Kylie

20yo, 05 liner, Request are open

[s9fti3]

Kylie- TWENTY!! THE BIG 2 and 0!! she/her. girlblogger and fanfic writer. i just wanna be perfect. lana del rey, anna bates, and sabrina carpenter on loop. girly and sweet. THIS IS MY ONLY BLOG!

Links- Masterlist. Anon claims.

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my account is an 18+ account, which means minors are not allowed. ageless blogs will be blocked. read at your own risk, as i cannot stop you from viewing anything online.

© s9fti3 2026. do not copy, translate or claim any of my writing or works as your own. please ask about translating my work!

[s9fti3]

Embarrassment

AN: i’m so sorry this took forever to come out, i wrote this like 2 years ago and kinda lost the plot. not sure where this is going, but ill keep posting. this is unfinished

Warnings: jumping POVs, Swearing? Pansy backstabbing, some might be ooc, that’s all i can think of

WC: 2k

Masterslist, Part I

      Draco’s POV: 

   It felt good, in the beginning. I saw her face go place, a sheen layer of sweat growing around her hairline. My friends cheered and laughed, gently grabbing at my leg and shaking me while i stood on the table. I could feel the glares of her friends on me, but i couldn’t care less in this moment—not while everyone was laughing with me, not at me. 

  She was foolish to think that i liked her…and i was foolish for looking at her twice. I was foolish for thinking about this, foolish for doing this, foolish for making her face pale. But i needed this rumor gone, i can’t have her—this pathetic, muggle girl—ruining the image my ancestors spent centuries building up.

       3rd POV: 

  You felt it in your face, it building in your throat. Your face felt hot, like it was burning and no matter what, it wouldn’t go away. 

The vile was growing in your throat, your body began to shake. Without a second thought, you got up and started straight to the bathroom. Everything that was down came up, making an ugly mess in the bathroom stall. 

  “You okay?” A gentle voice rang out. Cho Chang. Of course it was her, she was perfect. 

  You couldn’t be mad at her, she was so sweet. You didn’t answer, just choking on air and cries that felt strangled in your chest. It all felt heavy, a memory you wished never happened. No matter how hard you closed your eyes or pinched your arm, it didn’t go away. You would open your eyes and find yourself crouching in front of the bowl instead of your bed. “Please open the door.” Cho said gently, knocking again. With a flush, you wiped your eyes and opened the door. 

  You walked past her, going to the sink. You didn’t want her, matter of a fact anyone, to see how embarrassed you were. That you let this moment get to you. After scrubbing your hands clean, you brought some water to your mouth and rinsed it as well. The thought of drinking water didn’t settle well either, it wouldn’t go down no matter how hard you tried. You looked up, seeing Cho look at you with a look. Pity? Empathy? Actual concern and care? You didn’t know, and didn’t really want it. 

  “I’m fine, Cho.” You tell her, drying off your hands. You went back to the mirror, nitpicking your entire look, making sure you looked better and that you didn’t just throw up over the situation. 

  “I’m so sorry.” Is all she could push out. Poor, sweet, empathetic Cho. She knew nothing, cause she had it all. Perfect grades, family, friends, and the sweetest little boyfriend—Cedric. 

  “It’s fine, really. It doesn’t matter.” You weren’t sure if you were telling her or yourself. Sure, it would past, but that would take a while. Everyone would go on with their lives, but this would be forever stapled to you. Anytime anyone heard your name, they would instantly think of your pathetic crush on Draco. “I’ve got class.” 

  You pushed past her and walked out. Was it wrong to push her away and treat her so rudely when all she was trying to do was help? Yeah…but talking about it made it worse. You wanted to forget it immediately, to curl up and call it a day. 

  When you walked to class, all eyes were on you. Some boys snickered, looking you up and down before laughing. Some girls looked at you with pity, saying your name gently as you walked past them. You made a beeline to class, not stopping. You sat down in your seat, the classroom pretty empty. Class wouldn’t start for another 7 minutes, obviously it was empty. You began going through your things when students came in. Every seat was being filled except for the one next to you. How embarrassing. 

  The class had just begun once someone sat next to you. “I’m sorry.” The voice whispered. It didn’t have any pity in it, but it was real. And that meant something. “I told him not to, but to hell with what i think.” Your eyes met the green ones looking at you. Pansy. She was a bully, but even she knew there were limits. You looked away again, keeping your eyes to the front of the class and not her beside you. 

  “I don’t care.” You muttered, looking down at your text book. Your eyes read the words, but your mind didn’t. Every so often, you’d look at her through your peripheral to see what she was doing. Nothing productive. Chewing gum even though it wasn’t allowed, looking for split ends in her hair, maybe writing something stupid down. You were looking at her then felt a piece of paper hit your leg. 

  You looked over and saw two boys topple over one another, trying to stop themselves from laughing. You felt sick again. They were making fun of you. Some girls looked over their shoulders, giving a knowing look to their friends before eyeing you up and down again. 

  “Care to share with the class?” Your teacher called out. Exhausted and was sick of these high schoolers, she glared at you all. When no one answer, she turned her back and went back to writing something you couldn’t read on the board. After a grueling 55 minutes, the class was over. 

  “I’d get it up for you!” A boy yelled at you as him and his friends ran past your desk and out the door. What a prick. You collected your things before heading to your dorm. You didn’t feel like going to the rest of your classes, not with this treatment. You were pissed though, going to your dorm meant seeing your friends who told the whole world your business, which led to this. 

  When you made your way to your dorm, they were all huddled there, almost like they were waiting for you. 

  “We’re so sorry-“ Your friend managed to get out, but it fell on deaf ears. 

  “Save it.” Is all you said, going to your bed. For the next 15 minutes, you all sat in awkward silence. You had two textbooks open, writing down whatever you thought was important cause you weren’t going to class. They all stared at you, making you feel even more uneasy before. 

  “You shouldn’t have done that. You had no right. Absolutely no right.” The words came out and broke the silence. 

  “We said we were sorry.” One begins to say.

  “Then fix it.” You argue. And that’s where you got them. This wasn’t something they could just ‘fix’. This wouldn’t go away over night, it would last a lifetime. She swallowed her pride, looking away again. She didn’t like that you called her out. Nobody did. But she deserved it. They all did. 

  After an hour and a half of silence, you closed your textbook. You got up, collecting your bag and a small bit of money.

  “Where you going?” One asked, watching you. 

  “Shops. I want something to drink.” And that was it. The walk there let you feel a bit more normal. No one was really out at this time and the others in town didn’t know of your little thing with Draco. 

  You ordered a drink, something warm to hold onto while sitting in the cold hob. Your fingers rested on the cup before a chair scraped in front of you. 

  “This taken?” 

  “Yes.” You knew who it was. You’d be a fool not to. 

  “And this one?” A long, caramel colored finger pointed to the chair next to you.

  “Yes, all of them.” You say, but it was nothing but a lie. No one came with you here, it was just you. 

