were the only one who wasn’t telling the truth about where you were. You know how I feel about liars.” There was a horrifying calm in his voice, but his obsidian eyes were anything but. He seethed. “Tell me. How did the Feds know where they were?”

Honey felt like she was going to throw up.

The guard trembled. “Si-sir, I-I don’t—I don’t know—”

Peter reached behind him, pulling a gun from his waistband. Honey covered her mouth to prevent herself from screaming. The disgraced guard gazed at the barrel helplessly. He looked up at Peter like he was a god. He was on his knees, praying for salvation.

“I-I-I swear it! I-I swear on my life!” he begged.

“Poor choice of words,” Peter said, words clipped and bitter. 

“No, no, please—I, I can tell you... I can tell you...everything... I... I-I...please—” The man broke down, sobs racking through his body. Piss staining his pants. 

“How did the Feds know where they were?” Each word was sharp. A stab between each for punctuation. “How’d they get to you, eh? What’d they promise you? Who’s hands have Hobie’s blood on ‘em?”

“I-I-I don’t know what happened,” he blubbered. “I don’t know, it— No one was supposed to get hurt!”

He cracked an unamused smile. “Good intentions, right? See you in hell.”

Both of Peter’s hands came up to the guard's face. With a ferocious crack, the man’s head went sideways. A full 180 degrees. The sound of every bone in his spine twisting, ribs snapping off all at once, like buttons popping off of a shirt.

Horrified gasps erupted from the crowd. It didn’t hide the awful sound the man’s body made as it hit the ground. It wasn’t a sound that a human body should make. It was a tumble. A collapse into a pile of limbs. His spine reduced to a wet noodle. 

Faces unable to conceal their sickened expressions turned away from the shockingly violent sight. Johnny brought the back of his hand to his mouth, swallowing back bile. Miguel flinched, squeezing his eyes shut, turning his back in disgust. 

Only Felicia remained still. Her eyes were wide. Forced open. Tears brimming. She’d witnessed an execution and the death of a dear friend in the same moment. The convergence and end of two lives.

Peter Parker did pest control. Honey thought back to that joke. The ‘rat’ was dead. 

If there were two animals inside of her, at least one of them was a rat. 

She sat quietly on the floor of the bathroom, leaning back against the freestanding tub. The lights were on and the faucet was flowing. Anything less and it would’ve been suspicious. Anything less, and she wouldn’t have been able to conceal her pitiful sobs. 

She bit down into her arm, trying to silence them. Trying to push them down. Trying to drown whatever creatures lived within her.

Everyone had two sides to them. Everyone was an animal. She was no different.

She killed that guard, just as much as Peter did.

She killed Hobie, just as much as those bullets did. 

Blood was on her hands. On her sharp teeth. On her mange-ridden fur. You can't trust an animal. Animals will do anything they need to survive.

The phone in her pocket buzzed again, startling her. She looked around out of habit, making sure that no one could see her in her hiding spot. Nausea pushed up her throat as she gazed at the 202 number on the screen.

The phone unlocked for her, and she read the message:

> that’s not what i asked, peach. 

> do you love him?

Her heart fluttered, but her face didn’t flush red this time. She was getting better at lying. 

<<< don’t be ridiculous

His question was wildly inappropriate. Intruding on the strictly business nature of their arrangement. Crossing boundaries that she needed. 

She was kidding if she thought she had any control of the situation at all.

> its a yes or no question

... > [IMG_0320.jpg]

She expanded it, always terrified of what she would find. But this photo was from a set she’d seen before: A candid of Bella, having the time of her life with Ariel, with shimmery scales on her cheeks. Mickey Mouse ears on her head.

She bit her tongue. Swallowed back bile. Tapped out a reply.

<<< of course not

<;<< how could i ever love a monster like that

One animal is a rat.

The other is a snake. Slithering in, belly to the ground. Lying through a forked tongue. Destined to consume her soul’s animal counterpart, and everything else, until it chokes on its own tail and dies.

The key was holding onto a fraction of truth in order to sell the lie.

How could she ever love Peter Parker? 

She couldn’t even love herself.

Continue to Part 11

[back to masterlist]

a/n - i'm excited about the next arc of this story. and i'm also excited to tell you that no one has predicted where this is going. yayyyyyyy. we're gonna get violence. we're gonna get more walker (he's really bad in this yall). we're gonna get more naughty. hang in there!

also, have you listened to THIS amazing playlist from @raindropstearsandtea??? it's partially inspired by sugar and vice and i can't believe that anyone would ever make art from my art and a;lkjsdfjl;kfdlk;jalkjdf

there's also my 'official' playlist on Spotify, which is just too fun.

thank you so much to everyone who gave me feedback! i can't tell you how honored i am that you're enjoying my nerdy attempt at hack exploitation of shameless tropes!

Reblog to be tagged in the next part!