  Why was he even trying? Did he have Blaise come down here to embarrass you further? He didn’t listen to you, just sitting across from you. You both sat in silence before he broke it. “Chilly in here.” 

  It was stupid, but it brought a small grin to your face. You didn’t trust Blaise. He was just like them, so why was he here? 

  “What do you want?” You finally asked. 

  “To talk.” 

  “She sent you didn’t she?” Pansy. She wanted ground level. She knew you probably didn’t want to hear anything from her, so she sent the second best option. Blaise. 

  “Yes…no. Depends on one’s perspective.” You scrunched your brows at him. Blaise always had a way of speaking. You just told yourself he talked like that cause he was filthy rich and had a mother that made sure he was speaking like an English major by the time he was in his second year. 

  “I don’t want perspectives. Not anyone’s.” You blurt out, taking a sip. What the hell were you doing? Why were you telling Blaise this? 

  “It was wrong. And i shouldn’t have encouraged it…” 

  “You encouraged it?” You snapped, immediately looking up at him. Any ground level you just found for Blaise disappeared and you felt an instant wave of furry build in you. 

  “You would think it was rocket science to make a drink.” Pansy scoffed, coming over. “Seems you made a friend.” She said to Blaise, taking in your face. “Nice going.” 

Why this? Why were they here bothering you? They didn’t have morals, hell, very little values too. They didn’t care for anyone but themselves, so why dio they care? 

  They both shared a look with one another before breaking the silence. “Look, i’m sorry for Draco,” Pansy starts, stirring her coffee before looking at you. “But,” 

  “I seriously don’t care.” You cut her off before she could finish. You didn’t want another sob story, some fake reason on why people could be dicks and get away with it. 

  “It’s not like he wanted to do it.” Pansy says, more firmly this time. She wasn’t trying to be your friend, but she was trying to make the situation better. And the reason was selfish. 

      Pansy’s POV: 

  “He had to save his ass.” I say, looking at the girl across from me. She was pissed, but i couldn’t blame her. Obviously i don’t want to be here, but i had to save my reputation before it fell apart. Draco messed up and now we all had to pay. 

  Some people glared at me, whispering as i walked by. 

“What a bitch…” 

“Backstabber.” 

“What a loser.” 

  She wasn’t the only one going through it cause of this mess. Everyone hates me because i let Draco drag her. She was okay. People didn’t mind her. So when someone who no one really had a problem with got publicly humiliated by my friends, we all paid the price. 

  “He’s not allowed to be with a muggle. You get it…” I tried. It wasn’t an entire lie. Not totally. “He was just trying to help.” Okay, that’s a lie. He was trying to help—but only himself when it came down to his father. “Look, i’ll talk to him if you want-“ 

  “No!” I heard you say, a bit louder than you probably preferred. “I don’t want you, or you,” She pointed at Blaise with an accusing finger. “To say anything. Just leave it be!” And with that, she grabbed her drink, stood up with the chair scraping the woods floor and left again. 

  “Nice going…” Blaise scoffed, taking a sip of his drink. 

  “Shut your damn mouth.” I say angrily, sipping my coffee. I burned my tongue. I deserved that. As selfish as it was, i had to figure out a way to fix this situation. If i wasn’t having my reputation in the tank, i wouldn’t have cared. But it is, so i have to deal with it. “I’ll find her later.” I tell him, leaving the conversation with that.

  “You do that.” Blaise says sarcastically, clearly just as fed up with the situation as i was. Of course, Draco has to mess up everything once again.

taglist for the sweet individuals who requested a part 2 a million years ago: @the-nameless-poet @yourmotherfavorita @ashxrchive @hon3ymnn @experimentalnatureeuh @jellyfrogz @celow-er

©s9fti3 2026. All works posted under my name belong to me! Please do not copy, claim, republish, or translate my work without permission anywhere else!!!

[s9fti3]

Heyyy, I just found your blog and Im obsessed. It’s like the ultimate girl blog!! I was wondering if there is going to be a part 2 of embarrassment…..?

YES!!! i know so many people have been asking about a part 2 since i posted it like two years ago. i plan on getting it out soon, once finals are over. so i absolutely plan on getting it out, it’s in the drafts right now. hopefully by this weekend or next week.

thank you for your support and patience, it really means a lot. i’ve had such a huge amount of writers block and seeing this makes my day. thank you so much lovebug, it’s truly appreciated and motivational💕💕

Edit: Part II is out now!!!!

[s9fti3]

hi!! i loved ur writing about isaac where you refered to him as a big werewolf to everyone else but a puppy dog for you. could you write more on this? thank u!!

I think that for Isaac, him turning was a huge difference for him. He was very timid and had that low self esteem. But after getting changed, he had that overly cocky attitude. He was always sarcastic with everyone else, but when it came down to you, he was honest and himself.

I think in the beginning of when you met him, he did everything he could to make you impressed about him. Even if you knew him before his large confidence boost, he would still try. But once he noticed you did care that he walked with his head up and his pride high, he relaxed.

you never demanded much from him, ever. And he sincerely appreciated that. He had walked on egg shells his whole life and then had Derek in his ear, barking one order after the next. So, when he realized he could just go to you and have you just be there, he was all in.

Of course, he never let anyone else see that, he would tone down his act. So the daily piss and match with Stiles would go down and he’d be able to control himself better.

That would also be an anchor for him in his moments where he couldn’t change. He’d just sit there and remember your fingers in his hair, petting him almost as if he was a dog.

Isaac liked this, where he could be that tough person he always wanted to be, but could still turn around and be soft if he wanted to be.

[s9fti3]

The Hunger Games Saga || Do they want to be fathers? What gender and how many kids?

All fiction and my opinion, take with a grain of salt, please!! masterlist

Credits to @ferrarifinnick for it being their idea and where I got my inspiration from!

Featuring: Peeta Mellark, Gale Hawthorne, Finnick Odair, Cato Hadley, & Coriolanus Snow

Peeta would absolutely want to be a father. The image of the two of you living in your own little world, madly in love with your kids running around had been set in his mind since he first laid his eyes on you. I think that his love is so much, he has to pass it on to someone else—and who better is that than his kids? He probably wouldn’t care for gender, either seems fine by him. He’s more happy over the fact that he gets to be a father, a father to your children, than care on what the gender would be. He also doesn’t care on how many, but one or two seems perfect for him.

Early mornings, mainly during the spring, Peeta and the kids would bake things. I see him as one of those PTA dads, you know? Most definitely up to everything on what the kids do in school, volunteering at every school event, sports—he’s there. He loves his kids, more than he loves himself.

Gale in my mind I truly want to think that Gale actually wants kids, but he can’t seem to bring himself to do it. He has been taking care of his family since his father’s accident and had been working ever since. That small pause that he gets from taking care of people is like a breath of fresh air for him. But over time, the fresh air is just too much and he would probably want to fall back into the old habit he had before the rebellion. Not only that, but I feel like he has credit he owes to his father: ‘at least carry on the bloodline’ running in the back of his mind.

He loved you and seeing that you weren’t against the idea of having kids, he made it happen. He would only really want one, as kids are extremely stressful. He would most definitely prefer a boy over a girl, wanting to pass on what he knew and his father’s stories. But if you did have a girl, he would be EXTREMELY protective over her.

Finnick was happy, like overly happy. Was it planned? Most likely not, but that was still his child and he was going to love them every second of every hour of every day. While yes, Finnick was happy to be a father, there were still some moments of worry for him. He never wanted his child to stumble upon what his life was like before the rebellion. He felt shame and sad over something that was never his fault. There were nights that these sort of ideas plagued his mind, but he managed to push it aside.

Wouldn’t care what the gender of the baby was. Probably would want another one after that. He loved having a mini him running around and causing chaos. Most definitely thought it was the funniest thing when your child sassed you back or did something that Finnick knew annoyed you.

Cato would most definitely be a little shocked over the situation. And most people expect him to walk away from the situation, maybe have some conflict over it. But once the truth settled in, he wasn’t all against the idea. He would definitely be nervous as all get out, just as clueless as everyone else was. I mean, Cato didn’t really spend his youth learning how to parent or see other people parent. He took pride in the idea though. Like, that was him. His bloodline that he passed down, something that he helped create.

100% wanted a boy, but was sorta disappointed when he found out it was a girl. But as soon as she was born, he was absolutely head over heels for her. Cato is totally a girl dad, everyone knows it. He lets her get away with things he’d NEVER let you do. Always had those little prep talks with her: “I’m smart…” Her little voice rang out. “You got it! And what else?” Cato asked, waiting to hear her finish what he taught her over and over again. He most definitely wanted more kids, daughters preferred.

Coriolanus where do I start? I think that, yes, he’d want kids but not in the sense you think. Coriolanus is extremely possessive in ways you couldn’t imagine. And I hate to say this but children would only be a political gain for him. It would only make him and the Snow reign just look more powerful. Now, if Coriolanus truly loved you, he would only want one or two, and the possibilities of his love towards them could go two ways.

1. He actually loved those kids due to you loving them. He’d push past any jealousy and forget about the power when having an heir and actually love them.

2. Would hate the kid. He’s so possessive over you, the thought of having to share you 24/7 made him feel gross. Of course he would never outright say that or show that, no. He’d shower the kid in gifts and tell them he loves them, but in the confinement of his journal, he’d write about his distaste for them.

But, if this was more of a situation where he was really using you, ‘owning you’—feeding off what you gave him, oh he’d make sure you have more than enough kids. Four would be the bare minimum, keeping your hands full and almost in a way of daring you to leave. It keeps you locked up for a long time and it makes the family—him—look stronger.

[s9fti3]

This wasn’t how you expected this to go. One moment you were reading The Odyssey, trying to read something Bellamy liked so you could bond over it, to him eating you out as you read it. You were practically shaking, fingers curled tightly around the book. Every time you stopped reading or stopped answering his questions, he stopped moving.

You gasped, leaning your head back as you felt the knot in your stomach begin to get tighter. “Bellamy,” You whined, your hand leaving the book to card through his dark, messy curls. He stopped, looking up at you with those brown eyes that were blown out with lust.

“Keep going, what does Athena do?” He asked, pressing a kiss to your clit. You were choking, there was no way in hell you’d manage to keep going. But the only way to get what you wanted was to keep reading to him. Your hand left his hair, opening the book again.

“She-oh my gosh,” You shuttered as you began to answer. “Into a beggar, she disguised him as beggar!” You rushed out, back arching as he began to give you that pleasure again.

“Turned who into a beggar?” He asked, mouth never leaving your mound. The vibrations of his voice made you forget the question for a moment, an almost pornographic moan leaving your mouth at the feeling. You took a deep breath, trying to speak.

“Odysseus.”

“Why’d she do it?” He asked, his hands keeping your thighs spread open as he continued his attack on your cunt. You would’ve have assumed he hadn’t eaten in days with how he was lapping at you.

“The suitors,” You began, moaning out. You dropped the book, hands flying to his head. Your fingers pulled on his curls, a low hum coming from him. You knew you had to finish. “So the suitors didn’t recognize him and kill him!” You said through your teeth.

Yeah, you gave up. You were coming whether the question was finished or not. “Bellamy!” You called out his name. It wasn’t permission nor a question, it was letting him know how your body was reacting to him. You came on his tongue, body shaking as you did so.

He slowed down, allowing you to ride out your orgasm as you shuttered in his grasp. You were breathing heavily as he continued again. You whined, grabbing at his hair. “Did they recognize him?” Bellamy asked, looking up at you from your legs.

You hadn’t gotten to that part yet. “I don’t know.” You spoke, your hips bucked towards him as he stopped.

“Well,” He began, reaching over for the book. “Let’s find out. Keep reading.” He tells you as you opened the book again. It would be a while until you found out they did—but only when Odysseus was able to string the bow.

[s9fti3]

Hi hi! You could write a fanfic where Carl is in this "white boy carl" phase and, since you don't like his new attitude, you decide to break up with him, and he asks you not to leave him, saying that in private he can be your Carl again.

“Y/N…cmon. Don’t be like that!” Carl argued as you walked into his bedroom, grabbing your stuff. Even the house had seemed different. Everything had changed in so little time, it made your head spin. You were grabbing anything of yours you could find, shoving it into your bag.

I couldn’t help but be pissed. You had every right to be. “No. No. You don’t get to do this to me.” You say to him, turning back to look at him. His cornrows looked a mess, they needed to be taken out. “This whole,” You pointed at him and looked him up and down. “Act, needs to quit.”

You looked at him as if he was someone new. You didn’t like this whole drug dealer, gang member act. You just wanted that awkward, a little pervy Carl back. Not this wannabe. “Get your shit figured out.” You say, grabbing one more thing.

You turn to your door, yet was stopped as he stood in front of you. “Wait, wait,” You could hear it, the slight change in his voice. The Carl you knew. “I…I’ll stop. Around you.” He said quietly, as if afraid of anyone else hearing. “I can be who you want me to be. I can be…just don’t go.”

He begged, looking at you. His eyes seemed soft, like he was truly trying to get to you. And your heart seemed to ache seeing him all sad. You bit the inside of your cheek, thinking for a moment. “You get those cornrows out, come over.”

You tell him, turning around to leave. As you left, you could see that small smile on his face. You were giving him a chance, he still had a way to fix everything.

[s9fti3]

Hi if you still write for Jasper could I request a HC of him finding out his s/o os pregnant and his relationship with his daughter?

Jasper had been absolutely terrified when he found out, like he actually wanted to go to the Volturi and ask them to kill him. He couldn’t bare the thought of you dying or suffering from something that could have been completely preventable.