[xscarletwitchsprincess]

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎:

hi! my name is rain, i go by they/them pronouns <3.

my age is unknown because i don't feel comfortable saying it. please don't force me to say it. you will be blocked if you try to. i am still 18+, i just don't want creeps approaching me, please respect my choices <3.

i will write almost anything but i do have limits. i'll list the fandoms i'll write for and the kinks/things i'm comfortable writing, along with the ones i'm not comfortable writing.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐒 / 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒:

FNAF (Five Nights At Freddy's):

- William Afton

- Micheal Afton

- Foxy (any Foxy except for Phantom Foxy if it's smut)

- Montgomery Gator

- SunDrop & MoonDrop

- Roxanne Wolf

- Glamrock Bonnie

- Glamrock Freddy

- Glamrock Chica

Marvel (MCU or a different universe)

- Wanda Maximoff / The Scarlet Witch (ugh, marry me😩)

- Bucky Barnes / The Winter Soldier

- Peter Parker / Spider-Man (any spider-man except ones from Across The Spider-Verse, i haven't seen it sadly)

- Steve Rogers / Captain America

- Natasha Romanoff / Black Widow

- Loki

- Pietro Maximoff

- Tony Stark / Iron Man

- Yelena Belova

- Scott Lang / Ant-Man

- Marc Spector / Steven Grant / Jake Lockley / Moon Knight

DC (can be the comics or cinematic universe):

- Bruce Wayne / Batman (Christian Bale Batman is so hot😩)

- Damian Wayne / Robin (aged up)

- Dick Grayson / Robin / Nightwing

- Jason Todd / Robin / Red Hood

- Rachel Roth / Raven

- Heath Ledger's and Joaquin Pheonix's Jokers (Pheonix plays in the 2019 Joker movie if you didn't know)

- Harley Quinn

Twilight:

- Jasper Hale

- Alice Cullen

- Carlisle Cullen

- Rosalie Hale

- Emmett Cullen

Stranger Things:

- Eddie Munson

- Steve Harrington

- Jim Hopper

- Billy Hargrove

- Robin Buckley

Extra Characters (characters from lists that had less than four options):

- Joel Miller from The Last of Us

- Ellie Williams from The Last of Us II

- Rodrick Heffley from The Diary of a Wimpy Kid series

- Hiccup Haddock (aged up) from How To Train Your Dragon series

- Connor from Detroit: Become Human

- Tengen Uzui from Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba

- Kyojuro Rengoku from Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba

- Rei Suwa from Buddy Daddies

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒:

kinks / sexual actions i'm okay with:

- mommy / daddy kink (not the dd/lg or md/lg type tho, sorry)

- breeding kink

- choking

- dom / sub dynamic

- degradation kink / praise kink

- bondage

- pet play

- hair pulling

- CNC

- spit kink

- knife kink

- blood kink

- dacryphilia / getting aroused when a person is crying while having sexual intercourse

- exhibitionism / public sex

- lactation / breast feeding kink(?) (usually for wlw)

- somnophilia / sexual actions with a sleeping s/o or person

kinks / sexual actions i'm not okay with:

TW: the r word is mentioned

- ageplay

- underage sex

- foot fetish

- fetishes, i don't want to write about fetishes, they make me uncomfortable

- rape

i will definitely write fluff and angst, not just smut !!

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐑𝐎:

i hope you'll like my future writing and have fun reading the posts <3! i truly wish that you have an amazing day/night, remember to take care of yourself!

wishing you well,

rain [ they / them ]

[sterekchub]

Master Fic List

 My Prompts &Fics from tumblr & A03.

My inbox is open for prompts..

Or join our chubby!Teen wolf discord! https://discord.gg/NhY7Dx47v

20+ Prompts and Pairings - Tagged in the A03 Summary Chubtober & Chub Christmas:  Various Pairs: Force-Feeding: fat!Derek/Stiles/Chris Eager to Assist: Fat!Peter/Stiles The Deputies: Fat!Parrish/Fat!Derek/Sherrif Stripper: Fat!Derek/Chris Streamer: You/Fat Derek

Fat!Jackson Le Grande Boulangerie Fat!Scott and Fat!Stiles and Feeder Derek Frat Pigs:  Fat Slobs 1 & 2 

Sterek Mutual Gaining Gluttony Demon Feeder to Feedee

Feeder!Derek & Fat Stiles: Helping Him Grow Too Fat too F**K An Alpha’s Mate Personal Trainer Outgrowing the Office Buurp Sugar Baby Stiles’ Gains (5 Different Prompts) ERR MAX WEIGHT Fattest Intern Ceo’s Boyfriend  Santa’s Fat Elf Pushy:  Date Night

Feeder!Stiles & Fat Derek:  Grease & Gains Favorite Customer Pear Shaped Your Highness  Feeder For Hire Fast Food Addict Sabotage  Cafe Claudia: Derek develops quite the taste for Stiles’s baked goods. WIP with @chubby-derek-and-friends A Hefty Hale (9 different prompts) Eat More Than you Can Carry Biggest Cow in the Barn Barnyard Ready 

[celestemagnoliathewriter]

Hi where’s the Remus after hogwarts headcannons

Sitting in my drafts for far too long 😅 HOWEVER I have finished a list of HCs for what happened to Remus between 1981 and 1993!