But once he saw that small swell of your stomach, the steady heartbeat of the baby in your womb, he paused. He knew this was a monstrous phenomenon, something that shouldn’t be celebrated. But he couldn’t help but want this.

Once that baby girl was born and he held her in his arms, he was still. He couldn’t be near your body, too afraid of latching onto you and hurting you. So he let Carlisle take over and try to change you. Even as much as he was against it, he needed you in his life.

And staring down at the little girl, the girl who looked like that perfect mixture of you and him in his arms, he felt like all the air in his lungs had been knocked out. He loved that girl more than himself, always watching her even after you had come back.

There was a time where you guys had filled up the sink in the kitchen and just let her play in the water. Her hair was soaked, along with her clothes yet she didn’t care. She just giggled as Jasper looked at her as if she was the greatest blessing in the world.

And to him? It was.

[s9fti3]

He had a cigarette between his lips, one of his hands holding the newspaper as he read the recent news on the front page while the other hand had held your hair away from your face while you sucked him off.

Every so often you would look up to see his eyes glued to the paper, not even caring to look at you. If your pace was too slow or too fast for him, he’d use your hair to guide you. The room was quiet other than the sounds of the newspaper pages being flipped, Thomas clearing his throat, and your gags against his cock.

“Keep your head down.” He tells you in a calm tone as he places the newspaper down on the table next to him and removed the cigarette from his mouth and tapped it lightly so the ash on the bud fell into the ash tray.

He used his hand to guide your head back up and down as he brought the cigarette back to his lips. Yeah, this is definitely something he enjoyed doing.

[s9fti3]

It was no surprise that Roman Godfrey had odd interests. Not long into your “relationship”, you found out what he was and how he had a thing for blood in and out of intercourse. But there was something he didn’t like, unless he was doing it—and he was doing it in a good way.

He hated when you cried, maybe cause it pulled on the strings of his gross heart or maybe cause he just didn’t want to hear you whining. However, when your legs were tossed over his shoulders and you had tears streaming down your face, he felt no guilt and no need to tell you to stop crying.

He loved when you cried out his name in pleasure, eyesight blurry by your tears, and your mascara staining your cheeks with black streaks.

Roman fed off of that energy, he might have even enjoyed it more than blood. But everyone knows Roman is too cocky to ever admit that. I doubt he’d even admit to himself.

[s9fti3]

Ethan Landry was the kind of person who, on the outside, was a very shy and timid man. He was someone who people could easily push around and not being taken seriously due to his likes and interests. Not only had he’d been considered as someone shy, he was someone many thought would never get into a relationship.

But you came along—and that shocked people. You took actual interest in Ethan. You spent time with him, showed him off in public, and wasn’t embarrassed to be with him. He was a very sweet boy and someone who you couldn’t help but fall in love with.

Yet, what people didn’t know was that when the bedroom was shut, he was a completely different person. He seems to carry anger and distaste when his hips slam into yours. His hands are on your throat or on your wrists so you hands are away from him.

On the outside, Ethan was sweet. But only if they knew.

When plans had backfired, you were the immediate response to his problem. Did bad on a test? Just get on your knees for five minutes and he’ll be good as new. Someone is catching onto him…he’ll tell you what he wants and will push you until you break.

Ethan was a gentle man on the outside but was completely different on the inside.

[s9fti3]

Jacob x reader steamy and fluffy? Perchance?

(this is so bad, I haven’t done any writing in a while…) masterslist

The week or two, which felt like a year or two, when Jacob was healing from his broken bones felt like the worst week for the both of you. He was tired and in pain. Meanwhile you couldn’t spend much time with him due to him needing to rest and having to be careful around him. The days ticked down to when his bones would finally heal, and he was keeping track. Once he was okay, he went straight to your house without a second thought.

When he arrived, he didn’t waste a moment before he is taking your face in the palms of his hands and pressing your body against his feverishly. His lips danced across yours, your body turning into putty in his hands. Your fingers went up to his neck, your nails brushing across the hairs on the back of his neck before tugging on some that were higher up.

You missed this, and so did he. He missed the feeling of your lips against his, the scent of you and your room, and genuinely everything about you. He pulled back just for a moment and tugged his shirt off without much effort and came back to you—pressing his lips to yours as if it was his life line. Jacob was a pure and utter mess. He was groaning, whispering, and maybe even whimpering out to you.

He walked you back towards your bed, gently pushing you so your back met the mattress. You pulled him down on top of you, arms wrapped around his neck before pressing your lips to his jaw and all over his face. His hands rested on your hips, just playing with the waistband of your pants ever so slightly.

Jacob had this pleading look in his eyes, he didn’t want this to end—but he also wanted to keep going. “Please,” he whispered, his fingers slipping past your waistband. When you give him approval, he slides your pants down and throws them to the floor.

His hand cupped your thigh, spreading your legs and slotted himself in between them. His other hand rested on your waist, playing with the hem of your shirt. You could feel him pressed against you, his need for you being quiet obvious.

With the suspense building in the room, you both quickly undressed and found yourself extremely close to one another. He had himself lined up to your core, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he slowly pushed into you.

He stretched you out with his length, the sting brining a small tear to your eyes. “Jake,” You moaned quietly as your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders. The pain subsided, now your body being eager for the pleasure he would bring. “Please.” You tell him as you nails gently pressed into his back.

He grabbed your hips, dragging your body towards his. His hips snapped against yours at a gently and a slower pace, making a gasp escape from your lips. Your moans flooded the room, his grunts creating the perfect mixture. “I missed you…so much.” He told you, continuing his abuse against your hips.

You could feel the coil tighten in your stomach, your hand leaving his shoulder and brining it down to your clit. You rubbed gentle circles over the sensitive bundle, your free hand scratching at his back. Your high quickly followed, his hips beginning to go faster to achieve his high and allow you to ride out yours.

A few moments after your high, your body was pushed into overstimulation but he was near his climax. Your moans echoed in your room, your thighs shaking against his hips as he finally slowed down and had dumped his load inside of you with a low growl.

[s9fti3]

I love reading your work. Could you do Jasper Hale x Tall female reader who is just a few inches taller than him.

He wears that damn badge with honor. Now, in the books, Jasper is written as 6’3 or 190cm (do what you will with that). He has never mind the idea of his girlfriend being taller than him, he just sees her as his girlfriend. He loves to go heel shopping with you, picking out ones he thinks is pretty before telling you to try them on.

He didn’t ever care what someone ever said about you, and if it did ever get to you he changed your mood quickly so you completely forgot what you were sad or insecure about. He was a sweet man who fell in love with a beautiful woman.

He is your hype man through out it, telling you to wear the heels even if it made him look “short”. Yet still, he had never been one to mind.

Jasper is a good sport about most things—and this is something he is always a good sport about.

[s9fti3]

do you still do carl gallagher? :(( i need more and there’s only like small fics abt him. maybe fem reader being the gallagher family’s favorite gf of carl cause she’s a badass who protects the family also when other people talks bad abt them, and carl being like “that’s my girl” as he watches her beat up a dude lol. IM SORRY IF IT’S TOO LONG

You were always well loved by the Gallagher home, being there ever since you met Carl in school. You always had a tendency to stick up for him when he couldn’t- or even when he told you to back down.

But the times you didn’t listen…man was Carl falling even harder. He genuinely thought you were A: The coolest person out there. And B: possibly a badass as him.

The day he got pistol whipped you went NUTS. You were trying to get him to Veronica’s as fast as you could as well as getting him to open up about what happened.

You went to Sean and begged him for help—him being an ex-addict, and try to get Carl out. And when Carl found out it had been you to who got him the help to get out. He loved you more than anything; even more than his first love.

Another time, a boy had been talking about Liam and how “different” he looked from his family. You did not take kindly to that and immediately jumped on the guy.

Slapping him, punching him, shoving him into a locker and then slamming his hand with the locker door. And Carl stood there and watched with a shit eating grin that said, “Yeah, that’s my girl.”

[s9fti3]

Isaac Lahey had never been one to be fond of physical violence. Especially to those he loved and kept close to him. Yet, there had been moments he was so sure he was following in the footsteps of his father. Being like his father—someone he had learned to hate over years of abuse, seemed like hell on Earth.

He had thought he was becoming a violent, cruel man.

But that was far from the truth. You knew it, Stiles knew it, Scott knew it—Alison, Lydia, Melissa, Noah, everyone knew it. Except him. Sure, he had heard it time and again; he just couldn’t seem to bring himself to believe it.

Even now. Where he sat on your room, in your house, wrapped up in your embrace. Your fingers running through his hair, whispering sweet nothings and telling him the truth. Not something he had forced himself to believe.

“Isaac,” You called out, only receiving a hum as a response. He shoved his face further into your neck, wishing that it would stop what you were about to say. He knew what you were going to say. He knew it all too well.

“You’re not violent.” You whispered to him, hand moving down to his neck and playing with his hair on the ends. “You were raised that way. And you know better than to put anyone else through that.” The words stuck to him, playing on a loop. It felt like a stab through the heart—a reminder of the truth.

He knew you were right, he hated that. He hated that it was a hard pill to swallow. That it was something he couldn’t believe. Cause he wanted to believe. He wanted to believe every inch in his body, but he couldn’t. The fear overpowered the feeling of hope.

So, while he knew you loved him, that you saw the good in him. There would always be a doubt in his mind. That maybe, you knew he’d be like his father in the end. That you knew he was a violent man who didn’t deserve love.

And those thoughts would kill him one day. They would, and he knew it.

[sinsilk]

we should stick together ── . ✶ i. lahey

summary: being dragged into the supernatural world wasn't ideal, but you'd rather stick by isaac than let him go at this alone, no matter how hard it would be.

pairing: isaac lahey x gn!reader, isaac lahey x best friend!reader ノ wc: 5.0k warnings: no use of 'y/n', some angst, but there's fluff!, best friends to lovers, references to isaac's home life (child abuse #FUCK MR. LAHEY), canon typical violence, isaac being an idiot (affectionately), cursing, hints of jealousy, confessions, kissing, also slightly inspired by this drabble by @s9fti3!, title is a lyric from birds of a feather by billie eilish, dialogue in italics means they're speaking in their secret language, kinda edited; all mistakes are my own a/n: guys i was in an rare isaac lahey writing mood so cheers to me on finally writing for him!! also this had been in my WIP list for over a year now so im glad im finally getting around to it lol isaac lahey masterlist

YOU USED TO LOOK AT THE MOON FOR COMFORT. 

It was a method of self-soothing when you were overwhelmed by your own mind or when there were drastic changes in your life. You still like to admire the moon, but it was a constant reminder of how much your life has changed in a matter of months. 

You always thought that Beacon Hills had its charm for a small town, but with a lot of small towns, and to the opinionated teenage mind, you found that there wasn’t a lot to do in it. You prided yourself on appreciating the town for what it was, but you soon found out that it was hiding secrets within the roots of the forests that surrounded it. 

If you had the option to live in ignorant bliss about what was actually occurring in your town or be privy to what lurked in the shadows, you would want to live in bliss. But the blindfold was ripped off your eyes when your best friend turned into a fugitive after the sudden death of his father. 

You had noticed how weird things kept happening in your usually quiet town—a jogger had died, there were rumors of mountain lions prowling about in popular areas of town, and after multiple series of other strange events you had noted, Lydia had gotten attacked by one at the winter formal. 

It didn’t add up in your head. You did your own digging and research, and the only common denominator you found and noticed was that Stilinski and McCall were also doing the same thing you were doing, but you could tell they knew a lot more than they let on. 

You weren’t exactly friends with them, but you’ve known them since elementary school and shared a handful of classes with them. So you had a few conversations with them over the years. You would have taken your suspicions to any of your other friends, but you knew that they wouldn’t take you seriously, so you went to Isaac instead. 

Isaac Lahey. The boy who has stuck by your side ever since you sat next to him in kindergarten and offered to share his crayons with you after your parents had forgotten to pack yours in your backpack that morning. You were like two peas in a pod, uncaring about the fact that the other might have cooties. There wasn't a day that you guys didn’t find a way to talk to each other, and you guys had even gone as far as to create your own secret language with each other that you still use to this day. It came in handy after Isaac’s mother and brother passed away. 

You had started to see him less, despite your best efforts to see him, but you either got no response when you would try to knock on his door during summer break, or his father was very short with you and slammed the door in your face at 13 years old. 

So, you did what any reasonable and rational teenager would do. You went around the house and knocked on his window until Isaac responded. You were lucky that his room was on the first floor of the house, so when Isaac checked his window and opened it, you quickly climbed through it and greeted him with a huge smile. 

You remembered the shocked look on his face as you climbed in as stealthily as you could (it wasn’t graceful, but you landed on both of your feet once you got into his room). But your smile was wiped off your lips when you spotted the purple coloring on his pale skin surrounding his left eye. 

You instinctively reached out to cup his face, but Isaac flinched away from you, and it made your heart drop to your stomach. Your hand fell back to your side as you looked at Isaac’s hunched form. 

“Iz, did he do this to you?” You whispered, the words of your secret language fell from your lips as you tried to catch his eye. 

Isaac shook his head no, but you knew he was lying to you. He was avoiding eye contact at all costs. 

“Isaac.” You said lowly but harshly, making him look directly at you with wide eyes. 

“Keep your voice down!” Isaac responded in a sharp whisper. “I ran into the door last night when I got up to use the bathroom.” 

You cocked an eyebrow at him, your mouth open to respond, but no words came out upon seeing his pleading eyes. Isaac’s cerulean gaze was filled with a silent plea to stop talking about it, his waterline beginning to brim with tears. 