Remus, like the other Order members, thought there was a spy. He was shocked at first when he found out it was Sirius, but then came to believe it because Sirius was capable of doing dark things (like setting Snape up to meet a werewolf). He was hurt and betrayed, but ultimately not surprised when Sirius "killed" 12 Muggles and betrayed the Potters.

He mourned Peter's death hard. He and Peter were always the underdogs.

He mourned the Potters' deaths even harder. While Sirius had his darker moments, James was like a ball of sunshine. Lily was kind, too, and their family felt like Remus's own.

He went to the funeral alone. There was no one left for him.

Remus did try to see Harry once. Petunia slammed the door in his face and he never tried again.

After the war, Remus struggled to find a job. Voldemort was gone but prejudices weren't.

He lived with his father for a few weeks, but felt like a burden. His mother had died by then and Lyall was finally living comfortably with a steady, but modest Muggle job (he had been ostracized from the Ministry when Remus was bitten).

Remus held at least 100 jobs between 1981 and 1993.

The shortest he was on the job was 3 hours, when someone pointed him out and said he was a werewolf.

Most of his jobs were Muggle ones. Hourly jobs at bookshops, grocery stores, restaurants, and seasonal gigs filled his time.

Being sick at the full moon meant he usually lasted between 1-3 months per job. It's not like he could apply for exemptions for work through the NHS or the Muggle government; he worked under the table and had no protections in place.

He made just enough money to feed himself. He liked working at restaurants best, because his shifts usually came with a meal (or two).

His wizard wardrobe is so tattered and worn because he didn't bother getting more robes. His Muggle collection of clothing isn't half bad, because it was cheaper for him to buy Muggle clothes and wear them to his jobs.

When he was among wizards he always wore robes so as to not draw suspicion, even if they were patched and darned more times than he could count.

He took some tutoring jobs when he could. He always loved teaching and managed to get a couple decent tutoring positions for short periods of time.

To amp up his credentials for tutoring, he got a briefcase with the lettering "Professor R.J. Lupin."

He tutored in history and literature, and while he was never going to get a full time job as a teacher, it gave him extra, short-term income.

Every once in a while, Remus would have a short-lived relationship. It was always with Muggles, but they were never long-term relationships. Every time he got close enough to feelings, he'd bolt.

Whether you HC him as straight, bi, pan, or anything else, he's ridiculously choosy with his partners and intimacy.

He never got romantically involved with a witch or wizard because of his lycanthropy, at least not before Tonks.

Remus was extremely lonely for most of his twenties. He had plenty of practice with loneliness as a child to help him through, but it was harder after having friends.

Every once in a while, he would find a werewolf pack and live with them. It was freeing, in a way, to have others like him around, but he never felt like he fit in. He was too wizard for them and too wolf for the magical community.

He visited his father about once a year, at Christmas. He never stayed longer than two nights, thinking he was too much of a burden.

He was fired from jobs as often as he quit. Usually, he didn't even give a notice. He just stopped showing up.

He gave fake names at half the jobs he worked. Richard, Ryan, Reginald, Rowan, Rick might've been a first name. He often used his mother's maiden name as a surname, Howell.

He was never strictly homeless, but he was often close to it.

He usually rented with roommates for up to a month, a few if he was lucky. His entire life could be packed into that battered briefcase in minutes.

Sometimes he just squatted in places that were abandoned or condemned. He'd use magic to make it livable. Those were the best places to live because Muggles wouldn't bother him.

Occasionally, he got wizarding jobs, but they were usually simple jobs, like getting rid of grindylows, boggarts, or other dark creatures that were nuisances.

Monthly transformations got harder as he grew older. When he was younger he would manage, but the stress of finding a place to go, transforming, and putting himself back together grew worse.

He used different excuses for why he was wounded or sick. It was always harder to justify when Moony hurt himself by getting into a fight with another animal (or werewolf, if he was at an encampment) and there was a physical wound in addition to the soreness and exhaustion.

He lived in constant terror that he'd hurt, infect, or kill someone.

He didn't have friends. He had many acquaintances and learned to barter and read people.

Remus struggled to find meaning and a reason to live. There were many days he didn't think it was worth continuing.

Guilt was one of the things that kept him going. He imagined James and Lily wanting him to keep living. He imagined Dumbledore telling him to keep going.

He also kept hoping against all hope that things would get better someday.

[wulfebound]

Man, I just realized if MC had trashed their head when biting the fake hand, they easily could have turned the fight around on their behalf even for a second by unbalancing Peter because prosthesis are usually attached to the body with straps and clasps, so they could have had an opening to break free. Poor thing. :(

But I am a bit confused over what he did to MC at the end: did he bite them like a wolf forcing another to submit, or like a vampire feeding from his victim? I actually thought he was a vampire due to his whisperings and strength.

Either way, I am totally gonna get him. >:/

Hello! That is very true about the prosthetic. A less desperate Kit could have escaped that grasp, perhaps. I think that’s a thought that could haunt them.

He did bite them, though I cannot say more than that. I love that you’re thinking vampire, though! That’s very interesting. He technically never was in wulfe form…