Your expression morphed into one of sympathy. It was jarring to see your best friend retreat more into himself. Isaac was naturally a shy kid, but he looked like he wanted to crawl into the deepest hole and never climb out of it. 

“Can I hug you?” You murmured as you took a tentative step forward. The last time you guys hugged sincerely was when you were at his brother’s funeral. 

Instead of responding, Isaac shot forward and wrapped his lanky arms around you. You immediately reciprocated the hug, your chin resting on his shoulder as his face buried itself in your neck. You didn’t know it at the time, but hugging Isaac always managed to put you at peace, like you were coming home even though you hadn’t left at all—and it never failed to send butterflies fluttering inside of you. 

But with that hug in particular, you couldn’t help but feel a pit grow in your stomach as you let go and saw the slight smile on your best friend’s face—you had a feeling that things would only get worse from there. 

And in a way, it did. You barely saw Isaac that summer, the next time you saw him was the night before you guys were in 8th grade—and you only did that because you couldn’t wait to see him at school when you didn’t know his schedule. 

Regardless of seeing him less during the summer, you never failed to stray from his side, even when you guys got to high school. You were not a social butterfly by any means—but your kindness transcended outside the bubble that you and Isaac had built. In some twist of events, you managed to get onto Lydia Martin’s radar and befriended her.

So, by the time you made it to sophomore year, most of the student body knew who you were—either by association from Lydia, or how you never failed to greet people with a smile and charm anyone who seemed to talk to you. 

When the second semester of your sophomore year rolled around, the aforementioned weird events began to plague your town. You had concocted your theories about what was happening, which seemed to revolve around McCall and Stilinski (or the fact that they were coincidentally present at the events).

Isaac just listened to you with pure amusement. But you had raised some valid points, and he made sure to try to figure out what the pair would whisper about during lacrosse practice. 

Then Lydia got attacked during winter formal, and you found McCall and Stilinski in her hospital room, looking underneath her bandage, whispering about how it wasn’t healing and asking ‘what was she?’ which made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

But that wasn’t the worst part. Isaac’s Dad was murdered, and you witnessed Isaac get pulled off the lacrosse field by the Sheriff and a deputy. 

As soon as practice was over, you sped over to the station to try and plead for Isaac’s innocence to Sheriff Stilinski, planning on saying anything to try and prevent him from going to prison (yes, you would have gone as far as lying about his whereabouts the night his Dad was murdered). 

You sat in the front of the station for god knows how long, and you sat up from your slouched position when you saw Derek Hale enter with Stiles Stilinski. 

Since when did Derek Hale hang out with high schoolers? You thought as you got up from your seat to head to the bathroom. You and Stiles made eye contact, but both of your eyes were filled with confusion when your gazes met. 

You were quick to use the bathroom, but as you were exiting, the fire alarm at the station went off. You were on high alert as you walked through the hallways of the building. You could hear grunts of pain echoing from where you assumed the holding cells were, and against your better judgment, your feet carried you to the wide-open door at the end of the hallway. 

Shock flooded your system at the sight in front of you. Stiles was on the floor, scrambling to the other side of the room as Isaac fought off a deputy. You were about to shout to make him stop, knowing full well that assaulting an officer would not be great for the mounting case against him. Once the deputy was incapacitated, Derek had shouldered past you. He stepped on a needle filled with god knows what, and Isaac turned around and horror filled your body. 

His face had turned into an animalistic one, his brow bone was pronounced as his lips were twisted up into a snarl, as fangs protruded from his mouth, and hair grew out from his cheeks. You barely noticed how his eyes weren’t his normal blue but a muddied yellow, and how he had claws growing from his nails. 

Isaac glanced at you and Stiles, and he made his move to lunge at either of you, but Derek roared, and it seemed to put him in his place. Isaac retreated and hugged the wall. When he looked back, Isaac looked like himself again. 

“How did you do that?” Stiles asked Derek as the alarms continued to blare around the four of you. 

Derek turned around and looked at Stiles. “I’m the Alpha.” He said as if that explained everything. 

“What the fuck just happened!” You blurted out, reminding Stiles and Derek that you were still in the station with them. 

Stiles cursed under his breath while Derek glared at you, and Isaac’s heart dropped to his stomach. This is not how he wanted you to find out (in fact, he never wanted you to even know about this). 

But Derek and Isaac were quick to leave when they realized that the entire department could come back at any moment, leaving you with Stiles to explain everything. 

After everything was situated at the police station, Stiles explained everything, albeit reluctantly, as he drove you back to your house. You didn’t want to believe a word he said, but after everything you just witnessed, you knew he was telling the truth. 

To say that you were worried about Isaac in the coming weeks was an understatement. Since the revelation of werewolves (and other potential supernatural creatures), you stuck close to Stiles and Scott. You felt a little betrayed by Allison since she knew, but you couldn’t fault her since she was also pulled into this mess. 

When Isaac wasn’t labeled as a fugitive, you were practically vibrating with excitement, but when he came back to school, it was like he was a different person. He didn’t even try to hang out with you. He stuck with Erica, who had also become a werewolf and turned into a bombshell overnight. You’d never admit the roaring jealousy at the sight of them practically wearing matching leather jackets, and how it seemed that Isaac never took his gaze off of her. 

But you knew Isaac, and the last thing he’d wear would be a leather jacket. Despite the tensions between Derek and Scott, you cornered him the day he came back to school and confronted him. 

“You look stupid with that jacket on.” You had found him ditching Math (he always did on the occasion) and at your spot when you had free period.  

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion.” Isaac snarked back, looking up at you from his spot on the stairwell. 

You walked down a flight to sit on the step above him. “Well, considering that I’m still your best friend, I can give you unsolicited fashion advice.” You shot him a sarcastic smile. 

Isaac raised an eyebrow at you. “If you were really my best friend, then you wouldn’t be helping out Scott protect the Kanima.” 

You leaned forward. “You and I both know it’s not Lydia.” You hissed out through your teeth. 

“Oh, yeah? How do you know?” Isaac challenged you, knowing that you weren’t sure yourself. 

“She just isn’t.” You insisted. 

Isaac scoffed, shaking his head. “See you don’t even know.” 

You pressed your tongue into your cheek, studying Isaac for a second. “You’ve changed.” 

“Yeah, for the better.” 

“I’m not so sure about that. This–” You gestured to Isaac with your finger, “Is not the boy I became best friends with.” 

“People change. Not everyone can stay the weak person that they were when they were younger.” Isaac spat out sourly, his lips twisted into a scowl. 

Your heart twisted at his words, and you moved down to sit next to him. “You were never weak, Isaac.” 

Isaac let out a bitter chuckle. “Right, and that’s why I let myself get locked in a freezer in my basement because I was so strong.” 

You froze. You didn’t know the full extent of what Mr. Lahey did, but hearing that sent a fury through you before you remembered that he was dead and you couldn’t do anything about the past. 

“You were a kid. Hell, you practically still are one.” You shook your head. “We all are, and you didn’t deserve to be treated like that by your own Dad. But even all you've been through, you’re still here, and I still think you’re the strongest person I know.” 

Isaac was silent, processing your words. You never failed to uplift him, even when he was at his lowest. You were a constant for him ever since he had met you, and never failed to be there for him, regardless of what it was for. 

You could see Isaac’s resolve melt behind his eyes as he took in your words. He turned to look at you, Isaac’s hand reaching for yours, but hesitated. You understood what he needed and grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers with his and started to rub circles into it, grounding him and taking him out of his own ego. 

A silence settled between the two of you, one filled with mutual understanding and comfort. 

“Do you really think the jacket is stupid?” Isaac murmured, breaking the silence. 

You knew that it was supposed to come off as a joke, but you could hear the underlying insecurity within the question. You scooted closer and rested your head on his shoulder. 

“Not really. But you could have worn a different shirt with it, Izzy.” You teased, squeezing his hand. 

Isaac scoffed playfully, his heart jumping at the childhood nickname. “I like to see you pull this off.” 

“Oh, I could and I’d wear it better than you.” 

Isaac let go of your hand and shoved you lightly away from him—he regretted pushing you away from him. He was already missing the warmth that you never failed to fill him with. You laughed at his offended expression on his face, but the smile that grew on his lips told you everything you needed to know—you guys were okay.

To say you were mad at Isaac Lahey, well, that would be an understatement. 

After your mini-reconcillation in the stairwell, everything had devolved rapidly. By the time the school year ended, Isaac was gone without a single trace, besides a note he left on your dresser, which you found a couple of days into summer break. 

You spent the better part of the summer worrying about Isaac and bothering Scott and Stiles about it. Stiles was definitely annoyed by your constant questions, and Scott was a little nicer about it—but you could tell that he was peeved by your constant inquiries about Isaac. But since you didn’t have school or Isaac for the summer, you split time between Stiles, Scott, and Lydia in order to try and distract yourself from the Isaac-shaped hole in your heart. 

Oh, and over the course of the summer, you figured out that you were in love with your best friend, so that was a great revelation. 

You were hoping that Isaac would show up when school started, but you just didn’t expect him to be in the hospital when you were at school. You only found out because you were running late to English since your advisor wanted to speak with you before class. When you ran into Scott, who was leaving school, he told you what happened. You were insisting that you’d come with him, but Scott practically ordered you to stay at school. 

Then crows flew into your classroom, marking the second time that this had happened to you (the first time was when you were in the car with Lydia and Allison and the deer ran itself right into Lydia’s car). Once school was officially cancelled for the day, you overheard Stiles talking to Scott and joined him in his jeep. 

Once you got into the dilapidated house, you immediately spotted Isaac, covered in a blue blanket, lying on a dusty table. Your feet unconsciously dragged you over there, but Stiles grabbed your wrist, making you stop in your tracks. 

“What are you doing?” He hissed under his breath. 

“You’re here for your best friend, I’m here for mine.” You quickly ripped your wrist out of his grip and headed over to Isaac. 

You swallowed hard at the sight of your best friend breathing shallowly as his eyes moved under his lids. Your hand moved to brush the hair at his temple, your thumb lingering on his frigid skin. 

“Please be okay, Izzy.” You murmured quietly, brushing the curls that were plastered onto his forehead away. 

No matter how mad you were about Isaac going MIA on you, you still were worried sick about him. 

This is such a stupid idea. You thought to yourself as you helped Stiles, Scott, and Derek fill the metal tub with ice while Deaton was explaining to Isaac how this process would work. 

They walked forward as you threw the empty ice bag to the side and stood by Stiles as they approached the ice bath. 

“Exactly. You'll be half-transformed. It'll let us access your subconscious mind.” Deaton said as he stopped in his tracks

Isaac bent down to study the ice water, and you knew that he was contemplating whether or not he should do this. 

“How slow does his heart rate need to be?” Scott asked his boss. 

“Very slow.”

Derek looked at Deaton. “Okay, well, how slow is ‘very slow?’"

Deaton was silent for a moment before telling him, “Nearly dead.” 

Your eyes widened in alarm, and you looked at Isaac, and your gaze met his own. You shook your head, a sign that he should not do this. 

Isaac turned his gaze away from you and up at Deaton. “It's safe, though, right?” 

You cursed Isaac under your breath, making Stiles chuckle, and he nudged you with his shoulder. He gestured to the glove lying on the metal shelf beside him. 

“Do you want me to answer honestly?” Deaton asked rhetorically. 

Isaac sighed. “No. No, not really.” 

Stiles put on the glove, and it snapped once fully on his arm. Everyone’s eyes were on him. 

“What?” Stiles questioned, making you snicker at his obliviousness. 

The corner of Isaac's lips twitched in amusement. But it soon changed when he realized that the smile you were giving Stiles was the same one you would shoot Isaac when he was being an idiot to try and make you laugh.

A flicker of annoyance passed through him at the realization. He barely tolerated the sarcastic brunette that stood across the room from him—it wasn't beyond Isaac how he noticed how much closer you had become with Stiles and Scott, and something in his chest stirred at that—he didn’t like it.

Your attention was pulled away from Stiles, who took off the glove, and towards Isaac, who stood up and let out a breath. 

“Look, if it feels too risky, you don't have to do this,” Derek told Isaac. 

Isaac glanced at you and took in your pleading gaze before ignoring it entirely. His mind was made up as he took off his shirt. 

Your brain short-circuited as you took in a sharp breath at the sight of Isaac shirtless. You’ve seen him without a shirt before, but that was before he turned into a werewolf and his figure filled out. 

You quickly averted your eyes, trying to ignore the heat filling your face. The sight of Isaac’s toned body burned into the back of your eyelids as you moved closer to the metal tub, situating yourself right next to Scott. 

The whole process was tense, you almost left the room, seeing Isaac shivering in the cold water as he relived his memories. You were frozen in your spot next to Scott. 

Once he shot up out of the water, you were quick to grab one of the many towels set on the table next to you and wrapped him up in it once Derek and Scott got him out of the tub. He clung to you as you tried to help him dry and get his body back to a normal temperature. For a moment, you got over your anger and whispered praises to him. 

When they figured out when and where Boyd would be, and before the group dispersed from the clinic, you went up to Derek and Isaac. 

“You’re coming with me, we need to talk.” Your voice was tight with tension as you stared at Isaac with a stern glare. 

Derek went to open his mouth to protest, but you turned your fiery glare on him. “I don’t give a shit that you’re his Alpha, you can pick him up in the morning.” 

The two of you were in a tense staring match before Derek relented. “Fine.” 

“Good.” You replied before leaving the clinic, with Isaac following behind you like a soddened curly-haired puppy. 

The drive back to your house was filled with unnerving silence. Isaac knew you were mad at him—he could smell the fury wafting off of you as you white knuckled the steering wheel.  

The silence persisted even after you parked in the driveway and began walking into the house. 

Isaac cleared his throat as he followed the familiar path upstairs. “Your parents aren’t home.” His words came out more like a question than the statement he intended. 

“Out on a business trip.” You responded tersely, heading into your room to grab him some spare clothes he left here the one time you guys had a sleepover before he left for the summer. 

You shoved them into his chest. “Spare towels are in the closet, you’re going to shower, and then we’ll talk.” You said before leaving him in the hallway outside of your bedroom, and headed downstairs to make hot chocolate for both of you. 

Isaac sighed and grabbed a spare towel before heading into the bathroom to do exactly what you said. He thought about spending a while in the shower to avoid the inevitable, but you’d probably rip him another new one for it instead of making fun of him for taking so long. So he took a quick shower before dressing in the grey sweatpants and blue hoodie you gave him. 

By the time he reached the kitchen, a steaming mug filled with hot chocolate was sitting on the kitchen island, as you sat on one side of it, taking a sip of your own before typing something on your phone. 

Isaac stood in the entryway for a moment, just trying to take in the tranquil atmosphere before it became charged with your anger that was simmering under the surface of your calm facade. You managed to change while he was in the shower, he noted. You were in some sweatpants and a soft, oversized tee, looking far more relaxed than you actually were. 

Isaac let out a silent sigh before walking into the kitchen. You looked up from your phone when you heard him enter the room. You turned it off and gestured for him to sit in front of you. 

He sat down and took a sip of his hot chocolate, trying to brush off your expectant look that felt like it was digging into his skin. Isaac felt like he had gotten in trouble and was sitting in the principal's office. 

“You’re mad at me,” Isaac stated once he set the mug back on the marble countertop. 

You pressed your lips together. “Do you know why?” 

“Did you get the note I wrote you?” He asked, dodging the question. 

You let out a humorless laugh. It was sharp and biting as you shot Isaac a dangerous look. “I did. But I didn’t find it until I almost filed a missing persons report on you.” 

Isaac winced. “M’sorry, Derek needed my help.” 

“I know.” Your tone was curt and short. “It still doesn’t make it better that you couldn’t bother with a phone call or even a text.” 

Isaac hated seeing this side of you with him. There have been a handful of times when he’s seen you mad, and he has never been on the receiving end of it until now. 

“Derek told me I couldn’t. I swear if I could, I would have called or texted every day.” Isaac's voice was filled with sincerity, and his eyes were wide. His gaze was practically screaming at you to believe him. 

Your anger almost melted away at the sight of his wide, practically puppy-like look he was pinning you with. God, those eyes would be the death of you one day. 

“You’re being reckless.” You stated, looking away from him. 

“I’ve always been reckless.” 

You looked back at him incredulously. “No, you aren’t. I’m usually the reckless one out of the two of us.” You gestured between you and the boy you were sitting across, “Just because you're a werewolf now, does not make you invincible.”  

“Yeah, well better me than you. I heal faster than you do.” He shot back. 

You stood up, your hackles raised as you rounded the island to get into his face. “You really don’t get it do you?” You asked. 

“No I don’t. Please tell me what I don’t get.” Isaac got up from his seat and looked down at you. 

You hated that he was taller than you, but you ignored it as you pressed a finger into his chest. 

“I don’t like seeing you get hurt, or be in dangerous situations period. It killed me that you told me not to do anything about your Dad. But this has to take the cake.” 

“I don’t understand why you’re so worried about me. I can take care of myself.” He couldn’t wrap his brain around why you were acting like this. 

“Jesus fucking christ.” You groaned, shaking your head. “Because I like you! Okay! I like you a lot more than I should for being your best friend. And I worry myself sick about you because of it.” You turned away from Isaac, walking out of the kitchen and heading to your room. 

Isaac stood there stunned. Your words echoing in his brain. 

I like you. I like you a lot more than I should. I like you. I like you. 

He quickly snapped out of it once it registered that you felt the same way about him. Isaac ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs and barged into your room. 

You turned around, startled at your door slamming against the wall, seeing Isaac in the doorway and entering your room like a man on a mission. 

“Isaac, what the hell–” 

You were cut off by Isaac grabbing your wrist and pulling you into his body, and placing his lips on yours. You were stunned for a moment before your mind caught up with your body, and you sank into the kiss. 

Isaac cupped your cheek as the hand fell from your wrist and placed it on your hip, drawing you closer to him. One of your hands wrapped around the back of his neck, burying into the hair while the other rested on his broad chest. Your lips moved in sync against his as your chest filled with warmth. Isaac’s lips were soft against your own, and you never wanted to stop kissing him. 

Unfortunately, you needed to breathe. You slowly pulled away from the kiss, resting your forehead against Isaac as you took some slow breaths, filling your lungs with air and the familiar scent of your body wash wafting off of Isaac. 

“I like you a lot too. If it wasn’t clear.” Isaac broke the serene silence after the two of you parted from your kiss. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, it was pretty clear to me Iz.” 

Isaac sent you a beaming smile at your words, joining you in chuckling as he pulled you further into his body, engulfing you in his arms. You wrapped your arms around his back, sinking into his embrace. 

The nearly full moon illuminated your room as the two of you found a new comfort in each other, your relationship evolving right then and there in your bedroom. You knew right there and then that you would stick together, by each other’s side, forever. 

[s9fti3]

May I request jalice (maybe separate?) edging and overstimulating reader?? If you would not like to do this, please do not force yourself to!

You had tears in your eyes as your legs shook. Your moans and cries could be heard all around the Cullen house as you were edge for the nth time that night. “Please,” Your voice was high pitched and broken.

Jasper had his hold on your thighs, keeping them spread open for Alice who was using her long, slim fingers for a good use. They had completely ignored you as Alice played with your sensitive cunt. She had been kissing him, loss in the sensation as her fingers spread your lips.

She pressed down on your clit which got a strangled moan out of you before her fingers dipped down and entered you again. Your velvet walls were sensitive and practically gripping around anything.

“Gosh,” She laughed in the kiss between her and Jasper. “She’s tight,” She feigned surprise as her added in another finger. “After a while I thought she wouldn’t be.” Her voice felt like it was everywhere as the knot in your stomach built to an unbearable tightness.

“Please, please!” Your voice shook as you cried—you felt so close to the edge. Finally, they acknowledge you and your pleading.

“Please what, sugar?” Jaspers accent rang out. “We don’t know if you don’t tell us.” Oh they knew exactly what you wanted, they just wanted to hear you say it.

“Fuck-let me come, please?” You begged again. Alice’s fingers didn’t pull away this time when you got close. You covered your mouth, you words muffled and incoherent as you came on Alice’s fingers.

“Good girl,” She whispered to you as she pressed a kiss to your head. “But I think Jas should get a turn now.” You were in for a long ass night.

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